Chapter Thirty
Gifts
And once again the gods granted an exquisite gift, and Willow was captured by time. The moment slowed and drew thin, and each second was a thousand years of pleasure. It was only a moment, a single moment that Willow pressed her lips against Tara's for the first time. She was acutely aware of her hard nipples thrusting against Tara's breasts, of Tara's hands on her back, in her hair. The softness of Tara's lips unnerved her, and for that moment she merely pressed her own chapped lips against the perfection that was Tara. Her world was narrowing to this sharp point, this focus, and in this moment, Willow somehow realized that nothing would ever be the same.
(Because there was a demon, and he carved my Tara like a Christmas goose, and there was a goddess who allowed her to suffer, and there was a brother who hit her and humiliated her, and then there was me
and my lacerations, and my rips and my tears, my bites and my scrapes
and the man who caused it all, the long preacher, the dark hand, the silent might, and she took him, into her own mind she took him and now he tortures her
oh, god, Tara!)
Willow convulsed in the thought, and pressed herself even tighter to Tara, as if by the force of her love she could possess her utterly, and subsume Tara as she had subsumed Caleb, and take the weight of Tara's world on her. Then she could save her, she could unravel all mysteries, she could finally find out why
(God is in the why)
she always had to save the world, and why the gods chose this precious woman to be the ultimate sacrifice, and what was Willow supposed to do now other than finally let every ounce of love burst forth from her, love strong enough to overcome any obstacle, love strong enough to open any lock, love in the form of lips that thrust and teased and reared and
(Oh!)
Because they weren't just lips, they were keys to a lock, hidden deep in Willow's mind. The lock protected a secret, a memory, and the longer Willow drank from Tara's lips, the more that key turned in the lock, hovering just above completion. Then that first second passed, and the next one came, delicious in its soft intensity. And Willow ran her tongue over her lips, and over Tara's lips, thrusting lightly as if to enter. There was no more hospital room, no more worry of disapproval or shame, there was only this kiss, this connection between two tortured souls.
(I will save you)
Tara opened her mouth, and Willow tilted her lips and captured her, and her hands pulled relentlessly at Tara's neck, seeking to engulf her. Four seconds. Desire was crashing through her, waves upon waves of purple passion, cascading up her throat, choking her with sweetness, melting her in the fiery abyss of Tara's devotion. Six seconds. Lips moving now, feasting, delighting
(saving!)
and Willow felt the familiarity, and could see the lock and key in her mind. Another thrust with her tongue, and Tara's fingers dipped underneath Willow's robe in the back, touching her bare skin, splaying her fingers wide, electrifying her. Ten seconds.
A peculiar whoosh swept through Willow's body, terrifying yet familiar, and she instinctively clutched harder at Tara's body, some part of her aware that Tara's hips were grinding against her hers, her lips yet glued to Tara's, still feasting, still delighting, still saving.
And the key turned in the lock, and the secret burst open, and the final wall between Willow and her memories dissolved to reveal
not just the brotherly love you'd expect from an angel, but all-reaching, soul-shattering, body-wrenching romantic love that you hope for your entire life and never experience and it only hints of a power far beyond anything mortals should ever experience...
and desperately I clutched at the angel's body, for I had never been held like this, no not ever, no one ever held me with such fierce devotion, with such waves and waves of love...
"Am I going to forget you?"...
and I began to move my lips, first softly, almost teasing, skirting the open infinite expanse of the angel's mouth simultaneously terrified and delighted at the universe within...
and I used my hand behind the angel's neck to tilt it upwards, and I planted slow, soft kisses down the angel's jaw line, down the smooth expanse of her creamy throat, feeling relentless pressure building between my legs...
and I stood then, with the ghostly wind whipping my crimson hair, my eyes closed against the onslaught of voices in the wind, my heart burning in torment, the gleaming handle of my gateway to consciousness fastened shut, and only the thought of bellflower eyes grounded me...
and the thought of facing those damned streets filled me with despair, for they were mangled, and strewn about with little lost teddy bears, with the gallons of my blood shed as I was reaved and reaved by the same man who now tortures my most precious girl...
and as I walked I was lit with the light of Tara's healing love, and my very footprints quivered, and sent forth rays of healing energy, and the streets righted themselves, and the buildings were erected anew, and I only knew that I would have been desolate without...
Xander, "Why do you always have to be the selfish one? Why couldn't you just run away, and give me a place to come home to? Anyplace you were was home to me"...
