The slayer was sitting on her bed, back to the headboard, surrounded by her stuffed animal collection. She heard her friend come to a stop inside the doorway, but didn't meet her eyes. She'd intentionally secluded herself in here for most of the day. After her "homicidal incident" in the morning. She could only bear to have conversations with Mr. Gordo, which probably didn't inspire confidence in her sanity.
"Wanna thumb wrestle?" Tara inquired lightly.
Buffy smiled despite herself, and spoke to the stuffed pig. "You're lucky you have hooves, Mr. Gordo. If you had digits that opposed? That sneaky wicca over there would sucker you in and crush 'em. Her hands're...really strong. And I could've broken them. 'Broke' being the best-case, re: 'pain.'" She forced herself to look up as Tara walked farther into the room. "I'm so sorry."
"You went to a reality where your mom was alive and still married to your dad. Where they both told you demons weren't real, and that you didn't have to fight them." The witch said, sitting on the side of the bed. "If it was me? And I saw m-my mom?" She exhaled. "Leaving would've been so har-hard."
Buffy grabbed Tara's hand and smiled sympathetically, while shaking her head at herself. "But it wasn't real. I served up the only people in this world who matter to me, to a demon, 'cause of hallucinations. From 'mystical acid.'"
"Maybe they weren't." Tara suggested, leading Buffy to goggle. "The poison? It could've o-opened a connection between you, and an 'Alternate Universe Buffy.' Which let your conscious's sh-shift back and forth...but you fought it." She said firmly, laying her hand on Buffy's knee. "You fought what was happening when you had to, killed the demon, took his antidote, and we're all okay. And we all still...still love you."
This smile grew large on Buffy's face, her thumb making circles on the back of Tara's hand, pretty sure she knew the difference between subtext and regular-text. "I still love everybody, too." She swore, and the glowing smile given back just bolstered her confidence in her text-telling prowess. But smiling had to be enough for now. "But I was tempted for way too long. I should've..." She was berating herself. "After putting all this work in, with you helping and being there and showing me...I *barely* passed a giant test. There's gonna be others, and 'barely' won't keep cuttin' it."
"Buffy, you just said you loved your friends and family. And we must be using up a lot of room inside," Tara nodded at where her friend's heart was, "if you turned down a normal life to stay here with us." She pointed out, trying to get Buffy to see how big of a deal it was. "Think about what that means."
Buffy did as bade, and strangely? It was rather anti-climatic. Could be she needed to change her definition of "barely." Her brain shouted, 'It's about time you caught up to me! Think we can back in frickin' sync now? Just maybe?'
"Nothing's wrong with me." Buffy said, and was certain. She knew it the night she cried into Tara's skirt (her brain did, anyway) but now her heart knew it also. "I'm alive, and I wanna stay. I wanna be 'ultra-supportive best friend gal' for Xander," Doubts and fears had made him leave Anya at the altar, "I wanna have mochas with Will and hear her babble about classes I don't understand the names of, and, god help me, I think I even wanna make cupcakes for the bake sale at Dawn's school." She recovered from that run-on sentence while Tara laughed. "There's nothing wrong with me, Tara."
"No offense, sweetie? But duh." Tara teased, as she congratulated her with a hug. "Welcome back." Beat. "You'll keep getting better, trust me. Bitch isn't so tough."
"Not with my guider guiding." Buffy breathed Tara in as a giggle escaped. She always did, when they were close. "How lame was the face paint?" Earthy, that's how she smelled.
The reason her heart knew anything, was because Tara warmed it back up. That was a fact. Not just the emotions of a girl in heavy smit.
The petite blonde said as the hug ended, "Yay for you being back, too." That's why Tara had come over. And been in a position to get hurt. What came next she couldn't hold in. "But you can still un-accept. Yes, I realize there was begging, but if you wanna run? Far away? You could. I mean, now that you and Willow aren't 'You and Willow,' where're you gonna sleep? Why didn't I think about this?"
