My Fault
Tara/Willow
G/PG
Willow helps Tara after the brain-suck, and she can't help but blame herself. During season five.

I was really thankful that the drugs the doctor prescribed for Tara made her drowsy. I was probably too thankful. But she was so much easier to handle when she was sleepy. I could look for solutions when she was too tired to do anything…bad. I had even tried a few promising lucidity spells, but they just gave her headaches. Nothing worked. She was still brain sucked.

My Tara. My Tara, who I was spoon-feeding applesauce. My Tara, who needed to be rocked back to sleep after a demon infested nightmare would wake her up, screaming. My Tara, who couldn't even wash herself or go to the bathroom alone. My Tara, my everything. So smart, so beautiful, so amazing and powerful; reduced to a panicky child.

I was also thankful for knowing as many counter spells as I did. Occasionally Tara would mumble something and cast a spell. Once she turned Xander's couch into a giant rabbit. And, while Tara and Dawn found it amusing, Anya ran, shrieking, onto the balcony, screaming "Bunny! BIG bunny!" as she ran. It only took a few seconds for me to undo it, but Anya refused to come back in until after I left with Tara. I felt horrible for Anya's distress, and for having to take Tara out.

I also felt horrible because what happened was all my fault. If I hadn't picked a fight with Tara, if I had swallowed my stupid pride and gone to apologize sooner, if I had just been there with her…If I was more powerful. None of it would have happened. Tara would still be, Tara. It was my fault and I couldn't do anything about it.

That first night back was the hardest, she was so lost. So confused. I just held her most of the night, crying into her hair. When I woke up, Tara in my arms, I thought I had just had a horrible nightmare. As she woke up, her eyes blinking widely against the bright morning light, I thought she was back. She smiled; she even squeezed me closer to her and snuggled in.

"Baby?" I whispered, just happy to have her be okay, "Tara, baby, wake up." Then she whimpered and I saw her hand, all bandaged and broken. It had really happened. All of it. The whole damn thing and it was my fault. God, I'm an idiot. What if she never came back? No, not going to think that, not ever. She will be fine, it'll just take a little time, and—and love, and I do love her. More than anything.

She whimpered again.

"Baby, does your hand hurt?" I asked gently. I sat up, pulling her hand to my lap and unwrapping it. It was purple everywhere, except the crescent cuts on her palm from where Glory used her nails to cut into Tara's skin. "Is it bad?"

Tara just whined again, flinching away from me. I made as best a hushing sound I could to help sooth her. She turned to look at me. Tara was looking into my eyes like I was her whole world, like an infant looks at its mother. I was her whole world. And she mine.

"Ow." She objected. But she let me have her hand back. "Kiss it all better?"

I smiled, trying not to cry in front of her as it only upset her further. "Yeah, I can do that." I brought her wounded hand to my lips, mumbled the best healing spell I knew and pressed my lips to her skin. I felt it warm and tingle and I could only hope it was healing.

When she took her hand back it seemed to be back to normal. "Is all the hurt gone?" I asked, trying to watch her face.

She nodded happily, over exaggerating her movements like a child. "All gone." Then I saw her slip away again as she started to cry, just like that, no reason. "All gone. Everything's gone. Nothing left. No one's safe." She struggled to get away. "Have to stop it.

"Hush, baby." I tried to soothe. "You're safe," my eyes were starting to tear up; it was so hard to see her like that. "You're always safe with me." Except she wasn't. After all, this was all my fault.