Series: Vignettes
Number: 37
Title: End of the World
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.comSummary: Willow has a secret
Spoiler Warning: Set early Season 5, though references are made to late Season 5
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters. I do, however, love them, and as they reside in my heart, they belong to me. I'm not making any money off of them, though.
Rating: PG-13.
NOTES: A >huge< Thank-You to Scout for sending me a nice long list of vignette suggestions. This one really spoke to me. Oh, and Jennpurr and bzengo? I haven’t forgotten I owe you a fic … it’s certainly been longer than a couple of weeks, but I’m working on it. Promise. I’m even including some smut that takes place somewhere that, quite possibly, W/T fic has never gone before.
End of the World
Part 37 of the Vignettes Series
by Sassette
Willow frowned, looking at the piece of paper in her hand in utter disbelief. She’d heard of things like this, but she’d never actually seen one. How was this even possible?
Quickly stuffing the papers into her bag, Willow hurried out of the room, making her way toward the home she shared with Tara. It had been such an incredibly easy decision to move in with her girlfriend, and she smiled, some of the tension in her body over the contents of the paper in her bag leaving her at the thought of Tara.
Tara and home.
It was funny after all these years to have a home. She’d had several home-away-from-home’s in her lifetime, but not really the original home that would allow for a home-away-from-home. There had been the Sunnydale public library, when she was little, and Jesse’s grandmother’s house, when she and Xander and Jesse had all met in grade school. That had been a home-away-from-home for Xander, too, when her house had been too empty and quiet and Xander’s had been too filled with anger and noise.
Then the library at good ol’ Sunnydale High, where the books had all been so old, but so very new to her. Never before had she dreamed of books that held such arcane information, and she had often gone to browse even when nothing apocalyptic was going on. Buffy’s house, too, had been a home-away-from-home, with an interested parent and a nosey little sister. How strange it had been, to walk in and have someone actually notice she was there.
But she had always known that, no matter how home-like these places seemed, they were borrowed. None of it was really hers. Her life was a big empty house and parents that were rarely there – and if they were there, they certainly didn’t show an interest in her apart from perfunctory praise over her academic performance. They never even asked her if she had done her homework. Of course, she >always< did her homework, but just once she would have liked to have been asked, so she could say ‘yes’.
Now everything had changed for the better. The Sunnydale library had morphed into The Magic Box, and Buffy’s house was still a place she was always welcome.
And there was a home – a real home, with someone who cared enough to ask about her day, and would tell her about her own. It was a warm and happy place, filled with love and laughter and silly little conversations.
But how was she going to tell Tara about this? Her frown returned, and she could feel her shoulders tighten up. Maybe she could just not mention it. Sure, Buffy and Xander had once said such a thing would certainly be a sign of an impending apocalypse, but did that mean she had to burden Tara with the information?
Head down, she gripped her bag tighter and hurried towards home, her mind racing again over the impossibility of it all. How could this have happened? No, she couldn’t tell Tara about this. Not this. She’d just have to do some research – she could read and read and read, and get it all taken care of before Tara found out – before Tara saw her differently.
Because that was the real horror of this situation. For whatever reason – and Willow still couldn’t quite fathom this – Tara loved her. She loved Willow completely, and now what if Tara decided this new development changed that? So she’d just have to fix everything before Tara found out, not to mention Buffy and Xander.
Willow stopped up short, a look of sheer misery crossing her face as pre-emptive guilt rolled over her in waves. How could she even be thinking of not telling anyone? Was that fair? She was a bad, bad person.
Self-chastisement racing through her thoughts, Willow gritted her teeth and started moving again, not noticing the strange stares her antics were earning from passers-by. What kind of arrogance made her think she could just take care of this herself? The thought appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but then she warmed to it. It was her own fault this situation had come about in the first place, so how could she really trust herself to take care of it alone?
But wasn’t it her responsibility to fix things when she made mistakes? And wasn’t an argument with herself, no matter how internalized, a sign of impending insanity?
“Perfect,” she muttered out loud. “I’m going insane, and then everyone will know something’s wrong, because they’ll be all ‘Hey, look – it’s crazy Willow … Willow isn’t usually crazy, is she? No, no – that must mean she’s gone all nutso on us.’”
Maybe that was it – maybe she was crazy, and this whole thing was a mistake. Suddenly finding insanity to be a comforting thought, Willow stopped again, pulling her bag to the front of her body and diving in with both hands, rummaging around until she had grasped the papers. Quickly, she pulled them out, bringing them up to her face to take a good look.
She blinked.
She blinked again.
No, she wasn’t crazy. She’d really actually seen what she had thought she had seen, and now everything was all wrong again. Feeling frustrated tears pricking the back of her eyes, Willow shoved the papers back into her bag and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, suddenly feeling like home was the last place she wanted to be. What if she tried to keep it a secret and Tara found out anyway? How would she feel then?
