Chapter 8

"How dare you leave, you little bitch!" Mr. Maclay raged, reaching for those blonde tresses – just like her mother's. He curled his hand, grabbing a handful of hair, while tightening his other hand into a cruel fist. He hauled his daughter upright, pulling her hair so hard tears of pain as well as fear sprang into Tara's eyes. "And exactly what did you think you'd do, hmm? Run away? Thought you'd make a new little girlfriend, hide from your family, and lie to everyone you meet? Hmm? Is that what you thought you'd do?"

He's here, oh gods, he's found me! Tara gasped, bolting up in bed, terrified, still seeing her father's angry visage before her eyes. She reached back blindly and clutched at the pillow, fumbling before holding it tightly to her chest as though it would somehow protect her. She backed up against the headboard, protecting her back from the fists, the heavy-booted feet, the sharply cracking, stinging belt. A fearful whimper escaped the witch's throat, and she curled tightly into a ball, pulling her legs up in front of her to similarly protect her torso. All of this she did without thinking about it, instinctually going into the most defensible position she could.

Motion on the bed – she wasn't alone. At first this scared her even more, and she buried her head down in the pillow, which had a soothing scent, and wrapped an arm protectively across the back of her neck. But the touch she cringed away from was soft and gentle, not rough, harsh, bruising as she had expected. Only then did she begin to realize that the scent she had been taking comfort in was – Willow's? "Shh, shh, Tara, it's okay, you're safe here. I promise you're safe, nothing is going to hurt you here."

Tara pulled her tear-streaked face up out of the pillow, her defensive posture only slightly relaxing, as though unsure whether to trust this was real. "W-Willow?" came the frightened query.

Smooth, delicate fingers ran softly over golden tresses. "It's okay, Tara, I'm here. Are, are you all right?" An incredibly gentle finger caught one of Tara's tears on its way down her cheek, wiping it away. "You're crying, what happened? Tell me what's wrong?"

Tara swallowed hard, trying to calm herself. It was just a dream, just a dream. She managed to stop crying, realizing that the danger she had perceived could in no way harm her now. "I had a n-n-nightmare." Slowly, she relaxed further, unfolding her legs but still holding tightly to the pillow.

"It's okay, it's gone now, whatever it was, it's gone," Willow whispered, her hands still trailing over the pale mane.

Unexpectedly, Tara shook her head. "N-n-not gone. He'll n-never be gone. I can r-run forever, and he'll always be there, so-somehow." She sounded almost defeated and still scared beyond belief.

Not knowing what else to do, and knowing somehow that this was right, Willow scooted closer, wrapping her arms around the Wiccan. She continued to smooth Tara's hair with one hand, holding her with the other. "Who is it? What happened?" The blonde tensed in her arms, but Willow now ran her hand over Tara's back, curling the other around her slender waist. "It's all right, I've got you. I promise you'll be okay. You can tell me."

"It – it was my f-father. He-he followed me here," Tara explained haltingly, "i-in my dream." She settled against Willow, giving in and allowing herself to take the comfort her friend offered, finally discarding the pillow to wrap her arms instead around Willow's small shoulders. "He was really m-mad, that I'd, that I'd l-left. He probably r-really is, too." She sighed. "Gods, if he ever found me…" her slight frame shuddered.

"If he ever found you, he'd have to go through me first," Willow stated firmly as she cradled the blonde reassuringly, and Tara believed that she honestly meant it. "You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. But if you ever do? I'll be here."

"Thank you, Willow, so much. I can't, I can't even tell you how-" She searched for the words that she wanted but was having trouble finding, trying to express what was going on inside. "I d-didn't mean for you to find out like this. About him. I w-wanted to – I don't know. Do it different, if I had to."

Willow nodded, her cheek rubbing against Tara's head gently and not unpleasantly. "He … he's why you're here, isn't he? You came here because of him." It was more of a statement than a question, as if she knew already what the answer would be. The fair-haired young woman merely nodded. "I'm happy that you came here. It means that he can't scare you any more. And, and because you came here, I met you. And I'm really glad that happened."

Tara pulled back to see Willow's face, her arms loosening around the smaller girl's shoulders, and Willow released her arms from around Tara's waist. "I am too. I, I'm just afraid that somehow, he'll come to get me. I didn't exactly make it h-hard for anyone to follow me. I just n-needed to get out." She frowned, worried, and dropped her head downward.

"But you've already been here for a whole month," the auburn haired girl pointed out. "Even if someone did want to – I would think they would have come a lot sooner. Right?" She reached out a hand towards her friend, and gently lifted her chin until their gazes met.

A hesitant smile fluttered its way over Tara's lips. "Yeah, that, that does make sense." Willow's hand was warm, and her touch was so light, so soft. "And, I feel really safe here. W-with you. How do you do that?"

"Magic." Willow reached down and tenderly squeezed Tara's hand. "Can you sleep? It's three in the morning."

Tara's smile was heartfelt, grateful, and loving. "I'm good now. Thanks to you." The young women settled back down into the bed together, Tara searching for her discarded pillow a moment before finding it. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"I'm not," Willow whispered.