The Wish of Three Hearts
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Fox, and many other powerful entities. I am just a visitor in this world—please don't sue me.
(AU post Season Seven. On Tara's birthday, three years after her death, Willow drives out to the canyon that used to be Sunnydale California to talk to her lost love. Her devotion to Tara will unlock a rite that has been lost for millennia and change her life forever. A Willow and Tara fic. )
Chapter One
Sun Canyon was quiet and bathed in light. A cool wind blew from the south, carrying the scent of the Pacific. Birds wheeled in the air above the chasm that was once Sunnydale CA, a gulf in the earth now green with grasses and bright with wildflowers in a riot of color—the butter-orange of golden pansies, the pinks, blues and whites of puffy cornflowers, the purple spray of clover blooms. The only sounds were the cry of the distant birds and wind whistling through the long grass. Thin ribbons of white cloud, pale against the cerulean sky, moved high and fast in the gusts from the sea.
The serenity of the canyon was broken by the crunch of tires on gravel. A jeep was rolling up the overgrown remains of the highway to Sunnydale, bouncing on ridges of grass-threaded asphalt. The jeep rolled to a halt beneath an old oak with branches that drooped toward the ground. When the engine stopped the wind kicked up, and the branches seemed to draw closer to the vehicle, as if offering comfort, shelter.
The driver's door of the jeep opened and a slender woman stepped out, clutching a small white box to her chest. As she walked beneath the oak the woman trailed one hand up against the branches, letting the leaves flutter beneath her fingertips. She was simply dressed, clothed in brown leather boots, blue jeans, and a pale, cream-colored sweater. When she moved out of the shadow of the oak the woman paused, raising a hand above her face to shield her eyes from the rising sun as she stared out over the canyon that had once been her home.
After a moment, Willow Rosenberg bowed her head and strode toward the edge of Sun Canyon, her red hair blazing in the light.
...
"Willow left already?"
Buffy looked up from her cup of coffee. Her sister, Dawn, was standing in the entryway to their apartment's small kitchen, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"Yeah, she headed out a few hours ago."
"I wish she would've let one of us go with her," Dawn murmured, crossing the kitchen in a step and lifting the coffee pot to pour a cup for herself. "She shouldn't be alone, not today."
"I know," Buffy replied, laying her hand on Dawn's wrist. "But it's what Will wants." She paused and looked up at her younger sister with mock severity. "And don't drink coffee, it'll stunt your growth."
Dawn smiled faintly at her sister's attempt at a joke. Not yet nineteen, she towered over Buffy by more than half a foot. "Thanks, Buffy."
"Hey, it's what I do."
...
When she reached the edge of the canyon, Willow sat down in the long grass, still cradling the small white box she carried against her chest. She crossed her legs and let the weight of her body settle against the earth, trying to pull comfort from her connection to the life she felt moving through the world.
"I know it's early for our visit," she said softly. "But I'll still come this Friday too, I just couldn't miss your—" Willow face crumpled and her breath hitched in her chest. "Your big day."
She took a few deep breaths and transferred the box she held into her right hand, reaching up with her left to brush tears from her cheeks.
"So, I know it's only been a couple of days, but I still have some news. The new apartment is officially unpacked; we emptied out the last box yesterday. It's nice to be in our own place, finally, but I still miss—" Willow took a shuddering breath, fighting tears when she thought of the room she'd once shared with Tara.
"You know. Our place. Where I didn't have to be brave." She sighed. "Anyway, that last box. Of course, Buffy and Dawnie fought over where to hang the pictures that were in it, but we got it worked out in the end.
"We hung that picture of us all together, at Christmas, before, before Joyce—" Willow shook her head. "Well, anyway, we hung it over the little fireplace in the living room. Everything is little in that place," she chuckled, "Well, except Dawnie. I think she grew another three inches yesterday.
"We put the rest of the pictures in the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, we went in alphabetical order by first name. Buffy said it was to be fair, but I think she was just happy that she'd be first, well, after the picture we have of Anya. It worked out just right though, because there's a picture of you and I, back at UCS, right next to my bedroom door. I get to see your face every night before I go to sleep and first thing when I wake up in the morning."
She found herself fighting tears again. Willow took a deep breath to cleanse her mind, and looked out over the valley. The view had changed so much in the past three years, the rubble and debris hidden, softened by layers of earth and vegetation. It was strange to see beauty overtake destruction in such a short time. She wondered where, in those leagues of grass, her lover's body had come to rest.
