Title: Half of my soul and all of my heart
Author: ladydewinter
Email: ladydewinter@gmx.net
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: W/K first, but I don't really like them...so W/T eventually :-)
Setting: The story takes place roughly after The Killer in Me, so spoilers up to then.
Disclaimer: Willow, Tara, Kennedy, Anya et. al belong to Joss Whedon and ME and - hey you know whom they belong to. The story however is mine. Oh, the title is taken from a book called "Magic's Promise" by Mercedes Lackey.
Feedback: Thank you so much for the nice feedback so far - it's exactly what I need ;-) So don't stop...
Distribution: If you want it, you can have it, just let me know where it ends up.
Summary: After Tara's dream. I guess you were wondering what this is all about? Maybe you'll find the beginning of an explanation in here ;-)
Auther's note: I'm sorry it took a little longer for me to post this part... although I got holidays at the moment, there is a lot to do, so I didn't have enough time for writing... hopefully, things will slow down the next couple of days and you won't have to wait as long for the next update as you had for this one :0) So, here we go...
***
When Tara got up the next morning, the sun was shining, and there was the sound of something that sounded as if the birds were actually back. Spring, she thought. Wasn't it beautiful? Sure it was, but she didn't see it, feel it. She remembered the dream she had last night. She really needed to talk to someone about it.
She first went to the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her hair. She actually did mind how she looked again. The first few months, she only went to the bathroom when one of the others told her to. She smiled sadly. They had been very patient, had looked after her. What she was most grateful for was the fact that they had organized the funderal and selected the coffin and - Don't, she told herself. Don't think about it now. The last two months had been better - she could get up without feeling immediate need to cry. Then it was all about getting through the day.
Sometimes she was amazed at herself that she managed, but it was just - there were things to do. She still attended classes at the university - she had missed them a couple of weeks, but her teachers had been very sympathetic after her friends had talked to them. Now she usually sat there, listening but not comprehending, just to do them all a favour.
She knew life had to go on, and it did. Before her last exams, they had helped her cram all the bits of knowlegde into her head she needed, and somehow it had worked. Somehow, that was the keyword of her life right now. She sighed. Get a grip, she thought. How is this supposed to help, thinking how miserable your life is? Sure, your girlfriend getting murdered isn't something you adjust to very easily, but it can't be the end of your life, can it?
Tara went downstairs into the kitchen. As it was Sunday and pretty early, she expected it to be empty, but it wasn't. "Hey Tara, how are you today?" Anya greeted her, smiling.
"Okay, thanks." She didn't look at her, hiding behind her hair, not wanting to show her she had cried.
"Did you sleep well?"
"No, actually- c-can we talk about something?" Tara asked her, noticing the pleading sound of her voice.
"Sure we can. Want some coffee along with the talk?"
"Yes, that would be great." She couldn't believe how caring they all were. They hadn't been her friends in the first place - she only got to know them because of -
"Willow." At the sound of her name, Tara started. "Has it got something to do with her?" Anya asked.
"Yes." She was almost ashamed to admit it, she felt so - pathetic. But she had to tell someone. And Anya - Anya was alright. She was a lot like her, or - okay, to be honest, she wasn't at all like her, they just had something in common. They had both been introduced to the core group of friends - Buffy, Willow, and Xander - because of their girl- or boyfriend and so they could relate, because they both had felt a bit left out sometimes. And so they had started to hang out sometimes, alone - they had been to the movies, to the Bronze, the Espresso Pump... to all of Sunnydale's hotspots. So now Anya was the closest she got to a best friend. So tell her already, she thought.
"I - I had this dream. And I don't know what to make of it."
"What happened?"
"I saw what looked like - W-Willow and I were there, in these odd clothes. They were pretty, the clothes, I mean, like those in the Jane Austen movies... and Willow of course...she was... we - they were dancing, and kissing and m-making love... And suddenly -" she stopped, feeling unable to say it.
"Tara, it's okay, it was just a dream, right? Tell me about it. Please." Anya had walked over to Tara, coffee in her hand. She put it down in front of Tara and now awkwardly patted her back. She really liked her, but before she had come to Sunnydale, she'd been much of a loner, and she wasn't used to have friends yet. Sometimes she really didn't know what to do, but she tried her best. And this time, it seemed to have worked.
