Title: BRAVE EYES
Author: psimetis
E-mail: psimetis@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
6C/6

everyone: this is it. thank you, and enjoy. :)




* * *

‘SUN, three’

(‘after the ecstasy, the laundry’)

or

‘Willow Becomes Real’





Buffy returned to town.

A really old vamp called Kakistos also rolled into town.

While the dreaded Kakistos was busy thrashing both Faith and Buffy--whenever the Slayers weren’t renewing each other’s acquaintance and thrashing each other--Angel resolutely kept out of the way and tracked down the Gem of Amara.

Tara opened her door to Angel and was utterly surprised to see him--mostly she was surprised because it was afternoon, and the sun was still out.

“I used a blanket,” he said self-consciously to her questioning gaze.

He told her about the ring and its power to bestow invincibility upon a vampire, rendering it inviolate to any harm. A vampire with such power could roam in the sunlight, kill freely, and could never be killed. He couldn’t allow such power to fall in the wrong hands, so he intended to find the gem and destroy it.

Tara quietly handed him the ring, and as Angel examined it, he noticed the gem was missing.

“Tara,” he said raggedly. A look of horror and fear crept into his face as he stared down at the young woman. He saw nothing in Tara’s calm, blue eyes to indicate that she was living with the guilt and shame of allowing Willow such freedom. There was no denial or secrets in her eyes.

“You once said that Willow gave you faith,” Tara said softly, as she leaned against her doorway and rested her head against the wood frame. “If you could keep that faith now, it would be good. But you can’t keep that faith in others if you don’t have it in yourself.”

Angel bowed his head. He quietly gave Tara back the ring.

Downstairs, Angel stood with his blanket over his head and decided to wait within the shadow of the building’s outer walls for the sun to set. Vampires were not meant to gaze upon so much light. He had never seen the sun rise nor set in 240 years. In that bright, evening light, he spied his adopted, blind childe meander up the path, accompanying four young female humans. Willow was helpfully pulling a red wagon for them, loaded with cases of soda and other food stuffs.

Angel squinted hard at the incredible sight of Willow in sunlight, remembering how he’d first seen that beautiful, terrible, pale face, that blood red shining hair, her deadly body all subtle curves and deceptive innocence in the shadows of the Master’s lair. He would have never dreamt of seeing such a death princess of his brethren like this now, strolling in sunshine.

“Isn’t that your ex-boyfriend, Willow? The one you shared for a while with Tara?” he heard one of the girls remark boldly to the childe as the others tittered or looked appalled.

“Tara’s a lesbian, she never touched Puppy,” Willow merely said, and the girls giggled more, as they approached the door.

“‘Puppy’, huh? Yip yip,” the bold girl gave playfully in Angel’s direction as they pulled the wagon through the door. Angel shifted in embarrassment under his blanket, and wondered how the Little One managed to stay calm in the company of such annoying girls.

“We’ll pay Tara when we go up, okay? And...will you be available for nine, outside the science building? That’s when I’ll get out of lab,” one of the other girls asked Willow hopefully.

“I’ll be there,” Willow promised with a smile, and she remained outside in the shade with Angel as the girls shut the door behind them.

“It takes alot of getting used to,” Willow suddenly said to him. “I really don’t think I would’ve chosen this. Everything feels so bright, so warm, so unnatural, and it’s scary.” He stared at his poppet, and she was only half turned in his direction, as if still debating joining the others inside. Since her leaving his home, the few things she’d ever said to him since had been mostly expletives.

“I’d only choose to have something like this if I could join Tara in the sun,” Willow said softly. “And even that’s not enough. I want to see her in it. I want to see what sunlight does to her. What it does to her eyes.

“I think I’m forgetting,” she added in a whisper, moving nearer to Angel. He could feel the residue heat of sunshine emanating from her. It was surreal; to feel the presence of a childe and yet also the presence of that kind of warmth only humans were privileged to radiate. “Like I’ve already forgotten your eyes....I want you to tell me what she looks like now. You used to tell me. When I was lying in bed, all messed up. You looked with the eyes of an artist. Everyone else, they don’t say the right things. You promised you’d draw pictures for me.”

Angel swallowed. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I make her take a picture of herself everyday,” Willow whispered. “She thinks it’s silly, but she does it for me. It’s a cheap camera, but Debbie tells me all the photos look fine. Debbie develops them for me at Costco. It costs less that way. I keep them all in a box under the bed.”

Willow’s chin trembled, and her tears began to fall from her unseeing eyes.

Angel reached over, dropping his blanket, and pulled his Little One to him roughly. He crushed her in his arms. Willow shook, weeping openly into his chest.

“I don’t want this if I can’t see her in the sun,” she cried.


* * *

Angel had ten finished drawings of Tara in his collection, and twice as many sketches. For Willow, he made nineteen more finished pieces. Nine were of them together. Three, he labored over in color. He was never strongly interested in painting, but with Tara he attempted one portrait entirely in watercolor, setting her against her dorm window in the afternoon sun.

He placed Willow in the portrait too; he asked where she wanted to be, in light or in shadow, and she said wherever Tara was. So he placed his childe at her witch’s feet in the light.

Once that one was done, he thought it best to leave town, because of the negative emotions that awkwardly rose between himself, Buffy, and Faith.

He debated one last time to tell Willow that she was truly immortal in every sense of the word. As long as the Gem of Amara was inside her, she could never die by violence. Considering that she was deeply in love with a mortal, Willow would only consider the knowledge a curse. He decided to say nothing.

He would have to ultimately trust his childe, Angel soberly knew, but his faith in her was not that strong; not as long as he also believed that once Tara was gone, he would have to kill Willow, somehow.

When Angel finally left for L.A., he left his childe the use of his mansion, his car, and anything else she had managed to steal from him.

“Asshole,” Willow merely said when she felt his comforting signature finally disappear from town. She wept a little and sought to forget him in Tara’s arms.


* * *

Days became shorter. Nights so much longer. Willow was happiest at night. Despite being immune to its deadly effects, the world in sun was not her natural domain. After her initial forays into the light, its novelty became passé, and she returned to avoiding it out of habit. Sometimes while Tara slept, Willow would rise and roam her campus territory during the darkest hours. Anything that hunted on her grounds, she’d attack. In this way, she indulged in violence with her own brethren by seeming territorial rather than vindictive. Those demon trespassers she couldn’t defeat, she’d run away from. She wasn’t a moron. Her favorite part was coming home, kissing Tara awake, and telling her witch during breakfast of what she’d killed or fought or run away from that night--all carefully censored tales of her violent exploits of course. And then Tara would cluck and look at any scrapes or boo-boos (which never seemed to exist once she got home, Willow would muse, perplexed), and tell her she was a very smart and scary evil thing.

And while Willow roamed her territory, she refrained from the hunt. Once a week her witch would take her to some public place and she hunted her human prey there. She wished for more chances to feed, but it was enough. She was blind, but Tara kept her in live blood. She was a cripple, but she had territory, she could kill things, and girls paid her just to walk around with them. It grew colder, the nights were so much longer, and Willow loved the feel and scent of the night air. It was the season of human celebration, and she sensed the tiny twinkle of Christmas lights, everywhere.


* * *

One dark night, one of the sorority houses caught on fire.

“My cat! My cat!! My cat’s still in there!!” one of the girls shrieked hysterically on the lawn as Willow ambled by.

