Plenty of Magic by Binky

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel are trademarked and copyrighted properties of Fox Television and its related entities, Mutant Enemy, and Joss Whedon. I have no affiliation to Fox, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Angel. No monetary compensation has been solicited nor will any be received for this fiction by the writer or the owner(s) of this website.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: BtVS Season 5.
Author's Notes: Thoughts in italics. Emphasis in italics. Strong emphasis in ALLCAPS. The original abbreviated version of this story was drafted as a challenge entry on the DCP forum of the Kitten board
Pairing: Willow/Tara

Summary: Tara contemplates her relationships with Willow's friends.

"Was I?" Tara smoothed the tank top over her torso. A pair of boxers completed her bedtime ensemble. She climbed into her bed, pulling the blanket up over herself. Willow followed her, in a flannel pajama shirt and a pair of pale blue cotton panties for a bottom, her hand falling naturally to Tara's hip. "I guess I still had a lot on my mind."

"About your family?" Willow murmured into the back of her neck, stifling a yawn. It was just a little after midnight but it had been a very eventful couple of days, between the attack in the Magic Box by the Leiach demons and the confrontation with Tara's family yesterday, the big drama of Tara not turning into a demon, and finally tonight's surprise party. Perhaps the party had been one thing too many, but after seeing the look of first shock then delight on Tara's face as they entered the Bronze, Willow had no doubt all the work and effort she had put into the evening for her sweetheart was more than worthwhile. Before she could stop herself the yawn came out, twice as wide for being stifled earlier.

Tara giggled as Willow's yawn tickled at the baby-fine hairs at the nape of her neck. She pulled the bed sheet over them as they mutually molded themselves into a Willow-spooning-Tara position, wordlessly signaling sleep rather than the half-drape Willow-blanket that signaled something else, though Willow wrapped her limbs around Tara, which left the door open for more. "Um, yes…about my family." She knew from the severity of the yawn that Willow was seconds from falling asleep, so she didn't follow-up to clarify the shift in meaning the term had taken on since yesterday.

The truth was, since her father, Donnie and Beth had gotten back into the camper and left Tara to degenerate in her wicked ways with her unnatural friends, she had given her surviving blood relations little more than a passing second thought. Her thoughts instead were with her mother. Did you know, before you passed? Have you forgiven him? The Lord and Lady keep you, Mama.

Looking back at her childhood, she now felt dim-witted for not realizing that not once had she seen her mother's demon surface despite her father's dire predictions, even during those precious stolen times they had sat in the attic together by the secret, dim light of candles, her mother teaching her the basic principles of their religion and craft. At the time, her father had owed that fact up to the success of the "cure" – setting her mother and herself, when she was old enough, to work, practically every single hour on some household chore or farming labor when he couldn't supervise the behavior of his wife and daughter himself.

Mama's life should have been very different. Did he love you, in his own way? I'm not sure he ever loved me.

The weight of the thought felt like it could crush her. At that moment, she didn't know if this sudden knowledge about the man her father was could be any more preferable to the fear, humiliation, and shame of believing she had a feral demon inside, lying in wait to take over her life, mind, body and soul. Tara took a deep breath then consciously forced it from her lungs, along with that train of thought from her mind. She was determined to think only of good things like the family she had now and the home she had made for herself with the girl currently cocooning her as much with an aura of warmth and protection as with her small body. Tara's gaze fell to the slim flannel-encased arm that lay across her ribcage, and she thought of what Willow had just said.

Had she been quiet tonight? She hadn't thought so. She had expressed herself more tonight than at any time she could recall. At first, the amount of conversation buzzing around her had been a little overwhelming…

"Hey, while Ahn's at the bar haggling over the next round, I heard this joke about a succubus and a vengeance demon."

"Oh, this should be good. Did you get this hanging out at Willy's during amateur stand-up hour again, or is this one from personal experience?"

"Give him a chance, Buff. Xander can be really funny, sometimes without even trying." Willow slurped on the last of her first drink.

"Uh, thanks, Will…I think. And what's up with you, Slay-Stuff? You've been all extra bold and spicy with the sardonic wit lately. You're not gonna stake me next, are you? Cause, you know, the quipping, usually a prelude to the…" Xander made a staking motion with his fist, "woody goodness action."

Willow snorted, spilling some of her drink on herself. Even Tara smirked a little as she patted her girlfriend on the back.

"Yeah, that didn't come out right. But you know what I mean. You feeling okay, Buffster? You've been kinda short with everyone lately."

Buffy's eyes narrowed. Willow chortled as she turned to Tara and whispered, "See what I mean?"

"Uh, that didn't come out right, either. That really didn't come out right. For the record, I like my limbs. I'm attached to them – literally, of course, but emotionally too. And I'm allergic to pain. So please don't dismember me. What I meant to say is," and Xander instantly became serious, "are you alright, Buff? You seem a little tense lately." They all turned their attention to Buffy.

A brief look of panic crossed Buffy's face before she recovered. "Oh…Yeah. I guess I have been kinda snippy gal lately. Sorry, Xan. I've just had a lot on my mind." She glanced briefly at Giles.

"Yeah? Care to bend your best friend's ear about it?" Xander asked around a mouthful of peanuts.

Tara whispered, "Sorry. I just thought maybe this would be a good time for you to ask Buffy to, um, go with you to the women's room?"

It took Willow just a second more to cotton on. "Oh, right." She turned back to Buffy. "Hey, Buff –"

"Yes. Sure. No. No talking necessary. I'm sorry, Xan. Really. Continue. Please. With your demon love story."

"Okay. Let me clarify. It's a joke. Not a love story. And it's not an anecdote. Definitely NOT from personal experience this time…"

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the women's room with me, Buffy?" Willow blurted out.

Giles gently interrupted. "This doesn't have anything to do with the, ah, new training schedule I've put you on, does it, Buffy?"

Buffy's face was momentarily brilliant with relief. "Well, since you mentioned it, Giles…"

Giles' trademark annoyed scowl crossed his features before he suddenly visibly brightened. "You will all excuse me, won't you? I believe I see Ms. Olivetti. One of our finest patrons." They all turned to look at the attractive middle-aged brunette who frequented The Magic Box. The casual witch always took the time to talk to Tara when the girl was helping out at the store those times she dropped by under the pretense of shopping, but actually just to flirt with the bachelor librarian-turned-shopkeeper. He reminded her of the Taster's Choice™ actor from the commercials in the 80s. "I really should go greet her." Giles stood up to Xander's wolf whistle. "Really, Xander." He left the table.

Tara would have to see the older woman herself to thank her for stopping by. She had also briefly seen Sandra earlier, as well as a few members of the campus Wicca group and the Lesbian and Gay Alliance. She wanted to share time with everyone who dropped by for her sake, but later. At the moment, she was, a little surprisingly, too comfortable exactly where she was. "So, h-how about that joke, Xander?"

"Well, okay. Here goes. Mr. Dixon is a 90-year old man who just married a 20-year old girl named –"

"Nothing you need to know about, Annoying One." Buffy's frown was back. "What time is it, anyway? Shouldn't Mom have come to pick you up by now?"

"Um, Buffy, it's only 8:30. Dawn should be okay still, shouldn't she? Your mom w-won't be expecting her yet?"

"Oh. Sorry. Force of habit. But you're going home in 30 minutes if I have to take you home myself."

"Gee, Buffy. 9:00 is still kinda early. You'd miss the party games if you left then," Willow said.

"Of course there's party games! To celebrate your big two-oh, you definitely need party games!"

"Hey, yeah, why is that, Tara? You're like, a whole year older than us. You weren't left back a year in school, were you?"

"Of course she wasn't, Xander!" Willow's eyes flashed dangerously at him before turning to Tara. "You weren't, were you, baby?"

"Uh, no." Tara demurely lifted her drink to take a sip from the straw. She brought the beverage up to her face much closer than necessary.

Tara felt a little hot at all the attention. "W-Well, my birthday is the middle of October, obviously. Our, um, school district in Alabama? Th-they admitted students by age. So I w-was too young by a couple w-weeks to start w-with the other kids my age."

"Sweetie, huh? Cute! You two are SO CUTE together, you know that? So what other cute little nicknames do you have for each other?"

"Oh, well…" Willow frowned. As close as Buffy and she were, Dawn was also kind of like her annoying little sister by extension, though she thankfully had none of the actual big-sister responsibility.

"Um, uh, well…" Tara had a long time ago accepted that not everyone was comfortable with gay people. It wasn't her place to educate someone as young as Dawn about it, especially when Buffy might still be a little uncomfortable about her relationship with Willow.

Sure enough…"DAWN! It is SO not appropriate for you to be asking that question!"

"Yeah, Dawnie, you know, I think maybe…" Willow paused in the middle of agreeing with her best friend when the nuances of Buffy's words hit her. "Well…Why not Buffy? You don't still have a problem with me and Tara –?"

"What? Why that…No! Of course not, Will! And when did I ever have a problem with you and Tara?" The two witches exchanged the briefest of looks, but Buffy caught it. Her face fell in a frown. "Really? You think that? Did I…really seem to…"

"M-Maybe just a little bit, Buffy. Just in the beginning?" Tara tried to mitigate.

Buffy's lower lip trembled. "I'm like, the worst friend, ever. I make Xander shriek like a little girl…"

"…I'm ungrateful to Giles for trying to make me the best Chosen One I can be, and I make you two uncomfortable about being out and loud and proud the way you should be. Out of Tara's dorm room, too, I mean."

"But I've gotten better, haven't I? I mean, I try to be support-o girl. It's just that, 12 year olds – boundaries, necessary, right?"

"What else is new?" Dawn glowered, not noticing Tara's sympathetic smile. They were strangely in a similar situation. Tara would never volunteer it to Willow, but even the one year age difference only served to emphasize that for whatever reason, she wasn't quite on the peer level of the original Scooby gang, or even Anya, for that matter, despite the fact that their respective relationships with Willow and Xander had begun almost at the same time.

"But, I mean, if you and Tara are okay with it, I guess I should be too. Okay, witchy duo. So what other kinds of pet names do you use for each other? You can skip the 'sweeties' and 'cuties', just go straight to 'Goddess of Honeypots' and the other good stuff." Buffy smirked.

"Fine! I'll go home if none of you want me here." Dawn got up. Buffy's face lit up.

The image of the young girl standing up to Tara's father during the confrontation at The Magic Box was still fresh in Tara's mind. "Hey, Dawn, come on. I want you here. I'm sure there's something we can all do until your Mom comes to pick you up…?" Buffy's face fell.

They were interrupted by a large tray carrying several drinks being slid onto the table, pushing the empty glasses to the side.

"Thank you very much for leaving me there to carry the drink tray by myself, Xander!"

"You know," Tara said softly to Willow, "I'm beginning to think half the bruises you guys come home with after a night patrolling come from each other and not the vamps." Willow just smiled.

Willow handed Tara her drink and took another for herself from the tray. "So, Anya, how'd that whole haggling-for-alcohol thing go?"

"Yes freaking way, Xander. Apparently saving the lives of the patrons as well as the hired help of this fine establishment countless number of times stands for nothing compared to the modicum of property damage and personal injury, death, or maiming incurred during the 95%-of-the-time-successful rescue attempts!" Anya's voice steadily rose as she attempted one final time to move the scowling barkeep.

