The quieter star-crossed lovers of the Buffyverse tell their story. Set around Season 5.
Rendezvous with a Ghost - A Feeling
It was just a feeling.
Falling back a couple of steps from the group, Willow squinted over her shoulder around the busy town. They were out on a truly scorching Saturday and the shopping streets were crammed with hyper kids, frazzled parents, lazily scattered packs of lounging students, and amorous young couples who were making full use of the uninterrupted time. The burning summer sun bounced off sharp glass and harsh metal in blinding flashes, making her draw her hand up to shield her eyes.
The sounds of her bickering friends faded into the background of her distracted mind.
"For the last time, no." The slinky blonde pulled a delicate hand through her long free-flowing hair, purposefully ignoring the thunderous scowl directed at the side of her head by the stroppy brunette walking next to her.
"This is so not fair!" Dawn whined loudly, quickening her pace to keep up with her sister. The young teenager did not take kindly to being brushed off. "Everyone else is going! It's just one over-night trip and I can take of myself just fine. The hostel is only about an hour away and I'll be surrounded by people the whole time." Her tact had swapped to a sweeter, encouraging tone as she attempted to win her stubborn sibling over with rational persuasion. She turned big innocent eyes to Buffy's impassive face imploringly, playing every manipulative trick she knew.
Buffy sighed, her steps slowing to a halt as she finally caught the girl's pleading gaze. Laying a placating hand on her arm she tried to soften her words. "It's just not an option for us at the moment. I know it feels like a normal thing you should get to do, but Dawn - we can't take the risk. You know that. I need you where I can protect you."
Her voice had dropped to a firm tone that made it quite clear this was the final say on the subject. With weary resignation, Buffy watched her sister's face darken as the words sunk in, face scrunching in mutinous anger that would be unleashed at her, as usual. She was getting ready for a tantrum, and Buffy was quickly losing patience with her immature moods.
"I don't need you to look after me like a little kid! Just cause you're the Slayer- " The girl poured as much derision and mockery into the word as she could, causing Buffy to yank her elbow and pull her to the side of the busy pavement with a warning glare.
"Seriously, announce it louder!" she hissed, tendons in her gripping arm bulging slightly with tension. Dawn winced and Buffy quickly released her. When the teenager met her eyes again, indignant tears gleamed in her defiant scowl.
"What's the point in staying safe, when it makes me a social leper in school! Just 'cause you're a freak, you want to make everyone else as unpopular as you! You're ruining my life!" With a last resentful look, she spun around with a flick of her long chocolate waves and flounced away from Buffy, ignoring the awkward hesitation of the rest of their friends as she pushed past them.
"Dawn, where are you going?" Buffy called after her sister.
"To go shopping for clothes which I'll never get to wear in the company of any other normal human beings! Ever!" she shot back shrilly, before running across the road to disappear into the crowds on the other side of the street.
Buffy rolled her eyes, trying to disguise the sting of her sister's words. She felt Xander move behind her to lay a comforting hand on her back.
"Jeez, what is it about mortal teenage girls? They always manage to hit that note that feels like a needle in your eardrum."
All except Willow turned to cast a look at Anya who was pulling her hand away from her ear. Unconcerned with Xander's furiously wiggling eyebrows as he tried to silently signal to his oblivious girlfriend that now was not the time for her pithy insights, the ex-vengeance demon carried on. "And that hurts so much more than you might think you know. There was this wronged mistress in Vienna 1878 and I remember she wished for her pianist boyfriend –"
"Anyway! I think sugar-packed drinks are called for! Right?" Xander interrupted loudly, spreading his arms wide to the assembled group enthusiastically. Buffy turned back to her friends and managed a smile, pushing the ever-present worry to the back of her mind for now.
"Yeah, sounds like a plan." She grinned gratefully at her buoyant best friend. The stress of dealing with Dawn's increasing rebelliousness under the constant threat and duty of keeping her alive, was a worthy excuse for more sugar than the human body could handle if ever there was one.
Anya crossed her arms and shrugged in agreement, slightly miffed that she had been denied her tale of past glory.
"Great! Set course for Espresso Pump, Mr Zulu!" Xander announced, pointing a finger down the street before giving a mock salute. "All power to the engines!"
