by AntigoneUnbound. » Thu Oct 31, 2002 11:12 pm
On Second Thought: Part 4
Responses to all you kick-ass Kittens:
First, a general note: I was really struck by a common theme in the feedback; specifically, how Tara’s supplication was so characteristic of her amazing strength, and especially how she embodies that strength through her gentleness. She’s probably the least "rough and tumble" Scooby, yet it seems that all of us are enamored of her quiet strength.
]]JD: Keep writing, ’cuz I wanna keep reading.
]]Lost Soul: Glad you liked the imagery. I kinda liked the bare-bones ambience of the room at night as well (obviously, since I chose to set an episode in it).
]]Bobo’s Mom: Wow…Thanks for coming out of lurk-dom; I’m lucky you picked my fic at random. The great thing is, you could have picked just about any fic here randomly and been quite pleased. I’ve thought about writing from Tara’s POV. I usually like to remain almost exclusively w/in one POV w/in a story (though I did try to tap Oz’s perspective, albeit briefly). I might write another separate piece using Tara’s POV. Part of it is that I just love seeing her through Willow’s eyes. (Yeah, I love the girl.) And the role of fate? Oh, ye gods…Every time I think I have that one figured out, I get such crashing confirmation that I’m wrong…Is there such a thing as a wrong choice…You know, I try to believe that any choice I make takes me more or less directly on the path I need to be on, but it’s entirely possible that I believe that b/c it helps me feel less despair than I would if I believed that I’ve taken the wrong exit in a truly life-wrecking way. Great questions…
]] Insanity: (Great name) Yeah, I love any image of Tara being simultaneously gentle and heroic. Thanks.
]]Ruby: Thanks for the kind words. I’ll have to tell my partner about the "[knowing my] way around a love scene" feedback. (Just for the free publicity, you know.) And I’m honored that you re-read it. I hope it keeps working for you.
]]Grimaldi: I’m glad the love scene worked for you, and that the tension was realistic. It felt like a tough line to walk.
]]Zahir al Daoud: Glad you’re breathing now…Sorta like I have to do whenever I read an installment of "Childhood’s Hour."
]]Vampivy: Wow…those were amazingly gracious words. Thank you for taking the time to share your reactions with me. I hope you like the rest.
]]Vix84: Glad you caught the stupidity of the "powers that be" reference. Just sayin’ what we’re all thinkin’.
]]Tulipp: You make an excellent point about Oz’s POV. It was very difficult to write, and I struggled to decide if I even wanted to do so. I opted to try it, b/c I wanted to show the sharp contrast b/w his hopes and his realization at just how completely W&T belonged together. I felt like he made a potentially dramatic first "outsider’s" look at their relationship, and not just b/c he had been put there by the Goddess of Plot. But his inner dialogue was very hard to write. He requires the touch of a true minimalist, I suspect, and I have no claim to that title. I’d really be interested in any other thoughts you have about the issue of POV in a fic that’s almost exclusively written from one character’s perspective.
]]Tommo: Like you, I see so much of Tara’s strength in her calm and gentleness. She was indeed the calm w/in his storm. Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts with me.
]]Mollygig: Yeah, I’ve always loved their immense protection for each other, even when they were separated this past (honkin’ idiotic) season. I’ll be curious to hear your reaction to a discussion about that very thing in this next installment.
]]AmberEyedDragon: Wow, what a great name! I’m glad you’re hooked. I’ll try to keep it worth your while.
]]JewWitch18: Yeah, I think Tara’s nakedness worked as the "setting" of sorts to show her power. She is truly one of the most amazing "less is more" (with regard to shows of strength) characters I’ve encountered.
]]Hondosfirst: Hey, thanks for the support! Here’s that update!
]]Famer: Glad you like it! And I sent an e-mail your way, per your request.
Premise: Way the heck back in S4, Willow makes a difficult choice
Disclaimer: Joss and Mutant Enemy own Willow and Tara. I’m staging a prison break and giving them the home they deserve.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to the end of "New Moon Rising"
Distribution: But of course…Please give credit and disclaimer. Thanks.
Feedback: I’d definitely appreciate it.