"That, or possibly actually being the cause of some of said crises?" Willow muttered.

"What's that, Miss I-was-a-teenage-dominatrix-vampire-in-a-parallel-universe-who-couldn't-keep-my-teeth-out-of-any-bared-neck-I-saw-during-my-brief-visit-of-this-one?"

The resulting glarefest then Anya's presence kept them from ever getting back to Xander's joke, something which was teasing now at Tara's brain. After Joyce had come shortly after 9:00 to collect her youngest daughter, the group broke up and mingled among the other non-Scooby attendees. Tara did, however, manage to spend more focused time with each of them later.

She spoke briefly with Mr. Giles before he, too left, shortly after Joyce and Dawn, amid Xander's innuendo that there was perhaps a reason behind their closely staggered exits and Buffy's resulting scowl. Tara intended to talk to him the next time she was at the Magic Box. She still needed to properly apologize for not approaching him earlier about her problem. She desperately wanted to let him know how much she respected him and his capabilities as a scholar and expert in the mystical world, her misguided attempt to keep her family's secret to the contrary.

Anya tried to engage her in a round of "What Kind Of Inner Demon Are You?" but it hit a little too close to home, still. After, her attempt to explain the insect reflection joke fell flat. Not that it was that funny to begin with, but Anya's literal-mindedness made all humor based on metaphor doubly doomed to failure. Still, Tara decided she liked the ex-Vengeance demon, despite the rivalry with Willow for Xander's affection the two seemed to perversely relish. The things about Anya that made her grate against Willow's nerves – her directness, and self-centeredness – those same things were what Tara actually secretly admired about Anya, maybe because they were traits she felt she could never own herself. They weren't necessarily bad traits to have, and Anya made the most of them. There was also some common ground. Not quite knowing who they were as persons, yet. That Anya actually had been a demon for a thousand years, and her almost 20-year old belief that she would be turning into one. Or, maybe just the fact that both of them came into the Slayer party late, so to speak, as invited guests. But Tara didn't mind being considered more or less a Willow accessory, for now. She knew it would just take a little time.

Xander, like Anya, had accepted her immediately and with ease. Most of his evening was spent by Anya's side, though Tara's overt and provenly consistent lesbianism prompted Anya into granting her immediate approval to Xander asking Willow's girlfriend for a slow turn on the dance floor. One would think the Xander/Willow fluking incident might be an inappropriate story to entertain Tara with, but she laughed the whole time. As their dance ended, Xander presented his second gift to top the scented bath oils he and Anya had given her as her birthday present earlier. "You and Will look great together," he said, smiling, as the last of the song died away. Awkwardly adding, "and I don't mean that in the usual 'can-I-watch?' guy-thing kind of way," did nothing to lessen the value of what Xander said. Tara assured him of that with her answering half-grin.

It was impossible to not like Xander. Remarkably little was hidden behind his outward jocularity. What was hidden was nothing dark or threatening. A little insecurity, maybe, at not having any special power or skill to offer when the fight against the evil of the Hellmouth exceeded the capabilities of a lone slayer and her watcher, unlike the spells of a witch or the vast knowledge of a thousand-year-old ex-Vengeance demon. So, he did what he could – the research he complained vocally about, but was actually glad for as it gave him a way to contribute something other than the occasional axe-wielding which he was mediocre at, at best, or the thankless but necessary chore of cleaning up and fixing all the damaged furniture after the fighting was over. Xander's insecurity was almost certainly compounded by being the only young male of the gang since Oz had left – Riley didn't count, as he seemed to prefer being independent from Team Slayer. The fact that Tara tipped the scale even further toward the double-X side of things, however, didn't seem to factor in Xander's appreciation for her at all, for which she was extremely grateful. She easily saw how Willow could have had feelings for him. In fact, a different life, a different world, with someone as kind and generous and funny as Xander, even she, perhaps, could –

Okay, so it wouldn't ever happen that way. They hadn't talked about it yet, but one day soon, Tara would satisfy her curiosity and ask Willow about the whole muscles and penis thing. Or maybe she could ask Anya. No. She couldn't ask Anya. It might get back to Willow. Anya would definitely let it slip to Willow. Better to just ask her recently gay girlfriend herself.

Of course, there was also Buffy, though Tara couldn't imagine ever having that kind of talk with the Slayer.

The conversation with Buffy had been the one she had dreaded the most. It wasn't for the fact that Buffy was Willow's best and closest friend, that the two were as close as sisters. If it were only that, the initial freak-out Buffy had at learning her best friend had switched teams was something Tara knew the two could and would work out. It had more to do with the residual effects of Buffy being the Slayer and Tara believing, up until yesterday, that she would be turning into a demon today. Part of her still couldn't not believe it, couldn't let go of what her father had taught her for the eighteen years before she came to Sunnydale. In fact, what she had been doing since she left her father's house, the lies, deflections, and cover-ups she had needed to commit to keep her secret, culminating in the fiasco of her curse yesterday…didn't that just prove the point? She couldn't deny it. Beth and her father had been right about that. She was a selfish person, had acted badly, regardless of her reasons, and bad people didn't deserve so much kindness or forgiveness.

The talk with Buffy had started as Willow, Xander, and Anya had begun to group-dance to a hard techno number, leaving Tara and Buffy to hold their table. They watched Xander and Willow spasm to the driving beats as Anya gamely tried to mimic their less challenging moves, mistaking them for typical young human behavior.

Tara turned as Buffy moved into the seat next to hers. Riley had run into another graduate student from the reorganized Psychology department and was having a beer with him, leaving Buffy free for a tête-à-tête with the older girl. "Thanks, Buffy. It is. A happy one, I mean."

They watched their friends in a companionable silence a few moments before Buffy mused, "You were pretty surprised, huh?"

Tara nodded shyly. "W-Willow had me believing w-we w-were just going to have a quiet dinner together."

"No. Not at all." Tara hesitated before adding, "This was, um, my first, you know? First actual birthday party, I mean." She ended with a blush.

"Really?" Buffy was genuinely surprised, before recalling Tara's father. "Oh." It made sense.

They continued watching as a particularly ambitious dance move by Xander resulted in him careening into the six-foot linebacker-type behind him.

Tara broke the silence before it could become awkward. "Buffy? I just w-wanted you to know how sorry I am, again, for yesterday?"

"Pfft, forget about it, Tara. Wonky spells, surprise demon attacks, general mayhem and trashed furniture – all part of the Slayer benefits package."

Xander and the football player were talking and gesturing to each other, rather animatedly. "Um, yes, I did kind of notice. Still…" She found she couldn't continue to look at Buffy, and hung her head. "W-What I did really complicated things for you? Made it harder? You w-wouldn't have had as much of the violence and broken things if it w-weren't for me and my family and the spell I did." It could've been the attack that killed you. "You…You could've been really hurt."

Buffy's eyes were on the dance floor and Xander's new acquaintance now poking her friend in his chest. Xander clutched at the spot the fat forefinger had jabbed. She inwardly sighed, weighing if she should intervene. "Really, Tara, I'm kind of used to being the lotto prize every big, medium-sized, and half-pint demon trying to make its mark in this town goes after." Buffy paused and looked at the other girl. "In fact, I prefer it that way."

Buffy held her gaze. There was more. She wanted Tara to realize it, and say it out loud. "I put you in danger. And worse. Willow. I put Willow in danger. If anything had happened to her…And Xander and Anya, and…and Dawn. Dawn was there. She could've been…Oh Goddess." Tara's vision blurred. She was tearing. "I don't know why you didn't let my father take me."

"Because it would've broken Will's heart." Buffy said. She took a sip of her drink, as much to give herself a moment as to wet her mouth. "And Dawn's. You probably noticed, my sister's kind of attached to you." She placed her empty glass back down on the table. Anya was now in the gorilla's face, Willow backing her. "Plus, like I said, you are family, Tara."

Tara hadn't looked up. An old adage came to mind. "'You can't choose your family.'"

Tara looked at Buffy squarely. "What happened yesterday will never happen again."

Buffy smirked. "Oh, so you're promising no more demon attacks and wonky spells and busted furniture? What? You know something Giles doesn't?" Her eyes widened in mock horror. "It's not another prophecy is it? Because if it's another prophecy…?"

Tara hesitated, wondering if it was her place. "Did you w-want to talk about it w-with someone –" Tara paused. She had been about to say 'someone from the outside.' "Did you want to talk about it, Buffy? Um, experienced secret-keeper, right here," she offered, smiling awkwardly.

Buffy rolled her eyes at her friend's self-deprecating dig. "No. It's all right, but thanks." She looked out into the dance floor. Amazingly, Mr. Muscles had backed down to Anya. "That woman is scary amazing," Buffy muttered to herself. She turned back to Tara. "There is one thing I really need to know, though." Buffy was smiling cheekily. "Who picked the matching outfits for you two tonight?"

"Oh." Tara's forehead crinkled into a frown. "I don't know…I think w-we each picked out our own. They just turned out to be similar, somehow. Kind of, um, like synchronicity?"

"Well, they're a step up I guess from the cartoon character print shirts that make up half of Will's wardrobe."

Buffy pursed her lips for a second before replying, "Uh, no. Not at all. It's fantastic that you two are so in synch with each other, you even dress alike without even consulting! It must've been great, you know, one of those perks of being gay, huh? Suddenly, uh, realizing you could potentially double your wardrobe with the right girl!"

Tara inwardly grinned at the Buffy-babble but managed to keep her poker face until Buffy looked sheepishly away. The skills she'd learned those eighteen years deflecting Dad's or Donnie's attention were as sharp as ever.

The rest of the evening had passed uneventfully. At the end of the night, Xander and Anya had given them a ride home and helped them take Tara's presents up to her dorm room. Willow was like a little child as she looked through Tara's birthday loot. A little while later, they were settling into bed.

With the excitement of all that had happened the past two days finally waning, Tara had the chance to ponder it all. She concluded, as she lay her arm over Willow's around her chest, that this was the benefit of having birthday parties rather than something more intimate, like the romantic dinner with Willow she had been expecting, or a shared bubble bath or hot monkey sex. This had been her first time, but she caught on quickly. Things like the party tonight were about one's relationships with others, and how those relationships define an individual. Each person was, when you got down to it, just the juncture of several relationships. The more interstices that bound one to others, the richer the life. Tara felt blessed to have so much family at the tender age of twenty.

Willow's arm tightened around her torso and her thigh pressed more firmly against Tara's leg. She nuzzled through the blond hair tucked behind Tara's ear. Tara felt Willow's front press up against her behind, and it was enough to stir her desire. Of course, hot monkey sex after the group get-together with the woman you love who could have you moaning six ways to Sunday had its own specific charm, too. Her fingers interlaced with Willow's just underneath her breast. She raised the delicate hand to her lips to kiss Willow's fingertips then guided it back down beneath her breast, then further down to her waist. She stopped there, wondering if they should go further tonight. She was suddenly not feeling so tired after all. "Willow?" she whispered.

The right corner of Tara's mouth curled up as she settled back against Willow's sleeping form. There was plenty of time for the other kinds of celebrations. In fact, they had all the time in the world.

