Fan Fic and More

Another great update! I liked your chapter on Angel and his thoughts and feelings about Buffy in comparison to Willow and Tara. Both relationships were close and I could see how Angel would be understanding and sympathetic to Willow. Excellent update!

Ummm, it's spelled "Romany." (I know it's my favorite sport but sometimes I don't enjoy nitpicking.)

It's always been a general "corn-census" amongst viewers that Angel and Tara get along fine, so glad to see it again.

I like seeing it as well!

Great look into Angel - I Angel

Tara again woke with a start. For three days now, every time she meditated she fell asleep. She stretched and rolled her neck and shoulders, working the kinks out. A glance outside told her that daylight was waning. ‘Just enough time to not eat,' she thought wryly. It had been several days since she’d had anything substantial to eat and she was almost out of bottled water. ‘Why did I ever come back to Sunnydale?’ she wondered for what was probably the hundredth time since the First had slaughtered all of her friends - her chosen family; the one Willow had given her. Tara hung her head, her hair falling into her face. A tear trickled down her cheek. “No,” she said, the loudness of her voice in the quiet house startling her. She sighed as she walked into the kitchen. She remembered happier times with Dawn and Willow, hanging in the kitchen, eating dry cereal, burning pancakes in funny shapes and talking about whatever they were each reading at the time. Willow. She leaned against the sink and stared out at the waning daylight. She had placed a light catcher in the window and, as the last rays of the day hit it, the light fractured and created a myriad of mini-rainbows dancing over the counter. She smiled, she had always loved rainbows. As she watched the rainbow ballet her mind drifted of its own accord, trying to puzzle out why Willow was showing up in her meditation induced dreams now.

Tara grabbed a bottle of water from the coldest kitchen cabinet – refrigeration was a thing of the past. Like real meals, hot showers, indoor plumbing and light switches that actually did something. She sighed and headed down to the basement. She cast the fairy light spell and locked the basement door, murmuring the incantations to seal the door and hide her presence from the demons that still hunted Sunnydale after dark. ‘I don’t know why I bother,’ she thought, ‘I should just let them kill me.’ She sighed again, knowing that she couldn’t do that; she had survived for a reason. She had invoked Juno’s protection and, so far, it was working. She was trying to invoke Iris to carry her message to someone . . . anyone . . . anyone who was alive - and not evil - in this wasteland that could help.

Anyone other than who she really wanted – Willow. Willow; whose life was cut short by a stray bullet more than two years ago. Willow; who could never rescue her. Willow; who she’d never hold, nor be held by again. Willow, who she’d never be able to completely trust or forgive for betraying her with majick – no matter how much she wanted to. She could understand dreaming about Willow; she did that often, wonderful dreams of making love and laughing and holding hands. Dreams that left her aching when she woke. What she didn’t understand was Willow looking scared and asking what she could do in these strange dreams of the last three days. Her dream self kept telling Willow, “Find me. Keep your promise.” Tara didn’t even know what her dream self was talking about, but something about the dreams was strange. She thought about it for a moment and realized they just felt so . . . real.

She pulled one of the precious few spell books that she’d found in the house toward her and began her nightly ritual of studying majick until exhaustion forced her to sleep. Nightly study had been the only way to avoid reliving that last day in her nightmares. That was another puzzling thing about the . . . dreams? visions? . . . she was getting during her daylight meditations, she wasn’t reliving that nightmarish last day; she was sitting in Buffy’s living room and Willow was just all of a sudden there, rousing Tara from her meditations but not. Tara shook her head. Of all the people she thought could or might hear her pleas, Willow wasn’t one of them. Yet Willow was the one person she most wanted to see. Maybe that’s why her meditation-mares featured Willow. She missed Will . . . every day. She was also angry. Intellectually, she knew it wasn’t Willow’s fault but she was angry. She was angry at Willow for leaving her. She was angry because she knew, without a doubt, had Willow been alive Buffy and the others would have survived, even if Willow had been so out of control with her magic that Tara half distrusted her. ‘Stop,’ she thought, ‘nothing good can come from thinking like that. I have to deal with what is . . . not what if.’

Tara closed the book with a sigh. She wasn’t really reading it, just staring at it. Too lost in her thoughts of Willow to really concentrate. “Goddess, I miss her,” she whispered to no one, finally giving in to her mental wanderings, too tired to fight for focus.