Summary: Willow initially chose Oz, in no small part b/c she believed he needed her more. The following week, however, had been excruciating—she hadn’t realized the full extent of her connection and draw to Tara until she gave it up. They met for coffee and longing glances. Willow ran into Tara at the Bronze, only to find Tara being, shall we say, appreciated by another woman. Willow fled, Tara followed, Big Time Sensuality (to quote Bjork) ensued. They fell asleep contentedly in each other’s arms. Willow awoke to the sound of someone entering the room—Oz, stopping by on an ill-advised whim. He had issues with what he saw—issues of the hirsute, transformative variety. Oz wolfed out, but Tara employed a soothing spell that included, in essence, offering herself to the werewolf while Willow was anchored in a state of safety and calm. After a rather tenuous stand-off, Oz bounded out the door, still in wolf form.
On Second Thought—Part 4
Half an hour later, they sat quietly in Willow’s bed, sipping Swiss Miss Instant Cocoa (with mini-marshmallows). "Definitely more mini than marshmallows," Willow mused absently. "I mean, isn’t there some kind of quality control board that specifies the minimum diameter of a marshmallow? But it couldn’t be too big, ’cuz then it’d be a regular marshmallow, or even a maxi-marshmallow."
"I dated someone named ‘Maxie Marshmallow’ once," Tara noted suddenly.
"What? No way!"
"OK, I didn’t. I was just teasing."
"I should most certainly hope so, because that’s just—"
"Her last name was actually ‘Pad.’"
"Oh. Well that’s still pretty weird. I mean—" She stopped abruptly. "Oh. You’re teasing again. Aren’t you?" This last bit was said somewhat hopefully.
"Yes, I’m teasing. I just thought that maybe we could pull ourselves away from the admittedly wonderful distraction of hot chocolate and talk about what happened."
"About what happened?" Willow echoed questioningly.
"Yeah. I’m thinking mostly about the part where Oz walked in on us curled up in bed and turned into a werewolf and tried to kill us both."
"Oh yeah—that part." Both women remained silent for a few seconds, reluctantly playing the scene back in their respective minds. Finally, Willow gave a small sigh.
"I know. I know we have to talk about all of that but…I just wanted our next conversation to be about what happened before we were so rudely interrupted. Specifically, I wanted to talk about how wonderful it was and when we might be able to do it again and whether or not we even needed to leave this room at all today because we could order take-out and basically spend all day making love and I really should take a breath at this point in this sentence but I seem to have forgotten how to breathe so—"
Tara leaned over and rested two fingers across Willow’s mouth, her lips curling into a soft smile. "In through the nose," she coached gently. As Willow obediently inhaled, she caught the lingering scent of her own wetness. Her belly gave a sudden, eminently enjoyable twist. She saw Tara looking at her intently.
"So, from what you just said—the part before the respiration lesson—it’s s-safe to assume that it w-would be OK to kiss you again?"
Willow recognized the seriousness behind the joke; she knew that Tara really did want an answer. She pulled herself out of her inner spiral and brought both hands to Tara’s face, smoothing back her hair and feeling the soft skin warm under her palms.
"Tara, listen to me. The days of you waiting while I figure out what I want are over. I’ve figured it out; I think I had actually figured it out before. I was just so caught up in trying to do what I thought was best; what hurt the fewest people. And yes, I mean ‘hurt’ partly in the literal sense, as in, keeping Oz from going all ‘Werewolves of Sunnydale.’ But you suffered in that because you wouldn’t…" Willow fumbled for words, trying to resist her usual "Twelve Monkeys at Twelve Typewriters" approach to expressing herself. Tara just waited patiently. "You suffered because you didn’t ask anyone to help you carry your pain. You never begged me to choose you; you never talked about how much you were hurting. You gave me space and time and you carried all that heartache yourself." She stopped, feeling tears shimmer in that just-before-spilling place. She drew a deep breath. "You really are remarkable, Tara Maclay."
"Willow, I’m not a saint. I w-was praying you’d choose me. It’s not like I was sitting back and saying, ‘Whatever the goddess deems fit—so be it.’ Please don’t think I w-wasn’t pulling you in my direction with all my heart and soul."