Tara almost giggled as her girlfriend's mumbled response penetrated her skin and went through her chest. The non-word or string of non-words – it could have been either – had taken a tonal up-turn at the end of the purring "r", conveying a distinctly petulant reaction to Tara's verbal almost-suggestion. Taking matters into her own hands, Tara lay back against the sex-mussed sheets of her double bed, pulling her taut nipple with a wet little pop! from her lover's puckered lips as she did so.

As Willow had been sitting in Tara's lap while she'd sucked, she wound up straddling her girlfriend's hips as Tara pulled away. Undaunted by the sudden vacancy between her pouting lips, she crawled the short distance up Tara's belly and resituated herself, spreading her thighs as wide as she could and pushing them up against the bottom of Tara's breasts so the older girl for a moment had an unobstructed view at the open folds of Willow's sex before she settled herself on Tara's upper abdomen. Willow was already worked up from their earlier makeout-cum-fondling-cum-naughty-touching session which had quickly escalated to their current worked up state, a condition a quickie would not satisfy, and was now eager to be thoroughly fucked with whatever Tara wanted to use – her fingers, tongue, maybe even the dildo I bought for her…Well, okay, for me, really…

The silicone dick and leather harness had been delivered just yesterday afternoon from the online toy store her friend Jen, a gung-ho-out, pro-sex self-proclaimed nympho-dyke she'd met at a GLBT student union meeting last year, had recommended. Between studying for their last mid-term exams that they'd finished this morning and patrolling the cemetery with Buffy last night – no major baddies, but the two hours had been well spent just re-connecting with her best friend after the past couple of weeks of mostly doing their own thing, Buffy, still dealing with Riley's departure and Willow just wrapped up with school and Tara (the latter often literally) – Willow hadn't had a chance to unpack the toys after picking the package up from the campus post office much less mention acquiring them to begin with to Tara. But now in the second half-hour of their love-making that night, Willow considered whether Tara and she could take a moment after the initial lusty post-exam frenzy to inspect the apparatus and give it a proper test drive.

It had been a little over a month that Willow had started fantasizing in earnest about being Tara-fucked from behind, on her hands and knees as Tara hammered into her tight cunt with a faux cock strapped to her, the tips of her long blonde hair tickling, her full breasts with her tight nipples pressed into Willow's back as her tongue and teeth and hot breath teased against Willow's shoulder blade and neck, her hands grasping Willow's narrow hips or reaching underneath Willow to grope at her pert tits as they bounced with each firm thrust of Tara's hips…Tara's hips…Mmmm. I want. She ground herself into Tara's belly, painting her lover with the slippery moisture from the parted lips of her sex.

Willow had dropped her girlfriend hints for the past few weeks as to this recurring bedroom fantasy she had been entertaining more of late, a little apprehensively at first – she certainly didn't want Tara to think she missed cock from her trip through Boystown with Oz – she so didn't. But there were times when she knew her orgasm would have been deeper and more satisfying if they'd been brought on by an honest-to-goodness hard, fast fucking with something longer and firmer than Tara's fingers or tongue. Eventually, Willow got bolder as the thought of enjoying the benefits of being filled to the brim with Tara-by-proxy and being taken for a hard ride by her girlfriend won out over her anxiety, and she tentatively broached the subject more openly with her shy girl. Happily, Tara seemed open and maybe even a little curious about the idea, though the older girl had expressed little interest in being penetrated in that fashion herself. Willow had taken her gently receptive reaction as tacit permission to start a personal new research project on the subject (that being her normal approach to any challenge she faced on a subject she was not already expert at), to find just the right silicone extension for her beautiful witch to wear. And for me to ride until she fucks my brain loose.

Tara lay still, mesmerized as Willow continued to wantonly entice her with the sight and musky smell of her aroused state. Tara's breath caught in her throat as Willow shifted her weight, raising herself up slightly as her hands crept to her center and she started to finger herself, dipping into and rubbing her folds. She rubbed the fingertips of one hand up and down her slit as she held herself open with the other, drawing out more wetness that coated her lips, got caught by the trimmed auburn hairs that framed her sex, or dripped onto Tara's already cum and sweat-covered abs. Finally, the tip of Willow's forefinger honed in on her clit, rubbing the tiny nerve-filled button as it peeked out from its tiny hood. She gasped sharply, her eyes automatically closing and her mouth opening to lightly pant. Then she forced her eyes open, looking down into Tara's eyes staring back into hers, the blue pools dark with arousal, and Willow closed her mouth to take deliberate, deep breaths through her nose. The whole room smells like pussy. Mmm, I love that smell. Hers and mine. It's different when we're together, not exactly like me alone. I wonder what Tara smells like by herself? Willow whimpered at the mental image of an alone, self-administering, wanton Tara, and knew it was hopeless to wonder since the mere thought made her involuntarily juice, contaminating the mental experiment. Unless I can somehow arrange to just walk in on her…Damn, her mental self was wet again.

What am I thinking? WHY am I thinking? Together is good. Together is better than good. Together is always the best. And, hello? Lying right here, together, in the flesh! Or Tara's lying. I'm sitting. On top of her. She inhaled more of the heady scent and groaned her renewed appreciation, seeing it mirrored in her lover's azure stare. Her mental voice turned into a purr. Oh baby, are we in the flesh…Mmm…wanna rub my cunny against Tara's, feeling each other's kinky hairs gently abrading our swollen clits simultaneously, but contrasting against the silky texture of hot lips kissing wetly, open, slick with our mixed moistness…Mmmm. That'd be nice…

Tara continued to watch, enthralled, as her lover's green eyes dilated, focused momentarily, then slowly lidded once more, a sure sign that her busy brain had found something it wanted to ponder and had finally slowed down to do so. Possibly, her brainy girlfriend was calculating whether "…if quantifiable, the intensity of lust provoked by the smell of two pussies doubles in frottage or becomes squared. Or if the trajectory of said lust is exponential depending on room size, or fractal, given the chaotic variables of horniness and physical stamina of the involved bodies…" – an actual topic of previous pillow talk a la an after-glowy Willow.

Then again, there was also a very simple, darker side to Willow, guided, it seemed, by her raw appetites. It tended to surface after her girl had had too much to drink, but sometimes made an appearance during the occasional unguarded moment, when a pretty girl happened into the room. Tara had acted supremely miffed the first time she caught "breast-gal" Willow ogling a busty co-ed as they played pool with "ass-man" Xander in the college rec room about three months after Willow and she had started dating. Much begging and merciless teasing later, Tara finally admitted to fully believing Willow's declarations of devotion to her. She had all along, and knew logically it was only natural for her girl to look, though of course, there was still a little uncertainty, some sadness about her Willow appraising other women at all…But, Tara had sighed raggedly at the time, holding a sleeping Willow following the corresponding makeup sex, at least she's not "basket-and-breast-gal" Willow, quickly editing the thought to "basket-or-breast-gal" Willow to dispel the disturbing mental image the original phrase conjured…

Of course, that was five months ago, and the two had since settled into a loving understanding of their mutual devotion to each other. Here in the now, Tara wrapped her arms possessively around Willow's waist as the younger girl continued to provide her with a first row center stage view of a very exclusive show…

…Mmm…Lucky 69 would be really nice, too, drinking from her honeyed cunt as she eats me with her lips and nipping teeth and that long, lovely tongue…Willow licked her lips.

Tara watched in fascination as the tip of Willow's pink tongue sneaked out and traced her lips as they curled into a subtle smile. She managed an "unh" from the back of her throat before lowering her eyes to her girlfriend's pert breasts, the rosy nipples pointing outward saucily as Willow's chest rapidly rose and fell. Finally Tara's gaze traveled down across Willow's flat tummy and navel, back to the sight between her breasts. Her lover was so aroused, even the slow motions of her gentle self-loving produced the unmistakable clicking and smacking noises that signaled copious wetness – not that Tara wouldn't have known that just by the way the soft light of the bedside lamp was caught by the damp curls and glistening lips of Willow's pussy. Her own clit throbbed painfully, unable to be touched in their current position. She fought the urge to squeeze her legs together to try to bring some relief to her lust, instead intent to prolong the buildup of her arousal. And yours, too, if I can help it, my love. Her hands, which had come to rest on Willow's knees, began a slow but purposeful return journey up Willow's thighs to the girl's hips, squeezing the muscles as they went. At the same time, Willow withdrew her hands from between her legs, anticipating Tara's talented fingers replacing them shortly. Her hands went to her sides, behind her to support some of her weight, allowing her to thrust her hips forward in her eagerness for Tara to touch her sex. The motion exposed more visible area of her genitals while accomplishing the bonus effect of pushing Tara's breasts up further.

Reaching Willow's hips, Tara spread her fingers wide and brought her hands across the top of her girl's legs, then down, lightly tracing through the streaks of cum messing Willow's inner thighs.

Willow thrust her hips forward again, presenting herself to Tara, feeling as wanton as a rutting cat. She slid a little on her girlfriend's sweat and cum-slicked body, as she sought more direct contact with her sex from Tara's gently massaging fingers. But Tara kept her hands clear, just barely grazing the borders of neatly trimmed hairs covering Willow's mound. A small whimper escaped Willow's throat as Tara took a lungful of musky air and blew out slowly toward the parted lips of Willow's soaked pussy. Willow bit down on her lower lip. "Unh…Tara…please!"

"I am touching you," Tara whispered. To emphasize the point, she curled her fingers and scratched lightly at Willow's inner thighs, again barely grazing the hairs framing Willow's sex.

Willow arched her back at the feel of her girlfriend's short fingernails against the skin so close to her clit and the weeping folds of her core, where she really needed her most. "Tara, please!"

Tara's resolve to play the teasing game weakened with her girlfriend's begging tone. The throbbing in her own clit had only increased with Willow's increasingly frustrated arousal. At some point, her body had rebelled against her mandate to deliberately prolong her ascent, but clenching her thighs together in an attempt for some relief had not helped. It was nearing time to end the frustration. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"I want you to touch me! – touch my pussy." Willow added, her addled, blood-deprived brain managing to remember how Tara had teased her seconds ago.

Tara's eyes widened a little at the third item, but Willow didn't notice. Her eyes were squeezed shut as Tara drew herself a little further back for better leverage, and finally moved her hands toward Willow's center. She used her fingers to play with Willow's folds as her lover had done herself earlier, pushing one of the slippery inner lips aside as the fingertips of her other hand sought the entrance of Willow's cunt. Finding it, she pushed two fingers of her left hand in, just to the first knuckle. Just to get her ready…Or, um, maybe not necessary. Willow groaned at her girlfriend's maddeningly slow pace and, grasping Tara by the wrist, rolled her hips forward, her wet sex easily swallowing Tara's fingers. Stunned, Tara just held her hands still for a few moments after Willow released her wrist, as she thrust herself repeatedly on Tara's long fingers, her inner muscles clenching and releasing as she set her own pace. Tara snapped out of it and sought out her lover's clit with the fingertips of her right hand. Willow gasped as Tara pushed the hard button firmly, making a new slippery wave gush from her cunt onto Tara's fingers and palm. Tara began a steady rhythm inside her, sliding easily in the additional wetness, her fingers pushing side to side against the smooth, slick walls, at the same time pushing deeper and deeper.