“Crispy cat,” Willow merely commented and stopped a moment to appreciate the rather frightening roar of the sorority house going up in flames. She could hear the ornaments of the Christmas tree exploding. It made her shiver. Vampires naturally feared fires--unless it were hellfire of course.

“Buh huh huh huh,” the girl sobbed loudly, as her sorority sisters tried to comfort her. “My caaaaaaat...” Willow shifted uncomfortably. Usually she enjoyed such tears of helplessness and misery, but this was disturbing for some reason.

“Ah huh huh ahhhhh,” the girl bawled.

Hell, Willow thought. You’d think that was her baby burning up in there.

“Oh,” Willow ejected, really getting exasperated with the girl’s hysterics. “Fuck it!”

She immediately ran up to the burning building, ignoring the alarmed screams from the girls behind her. With her walking stick she managed to find the smoking entrance. She figured, as she ran inside, that if the sun couldn’t hurt her, then fire couldn’t as well. She hoped.

The first thing that happened as she ran up the steps--hearing the rapid thudthudthud of a little animal’s frantic heartbeat--was that once she hit the main hallway, she fell immediately through a weakened floor.

“OW!!! FUCK!!” she screamed, when she landed and somehow skewered herself on some flaming wood wreckage. She pulled herself off, thinking that Tara was going to be very upset with her for getting a big bloody hole in her stomach, and ran up the stairs again. This time she leapt over the stupid hole in the floor and found the room the cat was in.

“Come on kitty!!” she enticed, although she was more screaming at the furball squeezed into the crap in the closet rather than actually cajoling it. “Your hysterical mommy wants you!!” She made a grab for the cat and the little kitty-demon managed to stick all its eighteen claws into her.

“SHRIEK!” Willow shrieked, more in outrage that the cat had nailed her rather than in pain from the creature’s claws. After a few more hellish scratches, she stuffed the fleabag into the front of her shut coat and then tried to locate the flaming room’s window. Thankfully she still had her walking stick. She took a few steps back and made ready to bust out.

Then the fire hit the gas main and the house blew up.

Willow remembered thinking that she really shouldn’t hit a glass window with her head, but she did anyway--thanks to the overwhelming force of the explosion--and she also noted with some detachment that sailing through the air with ease--like that song about a trapeze--was pretty nifty for about the two seconds it happened.

And then she hit the ground, tumbled hard, and once she was sprawled to a dead stop, thought: all this for a cat?

“OW!! FUCK!!” she screeched, and reared up when the owner of said cat suddenly wrenched it from its eighteen clawed death grip of the vampire’s chest.

“Hey!! She’s not dead!” some girl above her exclaimed. “Hey! Somebody! Medic somebody, over here!!”

Willow got up. She ignored the blubbering thank you’s from the girl who was just so embarrassingly blubbery right then. Willow stood, miraculously with her walking stick still in hand, and found her way to the sidewalk. She walked quietly away.

If people happened to find bloody, broken glass, intermittently littering a campus path and leading to a certain dorm building the next day, they wouldn’t have been able to connect such glass to Willow. By the time she’d pulled out the last piece the vampire had completely healed up. Even the hole in her stomach was gone.

Willow sat on the bed beside her still fast asleep witch, all smoky, bloody, and unhurt, and thought some unwelcome realizations.

When Tara awoke, instinctively feeling something was not right, she alarmingly saw a Willow seated beside her who looked like she’d been in an explosion.

“I’m invulnerable, aren’t I,” Willow said to her matter-of-factly.

* * *

It took about four, rather violent tries with the Heimlich maneuver to get the gem out. Willow was actually a little turned on that Tara was strong enough to pull her nearly a foot off the floor with the maneuver but she was ultimately distracted by the satisfying tinkle of the Gem of Amara hitting her witch’s sink bowl.

While Tara was carefully using jewelry cement, a sealing spell, and some tools to reset the (thoroughly sanitized) stone back in its ring setting, Willow tested her finger in a beam of sunlight that peeped through her witch’s curtains.

“Owie!!” she exclaimed, hurriedly putting out her burning finger.

“Will!!”

“Boo-boo,” Willow simply indicated, and she held out her burnt finger for Tara to kiss it.

* * *

“I, I still want you to wear the gem, Will,” Tara said to Willow quietly, when the vampire woke up from her sleep in the afternoon. Tara sat on the bed beside the redhead, turning the now fixed ring over and over in her fingers.

“Is that why you don’t worry when I’m out at night?” Willow asked with a sleepy frown. “You don’t think I can’t take care of myself?”

“I know you can,” Willow heard her witch say, and felt her warm, soft hand cup her cheek reassuringly. “I just...I nearly lost you, Will. Twice. I c-can’t.....” Willow felt the thumb of that warm hand caress her. “Please. Wear the ring for me.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to do stuff just for you,” Willow admonished lightly. She raised a hand to touch the beautiful grin she knew would be there.

“I’m, um, enacting my partner privileges,” Tara stated, her smile shy beneath the vampire’s tracing finger, and Willow’s undead heart nearly burst from hearing the word ‘partner’. She grabbed Tara’s face and kissed her over and over.

“Yes,” Willow finally said, her voice shaky. She took the ring in Tara’s palm and very gently and deliberately, slipped it upon the right hand of her witch. “I’ll wear the ring. But you have to keep it safe for me. In the daytime.”

“All right, Will,” Tara softly agreed.

“And...and I’m sorry about biting you.”

“Biting?...” Tara repeated dumbly.

Willow suddenly went to demon face and sank her teeth into Tara’s bare arm.

“WILL!!” Tara screamed, utterly horrified and of course, utterly unprepared for the invasion of fangs into her arm. Instinctively, she wrenched her arm away. When she stared down at the wounds Willow had made, however, they--

They weren’t there. They disappeared so fast, Tara couldn’t even recall if they had even hurt.

Willow’s fingers immediately searched her arm.

“You’re immune,” she cried gleefully. “You’re impervious! You’re invulnerable!!”

Tara stared in wonderment down at the unblemished flesh of her arm. “D-D-Did you know it wou--”

“No,” Willow answered hurriedly. “But--it was a good guess. Now I don’t have to worry that something might happen to you! Now we can be together for a long time!”

Tara’s heart ached and she took hold of her happy vampire’s face.

“But, I’m still mortal,” she said hesitantly. “I’ll still grow old.”

Willow’s lip trembled slightly. “I know. I don’t wanna...” she whispered. “I’m not sticking around after you...go. And, I don’t care if you go to Wicca heaven...and I go to hell. I’ll find the stairway and I’ll follow you.”

Tara pressed a hand to her mouth, then just allowed a few tears to fall after her Willow had said that.

Young vampires didn’t think about the future, they only lived for now. Only those who reached their first decade or two actually planned. Willow was not even a year old, but she planned already on one thing, and that was spending all the time she could with Tara. And then after that, well, if heaven had a gate, then surely there was a road to it.

“I’ll always find you,” Willow whispered when Tara finally fell asleep in her arms.

* * *

Tara and Willow placed a powerful enchantment on the ring to keep it invisible. Of the two of them, Tara ended up wearing it the most, supposedly to keep it safe for her vampire.

“You are not to take chances,” Willow would growl at her warningly. “You’re not to rescue people. You’re not to fight anything.”

“I’m to run away,” Tara would chime in, in her most obedient voice.

“Yes. Willow fights, Tara runs.”

“Slayer come, Willow run.”

“Slayer come, Willow kill with ring power,” the vampire would snarl.

“Willow,” her witch would admonish in a very stern voice, and interestingly enough, after such conversations, Tara would end up wearing the ring.