She thought about her life with Willow; from their first encounter at the WannaBlessedBe group, to their blossoming relationship, to the day Oz came back and Tara thought she’d lost Will forever. Then there was Dawnie, who had been so accepting of her. She’d have done anything for Dawn, and had done by refusing to tell Glory about her. She had understood Dawn; living in the shadow of the Slayer, part of her inner circle yet not. When Buffy died after the battle with Glory, it had seemed only natural that she and Willow move in to raise Dawn so the Department of Social Services wouldn’t find out Dawn was an orphan. They also kept the Buffybot running so the bad guys wouldn’t know The Slayer was gone. Tara felt tears well up in her eyes; they’d been a family. Even after they brought Buffy back, she and Willow had stayed. Tara smiled as she remembered how hard Dawn had taken her breakup with Willow; and how elated she'd been when they’d reconciled. Dawn, who never saw them as anything but two people she loved who loved her; no judgments, no disapproval. Tara sighed. She often thought about her reunion with Willow; she relived those last four days over and over wondering . . . what if? ‘What if’ I hadn’t told Willow that Sarah was just a friend? I hadn’t agreed to coffee? I hadn’t gone to the house that night, hoping to reconcile? “Stop this,” she said out loud, “‘what if’ leads to madness. So what if none of that happened and Willow still got killed? Then I’d be sitting somewhere berating myself for not reconciling with her when I had the chance.” She sighed again. “What’s done, is done. What is, not what if,” she reminded herself for the millionth time.

A noise upstairs roused Tara from her musings. Mentally checking the seal on the door, she repeated the incantation that hid her presence. She heard the doorknob rattle, then a soft knock. A knock? Since when did demons knock?

“Tara?” came a quiet inquiry.

“Angel?” she asked, quietly moving up the stairs.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got food and water . . . and a cow.”

“A cow?”

“You know . . . for me.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Um, you gonna unward the door?”

“What’s the password?”

“Fantastico. Unless you changed it. Then it’s hippopotamus.”

Tara opened the door and let Angel in. She then re-sealed the door and the two of them walked downstairs.

“Here,” he said, smiling as he handed her a can of tuna and a package of crackers from the bags he was holding.

“Thanks. Where did you hide the cow?” she asked, opening the tuna’s flip top and the crackers.

“Out back in the greenhouse,” he answered as he began putting the rest of the supplies away. “There are more upstairs but we can get those in the morning. Oh. Here,” he said, handing her a bag of dry cat food.

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.” She opened the bag and smiled as Miss Kitty came running to her bowl. She looked back at Angel. “You were gone a lot longer this time. Is everything . . . well, not okay but . . . okay?”

“Yeah, I just took some time to try and get info from some of my old friends. Not much new. The First’s minions are still running rampant. There are pockets of resistance but it’s mostly hopeless. Those that aren’t killed outright are being warehoused as food for the uber-vamps. I took out one of the warehouses, freed the people. I was on my way back in a, uh, borrowed car and came upon an old man struggling with a Turok-han.” He filled Tara in on his encounter with the Kalderash family. Then he looked at her. “I don’t know where we can go. For now, this is as safe as anywhere else is. Maybe safer, since this town has pretty much been a ghost town since even before the big battle. How are your invocations going?”

Tara looked at Angel for a long moment. She still couldn’t believe he had shown up a week after the big battle and pulled her from the rubble of the new high school. He said he’d come to see if there were any survivors in Sunnydale after The First's uber-vamps had shown up in Los Angeles. Tara had cried when they’d discovered that she was the only survivor. She had wept for her lost family . . . and for failing them. Angel had helped her throug, bringing her food and water. The two of them had originally left Sunnydale, hoping to find someplace not overrun with the First’s hoards. Something drew her back to Sunnydale; maybe the mystical pull of the Hellmouth, maybe just the memories of the only real home she’d ever known. Once they got back, Angel had helped her build a greenhouse to grow the herbs she’d need for her spells and potions. It was during the slow construction process, built in the two hours before dawn and the the two hours after sunset, that they had become more than companions-out-of-necessity. They’d become a kind of a team.

She still wasn’t sure why he had helped her or why he continued helping her. They had only met briefly, at Willow’s funeral, before this. She knew who he was, and he had obviously known who she was, but they hadn’t been friends. Even now, they were allies but were they really friends? How much should she tell him? She sighed and decided to trust him; if they weren't friends, they were damn close and he was all she had. “Well I’m still safe so that invocation is working . . . ”

“And the other one? The messenger?”