Willow was steadily approaching her orgasm as Tara fucked her with one hand and teased her clit with the other. She felt her inner muscles start to clench around the long fingers probing her tight channel, to keep them inside her while she came…

Then, Tara withdrew completely. "Unnnnh!" Willow gasped, in disbelief and frustration. She fell forward, her arms at either side of Tara's head, shaking as they held her trembling body above Tara.

"Hush, baby," Tara soothed. "I just couldn't wait any more…I wanted a taste." She brought the fingers she had used to penetrate Willow to her mouth and sucked Willow's cream from them. "I won't keep you waiting long." She dipped them back into the Willow's folds, quickly picking up more cum, and once again sucked the juices from her fingertips. "Mmmm. You taste so good, Willow." Willow could only whimper. Tara went back a third time. "You always taste so good." Tara raised herself up a little on her elbows. "Come up here, baby, I want to drink from you directly."

Willow grunted, relieved, knowing that Tara's mouth on her sex would finally bring her to orgasm. Before taking the requested position, she took a ragged breath and dipped down to kiss Tara wetly on the mouth, her tongue pushing its way past Tara's lips to lick at her girlfriend's tongue and teeth before retreating. Willow poured everything into the kiss, all her desire, her longing and devotion. She meant to convey nothing less than the totality of her current lust and absolute enduring love for her girl. She licked at Tara's open lips and chin, panting hotly into Tara's mouth, then pulled herself away to crawl up the bed. Steadier now, Willow oriented herself by grasping the headboard with both hands as she straddled Tara's face and carefully lowered herself onto Tara's waiting mouth, the older girl's tongue already extending upward, tensed to penetrate her girlfriend as she descended.

With a sigh, Willow lowered her cunt directly on Tara's stiffened tongue. The wet muscle drilled past the soaked inner lips of Willow's pussy into her tight channel. "Oh fuckfuckfuck, Tara…Mmmmnnunh!" Willow gasped. "So good, baby!" Tara quickly got to work pushing her tongue as far as it would go into her girlfriend, relishing the velvety feel of the slick, smooth walls enveloping her tongue. The heat enhanced Willow's musky flavor, filling Tara's mouth and nostrils. She gathered as much of the cream she could onto her probing muscle before pulling back into her mouth to swallow. Then back in the warm, tight well, to repeat the process. In and out, in and out. On each thrust into Willow's cunt, Tara's nose bumped against her clit, making the smaller girl gasp sharply each time. Tara filed the information away as she continued to swallow the delicious honey, the sounds of her slurping only spurring Willow's lust further. It never ceased to impress Tara how wet Willow could get. Gods, she's flooding my mouth almost faster than I can swallow. I could probably drown in her cum. Hmm…but what a way to go that would be!

For her part, Willow just struggled not to collapse completely on Tara's face and smother her with her pussy. She used her shaking arms to steady herself against the headboard and tried to put all her weight on her thighs to float above Tara as she carefully rode her lover's tongue. It was making her a little lightheaded, her brain already deprived of oxygen supplying blood, as it felt like it had all rushed down to her genital area. Tara's hands had come up to grasp at Willow's hips from behind, holding her in place as the older girl lapped and sucked and slurped at the pussy poised above her. Willow tried to hold steady to keep the wonderful invasion going, though she couldn't stop clenching her buttocks and arching rhythmically in pleasure. She was sooo close now…

Tara flattened her tongue and gave a long lick from the bottom of Willow's pussy to her hard clit. She isolated the blood-filled button of nerves with little flicks of the tip of her tongue, coaxing it completely from its hood. She licked her lips, moistening them, before opening her mouth and pressing her O-shaped lips around Willow's protruding clit, taking the hard bud entirely into her mouth. Then Tara sucked, hard.

It was a long, convulsive orgasm, starting at her insanely throbbing clit, captured in Tara's relentlessly sucking mouth – the blonde's cheeks were collapsed with the amount of pressure she was applying – with successively stronger waves of pleasure rolling inward through her womb to crash against her rapidly collapsing determination to keep herself upright and not just collapse on Tara's face. Willow kept her resolution through the first five, most powerful waves, but only because their intensity kept every muscle from her jaws to her toes tensed, making her absolutely rigid, eyes shut, helpless to the rarified pleasure. The subsequent waves lessened in intensity, making her body shudder as her muscles slowly unclenched, her chest heaving as she panted for air. She struggled to distribute her weight back to her weakened thighs. At last, Willow's back un-arched and her eyes gradually opened to look down at Tara. Tara looked back at her intently, her tongue alternately still poking at Willow's clit and licking along the swollen creases and folds of Willow's pussy, cleaning her girl's sex of the last of her cum – at least the cum that wasn't on her face, which glistened like a glazed donut.

Tara's gentle flicks and licks at her still humming sex drew out the last, weaker waves of lust and finally exhausted Willow's resolve to remain upright. It was all she could do to dismount Tara's face and fall back safely to the bed besides her lover, her head to Tara's knees. Tara pushed herself up on her elbows to look at Willow, amused, her own desire forgotten except for a faint, dull ache she easily ignored. She chuckled, low and throaty, at the sight of an exhausted, thoroughly fucked Willow. Then her heart swelled, knowing it was she who had brought her lover to her current boneless state. Willow forced her eyes open at the sound of Tara's soft laugh, rolled to her side, moaning, because the movement sent another jolt through her still sensitive clit. Through half-lidded eyes, she got a close-up view of Tara's knee first, then automatically drew her gaze up Tara's thigh. She clumsily moved to wrap her arm around Tara's leg to both make Tara spread her legs and also to help pull herself to her girlfriend's still untouched and, she assumed, needy sex.

"No, no, baby. You don't have to." Tara reached out to push the red locks from her girlfriend's sweaty face.

Speechless Willow. Huh. Tara smirked her lopsided grin, though it was completely lost to a barely conscious Willow. "Not now, sweetheart. You can have me later. Sleep now, okay?" She sat up and turned so she faced Willow, both of them now with their feet to the headboard. She gathered her spent lover in her arms, pulling Willow to her without protest so that the girl's head rested in its accustomed sleep position just above Tara's breast. Tara continued to brush her girl's hair from her face, revealing a slight frown and pout on the face she loved, even though Willow's eyes were closed and, Tara knew, she was mere seconds from falling into a deep sleep. "Aw, sweetie, what's with the pouty face?" Tara dipped down and kissed the tip of Willow's nose.

Willow opened her eyes with effort to peer up at Tara's shiny face. With a little groan she found and recovered the nearest bit of cloth within reach – Tara's cotton panties, from the edge of the mattress near the footboard where they'd landed during their frantic disrobing an hour or so earlier. Willow used them to wipe the traces of her cum from Tara's face as best she could. Her frown deepened. "Wanna take care of you."

"You do." Tara took her panties gently from Willow's uncoordinated hand before she got a poke in the eye. "And you will. Later." Willow whimpered, still guiltily wishing she had the strength to take care of Tara now.

To be honest, though, Tara's moment had already passed, and it would take too much effort from both of them to get it back now. Instead, she was completely content with the smug satisfaction of rendering Willow – dynamic, intellectual, and adorably talkative Willow – non-functional on all counts with her bed skills.

Tara used the panties to finish wiping Willow's juices from her face. When she finished, she looked at the cotton garment in her hand, then brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. Willow's eyes widened despite her exhaustion. Tara's lips quirked back into a lopsided smile. "I don't think I'll wash these panties again. Ever." She carefully hung her new favorite pair of underwear back on the corner of the footboard, then settled back to the bed.

They were both covered in sweat, saliva, and cum, plus the bed sheets were now well beyond damp. Thank the gods for mandatory plastic dorm bed liners, Tara thought. It was actually somewhat uncomfortable, as the dampness cooled on their skins and the sheets beneath them, but both women were feeling too lazy to fix the situation – Willow, still too exhausted from the power of the orgasm Tara had brought her to, and Tara loving the feel of the smaller woman in her arms too much to ask her to get up so they could strip the bed or take a shower. Besides, they both liked the smell of pussy that still permeated the room.

Before Willow fell completely asleep, Tara gave her a gentle squeeze around her shoulders. "Willow?"

Tara's eyebrow arched as one detail from the frantic hour came back to her. "'Cock,' sweetie?"

It took a few seconds for the reference to register in her sleepy brain. When it did, Willow turned her face into Tara's body and laughed soundlessly into Tara's breast, knowing her circulation was truly back to normal as she felt the blood rush familiarly to her face. "It, uh, really didn't apply tonight. But I'll tell you later. After I take care of you. After I take real good care of you."

Tara got back to her dorm room a little after 6PM Thursday, leaving her with less than an hour to prepare for Willow's arrival for their dinner date that evening. They had spent the morning at Mr. Giles' apartment as the gang went through the debriefing of Buffy's confrontation with Warren and the steps still needed for the disposal of April's body. After a late pizza lunch, they parted company. Willow left for her afternoon classes after securing Giles' promise that April would not be done away with before she had a chance to inspect Warren's creation more closely, while Tara went to the library to spend a few hours working on a research paper for a history of science elective. She made good progress on it and, her coursework satisfied for the time being, she was at last free to enjoy the much-anticipated date tonight. A quiet dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant and an early turn-in hopefully uninterrupted by either demon, sexbot, or Slayer-needing-witchy-help was the extent of the night's planned agenda. If they even made it to the restaurant. Her body was already humming, thinking of Willow.

Just before 7, there was a knock on her door. Tara didn't think it would be her girlfriend. Willow and she had passed the point of knocking before entering each other's dorm rooms long ago. But when she opened the door, it was indeed her Willow…

…And her annoying floor mate Eileen, nattering on and on about hubs and bridges and Ethernets and uplink ports and addresses as Willow stood, her beautiful mouth slightly open, eyebrows furrowed, apparently in shock that she had met someone who could actually out-babble her on a topic she had been born to babble on. Knocking had been a desperation move to see if she could get a little help here from Tara, who perhaps was familiar with this strange personage and knew how to turn her off without using a spell, as Willow was sorely tempted to do. She had the feeling Tara would probably frown upon that and so refrained as she was on her best behavior tonight, though her fingers were twitching with the self-restraint.

Tara put two and two together. It seemed as if her techie girlfriend had walked into the ambush of Eileen in full swing of bemoaning her latest woes, her busted PC blues. Eileen subscribed to the slightly modified adage, "[my] misery loves company" and had made known her need for assistance far and wide to her unsympathetic floor mates and the overworked, surly university IT team. At last, wishing out loud for someone with the technical smarts to take her complaint seriously so she could finally download the absolute tons of email she, one of the more popular girls on campus, was sure to have been sent the past few days alone worked, as just out of the blue, here was Tara's computer geek girlfriend to rescue her from an overflowing inbox. It was like magic.