Willow stopped up short and blinked, coming to the astonishing realization that she had almost attempted to walk through her own front door. Shaking her head and feeling a sense of despondency descend upon her, she put her hand on the knob. Breathing deeply, she turned it, putting her shoulder on the door and leaning into it – the only way to open it, as it tended to stick.
“Willow?” Tara called out, looking up and wiping some peanut butter off of her thumb, smiling broadly when she saw her girlfriend walk in the front door. The expression on Willow’s face made Tara’s smile fade, and she left the sandwiches she was making where they were and rushed over, her eyes full of concern. “Baby, what is it?” she asked, trying to catch Willow’s eyes with her own, only to find that Willow wouldn’t quite look at her.
“Nothing,” Willow said shortly, taking her bag into the bedroom. Tara watched her go with a sense of alarm filling her. Something was seriously wrong. Willow was never that short with her – never just walked in and walked off without saying hello at least.
But what could she do about it? Tara looked at the doorway Willow had disappeared through, chewing her lower lip. What if it was her? What if Willow’s bad mood was because of Tara? Should she just go and give Willow some space, or should she try to find out what was wrong?
Prying couldn’t be the right thing to do, Tara noted internally, mulling over the situation. She certainly had her own secrets, and Willow had never pried into those, taking her evasive answers about her family in stride, assuming rightly that she didn’t want to talk about it. So how could she push for answers when she was so unwilling to give her own?
And it wasn’t like her secret was harmless. It was something that Willow would need to know, eventually, or she would have to leave – to go back with her family and leave Willow all alone again.
But not alone, Tara reminded herself as her heart broke a little more, as it broke every single day, thoughts of her upcoming change constantly on her mind. Willow had her friends, and she would be all right – she would be fine without Tara, and wouldn’t it be easier for Willow if she just left?
Not today, though. No, not today. She’d go when she had to, and not a moment before. It was selfish, she knew, to stay when she had so little to offer Willow. All she could do was help with Scooby research, and make sure Willow remembered to eat, and love her. Always love her.
Tara found herself at the door, seeing Willow sitting on the bed – their bed – with her shoulders hunched and her head down. It was a position Tara was so very familiar with, but one she was used to assuming, not seeing. It was Willow who had gotten her to raise her head again and look at the world, and to let the world look at her. She had been so afraid of being seen, of being noticed. Was that how Willow was feeling now.
Slowly, she moved forward, sitting down in front of Willow and putting her hands lightly on her knees. “Will?” she asked quietly, looking into sad green eyes and wondering what could have possibly happened since that morning that had made the happy Willow who had walked out the door into this despondent Willow.
“Tara, I …” Willow began, her throat closing on the words. She shook her head, unable to verbalize what she was feeling – what she had found out that day.
“It’s, umm … it’s not the, uhh … the end of the world, right?” Tara asked uncertainly, knowing that with this woman she had come to love so very much, that was a distinct possibility.
“It’s … it could be,” Willow said, frowning thoughtfully, her brow furrowing. “I … I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me,” Tara urged, meeting Willow’s eyes evenly, trying to convey with her expression all the love and support she felt. Her hand rubbed Willow’s knee lightly, a comforting gesture for her as much as for Willow, the contact reminding her that they were together for now, and that her own ending was still some time to come.
“I’m just being stupid,” Willow said, shaking her head again and clasping her hands together, looking upward toward the ceiling and rolling her eyes at herself, even as tears began to fill them.
“If … umm … it it’s making you feel this bad, it’s … it’s not stupid,” Tara said softly, sitting up on her knees and inching closer to her girlfriend.
“It is stupid - >I’m< stupid,” Willow insisted, her voice completely serious. “I’m like the village idiot, only the village idiot could probably outsmart me at this point, and so that makes me dumber than the village idiot, and –“
“Willow, stop,” Tara commanded, more sharply than she had intended, surprising them both. “You are the furthest thing from stupid I can possibly imagine,” she said seriously, her eyebrows scrunching together as her concern for Willow turned into alarm. “And I’m not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the woman I love.”
“But what if I’m not?” Willow asked, her eyes pleading with Tara to understand what she was trying to say without her actually trying to say it. “What if I’m not nearly as smart as you think I am? What if I’ve done something so astronomically stupid I make Cordelia look like a rocket scientist?”
“Willow … what is this all about?” Tara asked, helpless in her confusion. How could she possibly have this discussion with Willow when she had no idea what she was discussing?
Bracing herself for the inevitable, Willow reached into her bag, her hand finding the paper there, the crumpled edges easily recognizable against her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she slowly pulled out her hand, her eyes closing as she shakily handed it over to Tara.
Automatically, Tara took the paper, not even looking at it, her eyes searching Willow’s face. She looked … she looked like she was expecting to get hit, Tara realized, wondering what she could be holding in her hand that could possibly put a look like that on Willow’s face.