“Here’s the thing . . . every t-t-time I-I start the chant . . . I s-s-seem to fall asleep and then . . . W-W-Willow is there asking how she can help.” Tara looked at Angel, expecting him either to tell her she was crazy or to start laughing at her.

He did neither. Looking thoughtful he asked, “How many times is every time? When did this start?”

“A-about three days ago. And I’ve tried three or f-four times each day. And every time, it’s the same.” Tara’s stutter lessened as she began to feel more comfortable confiding in Angel. “I’m chanting, invoking Juno and Iris. Then, i-it’s like I fall asleep, you know? And then Willow is just, like, there. And I wake up, but not. And she’s asking what she can do to, you know, help.” Tara told Angel everything she could remember. She told him that each time their interactions were essentially the same but the last couple of times the contact was more sustained. “Then I wake up but it all feels so, you know, real.” Tara yawned.

“Ok. Let’s get some rest and talk more in the morning. You look exhausted.”

Tara nodded and lay down on her bed; Miss Kitty curled up behind her knees. Her last conscious thought was of Willow.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Next Week: Willow's Bogeymen

Ooooh, I so hopey-hope Miss Kitty comes along with them when they make the trip.Assuming you're taking Dawn's account in S-7 as canon.

Question; How much are you changing Angel 's continuity here? By the time of "Willow's funeral" he should have already been gone "down, down, down to the bottom of the sea."

And since they'd only met that once, I guess <i>Monster Island</i> isn't in your continuity either. Sigh, too bad, but no big.

Very good chapter, summing up the relationship here quite well.

Wow! I didn't expect this one, but it was awesome! I thought Tara was the one who had died and Willow was alive, seeing her. Now it appears that Willow is the one who died along with everyone else and Tara is the one who's alive. Or does Tara "think" she's alive? I'm intrigued on that. I thought in the beginning it was Willow who was seeing Tara in dreams, but I think now that it's the other way around.

So, Angel and Tara are becoming close friends - I think that is cool! I hope that she and Angel can help Willow either come back to her or at least rest in peace. Great update!!

DaddyCatALSO wrote:Question; How much are you changing Angel 's continuity here? By the time of "Willow's funeral" he should have already been gone "down, down, down to the bottom of the sea."

Um...oops? I tried to keep the entire story within canon up to and including "Chosen" and "Not Fade Away" - so I'm going with "it's shifted just enough so that Willow's funeral was just before Angel's deep sea diving adventure".

DaddyCatALSO wrote:Ooooh, I so hopey-hope Miss Kitty comes along with them when they make the trip.Assuming you're taking Dawn's account in S-7 as canon.

Yes, I am considering Dawn's comment canon.

And, no, I am not considering anything (books or comics) beyond what was seen on TV as canon.

Angie wrote:I thought Tara was the one who had died and Willow was alive, seeing her. Now it appears that Willow is the one who died along with everyone else and Tara is the one who's alive. Or does Tara "think" she's alive? I'm intrigued on that. I thought in the beginning it was Willow who was seeing Tara in dreams, but I think now that it's the other way around.

I'm just gonna : and say "stay tuned"

I will! This is good...

I feel so sorry for Willow and Kennedy. I feel sorry for Willow because she's having such horrible nightmares of Tara and because she does still love her, despite her being gone. I feel for Kennedy and her realization that Willow is still in love with Tara, yet knowing she is needed to be there. This reminds me of Spike and Buffy with the Principal and how she needed Spike to stay, even though she was dating the Principal. It's like a security blanket that Willow needs to exist until she finds out what's going on with her dreams...it was nice of Kennedy to stay with her, however, I feel for her because I'm sure that was hard for her to do, knowing that she still loved Tara. I felt for both of them and also for Buffy and Xander, not knowing what to do to help Willow. This was a great update!

Yes, sweet. And knowing how you feel about a certain Hispanic Slayer, she came across nicer than I expected her to. And it's logical that Willow, given this specific situation, would be able to take some comfort from exactly what Kennedy is offerring here.

But now we need to have willow get her memory of "The Gift" back more clearly :-).

