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Title: Darkness Falls
Author: KrisBo5 (Kris, obviously)
Email address: KrisBo5@aol.com
Feedback: Sure, Id love it.
Distribution: This story is the narrative form of four spec scripts I have written for BVS, each of which is registered with the WGAw, so please dont publish it or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form. If for some reason youd like to, just ask first. Its the polite thing to do.
Spoilers: Well, definitely up to Season 6, Entropy episode, though how W/T get together is different in my story.
Rating: This covers the story in its entirety: PG-13 to NC17. This includes sex, violence, language. Watch out, Kittens! As the title implies, things are going to get pretty dark, but, unlike some production entity that shall remain nameless, itll be okay in the end.
Pairing: Willow and Tara, first, foremost, and forever! However, Buffy and the others are here as well, Buffy and Dawn most especially.
Disclaimer: Hey, I didnt create these characters, those kudos belong to Joss and crew. Im just borrowing them for the story I did write. As for the song, it is Youre Still You, words and music by Ennio Morricone and Linda Thompson.
Summary: The mythology surrounding the creation of the first Slayer(it sounds like a Buffy story, but have no fear, this is all about Willow and Tara).
Note: If the feedback is positive, I will continue to post; if not, no harm done, Ill still post probably. This story, being based on previous works, is going to be long, so bear with me. I think youll enjoy it! Without further ado, here it is. . .

Darkness Falls: Prologue


The heart has its reasons that Reason knows nothing about Blaise Pascal, Pensee (1670)


Willows eyes fluttered open as the early morning sun cast its rays across her bedroom. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she focused on the digital clock on the nightstand. Its red numbers flickered back at her: 6:42 am. Blink, blink, blink, blink. Oh, please. 6:42? And Im awake because?

The redhead inhaled deeply, a customary wake-up-in-the-morning ritual, one which inevitably turned into an its-too-early-in-the-morning-to-be-awake yawn, and stretched long and hard. Her eyes wandered back to the clock. Blink, blink, blink, blink. 6:43. Ugh, the redhead muttered. Youve gotta be kidding. Time does not move that slow. There has to be some law of physics which proves it. I definitely need to look into that.

Willow rolled away from the clock, facing the other side of her bed. Her empty bed. In the months since she and Tara had broken up, she could not sleep on her lovers side at all. Without Tara there, it just didnt feel right. In fact, if her foot even wandered over in the middle of the night, searching, the cold emptiness of the sheets brought her back to her side in a hurry, leaving her with feelings of loneliness and shame. She sighed and reached out to run her hand over Taras pillow. It was her morning ritual, to touch something of the blondes, just as she had touched Tara every morning they had been together.

She smiled wistfully, thinking of the blonde. So much had happened, to all of them, and things were finally back on track. She was off Dark Magic, and had been for fifty-one days, three hours, eight minutes. But whos counting? And Tara and she had been dating again for twelve days, nine hours, thirty-two minutes. But whos counting? Willow pulled Taras pillow to her face and breathed in the fragrance of the woman who was the love of her life: peaches, lilac, rain. She released the pillow, somewhat hesitantly, and rolled back over to face the digital demon. 6:46. Blink, blink, blink.

Yeah, well, thats enough of that. Willow threw the covers back and sat up, dropping her feet to the floor. She reached her arms above her head in another morning stretch, her back popping and cracking its protests to her movements. My little Rice Crispy. Taras playful pet name for the redheads many osteo-complaints sprang to mind, and Willow smiled.

As she stood to go for her morning shower, she noticed a small white envelope laying on the floor just under the door. She leaned a hand on the nightstand and bent over, picking it up; she looked at the front, which simply read: Willow. Her eyebrows knitted together as she turned it over to open it. Pulling out the notecard inside, she read, The Scooby Gang requests the honor of your presence to help pre-celebrate the birth of Willow Rosenberg*, fellow Scooby and Best Friend to all, on this very day, at the hour of 2:30 pm, at Sunnydale Park. Willow felt her eyes well up with tears as she read on. *PS, You cant say no, youre the guest of honor.

A single tear fell from her eye onto the cardstock, and Willow sniffed loudly. She raised her head and took a deep, calming breath. She carefully placed the card on the nightstand and padded across her room towards the bathroom, a tearful smile on her face.

*****

Are you serious? No way! Dawn sat at the kitchen table, leaning over a bowl of cereal, yammering into the phone. She dropped her spoon onto the table. He did not! Really?

Buffy entered the kitchen, dressed in boots, jeans and a dark green blouse; she worked on pulling her hair into a ponytail as she approached the sink. Who are you talking to? she asked, as she retrieved a glass and filled it with water. When she didnt get a response, she turned to Dawn. I am addressing the living?

Dawn covered the mouthpiece with her hand. Janice. She removed her hand, and rolling her eyes slightly, said into the receiver, My sister.

Dont be long. Xanders supposed to call.

Dawn covered the phone again, obviously annoyed. Thats why they invented call waiting. Buffy sipped from the glass and smiled a not-so-sisterly-smile at her. Dawn raised her eyebrows slightly, then cleared her throat. Uh, Janice, yeah, I gotta go. Yeah, 2:30. Okay, bye. Dawn jumped off her stool and crossed to the counter to hang up the phone. She faced the Slayer. Happy?

This time Buffy raised her eyebrows questioningly. She lowered her glass. Arent I always?

Always what? Willow asked as she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. She was dressed casually in faded jeans and a snug short-sleeved red tee-shirt. Her copper-colored hair, still damp, hung free and loose around her face. She walked to the fridge and opened it.

Happy, Buffy said.

Annoying, Dawn said, at the same time.

Willow grabbed the orange juice and closed the door, laughing. She poured some juice and looked at the Summers sisters. Tense much? Whats up?

Dawn carried her dishes to the sink and dropped them in. Buffys being all phone Nazi again.

Buffy set her glass down on the table and planted her hands beside it. You wanna see a phone Nazi, Little Missy?

Feel the love in this room, the redhead said, trying to lighten the mood.

Not, Dawn muttered, as she headed out of the kitchen.

Buffy couldnt help but smile; as hard as she tried to be all big with the tough love, it usually degraded into two five year olds fighting over an Easy Bake Oven: whining, insulting, pouting, hair-pulling, grounding. She turned to her best friend. So, Will, whats up with you today? she asked, a hint of feigned innocence in her tone.

Willow set her glass on the table and reached behind her back; she pulled the white envelope from her pocket and held it out towards Buffy.

Buffys gaze fell to the envelope, then she raised questioning eyes. Youre going to the Post Office? The redhead slapped her friend playfully on the shoulder, and the Slayer laughed. Happy day-before your birthday, Will, Buffy said, leveling her eyes at her best friend.

Thanks, Buffy, the redhead said. Willow stepped around the edge of the table and hugged the Slayer. Love you.

I love you, Buffy said, squeezing Willow tightly.