Which was as it should be, Willow thought, because frankly, she was a demon, and the ring was proving to be a temptation for her naturally murderous intentions, now that she realized its full capabilities. Even before she’d found out, she’d entertained idle thoughts of visiting the Slayers in the daytime while they were unawares, killing them, and playing hopscotch in their blood. The bitch Slayer could anticipate her coming in daylight, thanks to their ‘connection’, but the vampire highly doubted that the second Slayer had been told by the first of Willow’s invulnerability. She had not seen Faith since the ice cream parlor, and thanks to Tara, Willow never sensed the second Slayer anywhere.

The vampire always thought her witch trusted her far too much. Tara did not judge, despite her understanding and instinct for the truth. Surely knowing what Willow was should make a good person like her witch...sad. It made Willow wonder if Tara really comprehended the possible ramifications of the freedoms she gave her vampire, should Willow ever decide--just once--to do as she liked. If love made Tara blind to the fact that the vampire was still a demonic killer, at least Amy and Jenny were not deceived. Willow didn’t need vengeance or any such excuse to just go slay a Slayer. That was why she was very happy she had a reason to give up the ring. Keeping her witch safe was a far better use for the gem than using it to murder the Slayer and skip rope with the bitch’s intestines.

“You’ve actually, ski-ski-skipped--” her witch had stammered once, blanching at one of Willow’s casual slips about past deeds of childehood mayhem. Xander had been a really indulgent sire.

“No,” Willow had lied.

Besides the fact that, such a murderous indulgence would just ruin her and her witch’s holiday good mood. Willow would rise from bed, slip the ring of Amara on--as she’d promised her witch--and kiss her sleeping Tara before taking her nightly walks. The nights would feel bright, she’d sense creatures to chase away or kill, and the twinkling Christmas lights hung from windows, railings, and the occasional shrubbery were her companions until the early morning’s dew.


* * *


“Hum hmmm,” Willow hummed happily beneath the many blankets of their bed. Around the dorm room were strewn the remnants of holiday cookies and candies, present wrappings, and the occasional empty glass of spiced blood or cider. A tape of celtic harp music played in her witch’s aged tape deck. It was warm between her witch’s legs beneath the blankets, and Willow fancied herself a fluffy vampire chick in a very toasty incubator. She took hold of one of Tara’s ankles and gently slid it up.

Tara played with the beautiful, amber necklace Willow had given her, the honey stones warm and at home against her throat. She loved the gift and had just finished thanking her vampire with many Tara-kisses--in all the right places. Now, as they both laid naked in bed, she looked curiously down, wondering why Willow was busy arranging her legs beneath the blankets in a certain manner. Her vampire had eased her thighs apart so that she could lie between them, and was bending Tara’s legs at the knees just so, creating a blanket tent above the redhead’s unseen head.

“This feels like a pelvic exam,” Tara remarked to the blanket tent that was Willow.

“Shhhh,” Willow shooshed, making her ‘shush’ sound deliberately close to the inside flesh of her witch’s legs. Tara giggled, feeling the tickle. “I’m huntin’ for what’s inside your pussy.”

“What?” Tara laughed.

“Puss puss puss,” Willow enticed, and Tara could imagine Willow crooking her finger to further wheedle out what she was looking for.

“And what do you intend to lure out?” Tara asked, in a low voice that was a little rumbly.

“Your little red river.”

“Oh,” Tara exclaimed, blushing, and covered her eyes with her hands. Even after all this time together, having her menses referred to--and Willow’s expressed enjoyment of said menses--still embarrassed her. She hadn’t thought about her cycle with all the holiday celebrating they’d been doing. Willow knew her better than clockwork.

“Puss puss puss,” Willow was coaxing again, making Tara forget her self-consciousness and laugh.

“You’ll have to, um, give it gifts,” she suggested, feeling silly. And then Tara blushed again. Willow had just given her such wonderful presents; she hadn’t meant to imply that she wanted more. But Willow was already playfully taking the suggestion and running with it.

“Does pussy want a carrot?”

“Um...no.”

“Does pussy want a sardine?”

“Oh goodness, no.”

“I know.”

Tara heard something being unwrapped beneath the blanket.

“Will?” Tara asked curiously, unable to guess what her vampire had under the covers with her.

“Lul Lul Lul Lul,” she heard Willow lick with great exaggeration.

“Wha--Oh!” Tara emitted, feeling something hard but sticky suddenly pressed against her sex. Then it was pulled away, and Willow was suddenly licking something and making ptui sounds.

“Ptui,” she said under the blanket. “Tara-hairs.”

Tara giggled despite herself although she still wasn’t sure what Willow had. Then she felt that hard, sticky thing running along her moist slit and she jerked against it.

“One lick for pussy,” Willow was saying. “One--” Tara heard Willow lick something. “Lick for me. Two licks for pussy--”

And Tara felt herself stroked five times more before she figured out that it was a lollipop.

“Three licks for me.” Lick Lick Lick.

“Open wide,” Willow suddenly said, and Tara felt the hard, little, round thing gently pushed into her entrance.

“Oh!!”

Willow began to stroke her shallowly with the candy.

“Oh, Will!”

Willow licked her witch’s sugar sticky clit as she penetrated her gently with the lollipop. Tara gasped and her hips began to respond. She held the blankets tight.

Then Willow switched, pulling out her lolly with a pop!, pressed it to where her tongue had been, and sank her tongue deep into where the candy had been. Tara moaned at feeling the new pressure on her clit and grabbed at her knees. She threw her head back as Willow teased her with the candy, diddling her nub.

And then Willow suddenly reared up inside the blankets and firmly latched her mouth onto one of Tara’s nipples.

“Ah-uh! Will!” Tara gasped, the suction of Willow’s mouth almost painful. The intensity made Tara realize that Willow was abandoning the playfulness of her game. She felt the candy that had been at her clit now running wet, sticky circles around her erect nipple. Willow sucked her urgently again and used the lollypop to tease her other moistened breast.

“Love you,” Willow breathed urgently, as she and her candy switched attentions from breast to breast. “Love you lots.”

“Love--” Tara cried, trying to grasp her lover through the blankets. “Love you too!--”

Willow’s head came up through the blankets and stared blindly into Tara’s eyes, the green surfaces shining.

“Suck this for me,” she whispered, slowly pressing the wet lollypop against Tara’s mouth. She felt her witch’s lips part and take the candy in. Willow reached for another candy that she had under the blankets and removed the wrapper in front of Tara, imagining that luscious mouth of her witch’s wrapped around her lollypop, sucking it for her. Willow put the fresh candy in her mouth and let her tongue play with it. Tara moaned in response. Willow removed the new candy from her mouth, placed it at her witch’s entrance, and slowly pushed it in. She wriggled it around a little, like a little joystick, and elicited another heated groan from her witch’s preoccupied lips. Then she retrieved a third, wrapped lollypop. She tore the wrapper off with her teeth and ran her tongue all along the fresh, virgin, sweet surface.

After it was wet enough, she pressed it into her witch’s folds, right against her hard little center. Tara arched against the pressure.

“Love you,” she whispered down to Tara as she gently fucked her with the candy. “Bet you look so beautiful. Wearing my amber necklace. Your mouth full of candy. Your pussy full of candy. And I’m going to make you cum with my candy. You’re all sweet and sticky and loving what I’m doing to you, aren’t you? I wanna love you with my lolly, all night long. Oh listen to you! Moaning with my candy in your mouth, bet you taste so sweet--”

And Willow licked Tara’s lips all over that were wrapped around the stem of the lollypop, enjoying the sugary taste.