"Well, that's enough of me-babble. You'll be happy to know that I managed to get us unpacked and organized without pulling out the multicolor pens. Well," she confessed. "I used blue and green. But not to be organized, just because those are you favorite colors." She paused, and bowed her head. "Were your favorite colors..."
Willow sat in silence for a long while. She could feel the sun creeping up the sky, warm on her cheek, on the top of her head. She didn't move, didn't blink, until the alarm on her watch chimed.
As it beeped its reminder, Willow unfolded the box she'd been holding. Inside was a single chocolate cupcake, frosted in a swirl of green and blue. Perched on top of it was a bright pink shrimp made of fondant.
"It's October 16th, 2005. Twenty-five years ago, today, at this very moment, you came into the world. I'm so glad that I can celebrate that day. And look baby," she said, laughing as she cried. "I took a cake decorating class just so I could make this for you. It's a shrimp you can actually eat. I thought you'd like that, conquering shrimp allergies via frosting, chocolate-flavored, not shrimp-flavored. That would be weird, and ineffective." She tried to smile, but a sob slipped out.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a candle and a lighter. She laid the lighter on her leg and then gently pressed the candle into the dome of frosting, so that it was propped against the shrimp.
"There."
Willow's hand shook as she reached out with the lighter. When the candle blazed into life she slipped the lighter back into her pocket.
"Happy birthday, baby," Willow whispered. "I'm going to make a wish for you, I know you won't mind."
She raised the cupcake to her lips and blew gently. The candle flame fluttered for a moment and then went out, leaving a thin, winding curl of smoke in the air.
Suddenly all she could see was Tara's face, glowing in the light of the candle Willow had brought to her, on the night she finally told Tara that she loved her. Tara was so beautiful in the candle's glow, a goddess. She could feel the warmth of Tara's skin beneath her hands, hear her gasps of pleasure as Willow made love to her for the first time, there in Tara's room, in the night, their flesh made silver in the moonlight.
Willow closed her eyes tightly, her brow furrowed with grief. Her shoulders began to shake.
"Oh, Tara," Willow sobbed. Her lovely green eyes flew open and tears streamed down her cheeks. "I miss you so much, baby. I wish you hadn't died."
A hawk called its shrill cry high above Willow's head, and a cloud passed beneath the sun, leaving her in shadow. It was as if the world itself called out with her grief.
...
At the same moment, in a small apartment on the north side of LA, Dawn burst into tears staring into the refrigerator.
"What is it?" Buffy asked, moving around the kitchen island and placing an arm around her sister's shoulders.
"Look," Dawn replied, tears still falling. "Look what at Willow did."
Every free space in the refrigerator was filled with cupcakes. Little shrimps in varying levels of deformity perched on top of each one, except for two, up in the top of the door where the eggs were supposed to go, that were perfect.
"Oh Will," Buffy sighed.
"She should've said something. I would've helped her bake, or clean up, or—"
"I know you would've, Dawnie." Buffy laid a hand across her sister's back. "She must've wanted to—needed to, do something special, on her own."
"Buffy," Dawn cried, turning and throwing her arms around her sister, mourning the woman she'd loved like a mother after Joyce's death. "I wish Tara hadn't died. I wish she was still with us."
Buffy felt a tear slip down her cheek. "I wish it too, Dawn. I wish it too."
...
It started as warmth, flowing up from the ground, into her legs, through her chest. Willow tried to calm her crying, catch her breath, afraid that she was hyperventilating. But then the wind stopped, and the birds fell silent. The warmth in her body increased, flowing up her neck, through her blood.
Willow looked up and stared at a hummingbird, jewel-green, frozen less than a foot from her face. She stood and spun around. There was a squirrel motionless on the side of the oak tree by the jeep. A hawk, stilled mid-turn, hung high above her head.
"What—"
The sense of warmth became overpowering. Tara's cupcake tumbled out of Willow's hands onto the ground. Out of her glowing hands. Willow felt a current, as if all the energies of the earth had been gathered up into a river that flowed directly into the core of her being. As white light flooded out of her fingertips, her mouth, her eyes, she rose up off of the ground and began spinning in a gentle circle. She felt like she should be afraid, but there wasn't any fear. There was just warmth. She was being held aloft in a wave of comfort, solace.
As the energy coalesced in the air before her, Willow saw a golden form moving within it. Still spinning, she slowly fell back to the ground. As gently as she touched down, she felt utterly drained and stumbled backward, falling onto her knees in the grass.
The light kept growing. The golden swirls pooled, parted, and a woman walked out of the light, a beautiful, curvaceous woman with hair like honey, full lips, and sparkling blue eyes.