Tara frowned. Willow was not on a service call tonight. Not for Eileen, anyway. The girl needed to get a clue, like Willow's enhanced appearance – the beautiful curl of her copper, shoulder-length hair, the carefully applied touch of makeup that further emphasized her big green eyes and the dips and swells of her kissable lips, the black jeans that hugged at her squeezable, tight bottom, the white stretch blouse that was unbuttoned at the top two buttons, framing the inverted triangle of pale, freckled skin that naturally led one's eyes downward to perfect, modest cleavage…Or even a clue like the bunch of pink and red roses and the crookedly gift-wrapped box tucked under Willow's arm.

"Oh hey, Tara, I was just asking Willow here about my computer problem, you know, the one I told you about? And she was just…" Tara's eyes hadn't left Willow. In fact, the girl seemed transfixed, her normally bright blue eyes half-lidded and dark to an almost alarming degree. Eileen turned to Willow, to see if this was normal.

Perhaps it was, because the redhead seemed to be in a similar state. Though her eyes were wide open, they had also deepened to an emerald green and had not let go of the sight of Tara in her long skirt and deep red blouse fitted close to her frame and her full chest. Tara's hair was done up, with loose blond tendrils falling on either side of her face. She wore no makeup. Her Mona Lisa smile and raised eyebrow were all the embellishment she needed. Without a word, Tara reached out to take Willow by the elbow, and pulled her inside.

"Oh? Oh. Really? You were thinking about that? And what about that phrase had that magnificent brain of yours working overtime again? Or maybe that's not quite right. Here, just put your cup down and let me see. Was it another part of you it was working?"

"Then I'm not doing this right because I'm definitely not trying to make you laugh."

"Just…keep doing…that and…I will be!…H-hey! What's with the stopping? With the sexy mouth all frowny, and the hand…Where'd Tarahand go?"

"What? Daydream? N-No daydream! I wasn't…I was…just thinking about…Angel."

"A-And Buffy. When Angel had to drink Buffy after Faith shot him with the poison arrow and…"

"And maybe we can call him. And he can help us out here with our little hellgod problem? I mean, if we're gonna have a vampire around helping, I'd rather it be Angel than Spike. Angel – a little more predictable, what with him all soul-having, though he's not 100% there yet. Perfect happiness is surprisingly attainable in this day and age. Lucky I can do the ensouling curse in my sleep. The hard part would be just getting Anya to sell us an Orb of Thesulah at a reasonable price."

"Plus, he's got minions! Okay, well, they're his team of mostly human demon-fighters, and he pays them, so technically not minions. I guess I just like calling Cordelia a minion."

"That's just it. I'm always sorry. About something, some stupid or insensitive thing I've done or said. And here you always are, ready with the forgiveness and understanding. How do you do it?"

"Oh sweetie, it's easy when it's about us. And if I remember right, I've made my share of mistakes. Lies, demons, Magic Box, lives in danger, not that long ago? Ring any bells?"

"Yeah, but that was something huge and scary and overwhelming and you'd been living with it for twenty years. I don't blame you at all for being too scared to tell me about that. Plus your family? Not the friendliest or most supportive bunch, if you don't mind me saying – which, uh, I probably shouldn't have brought up, since you didn't first."

"I'm sorry – now see? That's more what I meant. It's the daily foot-in-mouth syndrome. I don't know how you can be so patient, being with someone whose mouth tastes like feet all the time."

"Will, your mouth doesn't…Um, I guess that wasn't your point. Why don't we just say that we've both made mistakes and accept the fact that we're bound to make more? The important thing is that we've been able to work through them to get to where we are now. I know you always mean the best, even if things don't go or come out the way they should. And I love that you care enough about my feelings to say something when that happens. Okay?"

"Well, okay. That's good. That attitude, I mean. Because you're right. Your feelings are the most important thing in the world to me. But that's just it, you know? I shouldn't even be upsetting you at all. Then I wouldn't need to apologize all the time."

"Well, you know part of it is me giving you a hard time. But the making up is fun."

"Oh, the making up is very fun. That's not even up for debate. But aren't you a little tired of me messing up all the time to begin with? For example, take April…Well, not take take April, because that would just completely invalidate my point…"

"It's just…I mean…I'd never…No other woman…I just don't want you to think…"

"I mean…with the…and the…It just makes you wonder, you know? But that's all it would be – just wondering. 'Cause really, I mean, come on, how realistic could he have made her?"

"Oh God, Tara…that is just…Oooooooh…pfffff…How did you…? Pfffff…How…did you know…? That…oh, mmmnuh…baby…Just…Pfffff…"

"Hey Tare, baby? Have you thought any more about next year, and the housing situation? I mean I know it's kind of early, but I kind of want to get it out of the way."

"Um, well, what about Buffy? I mean, since Joyce is getting better, she'll probably be staying on campus again next semester, don't you think?"

"I'd guess so. I mean, she could keep staying at home and just commute, I guess. It is only five miles. But hey, this is Buffy we're talking about, and we don't really want her out on the streets driving, do we?"

"Oh yeah. I have to stop doing that. She really has gotten better. She hardly ever runs curbs anymore. Now why are we talking about Buffy again?"

"I just thought, if Buffy's going to be back on campus by next semester, that you two would be getting another double again? Maybe you should ask her about her plans?"

"Maybe. Or, I could just make my own plans. Or our own plans? I don't mean me, making plans for the two of us, 'cause that would be – presume much? But you and me, we, make our own plans? What do you think?"

"You don't think we're ready? I know it's only been a year, but what a year, you know? I mean, if anyone had asked me a year ago, before I met you – like, that right there, how strange does that sound? 'Before I met you,' that doesn't sound right at all. But yeah, of course, barring time traveling aliens or-or demons messing with the timeline, or some otherwise really powerful mojo – which, okay, Hellmouth under us, so more likely here than a non-convergence of mystical energy, but NO! No Tara would mean empty Willow. Not even weepy Willow – just…empty…"

"You and Buffy, to double or not to double? When she moves back on campus? Assuming Gl-Glory's no longer in the picture –"

"Hey there, missy! I thought we agreed, it's our anniversary, no shop talk tonight."

"I really liked the anniversary present, I mean…really liked it. But I wish you'd told me we were doing presents. I would've liked to get you something special, too."

"Baby, my present was seeing you wear your present. And taking it off you. Oh! And shopping for it. That was kinda fun, too. You should've seen Xander in the shop. Some of the stuff we looked at had his face so red I was afraid he'd pass out. Though he brought up a good question. What exactly is the point of crotchless underwear?"

"Well, yeah. I sort of needed a second opinion about what to get you, and you know, it's kind of his specialty. What with all the special lingerie editions he gets with his Playboy subscription."

"Never mind. So, you brought Xander with you. How did that work out, you bringing your first crush with you to pick out a negligee for your girlfriend?"

"Surprisingly well. Xander makes a more than competent wingman with this kind of thing. Wingman…Is that the right word? It isn't gal pal, is it? No, that doesn't sound right…"

"Um, I don't think there is a euphemism for what Xander is. You two are, um, pretty unique, I think."

"Well whatever you'd call him, he did really well. In fact, he was almost suave. Except for all the giggling. We almost made it out of the store without incident."

"I guess shopping together, the clerk thought he was buying it for me at first. She was one of those people who could size you by looking at you? She took one look at me, double-checked the tag, casually mentioned the store policy against returning undergarments, and asked if I wanted to be measured before I bought it."

"Aw, no biggie. I just told her, it's not for me, it's for my girlfriend. My gay, LESBIAN-type girlfriend! It's funny, how it gets easier to say every time. But the really funny-haha part was when Xander panicked and told her, 'and her lady can fill those 34C cups just fine.'"

"I don't mean ew ew about Anya if I saw her without knowing her. But I do, so, ew! It's like, Buffy, ew, Anya, ew. Or not exactly the same, but, like…ew!"

"Okay, Will, I get it. A firm 'no' to you entertaining thoughts of Anya. But Xander…?"

"It's just…what you two have is very, uh, unique, and thinking of him helping you with this is just a little, um, weird, maybe? I mean, Xander was picturing me in all kinds of lacy underthings."

"Maybe not, but before it was Xander picturing both you and me, together. Now it was him and you, picturing me."

"It's-It's not that I don't trust you, because I do. I'd trust you with my life. It's just that…"

"Oh…Oh…I think I get it. I guess it did sound…but hey, Tara, it wasn't anything like that. I mean…it's Xander. My bestest bud since I was knee-high to a grasshopper's baby. And I'd trust him with my life. Which I guess means I'd trust him with your life. And I think I would, if anything happened to me, and I couldn't –"

"It's okay, Willow, it's more than okay. I know Xander is great. He's wonderful. He's the sweetest guy I've ever met…"

"But he's still a guy. And guys talk. And now when I'm with him something strange happens and I talk too?"

"No. I get it. I guess I'm still trying too hard with him. I mean, with the whole falling out and drifting apart thing last year…It's still kinda weird, you know? All of a sudden, he and I have this new thing in common we can reconnect on, but he's been doing it way longer than me, and he's better at it than me. And Xander's never been better than me at anything."

"I would definitely not jump to the conclusion that he's better at it than you."

"You know what I mean. And I still feel kinda bad that I didn't go to him first after I figured myself out with the whole lusting-for-you thing. Looking back at it now, he really should've been the first to know. Maybe even before Buffy. And I know it hurt him more than he let on that he was the last. So now, we're back, we're trying again, and it's almost like old times, except for the whole, you know, shopping-for-sexy-lingerie-for-my-girlfriend thing, cause, hello, gay now."

"Will, you don't have to say any more. I trust you. Both. And I know it's very important that you two keep spending time together, without Anya or me there distracting you."

"I am. I really am. And, um, it's good to know that he'd be here for you, too, you know? If something were to happen to me –?"

"Hey, that will never happen! I would die before I let anything happen to you…Anyway, let's not start in on the doomsday talk, okay? I'd rather think about something pleasant, like my girl, wearing sexy underwear. Or maybe even lose the underwear. The sexy all-over blush will do just fine."

"Sorry. Can't take that back, Face facts, Tara. You're a hottie and can inspire naughty thoughts without even trying. If I were a guy, you'd be able to see how true that is."

"Are you sure? Because I have first-hand knowledge about these things. Head injuries – nothing to sneeze at unless you have a naturally thick skull like Xander. Just look at Giles."

"No, I'm okay. It just threw me a little, you know? We've never went that high before, or that fast. Coming up for air, and I hit my head on the ceiling? I'm more embarrassed than anything."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Darn low ceilings! Someone should talk to the building code office about this before someone really gets hurt."

"Um somehow, I don't think clearance for people levitating off their beds was an allowance they put into the building code. We just need to be more careful. Maybe we should start doing our control exercises again? In fact, we probably shouldn't have stopped. Why did we stop, anyway?"

"No. It's n-o no. Or…maybe half n-o. It's just the n. The n for the 'with you' part. The meditating? Kinda y-e-s?"

"Willow, it's a big deal because magic can be dangerous, especially for someone who has as m-much raw power as you. W-We need to be able to control that power, keep the balance, especially those times w-we're most out of control, like when w-we're angry, or w-when w-we're making love?"

"Hey, Tare, I've got an idea. Let's mark this as shop business and talk about it tomorrow, okay? For now, we can work around it."

"Willow, you do. You did. I've been lying here next to you for the past 30 minutes watching you, and I can tell you that you very clearly did."