“--Taste so good, Tara, you taste so good--”

The vampire moved the candy at her witch’s clit at a more urgent pace.

“Keep sucking it, baby, keep sucking. I wanna hear you--”

“MMMf, Mmmmf--” Tara moaned against the candy in her mouth, her hips thrusting.

“That’s it baby, you love it, don’t you. You’re my Tara-goodness, you’re so beautiful when you cum. You must look so fucking good right now, all spread for me, making love to my lollypop. I can feel how much you’re lovin’ yourself. Your pretty pussy is just licking it up--”

And Tara tensed, a cry caught in her throat as she arched repeatedly with every orgasmic tremor that ran through her body--from sweet center to sweet center, an electric circuit of no end. She stared helplessly into Willow’s loving, sightless eyes and even in the throes of pleasure she wished Willow could see what she was doing to her.

I love you I love you I love you, Tara’s eyes said desperately up to her.

When she finally felt herself come down, Tara tore the lollypop from her own gasping mouth to kiss Willow hungrily. She pressed the candy that had been in her mouth into Willow’s sex. The vampire parted her legs eagerly.

‘Lolly lovin’,’ her vampire would affectionately call their love making that night.

And later, after Willow had crunched satisfyingly into the center of at least two of the lovin’ tootsie pops, she had a very yummy Tara-pussy for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.

“RRrm rrrmm,” Willow purred between Tara’s legs. “Happy Solstice,” she declared to the equally happy pussy that had given up its monthly gifts to her.

Tara laughed and grinned tiredly as her hands ran over and over through Willow’s hair.

“Happy Solstice, baby,” she smiled down at Willow.


* * *

They decided to stay over at Angel’s mansion for the traditional holiday break and for the new year. It had a huge fireplace to enjoy, a nice large bed and bathtub for many a playtime ‘witch and vampire’ game, and a full kitchen, which Tara eagerly took advantage of to throw a holiday dinner for the coven and their campus friends who still remained in town. Willow hung mistletoe at every conceivable hanging place so she’d always have an excuse to kiss Tara--within sight of their guests--many times. And during the big after Christmas sale, Willow fought all the frantic bargain hunters like a little ferocious animal and grabbed as many of the Christmas lights packages as she could.

* * *

Buffy stood hidden in the black dark of the mansion garden, and gazed up with a small, delighted smile at all the twinkling lights strewn upon the house. She felt someone approach slowly, and knew it was Tara.

“I...I know she’s out walking,” Buffy said self-consciously. “And will be home soon, but, I couldn’t resist....She hears them, did she tell you? They wink, and she can hear that.”

Tara smiled softly. Buffy looked better. Her hair remained dark now, and she still seemed so small and vulnerable, but that was because she chose not to wear her Slayer mantle tonight.

“I know I’m not supposed to eavesdrop. She has a right to just kill me for my still letting myself feel what she feels now. But sometimes,” Buffy continued softly, unconsciously raising her arms to hug herself. “The feelings are so warm, so...incredible. And from her that’s so, from her that’s...”

Buffy did not finish. A look of utter, silent admiration was in her face. Tara understood. Sometimes, she would pause and have private moments where she was just amazed at what Willow was capable of, every day.

“I know I shouldn’t,” Buffy said in a whisper. “But sometimes I sleep better, when I just let you two touch me.” She finally gazed at Tara, her eyes bright, and Tara realized that for the first time she was witnessing warmth--life--in the Slayer’s once desolate eyes. “Thank you for what you did to me,” the Slayer said gratefully.

Tara swallowed, too moved to speak.

“I just, I just didn’t want you to see her as a thing,” she finally whispered.

Buffy nodded. “I hope she’ll understand someday. I know she doesn’t think about the wish...it’s easier for her, that way. She knows it hurts you too, t-to dwell on....me. This was hard, but you’re so brave, you did it anyway. Thank you,” she said again, and it seemed like her eyes could never say it enough. Tara just nodded, and self-consciously looked down.

Buffy looked down as well. One of her hands came free of the hug she was giving herself and tentatively reached out for the witch. The Slayer’s eyes followed the hesitant progression of her small hand, reaching--reaching for a true touch of what had, since the wish, been only psychic sensations, dream contacts. Her fingers brushed Tara’s arm, and even through the fabric of Tara’s clothing she could feel the witch’s softness.

“She loves you so much,” Buffy whispered in awe, as her fingers fluttered away. She looked up at Tara again, staring as the vampire might stare, knowing this was what Willow wanted to see; blue eyes, dark lashes, the incredible, warm beauty of those souled surfaces.

“I’m sorry I took her eyes,” Buffy blurted, her voice suddenly rough with despair.

Tara shook her head.

“I forgive you,” she said softly.

And the palms of Buffy’s hands suddenly went to her temples, her eyes wide and frightened because she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, she couldn’t--

“Please don’t forgive me,” she whispered. “Please don’t,” she said. “Please don’t forgive me.” She sank to her knees. When Tara stepped closer, Buffy could not help herself, she clung to the witch’s legs, rested her head upon them, and painfully smothered her heart wrenching sorrow.

“Oh Buffy,” she heard Tara gently say. “Buffy.” She felt Tara’s fingers in her hair. “I...I have to forgive you. For me, you know. I do it as much for you, as for me. Maybe someday, or even tomorrow? You’ll be happy for it too,” Tara ended almost sheepishly.

Buffy looked up at her, eyes wet and wide.

“I’ve been so bad,” she whispered.

“Yes. But not anymore.”

“This is what you do for her,” the Slayer realized, staring up at Tara.

“No.” Tara shook her head. “She does this by herself.”

Buffy buried her face again in Tara’s legs. She couldn’t believe that Tara did not know. Willow, nor Buffy, could not have come this far without the gentle witch. But that was how Tara was; she believed in them. She believed they could. And by her believing, she made it so they could.

Buffy’s tears ended. She slowly stood up, smiling hesitantly with a renewed lifting of her spirit. She did not know about tomorrow, but tonight at least, she felt she could do what Tara believed in.

She took Tara’s face between her hands and kissed her gratefully on the mouth, her once empty eyes now shining.

She turned, ran quickly away, and was gone.

Willow approached the walk of the mansion, humming. She swung her walking stick jauntily. She felt a familiar presence, then paused.

The sensation disappeared. Willow slowly removed her keys in order to open the front door. When she entered, she put on a cheery demeanor, tossing the keys into the console’s bowl.

“Honey, I’m home,” she gaily called out, removing her coat.

“Will,” she heard her witch say from the verandah doors. Willow busied herself with her coat. “Buffy w-was here. We talked and she--”

Tara gasped when she felt the vampire suddenly upon her, taking her quickly--firmly--to the ground. Tara’s heart pounded.

“She hugged me--sort of,” Tara gave hurriedly. “And then k-kis--”

Willow’s nose swept across her speaking mouth, and Tara could see the lights her vampire had hung, high in the living room’s vaulted ceiling, the tiny bulbs twinkling.

“--I’m sorry. I d-don’t want to offend y-y--”

Willow’s mouth descended upon her. Brutally. The kiss obliterated any trace of Slayer on Tara’s mouth.

“I am. Offended,” Willow admitted, as she nipped at the bruised lips she had made. “But it gives me an excuse to punish you.”

And with that Tara was dizzily swept up into Willow’s arms and carried determinedly up the mansion staircase.