"Well I should hope so," Willow replied rather abruptly. "I should hope that the person I’m in love with isn’t sitting in her room going, ‘Well, you know, it would be nice; but I’m certainly not going to get myself all worked up about it.’ But you were pulling me toward you with your heart, not guilt or pressure. That’s what I responded to; that’s what matched the song in my own heart. And having given such powerful oratory, can I ask why you’re grinning so—what’s the word—dopily?"
"I’m sorry. I just didn’t really hear anything you said after calling me the person you’re in love with." Tara was grinning very…dopily.
"Oh, well, good…Because right after that part, I said, ‘And she’ll rub my back every night until we’re old and gray.’"
"You got it. Now…Let’s revisit that carte-blanche kissing part." As Tara’s soft lips covered her own, Willow realized for the first time since Oz’s departure how terrified she’d actually been. How close she’d come to losing Tara just as she’d truly discovered her. Without thinking, she pressed Tara closer to her and felt a small shudder work its way along her spine.
Tara pulled back briefly, her eyes holding Willow’s with a question. "Baby? What is it?"
"Oh, just flashing back to that whole post-coital werewolf attack." She allowed Tara to pull her closer, turning so that she could look up at Tara while being cuddled against her breasts. Oh, my…OK, that’ll take a girl’s mind off of the scary stuff. She grazed her hand up over Tara’s collarbone and brushed her cheek again. "I mean, I know the French call an orgasm ‘la petite mort.’ So what exactly would dying immediately after an orgasm be called? ‘La petite mort as warm-up for la grande honkin’ mort?’"
"Yeah, sweetie; I think that’s what I learned in Honors French." Tara smiled indulgently down at her.
"OK, now you’re just pacifying me." Willow felt as if she were hosting this year’s Emotion Expo in her head and heart. On the one hand, she was horrified at what had just happened, and hated the knowledge that Oz, wherever he was, had to be in excruciating pain. On the other hand, she was nestled up against Tara’s wonderfully naked form, those long, graceful fingers playing softly through her hair, and she found that she just couldn’t stop by the Anguish Exhibition for too terribly long.
"Willow, I know you feel bad about Oz; about him finding out this w-way. It’s OK to talk about it."
Willow trailed her fingers down Tara’s arm, laying protectively over her. "Well, I do; I mean, I definitely do. I remember how it felt to find him and Veruca there, and I knew even then that it wasn’t about love, or him wanting to leave me for her. But this…God, Tara, he knew. I mean, obviously he knew that we were together, that we had made love." She felt her heart give a little half-gainer at hearing the words come out of her mouth. "But I think he also knew—I think he knew that it was love, and that I had chosen you. I think he knew right then that I belong to you." She shifted and sat up so that she could look Tara in the eyes. She could feel herself falling into the intensity of her emotions, and she needed the endless depths of blue to catch her. She saw Tara gazing at her with more love than she ever thought she would see in anyone’s eyes, at least anyone who was looking at her.
"Oh, Baby." Willow could see Tara struggling with her own thoughts. "You talked about me risking my life, but I heard you, Willow…I heard you begging Oz not to hurt me. I just can’t—I mean, I can’t even tell you what that did to my heart. And what it does to me now, just thinking about it." She leaned gently into Willow, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
"Tara, I just—I didn’t even think about it, really. It was just the most important thing in the world right then. It’s like you were the only person on-stage in my mind. Everything else was just a prop." Willow wrapped her arms around Tara and buried her face in the graceful curve of her neck. They rocked like that, gently, for several minutes.
Finally, an random thought flew into Willow’s head and offered some much-needed comic relief. She could feel herself start to giggle.
"OK, pull me up onto the Clue Train. What’s so funny?" Tara’s eyes were rimmed lightly in red, but still held the dancing light that always drew Willow toward her so trustingly.
"Well, I was just thinking; about the two of us, each so determined to save the other. I mean, I’m telling Oz to rip my throat out, not to hurt you; and then you’ve helped me anchor to a safe spot and suddenly you’re on your knees saying, ‘No, no, take me instead.’ And I was just about to pull myself out of the safe spot, at which point I would have no doubt pushed you out of the way and probably just thrown myself directly into his mouth. God, maybe we just confused him so much that he ran away to think it all over."