You, too.

They released one another and stepped back. Buffy started for the back door. Um, okay then, she began, resting her hand on the doorknob. Weve got a few things to do, you know, the whole wait-till-the-very-last-minute-to-go-shopping-for-the-party thing, and as Im not the kinda gal who likes to flout tradition, . . . she trailed off, hitching a thumb in the direction of outside. Willow nodded. DAWN! Buffy yelled, and Willow flinched. Lets go!

As if by magic, Dawn entered the kitchen wearing a backpack. I dont think Mr. Dayton down on the corner heard you.

Buffy grabbed the strap of the bag and pulled Dawn towards her as she opened the door. Well, lets see what we can do about that. Then, she playfully pushed Dawn through.

Hey, watch the child abuse, Dawn whined as she flew out the door.

Buffy followed, glancing once more at Willow. See you later?

Definitely. Buffy waved and closed the door. Willow looked at the envelope again, rubbing her finger idly over her name. Tara. The image of the blonde jumped into her thoughts and she smiled. Seeing Tara today. Oh, yeah, today at 2:30. She looked at the clock: 8:19. Tick, tick, tick. Willow rolled her eyes and sighed disgustedly. Give me a break! She snatched the envelope off the counter and trudged out of the kitchen.

*****
Sunnydale Park, generally not the place anyone in their right minds would be caught in after dark, was bursting at the seams with the resident populace. An excess of sunlight, minus the terror, had encouraged families and friends to come out for a day of merriment. Music blared from boom boxes and parked cars. Picnickers and party-goers commandeered tables and shaded areas. Impromptu softball and soccer games elicited cheers by loved ones for their weekend warrior athletes. Children, by the dozens, screamed and laughed and cried as they ate, played, and, of course, fought.

The Scoobies had managed to sequester a rather nice area of grass, under a Great Elm beside the tiny-tot playground. Several blankets were spread out, each covered by food and drinks, toys and games, and Scoobies.

Willow sat with her back against the tree, her legs crossed at the ankles. What a day, she said, taking a deep breath.

Buffy, laying on her side on the next blanket over, looked up from the magazine she was reading. She smiled at her friend. I special ordered it just for you.

Well done, the redhead said, smiling. The high-pitched sound of Dawn laughing caused her to look towards the open field beside them. Xander and Dawn, loaded for bear with Mighty Soaker Water Guns, were chasing one another, zigzagging like Tasmanian Devils as they sprayed at one another. What a day. Um, you know, Buffy, maybe water guns werent such a good idea.

What do you mean? the Slayer asked, keeping her eyes glued to the page in front of her. Willows hesitation to answer made Buffy lift her eyes again. . . just in time to see Dawn, with Xander in full pursuit, heading right for them. She raised her eyebrows as she watched the situation unfold before her. Hey, stay away from here with those things! she mock-threatened.

Help! Help! Dawn half-screamed, half-laughed as she sprinted towards the Slayer.

Too late for help now, Annie Oakley! Xander yelled, leveling his soaker at her retreating form.

Buffy sat up as they approached. Not over here! Go away! she said, waving them off.

To no avail.

Dawn reached Buffys blanket just as Xander squeezed the trigger. Hurdling the corner of the picnic spread, Dawn successfully evaded the spray behind her.

The water hit Buffy square across the chest and face, sending the Slayer into shocked silence. Dawn and Xander stopped, frozen. Buffy wiped her face with her hands and opened her eyes. She looked at Dawn. Then Xander. Then Dawn again. Youre dead, she announced. Xander and Dawn looked at each other; in silent understanding, they turned tail. Buffy grabbed the soaker beside her, executed a perfect back summersault, and was after them in an instant.

Willow laughed as she watched her friends bound away, their own laughter and screams drifting on the wind as they moved farther from her. She sighed and tilted her head up to the branches sprawling above her. Bushy green leaves rustled in the breeze as dappled sunlight sprinkled the redheads face. Willow closed her eyes and listened. Creak. Creak. A branch high above her lodged its protest against time and the elements, and a small shiver went up the redheads spine. There it is. Beautiful.

Willow felt a shadow pass over her. Blinking, she opened her eyes to find Tara standing beside her, looking down on her with a small grin playing at the corners of her mouth. Beautiful. Just. . . beautiful. Hey, Willow said, her face lighting up.

Hey, the blonde replied, resting a palm against the course bark of the tree. She wore jeans and boots, and a very form-fitting long-sleeved, scoop-necked blue tee-shirt.

Willow swallowed and shifted on the ground, moving a few inches to her left. Hey. Quite the wordsmith, Rosenberg. Really, Kissinger should run and hide in fear. Fear, I say.

Tara dropped down beside the redhead, resting against the tree as her body pressed against Willow. The blonde could feel the heat from Willows skin through the material of her shirt, sending the ever familiar shockwave of desire through her, flopping her stomach end over end. Say something. Say you look beautiful. Say happy birthday. Say Anything. Im late. Classic.

Willow wiped her palms on her jeans several times. No, she said, glancing at the blonde beside her. Twenty-seven minutes. Whos counting? Well, yeah, but youre here. Thats all that matters. She continued wiping her hands on her legs. Um, where were you?"

In a fluid movement, Tara reached out and took one of Willows nervous hands in hers, interlacing their fingers together; she laid both in her lap and covered the redheads with her other hand, holding it captive. Oh, I-I had to take care of some stuff. School-like stuff. Things. Lie much?

Tara couldve said she had performed open-heart surgery with a spoon, for all Willow heard was a low hum rushing through her ears the second Tara touched her. The redhead stared at their joined hands, and marveled at how easily they blended into one another. Completely. Seamlessly. Endlessly. Taras skin was cool and soft, and as the blonde began to slowly draw circles on the back of her hand, Willow felt herself falling. How can she just touch me and make me fall apart? Goddess, Ive missed this. So much.

Where is everyone? Tara asked, her eyes finding Willows as she tucked a wayward strand of copper hair behind the redheads ear. The backs of her fingers brushed lightly over Willows jaw and throat before they returned to hold the hand in her lap.

Oh, um, the redhead stammered, her breath quickened by thoughts of Tara touching her in other places. Theyre, uh, Raging Waters.

Huh?

As if on cue, a very dry and very happy Buffy jogged over to them holding three empty soakers. Hey, Tara, youre here, she said, plopping down on the blanket closest to them. She tossed the toys on the grass and grabbed a soda. After gulping half the can she turned to the blonde. The birthday girl was gettin kinda anxious.

Willow shifted and looked at the Slayer. I was not. Buffy raised her eyebrows in a oh, really expression. I wasnt anxious, she declared, I was

You know, Buff, you with the Slayer powers and the Jet Li moves. Not exactly fair on the scale of fairness. Xander approached the group from behind, sopping wet head-to-foot, covered in sand and grass stains. Willow and Tara stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. Xander stopped at the edge of a blanket and wrung out the tails of his shirt. Go ahead, Wiccan women, laugh. Guffaw even. Its not like I was the only one who got

Completely ruined, Dawn said loudly as she followed up behind Xander. Like him, she was tore up from the floor up and none too happy about it. She grasped the shoulders of her shirt, pulling the wet, muddy material away from her skin, and glowered at Buffy. Was this absolutely necessary?