Angie - glad you're still enjoying it :

DaddyCatALSO wrote:Yes, sweet. And knowing how you feel about a certain Hispanic Slayer, she came across nicer than I expected her to. And it's logical that Willow, given this specific situation, would be able to take some comfort from exactly what Kennedy is offerring here.

But now we need to have willow get her memory of "The Gift" back more clearly :-).

to the first: I don't dislike Kennedy...just don't like her with Tara's Willow

to the second: impatient much? :

Well, yes, I'm impatient; I'm going to be climbing the walls before the year's out...there are only 53 chapters, right?

Yes, I still love this story! I think it's cool! I get your feelings on Tara and Willow. I think that they made a great couple and it was sad to me when Tara died... I like how despite death (whoever it happens that has died) they still love each other - I think that shows devotion in a way. I look forward to what comes next!

It felt so good to be in Willow’s arms. She could smell Willow’s unique scent. Tara had always called it cinnamon and sunshine. It wasn’t profound . . . it was kind of silly, actually. But it always made Willow smile that special smile – the one that was for Tara and Tara alone. She inhaled deeply, the scent intoxicating her as they danced. She was home. Willow’s hair was soft against her cheek and her sandpaper tongue tickled her chin . . . what? Tara slowly roused herself. Miss Kitty was nestled in the space between Tara’s neck and shoulder and was licking her chin. Tara felt the ache of longing that always followed a dream of Willow. She tried to fight back the tears but wasn’t completely successful as a few trickled out and onto Missy Kitty’s nose. “Goddess,” Tara whispered, “is this ever going to get any easier?” She sighed and sat up, earning her an indignant meow from Miss Kitty. “Sorry, kitten. Time to get up. I think.” She glanced over at Angel’s cot and saw that it was empty. “Yep. Time to get up.” She checked Miss Kitty’s food and water bowls, topping them off before heading upstairs.

“Good morning,” Angel said.

“Morning. Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“You looked really peaceful. I figured you needed the sleep.”

“Thanks.”

“You okay? You seem a little distracted and, I dunno . . .sad, maybe?”

Tara nodded. “Willow dream.”

Angel nodded and Tara knew he understood. They’d had countless conversations about their lost lovers, the dreams inspired by them and the ache that came with waking. Again, Tara found herself wondering why Angel stayed. She knew he could be safer somewhere else without having to look after her.

“So. What’s in the bags?” Tara asked, changing the subject. She didn't want to dwell on what was lost. The hurt was too hard to deal with.

“Supplies. Water, canned goods, vitamins. I got some soap and, uh, personal items. I found some more spell books while I was in L.A..” He frowned at her for a moment, “Some of them are in Sumerian but I thought I remembered you telling me you can read some of the ancient languages.”

“Oh, cool,” Tara said, feeling excited for the first time in weeks, “and yeah, my mother and grandmother taught me Sumerian, Aramaic, Latin, and a couple of others while I was growing up. Dad didn't like it but Mom and Grandma thought they were important for me to know and insisted on teaching me,” she grinned, “usually without Dad knowing.”

He grinned back at her. “Okay then, Let’s get some of this put away. I’m not sure which bag the books I got in L.A. are in. We can put away whatever we need to up here, then take the rest downstairs.”

They worked in companionable silence, putting the supplies away. Before long, they had reduced the number of bags down to the things that needed to go downstairs. Angel had done remarkably well, considering that the First’s hoards had pretty much overrun everything and left precious little behind for anything non-uber-vamp or demon.

“There are a few bags still in the truck. I’ll get those at dusk. There are some candles, crystals, sand and some other things in the bags I brought. I don’t know exactly what’s in the Romany’s stuff but they told me to leave it.”

“Why? I mean, how do we know that what's in there couldn't help us right now?” Tara asked.

“I don't know. They said we were leaving soon and that 'the knowledge needed to go with us',” he shrugged. “We'll leave it for a week. I don't know why they'd lie, but if they were yanking my chain, plenty of time to grab it after that.”

“Okay, we can leave it, I guess. But I can go get that other stuff now.” Tara said.

“No. It’s safer if you stay out of sight. Your spells are doing a good job of protecting you, so let's not tempt fate.”

“O-okay.” Tara nodded, knowing he was right. “I’m going to go get some herbs from the greenhouse while it’s still light and I'll check out the cow while I’m out there.” They had attached the greenhouse to the back door so she could come and go at will, but she still preferred getting what she needed before dusk. Angel watched her from the safety of the kitchen. She smiled. He knew she was safe out here, especially during the day, but he always kept watch from the doorway. Once more she puzzled at why he was still with her and why he seemed so protective. She was, however, happy for both the company and the protection.