She hoped Tara wasn’t hurt or offended by her comment. She knew how readily Tara had offered herself as supplicant, as sacrifice if necessary. She hoped Tara knew how readily she had been willing to do the same. She was relieved to hear Tara’s shy laughter.
"Oh, God…It’s like—It’s like an afternoon talk show. ‘Today, on Jerry Springer: Women Who Fight To Be Sacrificed Before Anyone Else.’ But who else would be on the panel?"
"Well, I think Buffy has to be on there. And Xena. That girl puts the ‘no bull’ in ‘noble.’ And if we have her, we have to have Gabrielle, too. One won’t come without the other."
There was a brief silence while both women pondered the visual implications of Willow’s last sentence.
Finally, Tara spoke up. When she did, there was palpable regret in her voice for broaching the topic. "Will, do you think Oz is a danger to anyone tonight? Besides us, I mean?"
Willow furrowed her brow in thought. "No, I really don’t. I mean, I can’t know that for sure; but I have this strong feeling that he de-wolfed pretty quickly. He hasn’t even come close to changing for months now, or so he said when he got back. So…I don’t know, maybe I’m trying to convince myself it’ll be all right. But still…I just have this feeling that once he was away from us, he changed back. Besides, it’s almost light out, so that would speed up the reversal."
Both of them were quiet for a moment, recalling a sunny day two weeks ago when Oz had metamorphosed right in front of Tara, because of what he smelled on her. And that had been so mild, compared to the scents he would have picked up tonight. Finally, Willow sighed.
"We should probably call a Scooby meeting for this morning, if we can round everyone up."
"You know, I’ve always wondered exactly how you call a Scooby meeting. I mean, is there a secret phone in the Scooby cave? Do you use carrier pigeons? Send a Candy-gram?"
"No, none of the above. Our preferred method is to call each other up and convey some sense of the impending disaster through dark humor and wry understatement."
"Impressively literate. Can I listen in when you call?"
"Sure, but I may not be totally on my game. Performance anxiety and all."
Tara gave a crooked smile and ducked her head slightly. "That’s hard to believe. I mean, after last night, I can’t imagine you having any anxiety about your…performance."
Willow felt that same twisting sensation deep within her belly. Though she blushed, she also felt secretly relieved. She had wondered if she would know what to do, but when push came to shove (so to speak), their dance had seemed to choreograph itself. She knew that lust could take a couple a long way towards making their first encounter a hot one, but she also couldn’t help but compare last night to her first time with Oz. He had been so tender, and so considerate (especially in light of the fact that the Mayor was planning on eating them all like so much popcorn the next day). And it had felt good, both physically and emotionally. But the abandon that she had felt with Tara; this sense that she had just been released into the biggest and best candy store in the Northern Hemisphere…all of that felt specific to the two of them.
She saw Tara tilt her head slightly, and grinned at her self-consciously. "Just thinking about how good it feels to know it felt good to you, because you felt so good to me. It’s just a good feeling, you know?"
Tara smiled at her with something akin, Willow suspected, to naked adoration. "Willow, I’ve never known anyone who could use the same three words as the building blocks for fifteen separate sentences." She stifled a yawn. "It’s a gift, you know."
Willow shifted so that they could ease back down into bed. "I know you’re a gift to me."
"Sorta like that," Tara replied softly, and blushed. Once they were nestled under the covers again, Willow reached over and set her alarm to seven o’clock. Then she turned and faced Tara, running her thumb over the full lower lip before leaning in and just barely pressing her lips into Tara’s. Suddenly she felt almost reverent about this woman she loved, who loved her so intuitively and so incredibly well.
"I know this was terrifying, and I do hurt for Oz. But Tara—the biggest part of me is just so thankful we found each other, and so thankful we’re both safe now." She felt Tara’s lips brush over her forehead.
"I know, my love. I know." And though it wasn’t the most comfortable position, neither one could bring herself to shift and turn her back to the other, so they spent the next hour and a half facing each other, dozing in and out of a turbulent but insistently erotic sleep.