Buffy laughed and slapped his shoulder lightly, while Anya frowned in confusion as another pop culture reference zoomed over her head. Xander quickly sneaked an arm around her waist and attempted to explain the wonders of the Trek to his woefully unenlightened girlfriend, as the group started moving forward again.
Tara giggled at Xander's antics, immensely thankful for his irrepressibly ability to lighten the mood and ease the awkwardness of the sisters' fight. She looked around to locate her own girlfriend, only to find her hanging back from the group, frowning at the crowded streets around them.
"Willow?"
The redhead seemed to snap round at her voice, searching eyes blinking as they focused on Tara's worried face. She quickly smiled reassuringly, though she couldn't quite wipe the lingering distraction from her mind.
"I-I think we're g-going for coffee and sugar," the blonde explained with a small uncertain grin, unsure whether Willow had caught the preceding conversation.
"Great! Count me in!" she declared with a bright grin before she stepped forward to scoop up Tara's hand as they quickly followed the rest of their friends through the throng. The blonde almost blushed at the brazen display of affection, tightening her fingers gently around Willow's. The smiling girls slipped closer together as they caught up to Xander and Buffy, who had joined in on the marathon task of acquainting a reluctant Anya with the finer points of cult science-fiction.
Willow had in fact only been vaguely aware of Dawn's dramatic storm-off. They seemed to be arguing increasingly often recently, and she hated to see how much it was taking out of her best friend. Her mom's death had been the closest Willow had ever seen Buffy to breaking, but she had somehow managed to pull herself back. Just like with Angel before. She was always so brave, forced to be strong, to keep fighting. Yet Willow deeply feared that if she lost her sister too, it might be the final blow she could never recover from. And she wouldn't let that happen to Buffy.
It was still a bit of a head-trip to know the truth, and it stirred up some pretty conflicting emotions in its wake. Willow wasn't sure how she felt about having her past re-written. A much hidden part of her was really quite angry and deeply upset that her memories had been altered and messed with like that. What gave anything that right? Of course, she would have loved and protected Dawn even if she wasn't super-imposed into their past lives. That was just part and parcel of who Willow was. She cared, about everyone, so much. Perhaps almost too much, and too easily. But her memories were who she was too. And they were private, special and precious. And sometimes they were her only refuge. All she had left.
Zoning out of the conversation again, she sneaked another glance over her shoulder. She didn't know why she kept feeling it. Like she was being watched. A warmth on her back from a set of eyes she could never quite catch in return. There was nothing malevolent in the sensation, nothing that sent her Hellmouth radar tingling, nothing that put her protective magic on edge. Still, it felt – lost. A forgotten sadness. Something that kept prodding at the locked door in her soul, nudging gently as if it recognised it. Something they couldn't quite leave behind.
A glimpse of dark auburn hair. A flash of a rusting blue van. A worn black guitar case slung over the shoulder of a passing music student. Everything her eyes kept darting to on every busy street, at every corner – always searching, ever seeking out, against her desperate will and command. Again and again. Over and over.
No, she wasn't seeking. She wasn't. Willow glanced down at the delicate hand wrapped around hers. The spun silver bracelet that she had bought for her last birthday, sparkled daintily around Tara's wrist, quietly announcing their love and commitment. And that was how it should be. Squeezing her fingers, almost in physical assurance for herself, Willow leaned in to press a quick light kiss to her girlfriend's cheek. She smiled sweetly as the shy witch gave her a look of happy surprise.
Tara wasn't used to them being this affectionate out in public, and while she didn't know what had taken over Willow, she was thrilled at every touch and smile from the beautiful redhead next to her.
A warm happiness floated through Willow, comforting and filling every part of her. She had Tara. She was with Tara. She loved Tara. The declarations were sent down deep to her defiant unconscious, to the persistent little voice that refused to hear the words of her heart. Her heart that was beating for the sweet, stunning, impossibly caring, wonderful girl beside her. And only for her.
Everything that was pushed way down to muffle the untameable urge that kept her ever searching. Kept her seeking. Willow turned her face away towards the street, trying to lift the thoughtful frown from her features. She was happy. She was where she belonged.
Then why did her heart skip a beat as a shimmer of sunlight glanced off a studded bracelet across the street. One blink and it was gone.
The lock creaked.
~o~