Buffy let her eyes bounce between Xander and Dawn. She nodded. Absolutely.

Oh, Dawnie, Tara said, in her best sympathetic tone. Moppet. A wet moppet. A wet, mud-caked, peeved moppet. It was no use; Tara smiled, then quickly dipped her head to hide her laughter.

Tara! the teen exclaimed.

Im sorry, Dawnie, the blonde said, finally composing herself.

Youre supposed to be on my side, Dawn continued, crossing her arms over her chest, then making a face as her skin touched the brownish gunk covering her.

I am. Always. Tara glanced at Buffy, who raised her eyebrows questioningly and tapped her fingers absently on the nearest soaker. Tara cleared her throat and scooted a tad closer to Willow; the redhead swallowed hard as more of their bodies came into contact with one another. Except when the Slayer and Wet-Ware are involved, she amended.

Well, all I know is, when times get. . . uh, wet and dirty and gross, its good to know who your real friends are. Dawn slapped Xander on the arm.

Huh? he asked, as the last drips of water fell to the grass. Who, me? Oh, yeah, me friend. Wet and dirty and gross.

Lets go, Dawn ordered, grabbing Xanders arm.

Willow leaned forward quickly. Youre not leaving, Dawn.

Were swinging, she said as she and Xander headed for the nearest swing set.

Willow watched them go, then felt Tara tug on her arm. The redhead glanced at her and was met with sparkling blue eyes. She slumped back against the tree once again, and Tara leaned into her side, resting her head on the redheads shoulder. Peaches. Lilac. Rain. Willow inhaled the blondes scent, closing her eyes briefly as warmth cascaded down her body, settling in her stomach.

Shes okay, Tara said softly, rubbing her fingers up and down Willows arm. The blonde smiled as gooseflesh emerged beneath her touch.

Yeah, Buffy agreed, shes just. . . well, wet.

And dirty, Willow added.

And gross, Tara finished.

They laughed.

After several seconds, silence sprang up around them. Buffy leaned back, resting her hands behind her on the grass; tilting her head back, she let the sun splash over her face.

Tara looked up at Willow. Hey, she whispered, her hand stilling on the redheads arm.

Willow looked towards Tara, and the blondes proximity to her put their lips a mere inch apart. Hmm? she answered, her eyes lingering on Taras full lips.

Wanna go for a walk? Tara let her hand slide off Willows arm, across her stomach, where it came to rest. She felt the redhead inhale sharply and the muscles beneath her palm contract.

Walk? Walk? Whats that? Um, Willow stammered, pushing herself up with her free hand. Cant walk. She glanced quickly at Dawn, then Tara. Actually, I-I think Ill check on Dawn.

Tara removed her hand from Willows stomach and released the redhead. She sat up, a frown creasing her forehead. R-really?

Willow stood. You know, see if shes okay.

Tara tucked several strands of hair behind her ear, staring up at the redhead. O-okay. She watched as Willow practically sprinted away from her, and her heart sank. Willow. My Willow, whats wrong? She turned away, and came face-to-face with inquiring eyes of the Slayer.

Whats up with that? Buffy asked, tipping her head in the direction of the swings.

I wish I knew. Tara shook her head, and folded her hands in her lap. I dont know.

Buffy sat up and twisted to face her blonde-haired friend. You guys fighting?

Oh, god, no. Nothing like that, Tara said, her voice more alarmed than reassuring. I dont think anything like that. No, no. Nothing like that. Im sure. Arent I?I dont know. I dont know whats up. Why are you asking me? Goddess, I sound like my babbling love.

Well, good, Buffy asserted. Theres been enough of that for a whole lifetime. She paused. Or two. Two lifetimes. Tara smiled at her friends jokes about her own resurrections. Speaking of, tomorrow. . . ? Taras bewildered expression caused the Slayer to laugh. Wills birthday.

Oh, the blonde said, understanding dawning. Yeah.

What do you need?

An accomplice of the highest magnitude, Im afraid, Tara said, a smile lighting her face.

Buffy sprang to her knees and crawled quickly towards the blonde. Thats me. Right here. Accomplice Major. Certified Accessory: before, during, after the fact. She plopped down and grinned like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.

Tara laughed out loud, squeezing Buffys hand quickly. Nothing nefarious needed. Just a little, ah, . . .

Tactical prevarication? Taras eyes widened at the Slayers choice of words. What? I cant learn something other than battle maneuvers? Tara pulled her face back together as Buffy continued, fessing up. Willow signed up for some computer Word-of-the-Day thingy. Guess something stuck.

I guess, Tara agreed.

So, tell, tell.

All right. Everythings all set up and cleared and you have to get her to The Bronze by 7:30. No later. Thats the only time we have. She paused. Im going to have to meet you there.

Buffy nodded. Thats not a prob. Can I tell her why The Bronze?

Um, I guess you can tell her its for her party, which it is. For her birthday. Thats not really a lie. But not whats happening.

Oh, man, I cant wait to see her go all non-verbal. And, with Willow, thats really saying something, Buffy said, her voice tinged with humor.

Laughter wafted on the wind towards them, and they both turned towards the swings. Taras heart tightened in her chest at the sight her eyes fell upon. Willow was seated beside Dawn and Xander, swinging her legs back and forth, driving her body further and further into the sky. The sunlight caught her copper-colored hair, causing highlights to spark in their rays. She leaned back in her swing, her head tilted Heavenward, an ear-to-ear smile covering her face. Tara felt a tear slide down her cheek before she even realized she was crying; she discreetly wiped it away, hiding from Buffys ever-observant eyes. My beautiful Willow. Look at you. What is it, my love? What can I do? Willow laughed out loud with the others, and the blonde felt her stomach flip with yearning. What can I do?

*****
Several hours later, the sun had set and Casa Summers was bunkered down for the night. Dawn sat in the living room, her school books plastered over the coffee table. She hummed quietly as she scribbled away.

Upstairs, Buffy stood beside Willow and watched the redhead lie down on her back on the floor and wiggle beneath the bed, dragging a battery-operated drill, pliers, screwdriver, and flashlight with her. Buffy sat at the foot of the bed carefully and listened as her best friend grunted and shifted below.

So, tell me again why we couldnt move the bed before you did this? the Slayer asked.

Move-shmoove. This is old school, do-it-yourself home repair. You know, if you cant move it yourself, it dont get moved.

I can move it myself, Buffy responded, reminding the redhead of her superior strength.

Not you-you. Me-you. Me. I. Willow sighed. I have to do it.

So why dont you?