"Sure, it was just a dream... but do you think it's a good sign if you - if you die in that dream?" She looked at Anya, who seemed shocked. "It was so odd, the first part of the dream... the dancing and so on... this was new. But - then there was this man... he looked like S-Steven... he came through the door. But this time, he shot me. And Willow - there were two of her, suddenly. And I - I was dead. Anya, I was dead." She couldn't help it - she started to cry.
"Hey... come here. Come here, Sweetie." Anya hugged her, trying to comfort her. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything bad. You're not dying. How could you?"
Tara freed herself from the embrace. "Then it means something bad. I would love to die. Maybe I could be with her then."
"Don't say something like that! You can't mean what you say."
"Why? Why not? Why should I like to live? I lost her, Anya. Sometimes I feel as if I can't even breathe. Sometimes, when I'm sitting in class, listening to some clever theory, my mind wanders, and for a second I forget what happened. Then I think how she and I will lie in the sun later, how we will laugh and talk and kiss and- and then- then I remember. And I have to go to the bathroom, and I'm sick and I cry - and I don't get any of it. Why is she gone? What did we do to deserve it? Why do I have to stay here, alone? And why do I have this dream? Why?" Her voice had got louder and louder during her speech, and after the last word, she turned and started to walk out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry Anya, I can't do this. It- it hurts so much."
"I'm sure it does. And I'm so sorry for you. But life doesn't work like that - you have - you have to get over it somehow." Anya hated herself for having to say this. But it couldn't go on like that - Tara had to do something, or it would destroy her. "We all loved her, she was our friend as well. I know what she meant to you, but - Tara, I always thought you were the stronger one - and I still believe it. I know that she was the first who really loved you, but we do, too - not in the non-platonic, lesbian way, but you know what I mean. I so hate to sound cheesy, but - we can't lose you as well. You're like a mother to Dawnie, and Buffy and Xander and I - we're your friends. If we could take away your pain, we would. But we can't. And to see you like that - you can't imagine how this feels for us."
"I don't know how. I can't f-forget it. I can't get over it. I tried, but - let's not do this now, please? Let's - let's try to figure out what the dream means instead." Tara came back into the kitchen and picked up her cup. "Let's sit down?"
"Okay, let's go to the living room." Anya sighed, but she knew she couldn't really do anything. They sat down on the couch and were silent. Then Anya spoke up. "Perhaps you should tell me the dream in more detail. I mean, I think I got the gist of it so far, but-"
"You're right. I'll - I'll skip the first part however, I don't think it's that important. It was just beautiful..." Tara smiled sadly, but continued talking. "They were lying in bed, when suddenly there were footsteps, and someone was knocking on the door. They got out of the bed and I - the DreamMe - told Willow to leave, to run away... it was like-"
"On the day when Steven shot Willow." Anya concluded softly.
"Yes... and it was him, in the dream... when he opened the door, Willow rushed outside, and he hit me, and there was a struggle... I managed to get free and started to run away, but he - he shot me. And-"
"What kind of gun was it?"
"What?" Tara was confused.
"Did you see the gun properly? I mean, was it as oldfashioned as the clothes, or did it look like the real gun? This could be important."
"Oh... I think it w-wasn't oldfashioned... no, it wasn't. You're right, it looked like the one Steven -"
"And what happened next? Earlier you said something about two Willows?"
"Yes, it was - when my DreamSelf was shot, suddenly there was Willow standing opposite her... and there was b-blood all over her shirt and her face and - I can't really explain why, but it seemed as if she didn't belong to the dream. And then there was DreamWillow again... she had a g- gun, I think it wasn't oldfashioned either, but I'm not sure, and she - the look in her eyes, it was - I was almost scared. She was so full of hatred, and she - she shot him without hesitation. Then she went over to my - my b- body... and..."
"It's okay, Tara - I think that's enough..." Anya was shocked. She didn't want to imagine how it felt to see oneself die in one's dream.
"You think so? Then tell me, what does it mean?" she sounded desparate. "Why did I die, and why were there two Willows?"
"I - I don't know. Who am I? Miss Freud? Maybe you should tell Buffy, didn't she have some psychology classes when she was still at the university?"
"What do you want to tell Buffy?" Dawn had come downstairs and had overheard what Anya had said.
"N-nothing, Dawnie. Good morning... do I get a hug?" Tara didn't want her to know she had dreamed about her own death.
"Sure you do - a special Sunday morning hug!" Dawn smiled and went over to Tara and embraced her. "Did you sleep well?"
"Actually, Tara had a nightmare. And we don't know what it means. Maybe your sister can help us."
