Title: Beer Very Bad
Author: Golden Waffles
Rating: T. For occasional mentions of sex. But not in this chapter.
Disclaimer: If I owned the characters or settings of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Tara would never have been killed off. I don't. But I did write the situations I put them in here.
A/N: Okay, so here's part two. Like I said, this was a tricky one. Balancing Tara's need to hide with her desire to be open and Willow's perceptions with her misconceptions is… tricky. I'm pretty satisfied with the ultimate product, though.
A/N2: Things in the fic have been pretty heavy lately, and I want to break up some of that tension before starting on the next arc of the fic. But I don't have anything in mind. So… if you have suggestions for fun things you'd like to see in the fic, put them in a comment or a PM and they may show up in the next chapter or two! (No major reveals, of course)

Chapter 37:
Walk Home

The door finally closed behind them, and Willow began leading them back towards campus with the sort of winding path only someone in their hometown would think to take. Although the night was warm, the air between them still felt cool. Willow's hands hung loosely at her sides, and Tara's were pushed deep into her pockets, but every few steps, their arms would brush against each other, and Willow watched Tara out of the corner of her eye. She had seemed to be in such a good mood when she and Joyce had been talking, but now her head was bowed thoughtfully, and a heaviness lay over her features. Willow kept waiting for her to say something, to give her some clue about how she was feeling, but Tara maintained her pensive silence. Finally, as they cut through a small playground where she and Xander had played as kids, she realized that Tara's silence wasn't sullen or passive aggressive- it was unintentional. The blonde was lost in her own thoughts, and if Willow wanted a conversation, she would need to start one herself.

"Did you and Mrs. Summers have a good talk?" she asked as their shoes kicked through the synthetic mulch of the playground. She already had the conversation planned in her head. First, an innocuous question to start the discussion. Then… You were telling her about your family. You know, the one you've never told me about. Me, your friend, your girlfriend, who you live with, who loves you. Except maybe I shouldn't say that last part. Damn it.

Tara looked up, startled by the breaking of the silence. She blinked a few times and shifted her head, as though reorienting herself.

"Oh… um, yeah… She was really nice." Her eyes held a strange, faraway look that made Willow's heart squeeze for reasons she couldn't quite identify. It was… sad, but not sadness. Something adjacent to sad. Loneliness? Regret?

Willow's plans for a tough conversation collapsed, and she pressed herself gently into Tara's side for comfort. To her relief, this time Tara didn't flinch away. Instead, the blonde looked up and regarded her for several long seconds with fathomless blue eyes. Tara's gait slowed to a stop, leaving them standing together amidst the merry-go-rounds and slides and swings. A line of tension bridged her eyebrows, like she was trying to work up the courage to throw herself on her sword. After what felt like an eternity, she took a deep breath and continued the thought. "She… k-kind of… reminded me of my mom."

A million questions crowded Willow's head, but she knew she couldn't ask them all. There wasn't time, for one. More importantly, she suspected that a sudden avalanche of questions would make Tara freeze up or withdraw. She had to be more careful than that. Even though Tara just said something about her family. To me. For the first time. Finally. She held her breath for a few heartbeats, and forced her babbling mouth to hold still.

"So… you're feeling homesick?" Willow guessed softly, hoping that a light prompting wouldn't scare her off. Tara shook her head slowly. The blonde walked a few steps farther and took a seat on the swing set. Willow followed, standing at her side and waiting for her to continue.

"No… it's not that. It's just…" Her face was pale, and her eyes were trained on the ground. "My mom… she died. About a year and a half ago."

Willow was stunned. Shock, then pain, then grief flooded her senses. She had never thought…

"Tara…"

"She was sick. For a long time. And then…" Tara's eyes were too bright, caught too much moonlight, just like the night before. Any residual anger Willow had been holding onto crumbled into heartbroken sympathy.

"Tara… I'm so sorry. I didn't know." She tried to pull her close and offer comfort, but Tara resisted, hands clenching the chains of the swing. Willow's heart clenched in response. Don't pull away. Please. Not now.

"Things… fell apart after that. Home… didn't feel like home."

Shaking her head slowly, Willow felt comprehension dawn. It made sense now. Of course Tara didn't like talking about her family. Or her high school experience. Or her recent past in general. It was probably too painful. And Willow had thoughtlessly pushed and fought and forced the issue. She wanted to kick herself. But here Tara sat, willing to open up to her in order to save their relationship. I'm so in love with this girl…

"Is that… Did… I mean…" Willow didn't know which of her questions she was even asking, but Tara didn't seem to need much prompting now that she had made up her mind.

"That's why I left. I thought if I went somewhere new, I could start over."

That made sense. Buffy had tried that once, albeit with much worse results.

"So you came here," Willow said. She wished Tara would look her in the eye, but she knew that Tara felt more protected with her face hidden as it was now, with her head bowed and straight blonde hair sweeping forward like a curtain.

"Yeah…" Her voice was distant now, remembering. "It seemed so far away. Worlds away. I mean, California was a place… from songs and movies and books. Not real. I thought it'd be easy to start over in a place like that. Like here."

"And the Hellmouth…" Long ago, trapped in the laundry room, Tara had implied that the epicenter had been one of her reasons her coming to UCSD. Willow had filed the information away as 'Interesting Tara-Facts.'