Silence. Hello? Willow here. Then, It takes too long. Besides, this is easy. A snap for us technical geniuses. Technical geeks actually, but who am I to quibble over names?

Riiight, Buffy said, standing. Then, Ill leave the, um, genius, to it. Im gonna do a quick sweep before I pack it in. Youll be all right?

Of course. Buffy started for the door, when Willow yelled out. Buffy?

Yeah?

Before you go, could you get me one of those plus-sign screwdrivers? The what-zit? Peter Head?

Phillips Head, Buffy corrected, a smile playing across her face at the visual of a 'Peter Head screwdriver.' You got it. She turned and walked out the door, swinging it nearly shut behind her. Under her breath she said, Technical genius my butt.

Peter. Piper. Pickle. Pecker. . . head. Willow adjusted her goggles, then squeezed the drill again, loosening the second screw from the socket cover. I knew it was P. With her free hand, she pulled the screws from the plate, then removed it, exposing the electrical wires. There you are my pretties.

Dawn looked up as Buffy reached the bottom of the stairs. Buffy hitched a thumb in Willows general direction as she moved towards the kitchen. Ms.Yankee Doodle Workshop needs a screwdriver. I think theres one downstairs. Buffy proceeded into the kitchen, and Dawn heard the basement door open as she returned to her books.

A quiet knocking came from the front door. Got it, Dawn called, though there was no one around to hear. She jogged to the entrance and opened the door. Tara, the teen squealed, pulling the blonde inside the house.

Tara hugged Dawn, smiling to herself. Not mad, then?

Dawn drew back and waved her hand in the air. Please. Are you kidding? Today was the best. Besides, who can stay mad at you?

Tara cupped the teens cheek in her hand. Willow, maybe. I dont know. Not you, I guess.

Dawns face lit up. Nope. She walked back to the living room. Geometry awaits. Willows upstairs. She plopped back down on the couch, a lingering air of happiness surrounding her.

Tara started up the stairs. Now or never.


The bedroom door slowly opened. Tara stood at the entrance, looking inside, both hesitantly and expectantly. No Willow. Well, maybe thats for the best. I dont know if I can do this.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something rather strange: two shoes moving near the bed. What the? She walked several steps into the room to get a closer look. And saw . . . Willowfeet. Inside Willowtennies. Attached to Willowlegs. Inside Willowflannels. All of which were sticking out from under the bed. A flash of Wicked Witches in striped socks killed by flying houses sprang to mind. Tara smiled at the image. Now or never. You can do this. You have done this. You want to do this. You want her.

Sensing another presence in the room, Willow shouted, That was quick. More drilling from under the bed. Sorry, Buffy, but I have to cut through the wall. The sockets just not big enough. She coughed at the chalky dust beginning to spit out from the wall. If this goes well, though, I bet I can get us free cable.

Tara smiled, her heart swelling. Oh, Willow. Slowly she walked to the bed. Now or never. Tara knelt beside Willows feet.

Im not talking 900 channels or anything, but I think HBO definitely. And maybe Pay-Per-View. Thatd be cool, huh? Save ten bucks at the movies. More drilling. More coughing.

Now or never. Tara reached a hand out and took a gentle hold of Willows ankle, between flannel and canvas, touching her skin. Willow? she said.

Surprised by Taras voice, and the sudden touch of her lovers hand on her skin, Willow jerked away from the blondes hand, banging her shin on the beds sideboard. Ow! Willow yelled. Instinctively reaching out to her injured shin, Willows forehead THUDDED on the beds underframe. OW! she repeated, followed by a wounded, high-pitched Damn.

Willow? Tara asked, concern filling her voice. The blonde reached out again, then thought better of it. She pushed herself back from the bed and let her eyes embrace the redhead instead.

Willow remained silent for several seconds, panic-perspiration springing up all over her body. Oh, goddess. Tara. Shes in my room. What is she doing here? What am I doing here? She was holding my leg. What do I do? Should I say something? Is she waiting for me to say something? I should say something.

Willow?! Tara repeated, the alarm in her voice rising.

Oh, goddess. Say something. Shes freaking out. Shes freaking out? Im freaking out. Say something. Anything. Yes, she answered, though her voice was quiet and small. Hey, that sounded pretty good. Actually, that sounded perfect. Calm. Collected. Thats good. Perfect. Dork.

Willow, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Tara asked.

Yes. Er, I mean, no, I mean, ah, yes, Im okay. No, Im not hurt, Willow babbled on, remaining completely still beneath the bed.

The blonde kept her eyes riveted on her lovers unmoving legs. After several seconds of silence, Tara spoke. Willow?

Yes?

Are you coming out from there?

Um. Willow hesitated. No, thats okay, I think Ill stay right here. No, thats not right. Thats stupid. Okay, you can do this, Willow. Its easy. No problem. Use your hands. Push. Crawl a little. You can do it.

Suddenly Willows legs moved. Tara stood and stepped back from the bed, fully expecting the redhead to emerge the way she apparently entered. To her surprise, her lovers legs disappeared completely under the bed. Frowning with confusion, the blonde bent at her waist to peek under the bed. Will?

A grunt signaled Willows unexpected appearance on the other side of the bed. One hand, still holding her drill, reached up and grabbed the bed for leverage. Her coppery locks, now dusty with white chalk, appeared next. Tara watched as her lover slowly emerged, as if from a cocoon. Another Hrumf and the redhead was on her knees beside the bed. Taras eyes rolled over the other womans upper body: long, thin bare arms covered with a light sheen of perspiration and chalk dust; round shoulders accentuated by statuesque collar bones; flat, taut stomach, not quite covered by a dark green tank top. Her eyes, at last, moved to her lovers breasts, which, she noticed, were not encumbered by a bra. The fabric of the top was stretched tight across the red heads chest, causing her nipples to stand erect. Tara found herself holding her breath at the womans natural beauty.

Willow pushed herself up to her feet and faced Tara. Tara, Willow said, more of a statement of fact than a question. White dust covered the redheads face and neck, as well as the rest of her upper body, and Tara found it strangely erotic. Still grasping the drill in her right hand, Willow rubbed a negligent drop of sweat from her neck with the back of her free hand. A small clean streak of Willowskin appeared.

Are you okay? Tara asked. The redhead raised her eyebrows. Tara pointed to her lovers forehead. Your head.

Oh, that, Willow said, touching the rising red welt that had sprung up near her hairline. Yeah. Fine. Feeling no pain right now, actually. She smiled, a bit embarrassed. She let her hand drop to her side and a puff of dust wafted up beside her. She smiled again, a bit more embarrassed. After another moment of silence, Willow spoke. Um, wh-whatre you doing here? God, rude much? That didnt come out right. The blonde opened her mouth to speak, but Willow plundered on. I dont mean what are you doing here, like why-are-you-here-I-dont-want-to-see-you-you-shouldnt-be-here. More like whatre-you-doing-here-I-just-saw-you-today-why-are-you-here. Not that I dont want to see you cause I saw you already today, because that would be so totally stupid and not true at all, but like we spent today together and here you are. . .