And Buffy, "Why do you always wear impractical shoes to battles, Buffy? We were supposed to grow old together and forget to take our pills and cheat at bingo"...
She came back for me, the angel came back, and her voice was silken, "If you wish it, I'll never leave you again"...
Her name is Tara...
and just there under the tree, I burrowed between Tara's legs, leaning back against Tara's bosom, finally contented, my head coming to rest just under Tara's shoulder, sighing as Tara's arms came around me, Tara gasping (why, Tara, why?)...
"They are all dead, Willow, all except for Faith" (she's in Romania, Willow)...
"I saved the world, Tara, but not for me. Never for me"...
and I felt the rumbling of passion deep inside me, as the walls of my sexually repressed prison weakened under the tender thrusting of Tara's tongue; Tara's tantalizing fingers remained cupped on my face, using them to lift me ever higher, higher, her lips engulfing my mouth, tilting, shifting, sharing, possessing...
"Tara, I don't even know you, but I do know this. I could not bear the thought of the world without you. I would weather the apocalypse for you. I would go to the ends of the earth to save you. Tara Maclay, I don't even know you, but I love you"...
and I left breadcrumbs...
and I buried the Scoobies...
and I wondered "Why, Tara? Why do you love me?"...
(god is in the why, Willow, and so am I.)
The whooshing settled, but Willow did not care. The great mental curtain had finally come down, and she saw and remembered everything, and the debt she felt within her could never be repaid but by the gods was she ever going to try. Feeling Tara's lips still fastened securely to her own; they were somehow standing now, the hospital bed and the room quite gone, but she didn't care where she was, all she cared about was Tara and her lips, her body
(her soul)
and Willow's hands cupped Tara's face by her ears, and she lifted her mouth again and again, almost drowning Tara with the tears that continually flowed from her aching closed eyes. Kiss after kiss on her lips, her cheek, her jaw line, her throat, dizzy in the memories that assaulted her
(ambushed by ghosts)
and her only lifeline was Tara.
Better. Faster.
Willow used her fingers to tilt up Tara's head, and she ran her tongue into the hollow of Tara's throat, hearing a guttural moan rip from deep within her lover. She opened her eyes lightly then, just to get her bearings, but scarcely noticed the two of them standing in a fog-encrusted world of no substance except shadow.
(My mother called it mindsurfing)
Her heart pounding, her breath short and quick, Willow whispered, "Oh, my Tara, my baby," before wrapping one arm around Tara's waist, using the other hand to lightly pull aside Tara's shirt, baring Tara's shoulder. She could feel Tara's hands clutching at her, her short fingernails raking up Willow's back, plunging into Willow's hair before drawing down again to cup Willow's ass, thrusting her hips forward and into her.
Willow had it all back. Every moment. Every kiss, every caress, and she was rocked to her core with wonder and desire. "How can I ever repay you, Tara?" she whispered before continuing her relentless assault of Tara's shoulder, licking, sucking, kissing, her hands aching to hold Tara's breasts.
"Just save me, Willow," Tara whispered.
Willow raised her head, and looked deep into Tara's eyes, and was crushed by the amount of sorrow and pain she found in them. Willow melted, and plundered Tara's lips again, crushing herself against them, mouth moving frantically, passion roaring within her, passion so great it felt like it was oozing from her fingers and streaking from her like lightning. Her tongue grazed every beloved and minute portion of her lover's mouth, and her breath caught in her throat again and again.
It was a long time before they pulled away from each other, and when they did they still looked in each other's eyes, and found the peace they had both been searching for. "I remember it all, Tara," Willow whispered, squeezing Tara's fingers. Tara's eyes widened, and Willow kissed her quickly, and continued, "The tree, the cemetery, everything." Willow kissed her again. "Baby, my everything," she whispered, and tucked Tara into her, and held her as Tara wept.
And in the remarkable realization of the depths of Tara's devotion, the pains she suffered to heal Willow and bring her from her coma, and the preacher, that damned preacher that even now was making Tara's every moment agony, Willow could only stand. So she stood, and the resolve that formed within her was greater than she had ever known; no demon, no vampire, no apocalypse could stand between her and saving this woman, of spending the rest of her life with this woman.
So she dared to imagine, just a little, of what it could be like between them. With Tara in her arms, the world of memories that had just been granted with her first kiss, Willow could only glimpse the edges of the idea it was so vast and beautiful. A great aching choked her, and she delicately lifted Tara's face. Looking with longing into those bellflower eyes Willow whispered, "Tara, I love you."