At the mention of the Hellmouth, Tara's hands tightened on the chains of the swingset until the color bled from her fingers. Confused, Willow stroked the back of one hand, trying to coax it into relaxing. It didn't work.

"The Hellmouth… attracts things. Magic things." Tara's voice had taken on a strange quality, like she was saying each word individually, stripped of context, avoiding all inflection.

"Like witches," Willow extrapolated with a nod.

"Yes. All kinds of magic things," Tara echoed dully. "Witches… vampires… spirits… demons… Slayers…"

"Sure," Willow nodded, frowning in confusion. She wasn't sure why Tara wanted to hold Hellmouth 101, but if it kept her talking, then Willow was game. "That's right… You said you knew about the dangers here. And that there was a Slayer. Before you came. Right?" More interesting Tara-Facts from the laundry room.

"With everything here… I thought… it would be safer. Because of the Slayer." Tara's voice still had that strange quality, like she was very, very carefully choosing each word before saying it. "In case… things went wrong… and the demons tried to hurt people. She would have the power to stop… them."

Even Tara's cadence sounded off now. It reminded her of making her computer talk when she was younger- it said all the right words, but they were never put together in a way that sounded natural. It always just sounded like words.

"Yeah. The town's been a lot safer since Buffy came here. It's not like it was before." Willow was having trouble following the thread of the conversation. She tried to parse out how this was relevant to Tara leaving home and coming to Sunnydale. "So… you were worried about being attacked?"

Tara didn't respond for several seconds. Willow caught a fleeting glimpse of her face, and saw that it was ashen.

"I guess…" Tara's already-quiet voice faded out, and all at once, she seemed to deflate. Her hands released their death grip on the swing and slid down the chains. Her shoulders slumped. Her head bowed deeper. She looked suddenly exhausted.

"Tara, I don't…" I don't understand why you're telling me this. I don't know what that look on your face means. I don't know what's going on. You're talking in code and I don't have the decoder ring yet.

At first, she had thought maybe Tara had been jumping from topic to topic as a way to keep up her momentum of talking while she gathered her thoughts, but now, after the change in tone and tension, Willow thought that there must be something more. Something bigger. She still didn't know what that might be, but she didn't want to seem ungrateful. It was a miracle that Tara was telling her anything at all, and if stumbling through a guarded and incomplete explanation made it easier for her, then Willow was fine with that. For now.

"I'm sorry," Tara whispered. Willow shook her head and tried to step into the space between her legs, unsure if Tara would let her. When she didn't move to stop her, Willow completed the step forward and pulled her close. Tara leaned her head into her girlfriend's chest, and Willow held her, stroking her hair and murmuring reassurances.

"You haven't done anything wrong. I'm sorry I didn't understand." She knew that above all else, she had to be supportive now. If she ever wanted Tara to open up to her again, she had to make her feel okay about it. Even if she was still burning to know more.

"It's not that simple." Tara's voice shook like she was on the verge of tears.

"That's fine. It doesn't have to be simple," Willow murmured, holding her tighter. She felt Tara's hands clench in her shirt, holding her in place for a long moment. "I'm sorry that you came to Sunnydale because of something that sad. But, for the record, I'm really glad you came."

"I'm really glad, too." Some of the pain from before had eased from her voice, and Willow could feel the sincerity of her words wash over them both. The low ache in Willow's heart that had lingered since their fight finally faded away. Tara was warm in her arms and willing to accept her comfort. She cared for her. She was opening up. They weren't fighting.

With visible reluctance, Tara began to pull back. Willow kept her arms in place.

"Don't let go until you're ready," she whispered. Tara hesitated for a moment, then sank forward again, sighing into Willow's shirt and closing her eyes as Willow continued her gentle ministrations. They stayed like that for several minutes that felt like several hours, until Tara finally gave a small nod and once again pulled back.

"Okay. I'm okay," she said. Willow took a half-step back, but stayed within reach.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Tara nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Willow combed her fingers through the long blonde hair a few times, smoothing it where it had gotten ruffled by her shirt.

"Yeah. I just… I want to go home."

They stood, Willow helping pull Tara to her feet. Tara's steps were more than a little shaky, but she didn't flinch away when Willow wrapped an arm around her, and that in itself felt like a victory. Tara leaned her head wearily on Willow's shoulder and they slowly walked back towards campus.

It wasn't until they stepped into the darkened dorm room that the significance of that simple statement began to sink in for Willow.

Home.

I want to go home.

That's what she had said. But… before… Things fell apart. Home didn't feel like home.

I want to go home.

Tara had found her home again. She called the dorm room home. This was home now. This tiny room was home. Willow was home. As they got into bed, Tara folded like she had spent the day running a marathon. Willow gathered her close and planted kiss after kiss in her hair, wordlessly thanking her for finally opening up. Twisting in her arms, Tara burrowed her face in Willow's shirt and drew the covers over her head, as if she needed to hide now to make up for the night's exposure and vulnerability. Willow gathered the blankets securely around them both and lay awake, feeling Tara's breath more than hearing it.

Tara had tried to open up to her. She had tried to tell Willow about her past. She was trying. And Willow knew that doing that meant fighting every one of her instincts. She breathed a grateful sigh into Tara's hair.

"I love you," Willow whispered, but Tara was already sound asleep.