A quick, "Don't start sucking" stare, and Buffy zipped it. Tara spoke then. "I told Dawn I'd sleep on the couch till we figured something out, but she said I was taking her bed or else. And her 'or elses' get a little...scary. Cre-creative, but, scary." Smirk. "She unpacked my things already, and hid all the cardboard boxes...I can't go anywhere. I don't want to."
"I don't want you to, either. You're home." Buffy said seriously, attempting to quiet her nerves. It was just, if something ever happened to her, something worse than today...*no*. Happy thoughts. "Oh hey, how'd your presentation go? Know you were nervous. Public speaking and all."
"Good. Hopefully good." Tara answered positively. "Everybody liked Willow's PowerPoint, and saying it in front of you, first--a-and her and Dawnie--really did help me relax." She smiled gratefully. "Thanks for sitting through it; 'The History of Engraving' is pretty dry if you're not into it. Dr. Redd didn't give anyone a choice."
"What're you talking about? You were great. I learned about chisels. Absolutely no dryness; couldn't get any wetter."
Her eyes bugged, while Tara, thank cripes, pushed them away from that can of worms. "We oughta, um, head d-downstairs. Everyone's waiting to see you. And because we couldn't in the morning? I made coffee. We-we usually have hot chocolate now, but--"
Buffy forgot her dangerous words lickety-split, springing off the bed. "Then we'll mix. Both have to be drunk." Her brow furrowed. "Drinked." No, that wasn't it. "Drank?"
"Drinken?" Tara tried, following.
"Ehh, now it's gonna bug." Buffy frowned, and when she spoke in the hallway, it was hushed. "We should set Willow up on a date, don'tcha think?" The subtextual motive there was, 'So I, a selfish, selfish person, can date you.'
"Yes. Soon." Well, that was immediate, no words minced. If Buffy had any doubts about Tara's feelings, they'd just been erased.
On the stairs, Buffy was back to normal volume. "So there might actually be a catatonic 'Buffy' in an institution somewhere?" Only made her more thankful for the life and the people she was going to greet. "Poor Alterna-Me."
***
|-Bath, England, Present-|
"If you two need to warm up, then that was some amazing acting. I mean, you could almost *hear* the sweat--how'd you do that?" Kennedy said with a wink as she walked into the kitchen wearing an oversized shirt that she just threw on, by the looks of it.
The brow above that winking eye, quirked. The blondes were wrapped in blankets, preparing to reheat their neglected hot chocolates in the microwave. Tara stood behind Buffy, arms tight around the original slayer's waist.
"Guess my girl's safe." The brunette grinned, moving to get two bottles of water from the fridge. "Will told me, but...the Boss? In the club? Didn't believe it. My intuition's gotta be on the fritz."
"They call you 'Boss'?" Tara asked bemusedly, kissing the top of her girlfriend's head.
"No, they call me 'Ma'am.' Words haven't been invented for how wigsome and...'geeyuh.''" That was the noise that went along with Buffy's shudder, and the similarity to an earlier made Tara go rosy. "They make me feel forty-five." Buffy grumbled after reopening her eyes post-"head kiss" to glare at the younger slayer. "Kennedy just likes being a pain in my ass whenever she can get away with--meaning, when Willow's not around to threaten denying what we're all obviously recouping from. How many times, Tare?"
"Maybe six?" Tara pretended to mull, and blamed Buffy's competitive streak for being so contagious. "No, seven. It was definitely seven." Kennedy scoffed, silently saying, "Yeah, right," at the nonchalant answer. "B-between the both of us."
"Yeah, 'cause of that once. With the...yeah." Buffy nodded, playing along. "Sorry, tried to keep us even, but, less experience." She looked apologetic. "If only I had an understanding, patient, *huge*-hearted expert in 'girl satisfaction,' training me." She sighed heavily, then waited a moment to continue. "Other important qualities? Front'n'back sides equally cushy--'back' because, sexy; 'front' because...she'd make a seriously better pillow than your standard traditional." Buffy held a finger upon her lips. "Blonde...blue eyes that look so far in they see aura...and a smile that women historically faithful to 'boy parts'? Suddenly wanna be kissing." Another heavy, dejected sigh. "But what're the chances?" Another pause. Before grinning and ending her complimentary speighl. "Oh, wait."