"Yes. It's just another one of those quirky things you do in your sleep. Like how you talk about computers and monkeys, all in the same breath. Strange, but adorable."

"Well, if you put it that way…Hey, wait. Did you say you were watching me sleep for 30 minutes?"

"…Oh, well, you know how it goes. With Oz, we kept bumping into each other. It just seemed like the gods kept throwing us together. Then when we finally really met, it turned out he was also some kind of technical genius, which I guess makes sense cause he's a musician, and was always wiring speakers and mapping chords in his head and stuff, but with him it was kind of a Zen thing. He was just so…cool at it, you know? He was just…Oz. So anyway, we sorta had this thing in common. Then, you know, it was kinda because he, uh, went first."

"There was that time, I would've thought that me and Buffy would always be doing everything together – well, everything two women who aren't gay…together can do, uh, together, without crossing some very important and necessary personal boundaries. But now…I was kind of thinking there's a different blonde I really want to shack up with instead. Make it official? I mean, your floor-mates already think I live here, anyway…"

"I think we start looking into our options tomorrow. But right now…I think you just need to be kissing me right now."

"And some sucking. Teasing – not too much, but some. Enough to feel good? And rubbing. And there definitely should be some mounting."

"Those'll do, but what I really meant was mounting. The action verb. Synonym for straddling. And riding."

Tara was full for Willow. The night turned into their one-year-plus-one-day anniversary before their celebratory cups were drained dry.

10 PM. The remains of the apple sauce were carried off by the water down the drain of the kitchen sink as she held the bowl under the running faucet. When the suds had been rinsed off, she carefully placed the bowl in the wire draining bin, next to its mate along with the two glasses and plates she had used to serve their dinner earlier that night – spaghetti with tomato sauce, water, and the aforementioned apple sauce as desert – foods designed to be gentle on a delicate stomach that had for the past few days been unable to keep much of anything down, mild or not.

It described them both, which was why she had eaten the tasteless fare herself after she'd fed, washed, changed, and put her lover to bed, rather than the pepperoni and pineapple pizza Dawn and Buffy had scarfed down that evening. She couldn't eat at the same time, since feeding her lover took all her concentration and willpower now that the girl had none of her own.

Stolen, rather than lost. The slow stirring of the rage began in the pit of her belly. She quickly suppressed it; stuffed it down, deep into herself where she could ignore it for a little while longer. Not doing so earlier had almost gotten her killed, foolishly allowing the grief and anger to rule her mind…I can't help Tara if I'm dead. I can't kill Glory if she kills me first.

Of course, Buffy had come to save her. To stop her from a useless sacrifice. Though it might've been worth it, if I could've just hurt the bitch a little. She stopped the thought. Who would take care of Tara? She felt a hot flash of guilt but quickly remembered, My friends. Our friends would take care of her. She felt a little comforted, grateful for her family.

Earlier, 9 PM. So instead of sharing the meal with her broken girl, she ate her dinner later while at her computer, combing the Internet and her library of spell books, looking for something, anything, that might bring her girl back. So far, she had found nothing concrete.

A summoning charm, strong enough to first make then forcefully break through a focal point, a tear in space, and draw energy from select demon dimensions which existed as pure energy. The energy could then be used to create a binding field, a receptacle.

Not really applicable to their situation, where her girl's soul was still residing in this plane, but hidden in the restricted labyrinth of a mad demigoddess's far-gone mind. The concept of the receptacle might be useful, though, to store her girl's identity after they managed to take it from the hell-god.

That, however, was the hard part. Recovering the lost sanity in the first place. They would need to take it from Glory, while simultaneously emptying Tara of the feelings of disgust and terror that had been deposited in place of her stolen memories and associations. The only other way was by cunning, to trick the insane deity into restoring what she had stolen. This was what Giles suggested, thinking the super-being's greatest weakness was her mentality, or lack thereof, her tenuous grasp on this reality. To trick her, to play on her ego, her lack of subtlety and finesse – that was the possible plan of attack her mentor and father-figure recommended.

She was not so sure. Her first instinct had been confrontation, power against power, to attempt to force Glory to return what she had stolen. And though her first, solitary attempt had failed, it might still work…If I can gather enough power, find the right spell or combination of spells…The rage started to whisper in her again. The power approach might hurt Glory, too, unlike the stealth approach. That might help Buffy when it comes time to slay the bitch.

10:10 PM. She finished wiping the counter down and poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot she'd brewed to carry her through the night, if necessary, before returning to the Summers' dining room where her computer and dozens of spell books borrowed from the Magic Box and Giles' personal library were laid out. Sliding into the seat before her computer, she picked up where she'd left off ten minutes ago when she'd gotten up to put away her plates, browsing websites researching possible solutions to the dilemma that faced them.

Since Tara had been released from the hospital after the doctors had admitted they could do nothing for her three days ago, they had been staying at Buffy's. The Summers home had become a makeshift headquarters of sorts since the Magic Box now seemed compromised by the gnome-like demons Glory used as minions. To now, Joyce's room had lain vacant since her death, but the capacity of Buffy's and Dawn's hearts was such that neither hesitated in allowing Tara and her to stay in their mother's room following their friend's release from the hospital.

Tomorrow, however, she would be taking Tara home, back to Tara's campus dorm. She spent so much time in the room, a fair number of her things in Tara's closet and dressers, it was almost as if they already lived there together. Tomorrow, however, it would become official. She would be moving in permanently. The thought scared her. She wasn't sure she could take being in the enclosed space, alone with the shell of the woman she loved more desperately than her own life.

It was nearing 2 AM. Gods, but she was tired. Buffy had returned from patrol almost an hour ago. Without a word but with a quick nod to acknowledge her best friend still resolutely hunched over the laptop and the two dozen or so tomes piled high on her dining room table, Buffy had gone upstairs to her room where Dawn was sleeping in her bed. Buffy had insisted on it, after the confrontation with Glory here in this very house. It was a sign of the level of desperation they were feeling that the headstrong teenager didn't put up more than a perfunctory fight to her sister's command. After the slow clomping of Buffy's tired boots up the stairs, the house had again become deathly quiet except for the sounds of her fingers tapping at her keyboard or the rustle of pages turning in the half-dozen open books she had spread closest around her. For the hundredth time that night, she clicked on a link.

Here was something. A power-boosting spell, but rather than allowing for the expulsion of energy as force, which had been her first instinct, it allowed the caster to act as a conduit, drawing from one node and depositing it into a suitable receptacle…

There were more links. She started clicking on them, wishing she'd set up Buffy's computer alongside hers so she could have more than one screen to view the dozens of websites she wanted to remain visible.

It was a little after 4 AM by the time she, too, trudged up the stairs, her mind in an exhausted daze, but still humming with the hope of new knowledge the last two hours of research had yielded. She was in an in-between state, between exhaustion and insomnia, brought on by pushing herself beyond her normal limits, fueling her body with caffeine, her spirit with the desperation of someone running out of time.

She hesitated before the door of Joyce's bedroom before cracking it open and peering inside. Tara's form, wrapped in the sheets, lay in the bed. The silence and the steady rise and fall of the sheets assured her that her girl was still asleep. She continued down the hall, outside Buffy's room. She paused briefly, reaching out with her senses to confirm the slumbering, undisturbed presences of the Summers sisters before proceeding to Dawn's empty bedroom. There she stopped, walked into the dark room. She didn't bother turning on the lights, her eyes instantly adjusted to the dark. She slipped inside, closed the door, took in the shapes of various stuffed animals, posters on the walls, typical teen girl objects. The edges had a faint bluish glow to them and there was a slight buzz in the room, but she knew those were a result of her current fugue state.

Almost unconsciously, she approached the small bed and crawled into it, kicking off her shoes. She lay flat on her back, closed her eyes briefly, then opened them when sleep wouldn't come. She stretched her arms over her head until her back creaked, then dropped her arms down again, her right falling over the skin of her belly where her shirt had ridden up as she'd stretched.

The feel of the skin of her own arm against that of her belly almost shocked her. She felt a familiar warm sensation form from the contact and migrate to just under her belly button, almost like the pressure of a full bladder, which was logical given the cups of coffee she'd consumed in order to infuse her bloodstream with caffeine. Tara's teasing smile, "Sweetie, I know you must have your mochas, but do you really need to have them before we go into the theater?" They go through me like water. But that wasn't it.

She remembered the first time, she must have been about ten, she woke up after a confusing dream about her best friend, Xander Harris. She could not remember the details, only that her sisterly feelings toward Xander had changed somehow because of the dream, and she didn't think they could change back, even if she couldn't remember exactly what had happened in her sleep. Sure enough, Xander was the same goofy Xander when she saw him the next day, though it didn't change the fact that something about him was different and she now felt inexplicably shy around him. She remembered that night, the familiar-but-not-quite feeling, being confused, thinking she should go to the bathroom before she had an accident and embarrassed herself. Her mother would insist on counseling her, her father would be sympathetic to her discomfort and embarrassment but would let Sheila put her psychology doctorate to use on their daughter. It gave her mother an outlet for the frustrated academic career she had interrupted to have her only child. Somehow, the other kids at school would find out, and it would be yet one more thing to tease her cruelly about. She had to go, leave her warm bed and relieve herself before she wet her bed. But when in the bathroom, she couldn't go. The pressure had only increased, but no relief…

Then, she had been wearing pajamas – the ones with the gamboling teddy bears, her favorite at the time. It had been very easy to slip her hand under the elastic waist band after she'd returned to her bed. Nine years later, she was unsnapping the button of her blue jeans and unzipping her fly, lifting her hips to tug the tough fabric down her hips, past her thighs to her knees. The seam of the denim had pressed against her clitoris, awakening it, and it connected somehow to the pressure below her belly button. Without the pressure of the hip-hugging clothing, the sweet ache of her clit lessened, which made her involuntarily frown. Giving up on rational thought, her left hand snaked its way under the elastic of her panties while her right tugged at her loose shirt, pulling it up under her armpits and fumbling, one-handed with the front clasp of her bra. "Let me," Tara's voice was husky, her eyes, so dark they were almost purple, bore into hers, as her long fingers worked the clasp behind her back. "I think it's stuck…We really need to get you something with a front clasp…"

The clasp gave an audible click as she managed to undo it with her one hand, the cups falling away to release her small breasts. Petite. "Perfect. I love your breasts. They fill my hands perfectly." Her left hand had settled idly to cup her mons under her panties…Matching panties, too? It feels sexy when they match. Tara licked her lips. "It looks sexy, too. But just getting these off you will do for right now." Her hand inched down again, two splayed fingers on either of her outer lips, pressing into her damp curls.

The fingertips of her right hand circled the areola of her left breast, making the rose-colored flesh pebble, the nipple tighten. She pinched it, lightly at first, then with more pressure, using her short nails. She gasped involuntarily.

She took in a ragged breath as her nipple was caught between Tara's blunt teeth and Tara gently tugged. The exhaled breath turned into a gasp as Tara bit down. "I'm sorry, baby, did that hurt?" The frown disappearing as she answered her lover's concern by entwining her fingers in the blond tresses at the back of Tara's head and firmly pulling Tara's mouth back to her chest. A muffled laugh vibrated through her breast. Tara pulled back, the tip of her tongue extending to soothe the small indentations left by her teeth.