Tara's face widened in amazement, then in joy, then in fierce animal hunger as desperately kissed Willow, again and again. Many long minutes passed, but what is time when you're in love?
"Where are we?" Willow finally asked, reluctantly releasing her hug, but kept Tara's hand tightly wrapped in her own.
"I'm not sure," Tara said, looking around, wiping her eyes with her other hand. "This isn't your mind, I don't recognize it. I thought I had just unconsciously brought you into a mindsurf, but this is unfamiliar."
"We can answer that question," Willow heard from behind her, and she and Tara whirled around.
Standing behind them in the pearly fog were ten unearthly figures, men and women. One had stepped forward from the others, with deliciously rounded limbs and a sublime beauty that nearly made Willow gasp. "Maia," she heard Tara choke.
"Welcome to the ether," Maia said, smiling shyly. "This is the realm between your world and our own. It is from here that we gods gaze upon the world, it is from here we influence mankind. It is also from here that The First will launch its final offensive against the world."
"How did I get here?" Tara asked. "I thought I was blocked."
"We summoned you, and we are twelve. Caleb is but one," Maia explained. "You have had previous contact with the ether realm, though you may not have realized it at the time, and we needed you to bring Willow here. We've been waiting for you."
Maia strode forward and opened her arms to Tara, who let go of Willow's hand and eagerly fell into Maia's embrace. Willow squashed a momentary flash of jealousy as Maia's arms went about Tara. "Why were you waiting for us?" Willow asked after a long moment.
"It is only here that we can give you the gifts you need to combat our ancient enemy, Willow," Maia said, releasing Tara. Tara returned to Willow's side and Willow put her arm around Tara's waist, pulling her in. "We needed Tara to bring you here, she was your link to the ether realm, because we can only influence human affairs, we can't act outright. Now that you are here, we can get on to the business at hand."
A goddess stepped forward from the mists of the ether, her robe of saffron was covered in blood, and she was carrying a sword. Her voice was pitched low and she said, "Willow, I am the goddess Enyo. My gift to you is three second precognition, which will give you reflexes as fast as lightning." Enyo held the sword in her hands and stood, waiting. Regretfully Willow pulled herself away from Tara to take the proffered sword in her hands. As soon as it touched her skin, it seemed to melt inside her, and she felt the gift burrowing into her mind.
Another goddess swirled forth and she was dressed in a blue robe and held a wreath fashioned of pussy willow in her hands. Willow recognized her; her image was on the icons and posters of her Wicca group, and the goddess glowed with a vibrant green aura. "Willow, I am the goddess Hecate. I give unto you the power of teleportation." The goddess held out the wreath and Willow took it and it entered her.
And from behind her, from the corner of her eye, Willow could see Tara trembling, and her face was ashen, and her fingers rubbed at her temples. Willow longed to return to her, to take her in her arms, but she realized now that it was Caleb within her lover that was causing such pain, and only through the gifts of the gods such as these would Willow have the power to save her. Reluctantly she returned her gaze to the assembled host, as yet another god approached her.
He had wings that looked exactly as Tara's had when Willow first met her, and the god held aloft a shining winged ball
(golden snitch)
and Willow stifled a wildly inappropriate giggle as the god said, "I am Cassiel, the angel of temperance and good fortune. My gift to you, Willow, is the gift of levitation and flight." Willow took the ball, and silently thanked the god, glad to see him here because he had helped her avert apocalypse once before (poor Ben!), and the gift burrowed into her skin, and expanded her mind.
Another goddess stepped forward, her robe swirling in the mists of the ether, holding a poultice. "Willow, I am Panacea," she declared solemnly, "and to you I give the gift of true healing." As Willow accepted the gift, the poultice that evaporated inside her, she could hear Tara try to repress a choked sob. Willow's heart soared. Finally. True healing. This was what she had been waiting for, what they'd both been waiting for.
A huge god, burly and masculine, with a great brown beard that partially hid his ugly face tucked behind a burn-scarred apron, he limped toward her with a blacksmith's hammer in one hand. "Willow, I am Hephaestus, god of industry. To you I grant the gift of transmutation, the power to turn one substance into another." He held the hammer to her, and it shivered, and transformed from gleaming steel into icy diamond, and she took it, and it powered through her veins.