***
Buffy, Giles, Xander, Anya, and Riley all responded with due energy and concern to Willow’s dark humor and wry understatement. She had said only that she had decided to end things with Oz and that this was what had precipitated his transformation. Now, on their way to the Scooby meeting, Willow gave voice to her fears. In so doing, she felt the full brunt of another fear: that Tara would find her anxiety a sign of weakness, or uncertainty about their relationship.
"It’s like, I wanna be all, ‘I’m here, I’m queer, I lick her a lot, get used to it,’ but—" She stopped suddenly, facial hue matching their high school mascot. "I mean, ‘I like her a lot, get used to it.’ Oh, jeez, I can’t even get my gay pride slogans right." She let out a sharp sigh of frustration. "I mean, I hate that I’m scared to tell the others. They’ve never made any gay jokes, and I really can’t imagine any of them being mean or stupid. And—hello—experienced demon fighter and deeply motivated Wiccan here. What’s there to be afraid of?" She couldn’t bring herself to look at Tara, and suddenly, she wished they’d taken a much longer route to Giles’ house, one that included a nice long look at the Florida Everglades.
"Sweetie, I don’t think you’re worried that they’ll suddenly freak out and call you awful names. I think you’re afraid that things will change."
"Which is silly, I know, because they won’t."
"Of course they will. Whether anybody wants them to or not, things will change. Being with a woman isn’t all of who you are, Willow, but it is a part. And if the world were different, things wouldn’t have to change but people still carry around all these expectations and assumptions and so when we don’t match them, things change. And these people have always known you as a heterosexual. So it’ll be like…like they’ve always known that they could buy you chocolate for your birthday and you’d love it but now you’re telling them you’ve developed a taste for cinnamon." Tara paused and looked at her. Willow didn’t think she’d ever heard Tara hold forth about a subject in the way that she just had. Tara blushed as if reading her thoughts.
"God, just shut me up if I sound like I’m telling you what your experience will be like. I’m just…I just want you to have some idea about what this will be like and who knows if it’ll be anywhere close to what I’m describing. So…Shutting up now."
Willow stopped, and pulled Tara around to face her. "No, it’s good to hear what you’re thinking, because everything you said makes sense. I just…" She trailed off uncertainly.
"What?"
"I just don’t want to disappoint you by being afraid, and I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you."
"Well, that’s important, honey, because you know of course that when I came out, I did so with complete confidence and poise."
"Really? Oh jeez, see I knew it; I knew you’d think I was a total, five-alarm chicken; the fowlest of the fowl. I could have told you—"
"Willow, honey, that’s called irony. You learned it in junior high." Tara stopped, and gave her a gentle smile. "I know you’re scared, and I understand why. And I definitely know you’re not ashamed of me. I guess there’s some part of me that wants to tell you it’s OK if you decide not to tell them, but I can’t. It’s…It’s too hard for me to hold onto p-pride in myself to be an ongoing secret in your life. Not pride about b-being gay, but about being somebody w-worth loving." She stopped as her mouth twisted with what Willow suspected were memories of a life-time of denigration and mockery.
Oh, goddess…Nothing is worse than her feeling like this. Anything that happens with the gang will pass, but this, for her… No, I won’t be a part of that. I can do this.
"Tara? Baby?" Tara looked up from under her mantle of hair. Willow could see that she was chewing the inside of her mouth. "Tara, I’m telling them. Just stand by me and please don’t think less of me if I stammer my way through it."
"Willow—I don’t think I can be with you if you stammer." A small half-smile flickered over her lips. "I need to be with someone w-with perfect diction and elocution."
"Well, as long as we’re clear about our expectations. Because I need to be with someone who’s a linear thinker and gets right to the point when she speaks."
An hour later, as oxygen finally began to work its way back into her lungs and she could actually feel her legs again, Willow took stock of her disclosure and the ensuing reactions. All in all, it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Buffy, of course, already knew and could tell when Willow began speaking that she was going to tell the gang about her relationship with Tara. So she had moved discreetly to Willow’s other side to offer all the non-verbal support she could. Though Riley had helped hang the Lesbian Alliance banner at school, she still felt inexplicably concerned about his response. She realized abruptly, however, that she had been making some pretty sweeping generalizations about him as a naïve country boy. Hugging her, he had whispered in her ear, "You know, we do have lesbians in Iowa. It’s not just an urban chic thing."