Kennedy squinted, like she was studying Tara's girlfriend as she would a bug under a microscope. "Who is she? 'Cause that isn't Buffy." Squint. "She's being cute...and *corny*. It's like she knows how to relax or something." She cocked her head to the side. "Well, it is only supposed to take *one*, good--"
"Kenn, why aren't you back ye...?" Willow said with a yawn, shuffling into the kitchen in a blue robe and 'Woodstock' slippers. Her eyes zeroed in on the two girls in blankets. "Oops. Hey there, you...potty-mouthed friends of me." Then they quickly went from them to her girlfriend, who she knew had nothing on except that long shirt. She raised her hand. "Am-am I interrupting 'future kinky'?"
"For them maybe," The brunette handed Willow a bottle of water and held her possessively, "but I'm spoken for. Have all the 'goddess' I could want." Deep kiss. "And, a night down the Boss would get out. Can't let my grunts think I'm her bitch."
Buffy's brow could've touched the roof. "*We're* the potty-mouthed?"
Tara's as well, while she herself felt possessive. "Some of those words I-I went my whole life without hearing. Until tonight." She teased Willow. "Vixen."
Seeing her ex on someone else's arm--not just from above--in a situation like this, she had to take it in. Would've happened eventually in Sunnydale (with everyone close quartered), but...events, had it happening here. To *know* the person you used to be in love with had moved on was one thing, but then to view the intimacy up close, and say to yourself, "That used to be me"? Separate experience all together. Odd, mostly.
She wasn't regretting; that would've been a complicated leap backwards. No, she remained thrilled for Willow. Kennedy, though bratty and having no shortage of commentary, obviously had only adoring eyes for her. Given the way the young slayer gripped the redhead, Kennedy was also obviously the dominant one in their relationship.
When Tara was with her, that role was Willow's. Kennedy's slayerness was the easy explanation, but no. Because if it held, Buffy wouldn't have let Tara take the lead through just about everything. Except during the application of slayerness. She had ideas about why they surrendered control, Willow and Buffy both, but standing here naked under a blanket and doing psychoanalysis? Uh, maybe later.
What she was doing, was realizing how far Willow had come. Her once lover had always been powerful, but having the darkest (as well as the purest) magicks course through her, only to emerge stronger, made her probably the most powerful witch in the world. There was no arrogance, however. No pompousness. Just a calm balance.
If her "shy face" was any indication, Willow had no idea how much of a force the Powers considered her to be. Or she did, and allowed Kennedy to ground her, so there was someone she didn't have to fill those big shoes for. Same reasoning could apply to Buffy in fact, and...whoops. Kind of psychoanalytical, wasn't it? Ah, well.
Tara's appraisal ended with her satisfied that Willow had reached the place she did in her last lifetime. Be love there forever--like Buffy had for Angel, and Kennedy for who'd ever come before--but they each had new people. People who were different, but who still managed to spark those familiar feelings. If she was offered a choice, Tara would pick Buffy without hesitating. That's who her heart was with, and the Powers knew that when they offered her the Cordelia-arranged "transfer."
"Us too." Willow responded back, and then succumbed to the blush. "So...you don't need a coach, do ya?" She asked Buffy, and Kennedy stared in shock. "Nononono...I was gonna use diagrams! One-hundred percent, 'No hands' coaching! And absolutely *no* to anything not hands, too. See? See the 'no' theme?" She smiled weakly. "Remember, 'kite string.'" Her heart was with Kennedy.
"Go ahead. Tell them your big fantasy where you watc..." Kennedy's stare was still peeved, but it wandered. "...watch them be freaking hot."
Tara didn't know what possessed her. Probably that same hell-spawn that made her call Buffy "beautiful" that first night. But damn it, her girlfriend's neck was right there; the side still pristine and not marked by vampires. And the hair she moved aside, reminded Tara of how Buffy wore it that first semester before Joyce passed. Long, wavy, and more of a brownish-blonde that her fingers loved running through. When she didn't have her mouth affixed to the skin behind its curtain.