"Anya!" Tara glared at her. Didn't she realize she didn't want Dawn to know...?
"Buffy?" Dawn asked. "How could she help you?"
"Well, she is a counsellor at your school, isn't she? And she had this psychology class... don't you learn something about dream analysis there?"
"What did you dream, Tara? Was it bad?" Dawn knelt down before Tara, taking her hands in her own.
"I don't know, Dawn, I -"
"Tell me about it, please." She looked at Anya, knowing that Tara wouldn't say anything.
"Her dream was about the day Willow was murdered, it seems. Only it was a bit different - it wasn't her who died, but Tara. And there were two Willows, and one of them murdered Steven in return." Anya happily obliged. She did not want to be the only one who had to help, as she had no idea how to do it.
"Tara - is it true? You saw yourself die?" Dawn looked at her, worried. She hoped this wouldn't undo all the cheer up work they had done the last months. When Willow had been shot by Steven - when he had shot her, Tara had been - there wasn't a word for it. Steven was a guy from the university, someone Willow didn't even know that well; but he claimed that he had been in love with her... he had called Willow "a tease", whatever that meant. He had told the police that originally he had wanted to shoot Tara, and after she had heard that, she blamed herself for Willow's death even more than she already had. Dawn had the suspicion he only told them so because he wanted to make Tara suffer even more. He really hated her. How could anyone hate Tara? she wondered. There wasn't anybody in his world who was as loveable as she was. After their Mom had died, Tara and Willow had moved in with them, run the household, helped them to live.
She remembered how Tara always had been there for her. She desperately wanted to help her as she had helped her, but she - she couldn't even get through to her, it seemed. On some days, Tara seemed almost okay, but she knew she wasn't - she was only pretending for their sake. It was already hard enough for her, and now this - this dream. Whoever is responsible for this, Dawn decided, I hate him.
"Dawnie, it's - it's o-okay. I - it was just a dream, let's forget it." Tara didn't want to upset Dawn, she felt it was enough that she herself was.
"Stop playing the martyr, you don't have to protect us. I'm sure this dream means something, and I think we should try and find out. I'll tell the others as soon as they get up. And don't try to persuade me to do otherwise - I won't." With that, Anya left the living room, fearing she wouldn't be able to resist Tara's pleading looks after all.
Author: ladydewinter
Email: ladydewinter@gmx.net
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: W/K first, but I don't really like them...so W/T eventually :-)
Setting: The story takes place roughly after The Killer in Me, so spoilers up to then.
Disclaimer: Willow, Tara, Kennedy, Anya et. al belong to Joss Whedon and ME and - hey you know whom they belong to. The story however is mine. Oh, the title is taken from a book called "Magic's Promise" by Mercedes Lackey.
Feedback: Thank you so much for the nice feedback so far - it's exactly what I need ;-) So don't stop...
Distribution: If you want it, you can have it, just let me know where it ends up.
Summary: After Tara's dream. I guess you were wondering what this is all about? Maybe you'll find the beginning of an explanation in here ;-)
Auther's note: I'm sorry it took a little longer for me to post this part... although I got holidays at the moment, there is a lot to do, so I didn't have enough time for writing... hopefully, things will slow down the next couple of days and you won't have to wait as long for the next update as you had for this one :0) So, here we go...
***
When Tara got up the next morning, the sun was shining, and there was the sound of something that sounded as if the birds were actually back. Spring, she thought. Wasn't it beautiful? Sure it was, but she didn't see it, feel it. She remembered the dream she had last night. She really needed to talk to someone about it.
She first went to the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her hair. She actually did mind how she looked again. The first few months, she only went to the bathroom when one of the others told her to. She smiled sadly. They had been very patient, had looked after her. What she was most grateful for was the fact that they had organized the funderal and selected the coffin and - Don't, she told herself. Don't think about it now. The last two months had been better - she could get up without feeling immediate need to cry. Then it was all about getting through the day.
Sometimes she was amazed at herself that she managed, but it was just - there were things to do. She still attended classes at the university - she had missed them a couple of weeks, but her teachers had been very sympathetic after her friends had talked to them. Now she usually sat there, listening but not comprehending, just to do them all a favour.
She knew life had to go on, and it did. Before her last exams, they had helped her cram all the bits of knowlegde into her head she needed, and somehow it had worked. Somehow, that was the keyword of her life right now. She sighed. Get a grip, she thought. How is this supposed to help, thinking how miserable your life is? Sure, your girlfriend getting murdered isn't something you adjust to very easily, but it can't be the end of your life, can it?