Tara tilted her head to one side as she listened to her love launch into full Willowbabble Mode. Listening to the redhead verbally tailspin had always been something Tara loved, and not being able to hear it made her ache inside. Watching her now, hearing her voice, smelling the musky scent of her sweat, all of it, it was like she had been dead inside and suddenly brought back to life. Her heart ached. But it smiled, too. I was right. Now or never.

. . .its Buffys house and you should come here anytime you want. And not just to see me, but Dawn or Buffy or whoever you want. But I dont mean I dont want you

Willow, the blonde said, holding a hand up to silence her. Willow raised her eyebrows, her mouth hanging slightly open. Breathe.

Willow realized she was, in fact, a little out of breath. She took a quick breath and smiled a patented oops, I just spiraled, didnt I smile. Then a confused expression flitted across her face, like she had forgotten something.

Why am I here? the blonde supplied, easily reading her thoughts. Willow raised the drill, as if to say, yeah, thats it. Tara took a few sidesteps towards the door and closed it quietly. She watched Willows eyes follow her every move, but the redheads face remained blank. Waiting.

She closed the door. Okay. Thats good. Wait, why would she close the door? Privacy? Good privacy? Or bad privacy? It could be bad. It could be something really bad. Oh, goddess, it could mean she wants

. . .to talk to you, the blondes voice interrupted, drawing Willow out of her thoughts.

Huh? Willow asked, then realized she knew what the blonde had said without her having to repeat it. I-I mean, what-what about?

Tara faced Willow. Now or never. Why dont you ever touch me, Willow?

Willow felt the air rush out of her lungs, as if a full-on vacuum had appeared inside the room. She opened her mouth to speak, but found she had no words. Touch? Touch Tara. The redhead licked her parched lips and swallowed hard. She cleared her throat nervously. T-t-touch? You? Oh, please, take a pill. You sound ridiculous. This is Tara. Youve answered more intimate questions than that. Jeepers, youve asked more.

The blonde released the doorknob and let her hand fall to her side. Yes. She took a step away from the door, approaching the bed.

The redhead shook her head slightly, confusion knitting her brow. What are you we, I mean, I-I touch you.

Tara took a final step towards the bed, standing at its edge. Her heart pounded inside her chest, but she was unsure from what. Fear? Yes. Embarrassment? Yes. Love? Love? Oh, yes, definitely yes. No, you dont, Willow. Slowly, the blonde reached up with both hands and began to unzip her sweater. She watched Willows eyes dart to her hands as they unclasped the zipper. When the redheads eyes lifted to hers again, Tara saw her own feelings reflected back at her: fear, hope, desire. . . love. You dont ever put your hands on me. The blonde turned slightly from Willow and began to move, ever so slowly, towards the foot of the bed. Her blue eyes never left Willows green.

Willow stood frozen, a deer in headlights. Hands. On. Tara. My hands. On Taraskin. The mere thought caused gooseflesh to appear on the redheads body. Its true. Youre right. We havent really. . . well, I havent really. But, Ive wanted to. I want to. Every second of every day. I just. . . Suddenly, she realized she wasnt speaking out loud, that the blonde couldnt hear her innermost thoughts. Or desires. As she tried to formulate the words again, she quickly realized something else: she couldnt answer; all powers of speech had left her. Doofus. Big ole honkin doofus. So now she was forced to stand there, mute, watching the blonde drift towards her at an eternally slow pace.

You dont ever caress my body, Tara continued, edging past the foot of the bed. She shrugged her sweater off her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms to land haphazardly on the floor. She had changed clothes from earlier that afternoon; the blouse she wore had long sleeves, and was made from a diaphanous blue material which accentuated her pale skin and cobalt eyes. A dark blue silk bra was visible beneath.

Oh. My. God. Willow felt her body come alive at the sight of the blonde shedding her clothes. There was a familiar ache, starting in her chest, making it hard to breathe. From there, it moved down, into her belly, causing ripple after ripple of yearning. Ultimately, it moved home, to the center of her desire, burning her with need. Oh. My. God.

You dont ever taste me, the blonde said, finally rounding the end of the bed. She stopped there, barely five feet from the redhead, and looked into her eyes.

Whats happening? I-I, Willow started, then stopped. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was, as the saying goes, dry as a desert. Instead, she cleared her throat. I didnt want to rush you, she finally said, surprised that she could even get out that much. The blonde tilted her head, waiting for something more. Us. Us, I mean. I-I didnt want to rush us. We finally. . . made it back, after so long, and its been so good and Willow stammered, and I didnt know if it was time. . . I didnt want to press, she continued, but stopped abruptly when Tara took a small step towards her. Without realizing, the redhead took a small step backwards.

Willow, Tara said, a small smile drawing the corners of her mouth up. She took another step towards the redhead. Again, Willow retreated, her progress halted only when the backs of her legs bumped up against the small nightstand. Tara closed the distance between them in two steps, stopping inches in front of the redhead. As it had always been between them, Tara could feel the heat Willows body was sending out, an invisible yet tangible pull of their souls, from one to the other. She noticed the redheads breathing had changed, quickened, as she drew near. Hers had as well. Another constant between them. Tara allowed her eyes to slip to the curve of Willows tank top, just above her breasts; the redheads heart pounded rapidly, beat after beat, visible to the blondes trained eyes. She was sure hers matched that pace exactly. She raised her eyes and searched Willows face. Beautiful. Tara heard the word in her mind, but it wasnt enough. Beautiful did not describe the woman standing before her.

Tara slowly raised a hand, her blue eyes riveted on Willows emerald. She reached out and let her fingertips brush across the redheads dusty collar bone. At the blondes touch, Willow closed her eyes and took several quick breaths. The blonde continued with her exploration, letting her fingers trace a path from the collar bone to the shoulder. Then, from the shoulder, down the length of the redheads arm. Casually. Deliberately. Finally her hand reached Willows; without stopping, her palm slid over the back of the redheads hand, circling around it. Tara took hold of the drill Willow held, gently removing it from the redheads death-grip. Willow opened her eyes, and found sparkling blue staring back at her. In one motion, Tara leaned forward, past Willow, and placed the drill on the night stand.

Willow inhaled sharply as Taras hair brushed across the skin of her arm. Peaches. Lilac. Rain. Oh, goddess, she smells divine. Heavenly. A shiver ran across her back, making hair stand up on the nape of her neck. She felt her nipples harden with desire, pushing painfully at the cotton material of her shirt.
Tara retraced her path and was, once again, face-to-face with Willow. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. With both hands she reached up and grasped the sides of the plastic goggles that shielded Willows eyes. She gently pulled them away from the redheads face, smiling at the clean Willowskin that was left behind, shaped like the goggles she had just removed. Tara dropped them carelessly on the floor by her feet. She allowed her eyes to roam over Willows face again, as if she were seeing her for the last time and right now, this instant, would have to last a lifetime. Her eyes found the redheads again. What is it you do want?