Buffy's knees buckled, but she kept her steady. Rope and all. "What're you--?"
"Pulse-check." Tara mumbled, kissing down her neck to her shoulder, and up again.
"Gonna..." The elder slayer hummed, though she'd shown her approval the entire time. "...flirt with me?"
"Gonna do so much." Tara had missed physicality. Especially this kind, but even so, she stopped. Much to everyone's dismay. "Once we're, you know, alone." She looked to the gawkers. "It's okay, Willow. I've got her...and um, somebody's got you."
Willow nodded on a continuous loop. Perhaps her brain had broke.
"C'mon, they're not beating us." Kennedy declared. And in the moments before she dragged the redhead back upstairs, Tara met her eyes: 'Thank you.'
Releasing Buffy, the wicca hoped her message was conveyed past the horniness.
"They think we're hot." Buffy grinned on Tara's lips, prior to kissing her. Her next stop was an earlobe, but she held herself up. "*'Kite string'*? And *I'm* corny?" She rolled her eyes, then quickly returned to the ear, and dragged her fingers across Tara's back and past blanket. This went on for a good fifteen seconds until, "Let's hurry with the microwave. 'Cause I kinda wanna hit 'seven' for real now. Coach."
Tara was happy to give control to Buffy in order to meet that challenge. Her new lover, if she had to sum in a word? Thorough. And wow, she'd just necked her in front of Willow, hadn't she? They'd have to talk tomorrow.
"Before Willow came in, did you really...mean everything you said?" Tara asked, stepping aside to let Buffy work the microwave.
"Every last all of it. That part wasn't for Kennedy." Buffy told her sincerely. "And I had more. Like how I'd watch you do anything. Folding laundry? I'm there. Looking in the produce section for the most ready-to-ripen fruit? There. Ordering Chinese, but asking the guy what his name is first and how his day's going? There. Laughing at the movies of Jim Carrey? Well, think you get it." She bashfully smiled. "I am corny, aren't I?"
"There're worse things to be." Tara had something in her eye as she smiled back. "S-so you think I have a big butt?" Lips turned downside-up. "Oh, sorry. I meant 'cushy.'"
"Buwhasna?" What were three words became a mashing into one. It took a minute for Buffy to restart. "Okay, ''big' and 'cushy'? Two, unique words. With their own, unique definitions. People who wrongly lump them together had third-grade-teaching frauds. With nicknames like 'Mrs. Cathead.'" She pressed on after a strategic pausing. "A butt can be just-right, and still not skimp on 'cushy.' Which yours proves. If you don't think so, then Jennifer Lopez's is bony."
The microwave beeped, and Buffy got out the mugs.
After given hers, the witch stared much in the same way Kennedy had. "Already checking out other girls? That's awfully soon...and awfully sucky."
The slayer closed her eyes and breathed deep. "Why couldn't you've concentrated on how I wanna kiss you when you smile? Geez." When her eyes opened again, Tara made sure she was. "Willow was right--you're so easy to fall for. Even at your suckiest." As she kissed her, Buffy pulled the blanket from Tara's body in a swift motion, and raked her eyes over what she saw.
"Buffy!" Tara exclaimed, sharp but soft, cupping what she could with her only available hand. Had a slight drawback, in that, her quivering wasn't from the cold.
"What? I'm checking." Buffy grinned, drank, and then started walking back to where the bed was. "Sure hope you're coming." Oh, that was a...statement. "Unless you want Xander to have a heart attack in five hours when he's craving Pop Tarts."
Tara hurried behind. It was time to get that control back.
***
|-Sunnydale, May 2002-|Tara had been in the house twelve days, 14.2 hours, and eight minutes; Willow was glad for it. They'd been getting back to being a family again for a while, but her living there made it official. Miraculously over the last weeks, time was found for Tara and Dawn's dinners, where Warren and Jonathan and the other one didn't intrude--the witches were in the supermarket fetching tonight's. But the nerds did intrude otherwise.