Tara went downstairs into the kitchen. As it was Sunday and pretty early, she expected it to be empty, but it wasn't. "Hey Tara, how are you today?" Anya greeted her, smiling.
"Okay, thanks." She didn't look at her, hiding behind her hair, not wanting to show her she had cried.
"Did you sleep well?"
"No, actually- c-can we talk about something?" Tara asked her, noticing the pleading sound of her voice.
"Sure we can. Want some coffee along with the talk?"
"Yes, that would be great." She couldn't believe how caring they all were. They hadn't been her friends in the first place - she only got to know them because of -
"Willow." At the sound of her name, Tara started. "Has it got something to do with her?" Anya asked.
"Yes." She was almost ashamed to admit it, she felt so - pathetic. But she had to tell someone. And Anya - Anya was alright. She was a lot like her, or - okay, to be honest, she wasn't at all like her, they just had something in common. They had both been introduced to the core group of friends - Buffy, Willow, and Xander - because of their girl- or boyfriend and so they could relate, because they both had felt a bit left out sometimes. And so they had started to hang out sometimes, alone - they had been to the movies, to the Bronze, the Espresso Pump... to all of Sunnydale's hotspots. So now Anya was the closest she got to a best friend. So tell her already, she thought.
"I - I had this dream. And I don't know what to make of it."
"What happened?"
"I saw what looked like - W-Willow and I were there, in these odd clothes. They were pretty, the clothes, I mean, like those in the Jane Austen movies... and Willow of course...she was... we - they were dancing, and kissing and m-making love... And suddenly -" she stopped, feeling unable to say it.
"Tara, it's okay, it was just a dream, right? Tell me about it. Please." Anya had walked over to Tara, coffee in her hand. She put it down in front of Tara and now awkwardly patted her back. She really liked her, but before she had come to Sunnydale, she'd been much of a loner, and she wasn't used to have friends yet. Sometimes she really didn't know what to do, but she tried her best. And this time, it seemed to have worked.
"Sure, it was just a dream... but do you think it's a good sign if you - if you die in that dream?" She looked at Anya, who seemed shocked. "It was so odd, the first part of the dream... the dancing and so on... this was new. But - then there was this man... he looked like S-Steven... he came through the door. But this time, he shot me. And Willow - there were two of her, suddenly. And I - I was dead. Anya, I was dead." She couldn't help it - she started to cry.
"Hey... come here. Come here, Sweetie." Anya hugged her, trying to comfort her. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything bad. You're not dying. How could you?"
Tara freed herself from the embrace. "Then it means something bad. I would love to die. Maybe I could be with her then."
"Don't say something like that! You can't mean what you say."
"Why? Why not? Why should I like to live? I lost her, Anya. Sometimes I feel as if I can't even breathe. Sometimes, when I'm sitting in class, listening to some clever theory, my mind wanders, and for a second I forget what happened. Then I think how she and I will lie in the sun later, how we will laugh and talk and kiss and- and then- then I remember. And I have to go to the bathroom, and I'm sick and I cry - and I don't get any of it. Why is she gone? What did we do to deserve it? Why do I have to stay here, alone? And why do I have this dream? Why?" Her voice had got louder and louder during her speech, and after the last word, she turned and started to walk out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry Anya, I can't do this. It- it hurts so much."
"I'm sure it does. And I'm so sorry for you. But life doesn't work like that - you have - you have to get over it somehow." Anya hated herself for having to say this. But it couldn't go on like that - Tara had to do something, or it would destroy her. "We all loved her, she was our friend as well. I know what she meant to you, but - Tara, I always thought you were the stronger one - and I still believe it. I know that she was the first who really loved you, but we do, too - not in the non-platonic, lesbian way, but you know what I mean. I so hate to sound cheesy, but - we can't lose you as well. You're like a mother to Dawnie, and Buffy and Xander and I - we're your friends. If we could take away your pain, we would. But we can't. And to see you like that - you can't imagine how this feels for us."
"I don't know how. I can't f-forget it. I can't get over it. I tried, but - let's not do this now, please? Let's - let's try to figure out what the dream means instead." Tara came back into the kitchen and picked up her cup. "Let's sit down?"