“Will, Will,” Tara said desperately, and for some instinctive reason she was frightened.

“Mustn’t kiss Slayers,” Willow simply said, but what should have sounded playful, did not.

“Will, please. Please! Y-You’re scaring me--”

Willow stopped her ascent. She gently laid Tara down on the staircase.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire said.

Willow heard Tara sniffle, and smelled tears.

“I’m sorry,” Willow whispered again. The vampire made no move to touch her witch; she had no right to, especially now. She knew Tara came from a harsh family, she knew she’d been the only thing beside the coven that Tara trusted completely. Now she’d scared her witch and made her sad.

“I’m bad,” she said softly.

“I know,” she heard Tara sniffle, obviously wiping at her tears. “It’s not just--that. I made you mad. And I’m sorry. For the wish. I’m sorr--” and Tara sobbed, and her tears began anew again.

“No,” Willow frowned, and this time she allowed her hand to go to Tara’s face, her thumb wiping tears away. “No, don’t be. You know I’m not good with...these people things. Sympathy, and compassion, and ‘let’s save the Slayer’ crap. If you’d wanted to just make me happy, you’d have wished for the Slayer in six different pieces for me to play with.” Then Willow grinned, but she immediately tried to wipe it off. Now was not the time to indulge in one of her fond memories where Xander had dismembered a varsity boy so that she could play kickball with his head.

“No, you were trying to help all of us,” Willow continued softly. “You tried to make me real to her, and it worked or else she wouldn’t be such a boo hoo cry-Buffy. You just didn’t count on Anyanka managing to slip in one of her creative twists to the Wish. She’s known for that. It’s not your fault.” Her palm caressed Tara’s wet cheek comfortingly. “Never your fault. I’m a bad, bad demon. When I get mad, it’s my fault.

“ ’M not mad anymore, ‘kay?” she said to Tara gently. “No more ‘Bad Willow’.”

“I d-don’t mind ‘Bad Willow’,” Tara shyly gave.

“No?” Willow frowned again.

“It’s who you are. That’s who you were when we met.”

“That was a very bad Willow. I hit you.” And Willow fingers spanned that place on the graceful cheekbone where the deed had been done. She’ll always remember that night. “You know I liked it when I did it, but I’ll never do that again.”

“I know.”

“Then...why’d you get scared just now?”

Tara bowed her head. “I d-don’t like ‘mad’,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Willow said again. She hadn’t been the first to hit Tara. “Can I pick you up?” She felt Tara nod against her fingers, and Willow placed her arms to scoop up Tara again. She felt her witch settle comfortably--and trustingly--in her arms. Willow remembered how that felt on those nights before her capture, when she played her chasing games with her witch. She thought then, just as now, how innocently brave her Tara was.

“You should spank me,” the vampire suggested, neither moving to go up, nor down the stairs, but pausing where she was.

“I...I think you should coddle me,” Tara suggested instead, sniffing away the last of her tears.

“And how shall the evil vampire do so for M’Lady?” Willow offered with a gentle smirk.

“A walk in the garden. A foot massage. A bedtime story.”

“As you wish,” Willow acquiesced with quiet gallantry. She turned to descend the stairs. “We’ll begin with that walk in the garden. Although I’ll be doing most of the walking. You just get to sight see,” she added as she stepped out the verandah doors. The soft sounds from the fountain greeted them.

“How do my lights look tonight?” Willow asked softly, as she stepped slowly across the courtyard. Tara gazed at her dear, sightless Willow, framed against her many hung fairy lights in the dark.

“Beautiful,” Tara breathed.


* * *

Buffy waited patiently and watched the children scream and play.

A child’s playground at noon was a fitting place for killers to meet, Buffy realized. She might be the Slayer, and therefore considered dense, but irony wasn’t lost on her. In her world, children only equaled potential death.

The Slayer stood as unobtrusively on the outskirts of the play area as possible, watching the children run and scream around her. She’d received images of this place from Willow’s head. That, and the meeting time.

Her senses tingled. Vampire.

Buffy turned automatically in the direction of the sensation and watched Willow, red hair waving gently in the breeze, walking slowly towards her in the bright, noon day light.

She looks like any girl, Buffy thought. Any girl...with a walking stick surreptitiously out before her, seeking a safe path. Her eyes were half closed, as if dreaming, and her mouth held its secretive little quirk. She moved well, despite being blind. She moved like one with the easy capacity to do so dangerously.

The vampire stopped a few feet from Buffy, staring sightlessly in her direction.

“Isn’t it nice,” she said sweetly. “So many snacks running around everywhere.”

Buffy said nothing.

“It makes you wonder,” Willow continued conversationally. “Why someone doesn’t just eat them all up.” The vampire cocked her head, as if listening to the children at their play. “I ask myself that every day. The answer is, ‘I don’t really know’. It’s the only answer I can come up with. I’m no Puppy. There’s no soul here. I have to ask myself that question, every day, constantly.” Willow’s blind, green eyes narrowed coldly.

“Since I have so much to deal with, I don’t care to have to deal with you too,” Willow suddenly snarled at Buffy. “I told you, stay away, and that means stay away from my Tara.”

The two stood silent, and Willow began to glower.

“If you don’t,” Willow menaced, low and deep. “Everything begins anew. It’ll just be you and me, and nothing from the past.”

“I understand,” Buffy finally said. Several children suddenly ran shrieking between them. “We’ve got a connection, though.”

“You have a connection with me. That’s your problem.”

“Yes. And for what I did to you, I know ‘sorry’ is never enough. I want to offer my--”

“What,” Willow interjected incredulously. “You want to offer your what. You think I’m Fuzzy me? You wanna become friends besides fuck my Tara?”

“Well, besides fuck Tara,” Buffy admitted with a reluctant grin. She was still the Slayer; taunting was part of the Slayer package and it was hard to resist that opening the vampire gave her. Unfortunately, Willow was now gripping her cane with white knuckled intensity.

“I’ll kill y--” she ground out.

“Wait. Before we start that again. You’re right. You’re a part of me, so, I want to offer...me. I know you don’t want it, but I want you to at least know.” The vampire could hear the Slayer’s voice gentle. “For anything. Anything you might need. That’s, well, not evil. Because I’m not evil anymore. I owe you everything.”

“You owe me your eyes,” Willow answered automatically. Her hand with the walking stick then pointed deliberately at the Slayer. “Don’t trust you. Don’t want to be your ‘friend’, don’t want you near my Tara. If I need anything, I’d sooner go to the other Slayer or to Puppy to protect my Tara than go anywhere near you.”

Buffy nodded, her heart breaking just a little, but she understood.

“I’m not your Fuzzy,” Willow emphasized again, her mouth sneering slightly. “Puppy’s not me in disguise forgiving you, and Puppy’s never gonna be your pseudo-Tara either. And I’ll just bet you fucked it all up with Faith, so, you know what that makes you?” she sneered openly this time. “All alone again. And that’s just fine with me.”

Willow turned, ending their meeting, and walked blindly away.

“Need help getting out of the park?” she heard the Slayer have the insulting gall to say.

“Fuck you.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, the bitch Slayer actually made the vampire smile, Willow would later angrily admit to herself.

Willow found the lake at the park and managed to walk the entire circumference in the sunshine--without getting sunsick at all. She had on plenty of sunscreen of course. Her undead heart never felt lighter. She scared squirrels, birds, and ducks, and the occasional annoying dog-on-a-leash who wouldn’t shut up. She even chased a few bold children who thought she was playing tag. She found a souvenir kiosk and decided to bring back (not steal), for her Tara, one of those commemorative ‘Welcome to Sunnydale!’ postcard books that were issued by Mayor Wilkins. She found the correct bus stop, caught the correct bus, and went home.