The second, fourth, and fifth fingers of her left hand spread her outer lips as the middle finger curled and strummed, from just below her swollen clit to the bottom of the inner folds where her natural lubricant had collected, back and forth, slowly. "You're wet." The teasing, lopsided smile. Really? Cause my mouth is so dry, I can barely talk. "I can fix that."

Tara's full lips, still curled at one corner, pressed against her own. She opened her mouth, letting Tara in. The tip of Tara's tongue penetrated past her lips and teeth, gently exploring until Tara found her own tongue, shyly extending toward the probing visitor. She was very close. She moaned Tara's name into the girl's open mouth, the sound absorbed by the owner of the name. At the same time, the tip of Tara's finger teased out her entrance between her legs, and easily slipped home.

She came, hard and fast, as the heel of her palm crushed her clitoris, her middle finger buried deep inside her, held in place by her desperately clenching channel. It was a short orgasm, quickly cresting and dissipating within seconds, not at all like the long, continuous, lingering one of that other night. And when she moaned, her lover did not take the sounds as they escaped her lips. "Taaaarraaaa…"

Tara's name lingered in the air in the strange place, and she was alone. When it hit her, and she realized she could have woken up any of the other three occupants in the house with the small whimpers that had escaped her throat as she'd driven herself relentlessly to her climax or the low moan of her lover's name at the conclusion, she pulled her hand free from between her legs and tugged her jeans back on, zipping them shut as she sat up. She hastily re-fastened her bra which had hung on her shoulders by the straps under her shirt and pulled the cups back into place to support her breasts.

Her hands were trembling as she smoothed her shirt back down her torso. She could smell herself on her fingertips, and realized her odor might linger in Dawn's bedroom. The shame hit her almost as hard and fast as her orgasm, almost the way it had that first night when in horror she'd drawn her hand out of her panties, covered with a slick, unfamiliarly textured wetness after the shock of the first time she'd successfully pushed herself over the edge, hastily wiping her hand on the front of her teddy bear pajamas. Nine years later, she covered her face with her hands. "Oh, God, what am I doing?"

The tears came in long, shuddering sobs that wracked her small frame and left her gasping for air between wails. She was keening loudly, unable to stop herself. "Oh, God, what am I going to do?"

4:30 AM. Buffy was up out of bed and out like a shot as the keening wail broke the silence of the early morning, leaving a confused Dawn groggily rousing on her side of the bed, mumbling "Wha –?"

Buffy stopped at her mother's room first. The door was still ajar, but that was not where the desperate cries were coming from. She quickly turned and went the opposite direction, to her sister's room, flinging the door open and hitting the light switch.

At the doorway, she stopped at the sight of Willow sitting in the middle of Dawn's bed, hunched over her drawn up knees, her hands clasped behind her head as it hung down, her chin to her chest. She was sobbing so hard the mattress shook. Her long, low keens filled the room.

In two steps Buffy was by her, pulling her best friend into a fierce embrace. "Ssssh, it's okay, Willow. It's okay." She kept murmuring the words into the fiery red hair, stroking her friend's back in small circles. The keening gave way to sobs and shuddering gasps for air in her deprived lungs.

Willow finally raised her face to Buffy, her delicate features a wreck from the tears as they continued to pour down her cheeks. "Oh God, Buffy, what if she never comes back? What if I can't get her back? What am I going to do?"

A fist seemed to form in Buffy's chest and squeezed around her heart. She loved Willow like a sister, as much as…as much as she loved Dawn, her own sister. And Tara was part of her family, too – one who was in her present condition due to the inherent danger of that role. "We'll get her back, Will. Believe it." Then I'll put Glory down, she added grimly to herself. Or die trying.

"Aaaannhhh!" Both their heads snapped to the open door at the moaning cry coming from the opposite end of the hallway. "Tara!" Willow disengaged from Buffy's embrace and was out the door and running toward Joyce's room in a matter of seconds.

4:35 AM. Buffy found herself again at the doorway of one of the bedrooms of her house, looking in on a private scene involving her best and closest friend of the past five years. Willow was, in one of those strange sequence of events that had nothing to do with living on the Hellmouth – not directly, anyway, Buffy thought wryly, this is natural deja vu – in the same position Buffy herself had been in just seconds ago, her arm wrapped around another girl's violently shaking shoulders, whispering soft, loving words in an attempt to calm a loved one in pain. Except she might be feeling it worse than Tara. She sighed, unable to help in this situation either as the Slayer or as a friend, and turned away, closing the door on the private scene. She returned wearily to her own room.

"Nothing, Dawn. Tara just had another nightmare." Buffy instinctively covered up Willow's breakdown. Her sister didn't need to know how fragile her protectors were. She climbed back into her side of the bed. "Go back to bed. You've got to get up for school in three hours."

Dawn let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, Mother." But she rolled over to her side and was soon lightly snoring once more, Buffy beside her, staring up at the ceiling, unable to do the same.

4:40 AM. Tara's sobs had given way to hiccups. This had been one of her child-like episodes, in which she'd allowed Willow to hold her and soothe her innocent terror like a mother after her little one's childish nightmare about the boogeyman. Willow still hadn't decided if they were any more preferable to Tara's vengeful Jonathan Edward episodes, in which she called Willow a whore, a demon, a blaspheming pervert, or yet again her Mary Magdalene episodes, in which she chastised herself in a similar manner, for being Willow's lover. There were others, she was discovering them as Tara's magical illness progressed, but they all hurt deeply, profoundly, in their own way. "Hush, baby, it's alright."

With a last loud hiccup and shuddering intake of breath, Tara's breathing began to calm. Willow continued to hold her close, though, deciding this version of her disabled lover was the best she could hope for at this particular moment, and not knowing if the next minute Reverend Edward would be back and striking at her with a closed fist. Willow wouldn't give a damn about the last, if it weren't for the fact that Tara could do further damage to her crushed hand. "It's gonna be alright. I will get you back, Tara. I will, so hang on, baby." Child-like Tara remained, her head tucked underneath Willow's chin, so she had no way of seeing the almost demonic glint in Willow's steely grey-green eyes. Then we'll slay the bitch.

Tara looked up from her duffel bag where she had just stuffed Willow's baggied toothbrush and paste in next to their matching dark blue bath towels. Her girlfriend was conversely emptying out the contents of her luggage back onto the queen-sized bed of the room they'd rented for their week-long stay in Phoenix. This was their last day, and checkout from the bed-and-breakfast was in thirty-five minutes. "No, sweetie. Check the drawers again. I think I left it in the top drawer on the right."

Willow did so as Tara began returning her clothes to her bag. It was early afternoon on the last Friday in July and the sun was high in a cloudless sky. The air was almost sharp in their mouths. The window was open, but no desert breeze blew in to their second-storey room. Sure enough, the yellow button-up sweater with embroidered red and blue flowers was in the otherwise empty top drawer as Tara had suggested. Tara had set it aside for her for the trip home. Willow picked it up but almost dropped it as a feeling of déjà vu filled her. Hadn't she done something similar recently?

Tara turned and saw Willow sitting on the edge of the bed, looking pensively down at the garment on her lap. After several moments, Willow set the sweater aside and started stuffing her clothes back into her case. Tara turned back to her own packing.

Tara turned just in time to see Willow abruptly stop her packing once more, this time to dive across the bed for her laptop case. She sat up on the edge of the bed, the case in her lap. With shaking hands, she pulled the zipper open and began setting up her Powerbook.

"I'm sorry, Tara, I just remembered, I forgot to call the housing office and cancel our double before we left. I could have sworn I wrote it down on my first list of stuff to do, but I must've missed it when I was transcribing it onto my travel list. God, I'm so stupid…"

Tara watched, her stomach sinking, as Willow attached her modem line, her hands beginning to tremble so badly she struggled to make the connection. Tara put down the garments she had been packing, and quietly maneuvered next to Willow on the bed as she finally got the cord sorted and pressed the power button. Willow bit her bottom lip as she waited impatiently for the machine to boot.

"Do you remember what the deadline was for changing the option? I can't remember. I think it's the end of the month, so maybe we still have some time to switch you back to a single without a fee." Willow sniffled and hastily rubbed her eyes. "I'm such an idiot."

"Will…" Tara said softly. She put her arm around Willow's shoulders, which also had begun to shake. "Willow, baby…"

"It-It'll just take a second…I just need to find the number again." She brought up a web browser. Her fingers drummed on the case just under the spacebar as the UC Sunnydale homepage loaded slowly. "I-I should have called after we decided we couldn't…not after…"

"But it was Saturday, and no one was at the office. Then after I just forgot…Stupid!"

"I-I'm sure it'll be alright, Willow. W-We just need to explain that –" that she died, and it changed everything. Tara cleared her throat. "– you need to stay with Dawn, instead…" instead of with me. Tara immediately scolded herself for being so selfish.

She was still having nightmares. They were less frequent now, and not as intense. Not nearly as bad as the ones she had just after that awful night when Willow brought her back from her personal hell and the present one they all shared began. But she was still having them. They were of different things, various scenarios. The last one was a fairly common one. Doctors had cut her skull open and extracted her brain. It was local anesthesia, so she could watch, numb but aware, as she had been for the weeks she had been insane. As it lay in the surgical pan, she could see that the ridges and valleys forming the surfaces of the organ were made not by the wrinkles of tissue to expand the surface area of her mentality, but by fat, pale worms, writhing sickly in oozing pale ichor. The surgeon was cutting away at the rotting tissue. Even behind his mask, she could tell his face was screwed up at the odor the mass was exuding. He first halved the quivering ball of grey matter. Then halved one half again. It was not enough, however, and the remaining quarter was reduced to an eighth. Still, diseased tissue remained, and it was halved again. The scalpel flashed. And again. And again…

But Tara knew that these dreams were nothing compared to Dawn's. She didn't complain. When her own whimpers were enough to wake Willow the nights following the disaster at Lunatics' Tower, her lover would wake her and hold her until her trembling stopped. But more often than not, these days, it was Dawn's cries that would wake either or both of them and send them to the younger girl's room to check on her. She wondered how Giles was doing with the Dawn-vigil duties. He had sounded tired when they had called yesterday, relief at their impending return evident in his voice.

"Damnit! Why the frilly heck do they put all this crap no one gives a damn about on the front page like this? Whoever designed this web page needs to be taken out and shot! Or forced to sit through all these lame animations all day long. Look at all this!"

Willow navigated the pages without another word. She maneuvered through the site, clicking the appropriate links in search of the housing office's contacts page. They waited in silence as the page they needed finally came up. Willow wrote down the phone number on the stationary provided by the inn. Then she saw the notice of office hours during the summertime. "What the – How the hell can they be closed on Fridays?"

"Willow, it's alright, come on, honey. Don't get mad…" Tara grabbed hold of Willow's hand before her flustered girlfriend could slam her notebook shut, possibly damaging it and causing herself more grief. "We'll call them the first thing Monday, okay?"