"Okay, let's go to the living room." Anya sighed, but she knew she couldn't really do anything. They sat down on the couch and were silent. Then Anya spoke up. "Perhaps you should tell me the dream in more detail. I mean, I think I got the gist of it so far, but-"
"You're right. I'll - I'll skip the first part however, I don't think it's that important. It was just beautiful..." Tara smiled sadly, but continued talking. "They were lying in bed, when suddenly there were footsteps, and someone was knocking on the door. They got out of the bed and I - the DreamMe - told Willow to leave, to run away... it was like-"
"On the day when Steven shot Willow." Anya concluded softly.
"Yes... and it was him, in the dream... when he opened the door, Willow rushed outside, and he hit me, and there was a struggle... I managed to get free and started to run away, but he - he shot me. And-"
"What kind of gun was it?"
"What?" Tara was confused.
"Did you see the gun properly? I mean, was it as oldfashioned as the clothes, or did it look like the real gun? This could be important."
"Oh... I think it w-wasn't oldfashioned... no, it wasn't. You're right, it looked like the one Steven -"
"And what happened next? Earlier you said something about two Willows?"
"Yes, it was - when my DreamSelf was shot, suddenly there was Willow standing opposite her... and there was b-blood all over her shirt and her face and - I can't really explain why, but it seemed as if she didn't belong to the dream. And then there was DreamWillow again... she had a g- gun, I think it wasn't oldfashioned either, but I'm not sure, and she - the look in her eyes, it was - I was almost scared. She was so full of hatred, and she - she shot him without hesitation. Then she went over to my - my b- body... and..."
"It's okay, Tara - I think that's enough..." Anya was shocked. She didn't want to imagine how it felt to see oneself die in one's dream.
"You think so? Then tell me, what does it mean?" she sounded desparate. "Why did I die, and why were there two Willows?"
"I - I don't know. Who am I? Miss Freud? Maybe you should tell Buffy, didn't she have some psychology classes when she was still at the university?"
"What do you want to tell Buffy?" Dawn had come downstairs and had overheard what Anya had said.
"N-nothing, Dawnie. Good morning... do I get a hug?" Tara didn't want her to know she had dreamed about her own death.
"Sure you do - a special Sunday morning hug!" Dawn smiled and went over to Tara and embraced her. "Did you sleep well?"
"Actually, Tara had a nightmare. And we don't know what it means. Maybe your sister can help us."
"Anya!" Tara glared at her. Didn't she realize she didn't want Dawn to know...?
"Buffy?" Dawn asked. "How could she help you?"
"Well, she is a counsellor at your school, isn't she? And she had this psychology class... don't you learn something about dream analysis there?"
"What did you dream, Tara? Was it bad?" Dawn knelt down before Tara, taking her hands in her own.
"I don't know, Dawn, I -"
"Tell me about it, please." She looked at Anya, knowing that Tara wouldn't say anything.
"Her dream was about the day Willow was murdered, it seems. Only it was a bit different - it wasn't her who died, but Tara. And there were two Willows, and one of them murdered Steven in return." Anya happily obliged. She did not want to be the only one who had to help, as she had no idea how to do it.
"Tara - is it true? You saw yourself die?" Dawn looked at her, worried. She hoped this wouldn't undo all the cheer up work they had done the last months. When Willow had been shot by Steven - when he had shot her, Tara had been - there wasn't a word for it. Steven was a guy from the university, someone Willow didn't even know that well; but he claimed that he had been in love with her... he had called Willow "a tease", whatever that meant. He had told the police that originally he had wanted to shoot Tara, and after she had heard that, she blamed herself for Willow's death even more than she already had. Dawn had the suspicion he only told them so because he wanted to make Tara suffer even more. He really hated her. How could anyone hate Tara? she wondered. There wasn't anybody in his world who was as loveable as she was. After their Mom had died, Tara and Willow had moved in with them, run the household, helped them to live.
She remembered how Tara always had been there for her. She desperately wanted to help her as she had helped her, but she - she couldn't even get through to her, it seemed. On some days, Tara seemed almost okay, but she knew she wasn't - she was only pretending for their sake. It was already hard enough for her, and now this - this dream. Whoever is responsible for this, Dawn decided, I hate him.
"Dawnie, it's - it's o-okay. I - it was just a dream, let's forget it." Tara didn't want to upset Dawn, she felt it was enough that she herself was.
"Stop playing the martyr, you don't have to protect us. I'm sure this dream means something, and I think we should try and find out. I'll tell the others as soon as they get up. And don't try to persuade me to do otherwise - I won't." With that, Anya left the living room, fearing she wouldn't be able to resist Tara's pleading looks after all.