Giles had stunned them all by not cleaning his glasses. More than she had given him credit for, Giles considered the love that she felt to be the most important aspect of her disclosure. "I’m so very happy for you," he murmured as he pulled her into a warm embrace. "You deserve to be loved for the remarkable person you are."
Anya insisted that she had known all along, giving numerous examples of lesbian couples she had known over the millenium of her life. She also made it clear that she probably knew far more about lesbian sex than either of them and that she would be more than happy to share that knowledge in the form of either a lecture or, more effectively, a live demonstration. At this, Giles not only cleaned his glasses but took that opportunity to phone his optometrist and set up an appointment to discuss a new prescription.
Xander was uncharacteristically quiet. "Wow, Will—so, look at you, all with the lesbian relationship that’s lesbian in nature. Did I mention ‘wow’?" After a moment of blinking rapidly and grinning in a blindingly insincere fashion, he added, "So congratulations are definitely in order. And to that I say, congratulations!"
The group then turned to the more somber task of mapping out a strategy for dealing with Oz should he not change back quickly.
"From everything Willow’s saying, I think she’s probably right. I think he’s probably already reverted back to his human form and he’s somewhere trying to sort all of this out," Giles opined.
"I hope you two are right, but what if you’re not? What if Oz stays a man who runs with the wolves?" Buffy inquired reluctantly. A momentary silence greeted this, and then Willow said, "I think we should try to find him. Just to be on the safe side. Besides…" She paused, feeling Tara’s eyes sharpen upon her. "I need to talk to him." She held up a hand to forestall the rush of protests. "I’m not saying that I go out and find him in some secluded place and hope he understands. But I can’t pretend that we don’t need to talk. Not to discuss any chance of getting back together, but just…I mean, you guys get that, right?"
Tara spoke up first, and most decisively. "Yes. I get that. Let’s just find a way to make it safe, OK?"
Willow nodded quickly. "Oh yeah. I’m all about safe. I mean, when I’m not patrolling for vampires or pulling souls back into bodies or averting apocalypsi. Or whatever the plural of ‘apocalypse’ is."
"Let’s find him first, OK?" Buffy suggested with a shake of her head. "And Willow, before you talk to him, you check in with me and we’ll make sure that there’s lots of back-up."
Willow nodded quietly. She hated the idea of needing back-up to talk to Oz; then again, she hated the idea of being shredded alive even more.
Xander finally found his voice as the official part of the meeting wrapped up and everyone moved off into the kitchen in search of new snacks. Tugging gently at her arm, he edged the two of them off to the side of the living room.
"Look, Will…I don’t know how to say this, but…" He had difficulty meeting her eyes, and dug his fists further into his pockets.
Willow felt her stomach clench slightly. "Well, Xander, just start with little words and sound out the big ones." She tried to smile, and felt it stop half-way along her cheeks.
"OK. Well, it’s just…It’s just…"
"Just what? Just about time for lunch? Just an old-fashioned love song? Spit it out before I hit menopause." She could feel the anger edge into her voice. Xander had always had more than his share of opinions on everyone else’s actions; so much so that he frequently came up short in evaluating his own.
"Willow, it’s like this. Oz left so freakin’ suddenly, and it just about killed you. And Tara’s such a nice girl and all…"
"Yes, Xander, wonderfully nice. Her breasts are especially wonderfully nice." Part of her couldn’t believe she was speaking that way; part of her kept hoping Xander would stop being a bear of such small brain.
"OK, Willow, now before you bite my head off, just let me finish. You can’t deny that Oz leaving hurt you a lot. And before Oz…" He fumbled again, finally looking her in the eye. "Before Oz, you were in love with me, and I know that I hurt you."
Willow’s eyes widened as she caught his monumentally narcissistic drift; then she leaned in closer and peered at him as if he were a new and spectacularly ill-advised life form. "Oh my God," she choked out, unsure whether to slug him or laugh in his face. She opted for Door Number Three.