Before coming here, she and Tara had spent a good portion of the day comparing unmarked schematics Buffy rescued from their basement "lair," with the copies on file at the county clerk's office. About this time tomorrow, if they were right, the nerds were going to rob an armored car. The key to that being "tomorrow," which was a lucky break, because dinner was important.
Xander was their guest. The "Scooby Women" (minus an, un-ex-demon who had cancelled her membership) were in better spirits, while he wasn't even close. Learning about Buffy and Spike, then seeing Anya and Spike...it was kind of a setback in their efforts to help him. And the saddest part was, he and Buffy hadn't been speaking as a consequence. The whole gang needed a re-bonding night.
"I didn't think we'd be so long." Tara said, moving a little faster than she would have otherwise.
She was going to make a Chicken Caesar Salad--she'd gotten the lettuce and the dressing, what she needed now was pre-cut, pre-cooked chicken and rolls. For buttering. They were walking down the refrigerated wall, looking for the former.
"It did sorta turn into a 'whole day' mission." Willow agreed. "There was far driving, making up the not-exactly-most-truest-story-ever of how we got our copy," It was one lie away from, "they fell off a truck," "then waiting for tiny, grandpa Otis to find which ones matched." She frowned. "His knees were so shaky. Like those windup teeth."
"Got it." The blonde smiled grabbing the Purdue-brand, re-sealable bag. Her words were almost breathless.
"Could take a night off, y'know." The redhead suggested, thinking that her ex was putting too much pressure on herself. "We can order pizzas! Who doesn't like a pizza? They're universally yummy."
"No." Tara was kind of firm there, but as she placed her find in the cart, she dialed it back. "No, she..." She appeared to catch herself. "...we all need to eat better."
Willow looked like she found that a little odd. "Hey, I'm totally nutrition girl. How much potassium's in ten, banana bushels? Go ahead, quiz me."
Tara smiled, and they were on the move to the bakery section. "Remember last time? You wouldn't let me stop. I lost count of how many questions there were."
"Uh..." Willow looked embarrassingly away. "I think definitely nope. Uh huh. Big on the nope. You should lay down; today's, whew," Her finger made a circle beside her head, "made you loopy." A beat followed, then they both laughed. It was that old, familiar feeling, and she just blurted, "Do you miss us?"
When Tara halted the cart, they were at the milk and the eggs. Willow didn't know why she noticed. "Every day."
That made the redhead feel really good just then. "Sure you're sure?" The stare she got in return was the same one she'd gotten from Oz. The, "I'll always love you, but..." stare. "Sorry. That's my final try. Care Bear swear."
"Have-have you thought about...trying to, you know, meet people?"
Scrunchy brow. It hit her like a scary, hundred mile an hour, Nerf football shot out of a cannon. "*Oh*. Meeting in a 'hey,'" She did her best sexy voice at that word, "way. Big on the definitely nope. Again. Still not done recovering." From everything.
"M-m-maybe meeting somebody could help--"
Nerf football strike number two? "You are. Or have. Have you met? You've met, haven't you?" And it just kept flowing. "Do you meet a lot? Has she already heard the 'centipede' story? You can't be there yet, can you? Not-not that you hafta tell me anything, because, why the heck wouldja? We have separate businesses now, and they're on different streets and I don't even wanna know. I mean, it isn't like we're competing for who's got the most..." She babbled continuously. "Goddess, I should be. Right? Should've a long time ago, but I've just been--"
"Only when you're ready." Tara rested a calming hand on her once girlfriend's shoulder.
That shoulder, plus the other, sagged. "When's 'when'?"
Probably when she wasn't looking.
"Um, hey guys. Am I late?" Buffy walked up to them gingerly, having just come off patrol and clearly holding back a grimace.
Tara was immediately at her side, seeing that the slayer was hurt. "What happened?"
Buffy held up her right palm, and made a fist out of her left. "Me," Fist punched palm, "tombstone." She reached around to try to massage her lower back.
"You should be at the house. You're hurt."
"But," Buffy began to argue, "said I'd meet you. I'm fi--"
"Go relax, Buffy. Take a hot bath." Tara ordered. "We're almost done anyway."