Oh. My. God. Willow could hear her blood rushing in her ears, and thought that her heart would surely burst out of her chest it was pounding so furiously. Does Buffy know CPR? I, she started, her voice almost inaudible. Willows eyes moved over the blondes face. When they reached Taras eyes, she found herself falling into their blue depths. And once there, she felt no fear. No hesitation. It was home. She was home.

I want you, Willow said, this time her voice certain.

A small smile crept across the blondes face. Willow. Me, too.

I want to touch you, the redhead continued.

Tara traversed the final inches between them, then closed her eyes and leaned towards the redhead.

Im dirty, Willow said matter of factly.

The blonde opened her eyes, her mouth not one inch from Willows. The redheads breath fanned over her face from her slightly parted lips. Taras eyes dropped quickly to Willows full lips. Oh, Willow. Tara straightened and resignedly moved back from her love. She tilted her head to the side, her hair falling across her cheek. Well, one can always hope, right?

The redheads brow creased momentarily as she worked something out. One can hope? Hope? Hope what? Hope that Im dirty? Oh, that Im D-I-R-T-Y? Oh! Then, she raised her eyebrows, Oh! A small flush of red crept up Willows neck and settled in her cheeks. Real quick, Rain Man. She laughed. I didnt mean. . . I meant, she started, her voice light and easy, Dusty-dirty. Chalky-dirty. Sweaty-dirty.

The blonde shook her head and smiled, her spirit lifted by the sound of Willows laughter. She reached out and took the redheads face in both of her hands. I dont care.

Taras hands on her skin silenced the redheads laughter. Despite their time apart, the simple act of Tara touching her could ignite the passion so deep inside she thought she would burn away to nothingness. Id welcome that nothingness. For one more touch.

This time, as Tara leaned towards her, Willow met her half way.

Home.

Home.

The word passed through their minds the second their lips touched.

The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, a reintroduction of lovers separated by too much time. Then, as if the dam of indecision inside her had broken, Willow inhaled deeply, pulling Taras scent inside her; she lifted her hands and moved them to the blondes waist. A soft moan came from the back of Taras throat. It was enough motivation: Willow slid her hands up the blondes sides, barely grazing her breasts, then wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into her embrace; Tara responded in kind, sliding her hands from the redheads cheeks, down her neck and over both breasts, finally enveloping her lover tightly in her arms. Taras leg nudged one of Willows knees, and the redhead responded just as she knew she would; she shifted her weight to one leg and moved the other aside, allowing the blonde to take a small step closer by sliding her leg between the redheads.

The heat emanating through Taras skirt warmed Willows inner thighs and a shiver ran through her body at the intimate contact. Willow tightened her hold on the blonde, cupping the back of Taras head and pulling her in closer. And then the kiss, at first exploratory and wavering, became something different. Willow opened her mouth to Tara, her tongue searching, urging Tara to do the same. The blonde heeded to her lovers insistent probing and opened her mouth slightly; it was all the encouragement Willow needed. Her tongue entered slowly, inducing Tara to deepen the kiss. The blonde moved her mouth over Willows, exploring every inch, as one hand drifted down the redheads back and settled on her buttock, squeezing gently.

Willow moaned deep in her throat, finally breaking the kiss as she pulled away from the blonde. Their faces remained close, their labored breathing mingling together between them. Willow closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Taras. My love. After several seconds, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, pulling back to stare into her lovers blue depths.

A smile spread over her face as she took in the blondes appearance: chalky white dust covered her kiss swollen lips and nose, as well as areas of the blouse where Willows hands had roamed. She ran her thumb over the white dust on Taras upper lip as she smiled. Now youre dirty, too.

I still dont care, the blonde replied, tilting her head so she could drop a quick kiss on Willows thumb.

Willow took a deep breath and then quickly replaced her thumb with her lips, crushing her mouth down on the blondes with a heightened urgency. In a surprising move, Willow used her legs to push away from the nightstand; the change threw Tara slightly off balance, causing the blonde to emit a startled noise. Willow deepened the kiss, her tongue pushing forward into the blondes mouth relentlessly as her hands grabbed her lover close, pinning her tightly to her body. Just as deftly, the redhead pivoted their bodies so Taras backside was now pressed up against the side of the mattress.

Breathless, Tara tore her lips away from Willows. She stared into the redheads eyes, which had become fully dilated by her desire. Taras body shook involuntarily at the open, raw hunger she saw there. Having been the sexual initiator when this had begun, and knowing how nervous Willow felt about rekindling their intimacy, Tara found herself almost surprised at how quickly their roles had reversed. Almost. Willow. . . she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

Willow slid a hand down the length of Taras body, her eyes never leaving the blondes. She moved her hand between Taras legs, pressing her palm flat against the thin material covering her lovers hot center. She could feel the heat through Taras panties and skirt, and a light smile played at the corners of her mouth. I want to caress your body.

Tara opened her mouth to say something more, but Willow pushed herself further into the folds of her skirt, letting her fingers rub back and forth along the material. I want to put my hands on you. Tara feared her legs would give out, leaving her to crumble to the floor in a quivering heap.

Willow leaned closer, letting her tongue trace a small outline of the blondes upper lip as her hand continued its erotic ministrations. I want to taste you.

Oh, god, Willow, please. . . Wi-Willow, Tara pleaded, grasping onto her lover with every last ounce of strength she had, crushing their bodies together. This time, the abrupt motion threw them both off balance, and they toppled over, falling onto the bed in a tangled, twisted mass of arms and legs.

Taras breath burst from her lungs as Willows weight landed solidly on top of her. A look of alarm flashed over the redheads face, and she moved off of her lover. Oh, god, Tara, are you okay? When the blonde didnt respond, she started to sit up, Freak-Mode at Def-Con One. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. What do I do? What do I help. Get help. Get Bu Taras hand on her arm brought her swiftly back to Planet Earth. Tara? Are you all right? The blonde slowly nodded her head, color returning to her face. Willow palmed Taras cheek gently, concern still filling her voice, Are you sure, Baby?

Taras eyes riveted to Willows. Baby. Since they had started dating again, Willow had yet to use that term of endearment, and hearing it uttered from her lovers lips at last caused a rush of emotions to sweep over her. My love. Her eyes welled.

Baby? Willow asked, her hand gliding along the blondes cheek to catch the first tear as it slid from her eye.

Tara wrapped her arms around her love and pulled her closer. I love you. I love you so much. You have no idea. I-Im okay, she said, her voice tremulous. Willow raised her eyebrows slightly. I am. The redhead relaxed a bit, letting her body stretch out beside the blondes. Ive missed this, Tara said, as they stared at one another. Ive missed you.