The child stepped forward next, and Willow was surprised to see Tara stride up to stand next to Willow once more. The two witches knelt as the diminutive little goddess approached, and Willow took comfort in Tara's warm proximity. In her hands, the goddess held a pile of shards. She looked at Tara first as she said, "Willow, I am the goddess Aranaea. You freed me from exile. To you I grant the gift of psionics, and every power of the mind that comes with it, including telekinesis, and telepathy."
"Like Jedi mind control?" Willow asked excitedly. (Xander would have been so jealous. Oh, Xander!) Aranaea laughed and nodded, and Willow extended her hands, but the little goddess dumped the shards onto Tara's outstretched hands instead. Then, in a sparkle of light, the shards coalesced into a great chalice, which Tara reverently held out to Willow. Willow could scarce believe all that was happening, and the great depth of her task began to materialize within her. What would be required of her, that she would need all this to accomplish it?
Willow took the chalice, the gift, and it settled inside her, expanding, building, rearranging.
In a daze she watched the next goddess appear. Next to her, Tara was smiling, and Thespia stood before Willow with a golden ring in her fingers. "Willow, I am the goddess Thespia. To you I give the gift of conjuring." The goddess slipped the ring on to Willow's finger, and it sank inside her. Before she left, she also embraced Tara, and touched the amulet that perennially lay on Tara's chest, and whispered something softly in her ear, causing Tara's face to grow sad.
Yet another god swirled forth out of the mists, flickering in and out of sight. His face was drawn from purest myth, and he had but a single eye in his broad forehead. He stood with singular arrogance, as if he expected the world to sustain him. He held aloft a peculiar cap which flickered and shone like lightning. In a deep and rumbly voice he said, "I am Cyclops, and to you I give the gift of true invisibility." He held the cap to Willow, and she stepped forward. He placed it on her head and for a moment the whole world disappeared as her scalp assimilated the gift. Then her sight returned, and she felt the new power in her body.
Maia, who had stood close by Tara this entire time, holding her hand, now turned her attention to Willow. "Willow, I have no gift for you other than knowledge." Maia raised her hand which was still joined with Tara's. "A time of great despair will come upon you," Maia said softly, "yet all you must do is remember this." Maia gestured at the glorious woman who stood at her side, who stood with downcast eyes, pain a symphony on her face. "I have her heart, Willow. He cannot touch it." Puzzled by Maia's words, Willow simply stood and watched as the assembled host disappeared into the mist, except for one area of darkness.
Tara's face was pale, and constricted in great pain. Willow took Tara back in her arms, her head whirling with the new power, but underneath it all was still plain little Willow, who wanted nothing more than to take away Tara's pain forever. "Is it Caleb, baby?" Willow asked softly, her arms snuggled tight around Tara.
She felt Tara's nod, and warm tears falling from Tara's cheeks.
Maia was looking on them with great despair in her eyes. "Even after all this, it may not be enough," the goddess whispered.
And the area of darkness coalesced into a cloaked goddess, wreathed in darkness, face cast in perpetual shadow. The goddess beckoned to Willow, and she very reluctantly pulled herself away from Tara. To her surprise, the dark goddess took Willow in her arms, and she was so cold, so very cold. Her voice, surprisingly high-pitched, said very softly in Willow's ear, "I am Nyx, the goddess of sleep and death, and the gift I give to you will be secret until the very moment you need it."
Willow nodded imperceptibly, then glanced down at Nyx's hands for the gift. The shade chuckled lightly. "Kiss me, Willow, and receive your gift." Willow's eyes flew wide, then spun to look at Tara, who had since slumped to the ground in great pain, half-supported by Maia. The goddess was stroking Tara's head and whispered in her ear. Then the goddess firmly put one hand directly over Tara's heart, kissing her on the forehead, whispering once again. Willow nearly abandoned the dark goddess then and there, but then both Tara and Maia looked at Willow. Willow looked at Tara, and fastened Tara's features firmly in her mind, and turned to the dark goddess.
And took the cold lips with her own, and let the goddess open her mouth, and a great ball of energy passed from the goddess into her and Willow nearly choked on it, yet she swallowed, again and again, the cold lips moving against hers until the assimilation was complete.
Willow gladly let go of the shade and turned to face Tara.
Tara was gone.
And Maia wept.
...
A/N: Thank you so much to those who have given me their thoughts and reviews. I'm so pleased to share this story with you, and appreciate your reviews a great deal. The story is about to get even more intense - I hope you enjoy it.