Willow was suddenly very interested in watching the two blondes.
"Yes, ma'am." Soft smile from Buffy that was echoed by Tara.
Why'd this seem so...? Oooooh boy. Tara liked...Did Buffy...? No, that was...no. Though geez, her mind? Going there.
"See ya at home, Will." Buffy was saying. "I'm going before Tara makes me regret not."
"Wha...?" Willow had to snap her mind back to the here and now. "Home...right. Home's good. Soaking, too. Yep, love soaking myself." Her face was rather warm. "Um, see ya, Buff."
When she took away the various emotions she was feeling at her new revelation--that the love of her life felt something for the *other*, best friend she had a secret crush on at one time--and the wanting to cry, Willow was just left with very strong, pleasing thoughts and images of naughty.
In front of the milk. And the eggs. Innocent, cute, little eggs.
She was so ashamed.
***
|-Bath, England, Present-|
"Do you think about it?" Buffy asked quietly as they lay beneath their blankets on the bed, all sexed out.
Drained of any and all energy. Sapped. Without muscle use. She wasn't this tired even after she and Riley had their ghost-fueled, marathon of a romp. A hell of a romp, no question, but that's all it was. This was something else.
Legs entangled, the women were on their sides, heads sharing the same pillow, facing each other. Buffy brushed her hand down Tara's locks, which she settled behind her ear. Then kept going, down over a cheek and across lips. The tips of her fingers were kissed as they passed. This was something else.
"About what?" Tara asked in return.
"You know what." The slayer accused, and then pushed out a breath. "But you're gonna make me say."
The witch gently advised, "You should...i-if you wanna talk about it."
Buffy considered backpedaling, but it wouldn't work. "I do, and then I...really don't, because that day was..." One, horrible, devastating thing after another. Though now it was-- "...gone. It's gone, and you're back. So why dredge?" She explained, condensing. "Besides, the timing's a landfill of stinks. 'Pillow talk' it isn't." Why was she surprised then, when Tara gripped the pillow case like she was prepared to yank it out from beneath their heads? "Don't punish the pillow--isn't 'mattress talk,' either."
"I remember it was my turn to make the beds." Tara said, evidently paying her no mind. Buffy didn't move her eyes from her girlfriend. "And Willow's was biggest, so I did hers first." Tara always worked her way from the toughest to easiest; that day, that admirable trait helped cost her life. "When I was done, I went to the window to ch-check on you," Despite what was coming, Buffy had to grin, "and saw Xander. I was so glad you two were making up.
"Then I saw Warren, but I guess it happened fast, because I don't, um..." The not-bullet proof slayer, for her part, just remembered smelling the grass as she laid on her back. "I don't think it hurt." Buffy assumed she must've looked upset, because Tara's tone had been reassuring. "What I remember most? I-is how angry at myself I was for the night before. I made you go home, and Spike almost--"
"You didn't make him try." Buffy's hand found Tara's over by her thigh, and captured it.
"And you didn't make him shoot me." Tara squeezed back. "Dummy."
"Spike didn't...oh. Never mind." Now that the other important person in her life who'd died and been resurrected was mentioned, Buffy couldn't avoid weaving off-topic, and she did so nervously. "D'you know that we, meaning me and Spike, kind of...bonded, after he came back from his soul-getting safari?" She didn't wait for a reply. "S'hard to describe really, because we didn't actually...but there was caring. Pretty deep caring. And he was just...you know, what I needed. Then." She tacked on that last word in hopes that it implied she needed Tara, now. "He's in here though," She pointed at her "heart" area, "and...I dunno what I'm accomplishing. Other than continuing the inappropriate talking on pillows."
"You two went through a lot together." Tara told her girlfriend, not bothered by this. Buffy supposed she'd asked herself that question before, with Willow. "I wasn't always watching, but I know how important he was. That doesn't just go away." Then her understanding expression changed somewhat, as she gave a playful warning that couldn't quite hide the insecurity. "But he better be comfortable in that file cabinet, because you're mine now. That clear?" Quiet nod. "I hope you're ready for us."