Willow tilted her head slightly, knowing she felt the same. Im here.

Tara ran her fingers through the rust-colored locks at the back of Willows neck, then pulled.

Willow acquiesced, bringing her mouth to the blondes in the gentlest of kisses. Im right here, Baby. Finally.

Their arms tightened around one another, as passion swelled between them once again. Willow moved her lips to Taras throat, trailing kisses down its length, letting her tongue flick out and taste the porcelain skin. She could feel her lovers heart pounding, the heated blood coursing through her, and the redhead placed a lingering kiss on the throbbing pulse point. As she worked her way over Taras throat with her lips and tongue, her hand traveled downward, grasping the material of the blondes skirt and pulling it up.

Tara moaned as the fabric moved up her body and the cool air of the room touched her newly bare skin. She opened her legs to allow Willow fuller access to her body, shifting her hips towards the redheads probing hand. Tara reached out and hooked her fingers under the bottom of the redheads shirt; she tugged and the tank top rolled up Willows body, stopping just above her bare breasts, under her armpits. Off, she whispered harshly.

Willow lifted her head and drew herself up to look into Taras eyes.

Tara tugged again. Take this off.

In response, Willow pushed her hand inside the silk barrier and over the wiry curls hidden there. Tara inhaled sharply as Willow dipped her fingers between her legs, feeling the warm wetness that was the blondes essence. Taras hips bucked upward, urging the redheads massaging fingers to go further. Willow smiled and shifted, moving her body over the blondes; using a knee she prompted her lover to open wider for her. The redhead used her leverage to ease her fingers inside her lover, savoring the sensation of the heated wetness as it enveloped her.

Tara arched into Willow, closing her eyes as her lover moved inside her. Oh, Willow, yes. . . yes. Please. Opening her eyes, she moved one hand from the redheads top to a bared breast, cupping it firmly, while her other hand splayed across Willows back, pressing her close. A half-moan, half-sigh escaped her as Willows heated flesh filled her hands.

Willows eyes closed briefly as the blonde rubbed her palm over her hardened nipple. When they opened again, her eyes fixed on Taras. Tara, she whispered, as she leaned in to kiss her lover.

Hey, Will, found it! Buffy yelled, as she burst through the bedroom door, holding the screwdriver up in her hand triumphantly. She froze instantly as she took in her friends pseudo-en-flagrante forms.

Willows and Taras eyes snapped up at the sound of the Buffys voice. They, too, took on a frozen posture, both of their hands motionless in their respective private places, afraid to draw any further attention to themselves.

Ah-gah-ah, Buffy stammered. She held both hands up in front of her, as if she could ward off the vision before her. Oh, Jesus Christ, Im sorry, she blurted, spinning on her heels to exit, stage left. I ga jo I-I-I didnt know. . . The Slayer bolted into the corner of the door, banging her head hard, and stumbled back a step. Sorry! she yelled, grabbing her forehead. She charged forward again, then paused; not looking behind her, she reached back with her free hand and groped for the doorknob. Sorry, sorry, sorry she repeated, giving the women her best mina impression. She grasped the knob and slammed the door shut behind her retreating form.

Willow dropped her eyes to Tara, but the blonde was still staring at the door. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of the bedroom door opening again made her pause. The women watched as the Slayers hand squeezed through a three inch opening and carefully placed the screwdriver on the nightstand. Then, it slithered out again, firmly closing the door behind it. Sorry, she said again from the other side. The echoing sound of footsteps running from the bedroom and catapulting down the stairs was the last they heard from their friend.

Oh. My. God, Tara said after several quiet seconds.

Willow looked down at the blonde, who was now several different shades of red. Warmth flowed through Willows body as she looked upon her lover. I love you. I love you so much. You have no idea. The redhead realized her hand was still in a Tara-place, so she began to remove it. Slowly. Taras eyes flew to Willows as the redheads fingers slid from inside her and outside her underwear. Willow kept her eyes pinned on Taras as she shifted onto her side, resting her elbow on the bed. Still keeping her leg between the blondes, she smoothed the skirt back down gently, covering them both with its billowy material. She let her hand rest on Taras hip and inhaled deeply, the blondes scent filling her up.

Taras gaze shifted from Willows eyes to her own hand, which still held the redheads breast tightly. Oh. My. God. She started to pull her hand away; Willow lifted her hand from the blondes hip and covered Taras quickly, stopping her. Tara glanced at her. Willow.

Willow pressed the blondes hand tightly to her breast. She tilted her head and smiled, her eyes sparkling. Tara closed her eyes and softly shook her head. What, Baby?

Keeping her eyes closed, Tara sighed. I c-cant believe that j-just happened.

Its okay.

The blonde opened her eyes and stared at Willow. Okay? Okay? Its not okay. Its not okay, she said. She pulled her hand again, and this time, the redhead let her go.

Willow felt the mood between them abruptly change. Change? More like die. Dead. Stabbed. Murdered. Damn! Willow rolled away from Tara and sat up; she tugged her shirt back down over her breasts, then turned to face the blonde. She remained silent, waiting for her lover to speak.

Its not okay, Tara reiterated. She s-saw us. . . the blonde continued, sitting up. Willow reached out to touch her, but Tara moved off the bed. She began to straighten her clothes obsessively, running her hands over them several times.

Her tone comforting, Willow said, Tara, honey, shes seen us together before.

Taras hands froze. She leveled her eyes at the redhead.

Uh, oh. What? Whatd I say?

Shes seen us together before? Tara mimicked, her voice a little higher than usual. Willow tipped her head in assent. Shes seen us hold hands together, Will. Shes seen us hug together. And kiss together. Shes never seen us. . . Tara waved her hands in front of her breasts, then her nether regions, as she looked for the appropriate word. Willow raised her eyebrows in anticipation. The blonde finally slapped her hands together, interlacing her fingers. Together-together.

Willow covered her mouth with her hand, but not before a small giggle escaped.

Its not funny, Tara said, her tone almost threatening.

Willow sobered quickly; she knew that tone all too well, and she didnt want to be on the receiving end if it could be avoided. She lowered her hand to her lap. Im sorry. I wasnt laughing at you. But, Sweetie, it is kinda funny.

Tara turned and started for the door.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. The redhead leaned back, twisted, and swung her legs over the width of the mattress, planting them on the ground in front of the blonde, effectively cutting off her exit. She held her hands up in front of her; she didnt try to touch the blonde, she just wanted her to stay. Tara, wait. Tara crossed her arms over her chest, a familiar gesture which both protected and comforted the blonde. Im sorry. Very slowly, Willow reached out towards Tara; when the blonde didnt draw back, she put her hands on the wiccans upper arms. She bent her head low, forcing Tara to look into her eyes. Im sorry.