Willow relented, knowing she was behaving childishly. It was her own fault, anyway. She took a cleansing breath and let Tara take her precious computer from her hands and place it behind them on the bed. She would wait until Monday. If worse came to worst and the deadline had passed, she could always find a spell or hack into the university's records to fix it. She tore the note from the pad and stuffed the phone number into her jeans pocket.

Tara turned back to Willow, brushed her bangs behind her ear. "Your hair's getting long again," she murmured. "It keeps falling in your face."

Tara ran her hand down the back of Willow's head to her neck. "Or you could let it grow out. It looks good longer."

"I don't know. It hasn't been long since I was in high school. I don't think I ever want to go back there again." She pulled herself away from Tara, feeling guilty once more.

Tara flinched as Willow turned. Stupid, stupid cow. She's barely touched you all week, what makes you think she'll want to do something more now, with everything happening, right before we have to leave and go back, and her all tense and worried?

Willow was still re-bundling the cord when she started to talk, softly. "Sometimes…I wonder…what happened to her soul? I know we buried her body and had the services for her. But holding them in secret, with hardly anyone there…I mean, how many people did she save? And none of them know? Something didn't feel right. It still doesn't. Like maybe it's not really finished? What if she's…Maybe she's in a hell dimension somewhere, like where Angel went? Do you think that's possible? What if…what if it's not over for her? I mean, why wasn't another slayer called, unless it's because she's not really gone? Maybe she's still out there, trapped, in some kind of hell, in pain, wondering why I haven't come to get her? If only I hadn't – I mean, I could've…"

Without a thought, Tara switched modes. "Willow, Willow, Will, baby, honey, sweetheart, what else could you have done? There wasn't anything more –"

"Don't say that, Tara! There were lots of other things I could've done! I could've gotten Spike up there faster! So that freak couldn't have cut Dawn and started it all! So she wouldn't have needed to…I could've teleported him the way I did –"

"If I hadn't been too weak…" Willow stopped, realizing where that train of thought led. She bit her lip, looked away from Tara to hide her face so she wouldn't slip and let her secret out. She knew, deep inside, that she would do it again. Even knowing what would come. She would do it all the same way again. She was ashamed at being so selfish.

But Tara was already on that train. It had pulled out of the station, taking her away from Willow. Because you'd used up too much to get me back. You feel guilty, regretful. It's why you need to stay in her house and take care of Dawn. Why we can't begin our life together just yet. So you can live her life. Make it up to her. I understand.

Willow could feel Tara shrinking from her, though her body was still there beside her. The feeling was acute – Tara's absence. She panicked and turned. Tara was crying quietly, and she realized what had just happened. "Goddess. I'm stupid."

Tara looked at her quickly. She was sad and confused and became angry at Willow berating herself, all at once. The tears on her face became hot. "You are not stupid, Willow!"

"I am. I'm the stupidest smart person in the whole world. Probably would be on a whole lot of other ones, too."

"I'm a dummy. An idiot. You know what I mean, Tara? A complete and utter maroon – not the color. The Bugs Bunny kind. A nimrod – not the ancient Mesopotamian king who founded the Assyrian capital Nineveh. But a true dumb bunny with a genius IQ. Do you get what I'm trying to say, baby?"

"That would be me." Willow placed her hands on Tara's shoulders and turned her lover to her. She pulled Tara close, lifting herself a bit to meet her, reckoned the angles, and moved in to kiss her. They did, for a few moments, their lips just rubbing against each other, slightly parted, occasionally puckering to vary or prolong the contact. They slid backward back onto the bed, Tara underneath. Willow pulled back a little, rubbed at the tears still on Tara's cheeks. Tara sniffled. Her face was still a little splotchy, her nose red and her normally clear blue eyes clouded, tired and puffy. "You're beautiful, Tara," Willow said. She dipped down to kiss the tip of Tara's nose. "It's not every day a beautiful woman offers herself to me."

"Okay, yeah, pretty important. But not any more important." Willow closed her eyes, licking her lips. "I wish we could have babies together."

Willow's eyes opened. They were a very dark green. "But the motions are still very worth going through, anyway." She pushed her hips forward slightly, into Tara's. "So…do you still wanna…?"

Tara's breathing had become heavy. Willow's thrust had made her hot and damp and achy under her skirt, between her legs. She couldn't stop the moan that rose from her throat.

Willow took it as tacit permission to press her lips against Tara's throat. She kissed and licked her way down, feeling Tara swallow against her lips on her way to the V of Tara's collarbone. Another moan, this one against the tip of her tongue. Willow felt like growling, Tara's moans were so sexy. She reached between them to fumble with the fly of her jeans but had trouble with the fastener. Great! Why do I always have to be wearing jeans when…? Oh…travel day…Shit.

Tara remembered, too. "Willow…I…I don't know if w-we have enough time…" She managed to will her hand from the skin at the small of Willow's back where it had found its way under Willow's blouse to bring her wrist close to her face. "Checkout is in fifteen m-minutes…" Stupid watch. It has to be running fast. Even five minutes fast. Please be fast!

I can be fast! "I can be fast!" Willow had gotten her zipper down and was working on hitching Tara's skirt up enough to get to her lover's panties. "Uh, normally, that's not something I would brag about, but we might have even less time when we get back to Sunnydale, and I get the feeling it'll be a long drive back if we don't get this done first. I mean, I guess we could go check out now and use the back seat of Xander's car before we hit the road. I'm sure he and Anya have done worse stuff in it, but there's something really disturbing about what I just said, and to be honest I don't know if I can even last that long anyway, y'know?"

Tara knew. Oh Goddess, she knew. She was already pretty close herself, what with Willow fumbling around with her panties and hips underneath her skirt. Her own hands had found the waistband of Willow's jeans and underwear and had managed to work the clothing down past the swells of Willow's buttocks, to the top of her girlfriend's thighs. At least she's wearing soft denim…A little easier to work with. They both had begun to breathe heavily. "N-No, I understand. All…All kinds of…motions are valid, depending on the situation…Oh Goddess!" Willow's hand was in her panties, caressing between her legs. She spread her thighs wider to give Willow as much room as the confines of her skirt allowed.

"Oh God, Tara, you're so wet." Willow had no trouble easing two fingers into her lover. She started a gentle rhythm, rubbing Tara's slippery clit with her thumb. "Did you come already? Oh. Never mind."

Tara clamped down on Willow's fingers as her back arched, pushing her breasts, still discreetly covered and demure behind the cotton fabric of her pullover sweater, into Willow's face and lifting her girlfriend with her as she came. Her eyes were closed tightly as she crested her orgasm.

Willow helped her through the aftershocks, using the additional moisture like a salve on Tara's swollen lips and clit as she continued to massage and caress her. She didn't leave as she pulled herself the little way back up to Tara's face. With her free hand, she brushed at the strands of hair sticking to Tara's sweaty forehead and cheeks so she could kiss at the other woman's parted lips. She imagined what it must look like under her lover's skirt, everything coated with Tara's cum, her fingers, the folds and hood of Tara's sex, the little blond hairs covering her mound, her panties and thighs…Her mouth watered and she swallowed hard.

Tara noticed as they continued to kiss through her slowing pants and Willow's quickening ones. She had her strength back so she gently pushed Willow from her by the shoulders. Her girlfriend let herself be rolled over onto her back as Tara scooted backward on her knees toward Willow's feet, already in their Keds, and pulled the jeans and underwear down to her ankles. They had less than ten minutes to spare, so Tara did not bother completely removing Willow's sneakers or clothing. Instead, she directed Willow to bend her knees just that way. "Spread for me?" Tara implored. Willow obediently complied and she fell open before Tara's eyes. Unlike the dark copper locks framing her face, Willow had kept the auburn curls on her sex neatly trimmed as part of her normal monthly routine. It somehow put everything into sharp and precise focus. Tara bent down to the familiar scent.

The lack of preamble made Willow dizzy. With Tara pinning her thighs down with her hands while her lips and tongue nipped and stroked at Willow's clit, she tightened helplessly. Tara's mouth quickly worked her ever tighter, strummed and pressed and entreated, from the bottom then back to her tip, at her trigger, relentless and confident and loving until…TWANG.

Willow clutched at the coverlet to keep her hands out of Tara's hair so she wouldn't hurt her lover as Tara continued to lap at her as she climbed down from her climax. Her weak groan was Tara's cue to relent. She climbed back up to Willow's side as the younger woman struggled through her shudders to get her jeans and underwear back up her shaking legs. They only had a few minutes to spare to get themselves together, clean up as much as possible, and hand their keys in at the front desk.

"Here, let me," Tara said, licking her lips as she sat up, "seeing as how you're still kind of spastic."

Willow groaned in protest, but neither the will nor the wit to quip back was there yet. They managed to get her clothing back into the correct place, though the troublesome zipper was going to have to wait.

"Actually, while I'm here…" Tara reached across Willow's hips, eliciting another groan. "You can give me the phone number for the housing office." She went into Willow's jean pockets herself, causing Willow to whimper, then giggle, to fish out the wad of notepaper. "I'll call them Monday. One less thing for you to do, and I should be doing these kinds of things for myself, anyway, since, um, not crazy anymore." Her lopsided smile turned into a grin. She pushed her fingers through her disheveled hair.

Willow caught her breath. Tara was so beautiful. Oh Goddess, she was beautiful. She sighed, feeling the regret fill her again. But the resolve had become a hard thing in her, too. "I wish –" this time she caught herself using those dangerous words, and frowned. Her face turned thoughtful and she continued. "I wish we could live together, like we planned. Waking up every morning next to you. Making breakfast. Leaving for the day bearable, 'cause I know I'd see you when I got home. Having dinner, talking about the day, making love. Falling asleep breathing the same air, dreaming the same dream. Just you and me, all the time, always, home."

"You and me and Dawn, then?" Tara frowned. "Um, not the parts from the making love to the waking up, 'cause that would still be just us, obviously." They both fell into silence as they each tried to work the edits into the mental pictures as quickly as possible.

Willow finished hers quickly, giving her an extra moment to go back to Tara's original statement. "Huh?"

Tara finished rearranging her own thoughts and looked at her girlfriend's still perplexed face. Her eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way Tara loved. She realized that this time, she had jumped ahead of her brainy girlfriend. Lover. Partner. Other half. It happened occasionally. Tara knew that as far as logical thinking and scientific knowledge went, Willow blew her and pretty much everyone else they knew out of the water. In the area of common sense, however, Tara usually was queen. She leaned forward and kissed above the bridge of Willow's nose where her eyebrows were trying to meet. It smoothened under the pressure of her lips. She pulled back, smiling crookedly. "I might have to keep a room on-campus to keep my scholarship, but it doesn't mean I have to use it." A horrible thought intruded, an old insecurity. "Th-That is, if y-you think Buffy w-wouldn't have minded?"

Willow ignored the pain in her heart when Tara said Buffy's name. "Oh God, Tara, you mean…?"

Willow squeezed her eyes shut, her heart threatening to burst. She opened her eyes quickly, not wanting to let Tara out of her sight.

"W-We should talk it over with Dawn, though, make sure she would be okay with it…?"

"We definitely need to talk it over with Dawnie when we get home, but I can't see any reason why not. And I-I think…I think it's what Buffy would've wanted, too."

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Plenty of Magic

by Binky

Copyright © 2006

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