"Tara? Honey? Can you come in here?" Xander looked at her with confusion in his eyes. Seconds later, Tara emerged from the kitchen.
"What is it?" The edge of concern in her voice told Willow that she knew Willow was agitated about something.
"Tara, Xander thinks he made me gay."
"Geez, Willow—I was trying to have a private conversation," the beet-faced naif hissed.
"Hey—this is big stuff. Not to be taken lightly. Tara certainly deserves to know how you figure into all of this, doesn’t she?" Willow felt equal parts anger, disappointment, and amusement. She could sense Xander’s consternation rolling off of him in waves, particularly after the others started filing into the living room to catch the latest installment of "Xander Makes a Big Mistake."
Willow obliged them with a review of recent events. "Xander was just telling me that he thinks I probably turned to women out of my deep and abiding longing for him."
"Did you?" Anya asked. "I don’t think it really works that way."
Willow shrugged. "Well, I didn’t think so, but what do I know? I have to consider the possibility that Xander is indeed the alpha and omega of my sexual orientation."
"OK, guys? A little explanation here, and a whole lotta back-pedaling, now that I think about it. I was just…I mean, she’s been hurt bad by a couple of men and Tara’s all sweet and kind and…and, you know, I just thought maybe…"
"That she was the default option? A gentle soul who can cuddle with me and help me heal from those mean boys?"
"That’s not what I mean; at least, what I meant didn’t sound so stupid in my head."
Caught up in her own indignation, Willow said without thinking, "Maybe you’d like to hear what we did last night, and then you can judge how kind and innocuous it all was." Catching herself, she wheeled in horror and looked at Tara. The gentle blue eyes were wide with shock.
"Tara, baby…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so…so blunt. I just—"
"It’s OK, sweetie. I just think that m-maybe the video tape w-we made would be more helpful." And with that, Willow got one more clue into just how intricate Tara really was. She grinned exuberantly at her now-slightly-blushing lover.
"It’s true, Xander," Buffy chimed in. "After you and Cordelia broke up, she turned to women for comfort. Actually, she moved to LA to join a lesbian convent—or is that redundant?"
"I guess it’s true," Willow noted sadly. "The only heterosexual woman in Sunnydale is the woman who sleeps with Xander. All others heal their burning desires with the safe companionship of a woman." She turned to Anya. "Congratulations, satisfied heterosexual woman. Truly, the gift of passion is yours."
"Oddly enough," Anya replied without a trace of irony, "I’ve felt a stronger pull to women in the last year than I have at any other point in my most definitely extended life."
"OK, fine." Xander held up his hands in a gesture of submission. "I was way off-base. I had no right to question your life, Willow. I’m sorry." Willow felt a small measure of lenience edge back into her heart at Xander’s abject remorse. "I have so very, very much to learn." He looked at her ruefully. "Can I have a do-over on the congratulations part? As in, congratulations. I’m happy for you. Tara seems fantastic."
Leaning toward him, Willow muttered softly, "You know that in my mind, I’m barfing on your shoes right now." But she smiled as she said it.
"Yes. Of course. As well you should."
She gave him a hug that was actually something of a hybrid between a warm embrace and a slap on the head...not easy to pull off, but then she was just learning what kinds of wonderful tricks her hands could pull off.
Giles had remained silent throughout this recent exchange, but as Willow pulled back away from her oldest friend, she saw the Watcher gazing at them with an odd expression on his face. Willow stared in growing curiosity as he began to walk toward them.
"Xander, as you spoke so passionately, so convincingly just a moment ago, I was forced to realize that I've been living a lie." Giles' voice was low and urgent. "The stirring in my loins told me that I, too, have fallen under the power of your sexual magnetism. Kiss me, man--for the love of God, kiss me!"
The meeting, having nowhere to go but down after this scene, disbanded soon after.
TO BE CONTINUED
, and in regards to Xander you "nailed" him perfectly, with his ego/self-importance "thinking he made her gay" ("Xander makes a big mistake." indeed).
at: 11/1/02 1:45:09 pm