Buffy smiled sadly and watched Willow safely leave the park.

The vampire would realize she was wrong if she stopped to think about it, the Slayer silently observed. Buffy would never be alone, not as long as Willow lived, but that was something the Slayer could now accept.

If the vampire could do life day by day, even with the burden of being a soulless vampire, then Buffy could do life too.


* * *


‘beginning’




“Is this Tara Maclay?”

“Yes,” Tara answered into the phone uncertainly, wondering who this caller was.

“This is Cordelia. Cordelia Chase.”

Tara thought a moment. “Yes?” she said uncertainly again. She heard a big sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I guess Willow never talked about me. Anyway, I’m Darla’s companion. We live in L.A. Her childe Angel’s now in L.A too. I want to know what bee’s up his butt, because he is being a real jerk!”

“Oh,” Tara commented. “His...bee? I don’t know.”

“I’m in Sunnydale right now,” she heard this Cordelia announce. “Let’s do lunch.”

* * *

Cordelia Chase, Tara realized, was really quite stunning in person.

And proudly sporting the ‘claiming’ marks at her throat of a four hundred year old vampire and eldest surviving heir--at least on the American continent--of the Aurelius Order.

They were sitting at an outdoor courtyard cafe having milkshakes. It was late afternoon, but they were under umbrellas, and Willow had insisted on coming with Tara. So Willow sat snug against Tara--practically crawling into her seat--under the pretense of keeping out of the sun’s rays. She wore the Amara ring of course. They had just finished discussing Angel.

“God, what a jerk,” Cordelia exclaimed for about the tenth time.

“I know,” Willow said smugly. She never tired of bagging on her stupid, surrogate sire.

“Well besides the fact that he left you, he left Buffy too,” Cordelia noted, as her perfectly lipsticked mouth sipped from the straw of her shake. Several passerby looked on admiringly as she did so.

“Rar rrr,” Willow growled at the mention of the Slayer, and Cordelia smiled. She actually liked this Willow. She missed human Willow of course, but....well, Cordelia preferred not to think about the reality she’d come from, because what she had wished for was now done and she had to live with it. Darla was fond of telling her to stop acting like an angst moppet after Cordelia had explained her boo-hoo role in creating this twisted wish-reality. Of course Cordelia was fond of telling Darla to stuff it and do the same. Cordy was just glad that this wishverse Will had found someone to be happy with, even if the redhead was a vampire. Cordelia turned her attention to Tara.

“Her eyesight will come back,” she told the other young woman confidently. The witch looked at her in surprise and trepidation. Cordy understood--sometimes one shouldn’t get one’s hopes up too quickly with things like this.

“The werewolf blood helped with the immediate stuff,” Cordelia said. “But with the ‘permanent’ stuff? That just takes time. After Darla ate a couple of L.A.’s master vampires, she fully regenerated the liver the Master took out.”

“It was yummy,” Willow piped up. Tara stared horrified at the vampire snuggled cutely against her side.

“Kidding,” Willow lied. “Sooo...does this mean grandmom is alpha Master of L.A., now?” she quickly asked in order to distract her witch’s attention back to the conversation.

“No, it means we screwed up all the power dynamics in our hurry to just make Darla well, and now there’s a little vampire war going on. You don’t know how many times I’ve been kidnapped--Darla would say, ‘Oh just kill my human bitch, she has cost me entirely too much in shoes’. Of course that’s my money she’s talking about. She has to save me anyway, and clean up her damn vampire messes, because who would she have left to tell her whether her Manolos really went with that Prada skirt? Not looney Dru.”

Tara smiled, but she could see that despite Cordelia’s seeming superficiality, her bright, frank eyes were remarkably old. Tara could easily guess that living with something like Darla would be a constant struggle, but for some reason Cordelia was committing to it. Tara didn’t know the brunette well enough to know why she was doing it--it didn’t feel like love. It was, as Cordelia had mentioned, a companionship, one founded on the precarious foundation of a once damaged vampire sorely needing help and a human willing to help it.

“You know why you have it so easy with her?” she heard Cordelia remark, as the brunette inclined her head in Willow’s direction. “It’s because she’s so young. She’s not even a year old. She hasn’t had four hundred years to perfect her ‘Ice Bitch’ or almost two hundred to rack up blood baths and pretend its her madness factor, when we all know Dru is not as totally crazy as she wants everyone to think,” Cordelia groused. Apparently, Cordelia was not getting along very well with Drusilla, who had broken up with her childe Spike and was now making merry in L.A with her grandmummy. “You can train Willow easily.”

“I’m not a Puppy!” Willow snarled in indignation at her old childhood enemy. “Tara said so!”

“No,” Tara agreed, holding Willow back and giving her a quick kiss on the head. “You’re more like my Kitten.”

Willow buried her face in her witch’s neck to hide her sudden fuzzy feelings. She liked that idea alot.

“Purrr,” she said into her witch’s throat, and Tara laughed in delight. Cordelia merely hid her smile and drank the rest of her shake.

Tara then asked more questions about Cordelia’s life with Darla, and the former cheerleader was happy to accommodate. As Willow listened, enjoying the beat of her witch’s pulse against her cheek, she realized--not for the first time--that life with a vampire must be hard. Besides the whole predator/prey thing, there was the evil vs. human thing. Willow wasn’t entirely convinced that Cordelia wasn’t evil herself, however--the ex-cheerleader was at least her own form of evil, as a childhood of torment from the notorious Queen C could attest to. It was nice, though, to hear that life was definitely harder and more exasperating with an elder vampire like Darla. Willow, by comparison, sounded like a very good vampire. A very good Kitten-pire.

“Purrr,” she vibrated again into her witch’s throat, and felt Tara’s smile against her searching fingertips. She turned her head so that her blind eyes could face the nattering ex-cheerleader again. Funny, Cordelia must be wearing diamonds, because Willow could see their glimmer against what might be her throat.

Willow froze against Tara. Glimmer.

She blinked several times. Glimmer.

Tara raised a comforting hand to stroke Willow. “Will?” she heard her witch ask. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Willow managed to breathe. She was seeing little lights again. Again. She guessed they were the decorative lights that she could sense twinkling off the courtyard railing behind Queen C. The cafe had them on even though it was daylight. She was certain that was what she was seeing. But she wasn’t going to say anything. Not after last time.

“Baby?” she heard Tara ask, just a little worriedly. She could feel her witch exchange glances with the ex-cheerleader. “Do you need anything?”

“Yes,” Willow breathed again. “Strawberry cake?” she asked in a small voice. “For your Kitten?”

“Darling,” Tara said, kissing her face. Willow heard Cordelia mutter something under her breath about baby vampires being easier to manage than ‘master’ bitches. Then, right on cue, Willow felt that Slayer tingle.

A moment later, Faith surprised Cordelia and Tara by vaulting the courtyard railing and landing Slayer-style by their shaded table.

“Check this out!” Faith exclaimed. “Little Fang out in the daytime!”

The vampire was safely in the shade. This Slayer still didn’t know about her secret immunity. Willow buried her face again in Tara’s neck. Irrational fear took a hold of her. After what happened the last time when she almost could see, she really didn’t want to deal with Faith right now.

Tara placed a hand comfortingly on her vampire again and frowned as she looked at Faith. Something felt vaguely wrong with Willow.