Tara took a deep breath that hitched in her throat. Her eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

Oh, god, Baby, Im so sorry, Willow said, wrapping her arms around the blonde in a tight embrace. Several seconds passed before Willow felt Tara give in to her and relax; the blonde uncrossed her arms and slid them from between their bodies to encircle Willows waist. Im sorry, Willow whispered into Taras ear.

Tara gave Willow a long squeeze and nodded silently. She released Willow, and when Willow followed suit, the blonde moved to sit on the bed. Willow watched her as she sat down heavily and dropped her forehead into her hand. Confused and worried, Willow leaned her back against the wall, giving her lover some time and space. I blew it. I just blew it. I laughed. I hurt her. Again. Im gonna be sick.

Tara raised her head to look at Willow; the redheads expression was one of fear and pain and confusion, and it was like a knife to her own heart. The blonde held a hand out to her. Willow. Willow pushed herself from the wall as if it were on fire, and went to her knees in front of Tara, grabbing the blondes hand tight in both of hers. Tara ran her other hand through the soft copper tresses of her lovers hair, pausing to cup the redheads cheek in her palm, gently urging Willow towards her. Oh, Willow. Tara opened her legs as Willow, still kneeling, scooted in between; the redhead wrapped her arms around Tara in a fierce embrace, resting her cheek against the blondes stomach.

Tell her. Tara stroked Willows head as her other hand rubbed her back in comforting circles. Willow? Willow sniffed into the gauzy blue material of Taras blouse and raised her tear-stained face to her lovers. Oh, Baby, dont cry. Please. She cupped the redheads cheeks and bent towards her; their lips touched in a soft and tender kiss, gentle and comforting. Tara raised her lips from Willows and looked into the emerald pools before her. Im not mad at you, love. You didnt hurt me, Tara said, her voice low and kind, reading the redheads face as if her thoughts were written there. She felt Willows arms tighten around her hips and she smiled down at her.

Wh-why are you so upset? Willow at last asked, when her voice finally returned.

Tell her everything. Tara shook her head slightly and sighed. Its just. . . I just, she began, pausing to find the right words.

Just what, Baby?

I-I just. . . need you. Tara took a deep breath. Willow swallowed hard as the blondes words registered. These last weeks, being with you, being near you, Ive never been more happy, Willow. Never. And seeing you today, the blonde continued, her thoughts drifting to the days events, on the swings with Dawn and Xander, you were laughing. And free. And the sun was so bright shining down on you. You were radiant. Tara dropped her eyes back to Willows. And I knew right then, that being with you, being near you, it wasnt enough for me. Not anymore. I have to hold you, Willow. And kiss you. And feel your body next to mine. Tara let her fingers brush several renegade strands from her lovers face. I knew you were scared. That you have been scared. To take that next step? To be together again. So thats why I came tonight, to let you know in every possible way that I could. You dont have to be scared anymore. My soul, Willow. . . it needs to be with you. Completely.

T-Tara, Willow uttered, her voice cracked with emotion. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes as she stared into the cobalt eyes of her lover.

Tara caught the redheads tears with her thumbs, rubbing them back and forth over the porcelain flesh. Our first time? I wanted it to be special. Perfect. And, Tara half-laughed and half-sighed, glancing at the screwdriver on the nightstand. It wasnt.

Every time is special, the redhead responded, her tone correcting, drawing Taras eyes to hers again. And perfect. She let her fingers draw circles on the blondes back. After a second of silence, Willow pushed a foot under her body and held tightly to her lover as she started to rise, closing the distance between them; instead of standing, she leaned into Tara, causing the blonde to lay back on the bed. Willow stretched over her, pressing one knee on the mattress between Taras legs, and the other beside her outer thigh; she placed her hands on either side of the blondes head and let her eyes graze over the form of the woman beneath her. When her eyes reached Taras, she lowered herself to her elbows, allowing her lower body to cover the blondes, their hips settling comfortingly into one another; her upper body followed directly, and she smiled as their breasts pressed against one another through their clothes. Every. Time.

Wi--, Tara started, but was cut off as the redhead silenced her with a searing kiss. Willow cupped the sides of Taras face with her hands, holding her motionless, as her mouth moved over the blondes. Instinctively, Tara grasped onto Willows waist, her thumbs playing over the pale flesh beneath her shirt.

Willow heard her lover sigh at the same time she felt her body completely relax, giving in to the sensual kiss they were sharing. The redhead smiled as she opened her mouth just wide enough for the tip of her tongue to trace Taras lips, silently petitioning for access. The blonde was eager to grant her lovers request and their tongues savored one another in an erotic dance. Willow bit down lightly, holding Taras tongue between her teeth, sucking gently. The blonde moaned her pleasure, a sound somewhere between a purr and a growl. Willow released her lovers tongue and, very reluctantly, pulled her lips away. Both women were flushed, their breath ragged from their passion for one another. Willow still held Taras face immobile as she gazed into the eyes of the woman she loved.

See?

Tara slid a hand from Willows waist and let it travel up the slim redheads body; she cupped her lovers reddened cheek and smiled as Willow closed her eyes and leaned into her touch. Every time, Tara agreed, her voice barely a whisper.

Willow opened her eyes, surprised to see tears, once again, filling the blondes eyes. Happy tears?

Tara nodded. Very happy.

Very happy, Willow affirmed, shifting her body off of her lover. She let her left leg remain over the blondes as she came to rest on her right side; her left arm stretched over Taras stomach, her hand resting comfortably on her hip. Tara reached down and covered the redheads hand with her own. Willow pressed a lingering kiss to Taras cheek and sighed.

Willow?

Hmm, Willow replied dreamily, her fingers rubbing small circles over the blondes hip.

Um, Tara began, What do you want for your birthday?

Willows brow furrowed. Its a fly ball to left field! Hmm?

Tara looked at Willow as she let her fingers move from the redheads hand on her hip up her lovers arm, reveling in the gooseflesh that her fingertips elicited. You know, the day you were born? It is tomorrow, you know.

Willow raised up on her elbow, propping her chin in the palm of her hand so she could look down on her lover. The movement caused her other hand to slide up Taras body, coming to rest on her stomach. I know when my birthday is, doof.

Tara continued to draw small circles on Willows arm. Well, what do you want?

Willows fingers inched the edge of the Taras blouse up and the redhead pushed her hand underneath, letting her palm spread out over the cool flesh of her lovers stomach. Taras hand fell to her side limply. Willow smiled mischievously, Ive got everything I want.

Tara breathed in deeply as Willows heated skin touched her. Thats yours anytime. Isnt there anything else you Tara fell silent as Willows hand advanced along her body, finally settling around her breast. She closed her eyes briefly as she felt the redhead gently squeeze the flesh and rub her thumb over her erect nipple. The fact that she still wore her bra only added to the shivering sensations the redheads fingers were creating. Want, the blonde finished weakly. Tara opened her eyes and stared into the loving eyes of the woman above her.

Like I said, Baby, Ive got everything I want.

Oh, Willow, so do I. So do I.