She saw the cow and patted her nose. “Hi, cutie,” she said. “What’s her name?” Tara asked over her shoulder.

“Uh . . . Lunch?” Angel said.

Tara shot him a nasty glance. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not? That’s what it is.”

“She’s a she, not an it. And she needs a proper name.” Tara felt a wave of nostalgia as she considered the cow. She had grown up with animals and hadn't realized how much she'd missed being around them. They were so much simpler than humans.

“Lunchetta? Lunchina? Luncherella?” Angel grinned at Tara.

“Stop that.” Despite herself, Tara stifled a giggle. “Ethel. Her name is Ethel,” she pronounced.

“You have got to be kidding.”

“Not at all. Her name is Ethel.”

Angel gave Tara a wry look. “You know,” he said, “I think I ate a woman named Ethel in 1890 or so.”

Tara was revolted. “Funny. Very funny.” She patted Ethel’s shoulder. “Don’t you listen to him, Ethel. The big, bad vampire won’t hurt you.”

“Tara. Don’t lie to the cow. It’s bad manners.” Angel grinned as Tara shot him another nasty glance. She knew he was baiting her and was enjoying himself. She allowed herself an inward smile, once again grateful for Angel's presence.

“Well, Ethel, it won’t hurt much, anyway,” Tara said soothingly. She then began gathering the herbs she needed for some of the potions she wanted to brew, pausing to glance at the sky. It was going to rain, the clouds were gathering and she could smell it. She sighed, saddened because that meant more rainbows she wouldn't get to see. She sighed again then went back to gathering the herbs for the healing and meditation potions that would help keep her from getting ill and hopefully help her focus on her message sending.

“Okay. Let’s grab the bags and see what you’ve brought,” she said, walking back into the house.

They each grabbed some of the plastic bags and headed downstairs. Miss Kitty came out to greet them and sat at the base of the stairs. As Tara started emptying the bags, she glanced at some of the books Angel had brought. She knew most of them and was glad to have them again. She was contemplating one that had the letter Q inside a pentacle stamped on the cover, written in a language she wasn't familiar with, when Miss Kitty meowed and Tara looked over at her. She was still sitting near the bottom of the stairs, pawing at the air in front of her. Tara smiled and went over to pick her up. “Silly kitty,” Tara cooed as she lifted the cat into her arms. Miss Kitty maneuvered herself so that she was looking over Tara’s shoulder.

“What’s up with her?” Angel asked.

“I don’t know. Probably just tired of being cooped up down here.” Tara sat cross-legged on her cot, rubbing Miss Kitty’s head and ears. “Angel . . . ” Tara hesitated. Angel looked up from the book he was reading. “D-don’t take this the wrong w-way but w-why do you s-stay with me? W-why did you help me? N-not that I’m not grateful . . . your help a-and c-companionship have been really w-wonderful. I just don’t understand w-why you came back with me . . .” Tara trailed off, unsure how, or if, she should continue. As terror-stricken as she was that Angel might leave, she was that much more curious about his continued support.

Angel smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to ask. The way you look at me sometimes, I kind of figured you were puzzled. I told you - I came to see if any of you had survived. I found you. It seemed only right that I stay and help.” He paused as if considering how to proceed. “We left together. Traveling was safer for two. When you decided to come back I understood because I felt the same pull. I needed to come back to Sunnydale.” He looked around. “This was her home. I feel closer to her here. And you were her friend. She loved you and would want me to help. And I want to help. I like you. And if she were here, she would help you.”

Tara smiled and nodded, “Thank you. For everything. I really am glad you’re here.” She was relieved that he was staying because he wanted to, not because of some weird sort of duty. It was really nice having someone she could both talk to and count on.

“I’m glad I am too.”

She smiled at him and headed for the stairs. “I’m going back upstairs to see if I can get Iris to answer. I like to stay out of the basement as much as possible.”

Angel nodded, grabbed his book, and followed her upstairs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Next Week: An Interlude & Chapter 8 - More Weirdness

DaddyCatALSO wrote:Well, yes, I'm impatient; I'm going to be climbing the walls before the year's out...there are only 53 chapters, right?

No...there's fewer than forty :