“Who’s this?” Cordelia remarked, lasering Faith up and down. Actually, she knew who this was. But just because Cordelia had known a ‘Faith’ in her original reality didn’t mean she was going to act like she knew this one now.

“Hey,” Faith grinned, giving the leggy brunette her own lazy once over. “I’m Faith.”

“Oh,” Cordelia pretended to realize. “You’re the one who kicked Willow’s head in. No wonder she’s having a ‘Vietnam’ moment.”

Faith stood straight, utterly startled. Apparently this ‘civilian’ knew about Slayers and shit. Which was five by five by the dark haired Slayer. This ‘civilian’ was a hottie. Something was up with the Little Fang though, who was uncharacteristically hiding against the witch and not saying a thing. It was bothering the Slayer.

“She all right?” Faith asked Tara gruffly, wondering if vampires really had ‘post traumatic stress disorder’. The Slayer found that very weird.

“What about ‘Vietnam’ moment do you not get?” the hot brunette sniped at her.

“What’s Little Fang to you?” Faith asked curiously, wondering who Legs was.

“She’s Family. I’m her grandsire’s human companion,” Cordelia gave haughtily, watching the Slayer even as her slender hand played idly with her milkshake straw.

“Shit. What is it with vamps? They get all the good-looking ones,” Faith ejected, looking at Cordelia with a disgust that really didn’t appear genuine. Especially when Faith was grinning appreciatively. At that moment, the Slayer was mentally trying to work out Willow’s family tree and who sired who.

“So how’s Darla doin’?” she asked. Even though her presence might be giving the little vamp some kind of ‘trauma’ moment, Faith was hard pressed to leave the table, and not just because Legs looked good. After the whole ‘Buffy loves Angel’ fiasco, Faith couldn’t help wondering about these humans and vamps who actually lived together.

“Wait, Faith,” she heard Tink say to her. The witch was not looking at her very friendly-like. Tink turned to her little vamp, who was still hiding against her shoulder.

“Will, do you want Faith to go away?” Tara gently asked her vampire.

“Fang, I’m all ‘love and peace’ Faith here,” the Slayer gave with solemnity, and held up her hands even though she knew the vamp couldn’t see them. “I gave Tink my word. You’re safe with me.”

Willow finally turned her face from Tara’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she merely said, and Faith eagerly took that opportunity to grab a chair and bring it over to sit down with the ladies.

Faith and Cordelia immediately began a rather loud, but good-naturedly adversarial conversation. Willow nuzzled Tara’s neck and stared between where she believed Faith and Cordelia to be and watched the very tiny lights. She could feel dusk arrive.

“I’ve been good,” she whispered to her witch, as she counted the tiny, dim lights that grew just a tiny bit brighter.

“Yes you have,” Tara praised softly, watching a server approach their table. “Here comes your cake, baby.”

And Willow smiled tremulously, feeling emotions caught in her throat. Tara fed her the cake because Willow could not bring herself to let go of her witch. Despite the Slayer’s assurances, the vampire was still irrationally afraid. She was going to be good, Willow decided. She could do good. And then maybe she’ll see again.


* * *


Like Cordelia had said, recovery was slow. Willow wondered what it was like for Darla to slowly regenerate a liver, and wondered what microscopic type regeneration was happening within her own eyeballs, or perhaps within her brain. She, being blind of course, never had the opportunity to do proper research into how eyesight worked, and she never asked Tara to research for her. So Willow waited, and kept her very slow and strange recovery a secret. The new year passed and winter edged into spring. She worked very, very hard at being good, because she never wanted to be stomped on again. She was more ruthless while defending her territory though, in order to balance out the good behavior. That, and submitting to her witch helped alot. She loved the new ‘Kitten’ games they now played. They played them in Puppy’s mansion, where Willow could scream as freely as she wanted.

“Twenty---four! Thank you, Tara!!” she would gasp loudly in pain and arousal, after the final strike of the leather belt across her hot ass.

“Hands and knees, Kitten. NOW.”

And Willow-Kitten would obey immediately, taking the proper, submissive position on the bed. Her Mistress-witch would then drive home with every jackhammer thrust of the dildo, the understanding of where Bad-Willow ended and Good-Willow began. The vampire felt that each day after such a submission session she could handle doing good again.

And sometimes--sometimes--just to be bad, she’d open her mind and mentally send her Kitten-pire sensations of being Tara-whipped and Tara-hammered right down her ‘connection’ to her Slayer voyeur.

When her witch would finally give her permission to cum, Willow would explode even harder, knowing she was doing the same to the frustrated, bitch Slayer.

“UHHH--” Buffy would grunt into her pillow, far across town in her Watcher’s apartment, as she desperately humped her own hand.

Tara, a bit appalled (and perhaps more than a little incensed), once she discovered Willow’s clandestine ‘sharing’, punished her Kitten even more severely, much to the vampire’s--and Buffy’s--secret glee.

Spring edged closer to summer, Willow finally became a year (and two months) old, and the little lights got just a little bigger and brighter. Finally, she could make out the dim presence of shapes in her eternal black.

She and her witch made plans for the summer. Tara worked hard to finish all her papers and projects, and Willow very slowly and carefully packed up her witch’s dorm room.

* * *

On her last walk around her campus territory, she felt the Slayer nearby. Without hesitation, Willow veered off her well learned campus path into the wide expanse of grass. She could feel the Slayer standing amidst the dewy green.

“Hey,” the Slayer said. “Happy to see me?”

Willow stopped and stared. It was a bright moon out, and she could just make out the Slayer’s bare outline.

“You and Tara are leaving the dorms for the summer,” the Slayer continued casually. “You’re leaving town.”

“Yes,” Willow replied curtly. “Feeling left behind? Tara has her second year to do in the fall. We’ll be back.”

“I know,” she heard Buffy acknowledge, and the vampire detected the subtle rustle of the Slayer’s clothing as she shifted her stance. “But alot can happen in a few months. Just wanted to make sure I saw you one last time.”

Willow just stared at the Slayer shape. “One last time? All right,” the vampire answered, and viciously lashed out.

Her cane didn’t connect and she rather expected that. Buffy was the oldest surviving Slayer yet, and by reputation, the most efficiently focused and ruthless. Though Willow could not see, she had been fighting constantly since being able to walk again. She was often underestimated by foes because of her handicap. She was also underestimated for what she sensed without the use of eyes. Willow could win against a cocky Slayer like Faith, but against Buffy, who had been in her head and knew her every advantage and strength, Willow could not.

So Willow fought like she never had before. The dance against the Slayer was sometimes graceful, sometimes desperate, faked, crazy, wild, calculative--she switched it up constantly, keeping her foe on her toes. Willow had never had her chance to fight the Slayer like this, never had this chance to shine as an equal, to boast with moves that cunningly connected that she was a fighter of merit, that when she bloodied Buffy’s nose and smashed the Slayer’s knee she was a foe of worthiness. Willow was elevated again; Willow was a Vampire and not just some thing to merely be taken down by the Slayer’s tranquilizer gun.

When Buffy fell hard to her back, Willow fell easily atop her, the vampire’s steel headed walking stick whipped up and ready for its death strike.

“Kill you now,” Willow sentenced with icy deadliness. She gripped the Slayer’s throat.

“Okay,” the Slayer managed to gasp through her squeezed windpipe. “But--it was good for you--too, right?”

Willow paused.

“Did you let me win,” she growled out so deeply, her words were nearly guttural.