"Tara?" Willow whispered.
The figure looked down at Willow and smiled. So much like Tara, but it wasn't her. This woman had a tiny round birthmark, strawberry-red, in the center of her left cheek, and her hair was streaked with gray; there were lines around her mouth and eyes.
"No, sweet Willow," the woman replied. "My name is Jane Maclay. I'm Tara's mother."
"Her mother?" Willow felt dizzy, the energy she'd been feeling still pulsed through her, leaving her gasping. "But, Tara told me that you died."
The golden-haired woman nodded, still smiling that same gorgeous, crooked smile that Willow had always loved to see on Tara's face. "That's right."
"But why—how are you here?"
"I'm here because my daughter has been so well-loved. I want to thank you for that, Willow. After my death she was left on her own, but when she found you, she found a family again. As for the how, my answer is the same.
"You have all loved Tara so much, so well, that a miracle, a magic, has happened that hasn't been seen in millennia. The Ter Sis Animi has been invoked."
"Ter Sis," Willow began. "I don't understand." She struggled to her feet and walked closer to the ghost of Tara's mother, amazed by the warmth she could feel radiating from the woman, winding with the energy of her own soul.
"The Ter Sis Animi is a gift, Willow, a rite, one powered by the force of true and undying love. And even though you and Tara hurt one-another at times, it doesn't change the fact that you are soul mates, one soul bound in two bodies. Because you have come here, on this day, at this time, and remembered Tara, because the family that you helped her to find calls out with their shared grief, you can have your wish."
"My wish?" It took a moment for her to understand, but then Willow's face was transformed with joy. The weight of the past three years of sorrow melted away from her in an instant. "I can have Tara back?"
Jane Maclay smiled at Willow's happiness, taking the young woman's hands in her own and flooding Willow with warmth.
"With the Ter Sis Animi invoked," she intoned, "With three hearts calling out in pure and honest love, time can be changed. Tara can be saved."
"Please," Willow begged, tears streaming down her face.
Before she could finish, her lover's mother pressed a finger against her lips.
"Willow, Tara can be saved, but there will be a price. All the wrongs that were done in the wake of my daughter's death must be repaid."
"Anything," Willow replied. "I will do—" She paused and her face fell. "Wait, I promised Tara that I wouldn't do this anymore, this black magic." Another, more terrible thought hit her, left her gasping. "Will I be hurting her? Will it be like it was for Buffy?" Willow gave a little sob. "Will I be pulling her out of heaven?"
Jane smiled at Willow kindly and held her arms out, gathering the weeping woman into her embrace.
"This isn't dark magic, Willow. This is the lifeblood of all the bright goddesses of the earth, working their will together, to invoke the Wish of Three Hearts. Tara won't be hurt. Besides," Jane continued. "She's not in heaven."
Willow slipped out of Jane Maclay's embrace, horrified. "Tara was a good person, the best of all of us, why, why isn't she—"
"She's waiting for you, Willow." Jane reached out a brushed a lock of sweaty red hair away from Willow's eyes. "There is a place, between earth and heaven, where powerful witches can channel their souls, to watch over and wait for those who love them."
"Tara can see me?" Willow looked around herself wildly, struck with a sudden shame. "She saw what happened between me and—" She couldn't bring herself to say the name of the woman who had tried and failed to mend her broken heart.
Tara's mother tilted her head, still gracing Willow with her gentle smile. "Tara rejoices in your joy and grieves with you when you feel sorrow. She isn't angry or hurt that you tried to find love again, Willow. She knows it never diminished the way you felt for her. She never wanted you to be lonely."
Willow felt like a gulf opened at her feet. She sank back to her knees. "But I am alone!" She cried. "Every second of every day that Tara isn't with me, I'm alone. I look at the world, I move through it, and I turn to her to share it all with her, and she isn't there! I am so lonely!" She curled up on the ground, wracked with sobs that tore from her painfully.
She felt herself gathered into the spirit-woman's arms, held like an infant against her chest.
"She can be with you again, Willow. You've made that possible. Now, will you repay the debt?"
Willow nodded, clutching at Tara's mother. "Anything. I will do anything to have Tara with me again." She felt Tara's mother brush tears from her cheek.
"So be it. Close your eyes, Willow."
The two women disappeared in a flash of brilliant white light. Slowly, sound returned to the world. The hummingbird's wings pulsed. In pursuit of nectar, it flew off into the beautiful town of Sunnydale, CA.