"Been ready. And for the record? How I feel about you, and how I started to about Spike last year? *Not* the same." Buffy needed to emphasize that. "Guess I just wanted you to know that even though a thing developed, it wasn't a replacement thing." There--she remembered what she intended to accomplish. "When it looked like we'd go somewhere eventually? Promised myself I'd commit. Which I stuck to...past what people who aren't Buffy would probably consider healthy, but hey, paid off, so...gloating." She smirked mildly. "Anyway, here's me. Being fully committed. To my girlfriend. In bed and out of."
"I think I'm kinda convinced of the 'in bed' part." Tara said, her half-grin as exhausted as the rest of her. "Are you sure you and Faith didn't get drunk re-recently and--?"
"Would've put a huge hole *right* through the commited-ness." Buffy reminded, looking mildly stung. "Turns out girl-sex is easy if ya know what you're looking for. And I should by now; that's eleven years of self-practice talking."
"Stop trying to distract me." Tara accused lightly, and goddess help her, she wanted to be. *Again*. But no, she was in control. "What're you really thinking?"
"You mean besides...?" Buffy trailed off at the now infamous glare, as Tara seemed to anticipate the guilt trip. "Wow, I even missed 'Ticked Tara.'" Beat. "What I remember the most? After I wasn't shot anymore? Is how much I hated that you had to die alone."
Willow had just been getting back from her Spellcasters Anonymous meeting when they were loading Buffy into the ambulance. Xander was too focused on her to think about checking on Tara, but that was the first thing the redhead did. She found her ex in the bedroom, beyond saving. But she tried anyway. And then "Dark Willow" happened.
"By the time Xander and I got back to the house, Dawn was sitting there, then more sirens and they didn't give a damn, and all I could think was, 'She died alone.'
Tara was going to interrupt, but Buffy didn't stop. "Until I heard my sister. She was so angry; she wanted Warren to die. *I* wanted Warren to die. Except, I knew you wouldn't, even with what he did, and I knew we couldn't let Willow go that far." Beat. "Not like it mattered, 'cause we were too late."
'Maybe it had to happen.' She thought to herself, and then closed her eyes a second, wishing what she said next, wasn't true. "Things got worse, but...you dying made me realize how very a lot I didn't wanna lose anyone else that day."
Buffy was of the same mind as Willow in that, why did death have to be the spark that lit the fuse of events? Of course, from there, she'd made it. That last year in Sunnydale had her backsliding somewhat, but she pulled it out in the end. Having Tara there might've helped the transition to army leader go less bumpy, but, wasn't an option. So she had to rely on her memory of those times, find "Buffy" all herself, and connect to those girls.
Spike was what she needed following the ousting. Hearing the purity of his feelings, what he thought of her...definite mood changer. Yet it wasn't frame of mind alone; no one could make her change except her. She took those attacks to heart, and instead of shutting down again, she recognized the truth in them and made the decision to break out of the circle she'd gone in for seven years.
She'd altered the world, become self-actualized, and her mental health was at a solid, 82.7%. It was important, her accomplishments. But the woman who pushed her through the darkest period in her life, was important too. Only, she'd died alone, her body growing cold on the floor until hours later. If Tara had to die, just as Willow had to go vein-y, then she deserved better than that.
The slayer let her eyes do all that talking for her. "I'm sorry."
She understood now that she needed to say that, whether it was under her control or not. She wasn't looking to debate; her girlfriend didn't. Tara just wanted Buffy to get it off her chest. She brushed a stray strand away from the slayer's face, and kissed forehead. Quiet passed.
"W-well, at least I'm," Tara smiled sheepishly as she broke it, "here now."
Buffy gave her a look that said, "Wasn't this same point raised earlier?"
"And not alone. Ever again, by the way." Then lip kissing seemed like the thing to do. "Idea. We should start a club. Open for all, 'non-zombie' resurrected people. I don't care how small our minority is; we have rights." When she saw Tara half-elsewhere even with the smile, she knew her turn had come. "Whatcha thinkin'?"
"Noth--"
"If it's about the other shoe, you'd tell me...right?"
Damn.