“You--” Buffy gasped, running out of air. “Fair--square--”

Willow stared coldly down at the Slayer.

She abruptly got up.

Willow staggered away, her killer’s adrenaline receding and leaving her empty. She plopped down on a grassy spot away from the Slayer. She licked at her bleeding knuckles. She had not wanted to wear the ring on her last walk around her territory, and she was glad she hadn’t. No ring had made her fight her best.

“I was never a thing,” Willow finally said.

“Never,” the Slayer affirmed with deep felt emotion from where she lay.

Willow stood up.

‘I’m supposed to be home now, making love with Tara one last time in that bed.”

Buffy nodded.

“I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

“Bitch.”

“Thanks.”

Willow walked away, her attention now on other matters. She had a Tara to go love now.

Buffy lay where she had fallen and stared up into the night sky. The vampire would not have wanted to hear it, but she had taught Buffy how to live. This connection, originally intended as some cruel, ironic lesson slipped in by the vengeance demon, had now become her ironic salvation. If it had been any other vampire--Angelus, Drusilla, Spike--Buffy would have successfully killed herself long ago, which had probably been Anyanka’s devious intention. Instead, the vampire who became her mind partner was Willow, this strange, beautiful, real creature, who now inspired her.

Inspired her like the friend the Slayer will never have.

Not in this reality anyway.

Buffy could easily imagine what the vampire would say to that, with that cute, derisive sneer of hers.

‘Bored now’.


* * *


Morning in a certain UC Sunnydale dorm room brought to light a very sleepy Willow and an amorous Tara, who resumed their slow, easy lovemaking of last night; languorous kisses, lazy caresses, and low fire strokes of the hand. Mouths connected, limbs mingled, cool met warmth, and living met death.

“Love you,” Willow delicately gasped, breathing in Tara’s breath, pressing to take her lover’s heart beat as her own.

“I, Love, You,” Tara chanted as she moved, and Willow inhaled every one of those whispered words.

She, inside Tara, Tara, inside her. In that suspended state of physical culmination and bliss Willow felt more than just ‘vampire’, Willow felt suddenly whole.

A Twillow. A Wilara. Tara’s woman. A woman.

“Look at you,” Tara murmured in wonder, as they lay in a post-coital tangle of loving limbs. “Happy vampire.”

“Am,” Willow simply agreed.

* * *

When Willow returned from her quick morning shower, her hair wet and combed back, she quietly gave her witch an orange juice box from the vending machine--the now broken vending machine, which had finally expired beneath Willow’s manhandling hands. But that was all right, she and Tara were leaving the dorms today.

“Sweetie,” Tara said appreciatively, and kissed her. Willow could not make out visually--with her ‘dim shapes’ vision--what her witch had spread out on her now bare desk, but she smelled the glossy paper of tourist pamphlets and the more crisp odor of a stack of paper cash. Their road trip would start today.

“Do we have enough? Should we go to the bank?” Willow asked with non-typical vampire fussiness. She now had a bank account. Thanks to the modest windfall--procured with the discretion she was learning from Anyanka and Puppy--made from selling pieces of her share of the Amara treasure, she could make her witch’s desire to see the natural sights in California come true.

“We do,” Tara answered, as Willow heard zippers and things safely put away. “And don’t worry. There are ATM machines practically everywhere.”

“Not in the wilderness.”

“We’ll be well stocked by the time we’re in any of the national parks.”

“I’ll eat the bears,” Willow growled, who didn’t like the idea of other predators near her blood supplies--either the ones that’ll be kept in the cooler or her Tara.

“Yes. Although, um, you shouldn’t kill them dead-dead, because they’re endangered.”

Tara put the straw of the juice drink to her mouth, and Willow went to strip down their bed for the last time.

She grew very quiet as she did so, taking in the scents of their lovemaking and remembering their first time in this bed. To think that she could have chosen to kill her precious witch then. The history this bed had seen since could not have been anticipated; her, all broken, blind, and nearly dead.

“Do you remember what you said to me, when I had one of my really bad nightmares?” Willow asked softly, as she folded the used sheets. She saw her witch’s dim shape stir, clearing the desk and putting her papers away.

“Yes,” Tara quietly answered. “I said that this was the room you didn’t have to be brave in.”

“In any room where there’s you,” Willow added softly, placing the bedding in the last box to be taken down to the car. “I do not have to be brave.” She felt Tara approach the box, watching her.

“I’ll lock up,” Willow suggested. Her words were a little abrupt but she did not want the moment to become maudlin. Thankfully, her witch understood.

“I’ll wait for you by the car,” Tara bade lightly. She leaned in to give Willow a quick kiss on the cheek. She picked up the box and quietly exited.

Willow turned to the string of twinkling Christmas lights she had saved for last. She took them down, unplugged them, and safely packed them away. She made one last sweep of the room, picked up her box, and took out her keys.

She shut the door and locked it.

They made their last stop at Puppy’s mansion, storing the last boxes away, and then pointed the Pontiac for L.A.

“I wanna snack on Minnie. And Snow White. And Alice. And Cinderella,” Willow said with a huge yawn, as she sat in the front seat by her witch. They had the convertible’s top down. The vampire wore the Gem of Amara as well as lots of sunscreen.

“I always thought Sleeping Beauty was pretty hot, myself,” Tara commented as she drove.

“We should have sex in her castle,” Willow sleepily suggested. She yawned again.

“I hope Angel doesn’t mind that we’re going there first before seeing him,” her witch added worriedly. She was still feeling a tad unsure about not inviting the male vampire to join them. It felt impolite.

“He’s a vampire. Unless there’s a bloodbath, they don’t have fun like that,” Willow said. Then she shut her mouth abruptly in mid yawn. What had she meant by that??

Puppy had a soul, but he was a vampire, Willow mused. Once, he was the perfect vampire; ruthless, loveless, vicious. The perfect demon for over a hundred years. Now, even with the soul, he was less a man and still more the vampire, even though he was trying otherwise.

Willow had no soul of course, but she wasn’t a perfect vampire anymore. Not since Tara. She was--

“I’m just Willow,” she said aloud.

Tara spared her vampire a curious glance, but Willow was already fast asleep.

Willow was warm; warm like she had never experienced before, unless falling asleep in a hottub that never cooled was the same thing. She smelled salt; she smelled the ocean they were breezing by. Even in sleep she thought to herself: this is what safely napping in the sun must be like. And how is it, that a vampire should end up in such a place and not burn up? It’s sacrilege.

She got to this place by being more than just a vampire. She got here, because of Tara.

Willow woke again, her eyes stinging because things were so bright.

Bright.

Bright. Like--

She turned to look at Tara.

After so much darkness, she still remembered what light was like, what color was like, and how the two played against the other and defined shapes and surfaces and skin. She stared at Tara and watched the world come into hard focus, delineating details that before, only bold touch could tell was still real.

Tara’s hair whipped behind her in the car’s breeze. It was longer, it was darker.

She stopped coloring her hair, Willow realized, staring and staring at her witch.

Tara glanced briefly in her direction. Then she looked again, this time with alarm.

“Will--” she emitted. Willow was only dimly aware of the car suddenly decelerating and then pulling abruptly to the side, practically sliding in the gravel.

Her witch let go of the wheel and grabbed the vampire’s face.

“Will,” Tara breathed, her eyes staring, wide, deep, and blue. The light bounced off the bright ocean, hitting Tara’s face like sunrise.

“Hello, Brave Eyes,” Willow simply said.


the end.