She looked at the paper, her eyes growing wide as she easily zeroed in on the source of Willow’s distress. “Oh, sweetie,” Tara said softly. “Baby, it’s okay,” she said, moving to sit next to Willow and draw her into her arms, her hand still wrapped around the paper.
“How can it be okay?” Willow asked plaintively, burrowing as close to Tara as she possibly could. “How can anything be okay ever again?”
“Willow – it’s just one ‘B’ on one paper,” Tara said cautiously, wondering if these were the right words. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she had been thinking – in fact, compared to what she had been thinking, this was something of a great relief. Still, she knew how important Willow’s 4.0 GPA was to her, and how she had literally never ever gotten a ‘B’ on anything in her entire life. “The semester is just starting, and you’ve got plenty of time to bring your grade up.”
“But what if I can’t?” Willow said, tears slipping out of her eyes. “I’m … What if I can’t do this? What if this is like some kind of …”
“Will you let me help?” Tara asked softly, hugging Willow close.
“Would you?” Willow asked, looking up at Tara with hope in her eyes.
Tara’s own eyes teared up as she took in the expression on Willow’s face, her breath catching in her throat. That picture – this moment – would remain with her forever, as she saw something in Willow’s eyes that she had never expected to see on anyone’s face ever. It was sheer belief, complete and all-encompassing … in her. Willow believed that Tara could do this – that she was the answer to all of Willow’s problems, and that her help was important. No, that her help was essential.
This – this was something she could give to Willow. It was something that she could contribute to Willow’s happiness, and Tara smiled broadly, knowing that here was another reason to stay, for a little while longer at least. And maybe, just maybe, if the world was kind, there would eventually be a way they could be together – a way she could stay with Willow after. But even if there wasn’t, she had this one perfect moment to hold inside of her and keep her warm in the cold, cold house she grew up in. She knew what it was like to be needed and loved, and able to help Willow, who might never know exactly how much their relationship had really meant to Tara.
“Of course, sweetie,” was all Tara said, as she let her head drop down to press her lips softly, lingeringly, against Willow’s forehead. “I mean, really,” she went on, her voice purposefully light, “how often did you have to help me out with math?”
“Still – are you sure? I’m pretty hopeless,” Willow said softly, the unfamiliar feeling of academic insecurity welling up inside of her.
“Well, it >is< my major,” Tara said, a half-smile playing about her lips as she regarded Willow fondly. “I think I can handle tutoring the smartest girl in Sunnydale.”
“If I’m so smart, how’d I get a ‘B’?” Willow grumbled, sitting up from the somewhat cramped position of being awkwardly sprawled across Tara and grasping Tara’s hand in her own, taking comfort in the contact.
“Willow, I promise – we’ll get your grade up, and getting one ‘B’ on one paper in a subject that doesn’t really interest you doesn’t make you any less smart, okay?” Tara said, squeezing Willow’s hand and smiling reassuringly at her.
“Okay,” Willow said, feeling immeasurably better, and wondering how she could have thought that one little ‘B’ would change the way Tara felt about her. “Though I’m warning you, I don’t know the difference between a Rembrandt and a Monet,” Willow said with a self-depricating smile.
“Mmm…” Tara said, a slight chuckle shaking her shoulders. “They’re, umm … they’re completely different, sweetie.”
“See how hopeless I am?” Willow said, her lips twitching with a smile she tried to hold back.
“At least you know Rembrandt and Monet were painters,” Tara pointed out, her own smile growing into a broad grin. “That’s a start.”
“They’re both painters?” Willow asked in mock surprise. “I mean, I knew Monet discovered pointillism …”
“That was Seurat,” Tara said, her eyes narrowing playfully.
“But didn’t Rembrandt carve the statue of David?” Willow asked innocently.
“That was Michelangelo,” Tara said, her eyes twinkling. “And you’re pulling my leg.”
“Maybe a little,” Willow said with a smile, her heart feeling so much lighter knowing that her GPA would be back to normal in no time. With Tara at her side, helping her find her way, she couldn’t possibly go wrong.
by Scout » Thu Apr 24, 2003 2:23 pm 
The song ... well, it's just the first one that popped into my head. Except for Jingle Bells. Yes, Jingle Bells - for some reason while I was trying to think of a song, Jingle Bells wouldn't leave me alone, but it didn't quite seem like your lullaby type of song *shrug*
Oh well, I'm halfway there!
you had me in happy tears with Willow's " I'm so gay" revelation in front of the mirror.
It wasn't me, it was my twin sister from Bangladesh, yeah that's the ticket. 
at: 4/27/03 10:43:50 pm
(and of the reward 
). Another great vignette - well done 
... I can't wait for the next W/T moment!
, keep up to good work.