Hungry Ghosts

by: Dacia

BtVS W/T R-18A
I can't decide what the rating should be, but since there is a spot of violence (this being BtVS) and some sex (this being BtVS), I felt I should give people a bit of a heads-up. Especially since I found the violence rather disturbing, and I'm the one who wrote the story. Of course, I'm a mushball.

WARNING : Well, whaddya know, there appear to be some lesbian themes and/or content in this here story. Honk if you love women! Go here if you don't. ; )

DISCLAIMER : I have absolutely no legal right to play with other peoples' toys, especially not the creations of Joss Whedon, namely Buffy and the Slayerettes. The aforementioned rights to these characters belong to the aforementioned Joss Whedon and Fox, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui… and anyone else with an army of lawyers to back them up.

Please don't sue me for following the Slayer philosophy of Want. Take. Have.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS : There's no way I'm going to look up the copyrights of everything that I used that wasn't mine in this story. Let's just say that there's a fair amount of pop culture in here, and some not-so-pop culture (but things that I can probably still be sued for mentioning out of turn).

On a completely unrelated note: let's hear it for the fine makers of Jell-O and any movie with Inspector Clouseau!

TIMELINE : This is the direct sequel to my W/T story, Vicarious Smoochies. Although you don't necessarily have to read all of it to understand this story, you should at least read the very beginning and end to make the transition a little smoother. I've also set this story after the end of BtVS Season 4, during Final Exams.

SPOILERS : Anything Season 4 is fair game. Though I don't think I mention any one episode in great detail, I do allude to all kinds of events from canon BtVS. Heck, I probably mess with all the other seasons too. *g*

DACIA'S FINAL THOUGHT : I'm tired. *looks at what she's written* And is that really how you spell tired? *ugh*

ps- Sorry if the Latin and Greek aren't perfect (if you care about that sort of thing), my brain is pretty well mush after being out of school for 4 months.

In the beginning, there was nothing…

The first sensation she became aware of was one of warmth, a beckoning presence, and it lured her up through veils of sleep to rest poised on the verge of consciousness. She lay there on the precipice, not moving, her breath still flowing in even, deep rhythms, as one by one her senses awakened.

This was her favourite time of day, this moment between sleep and wakefulness, where dreams and reality mixed and merged, and anything seemed possible; anything, including the surreal touch of a warm hand on her bare stomach, burrowed beneath her thin tanktop, the gentle breath that teased the sensitive skin at the hollow of her neck, but most of all, the sweet press of another woman, molded to the curves of her body, one bold leg thrown over her own, pinning her with its exquisite weight.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the foreign yet soothing scent of someone other than herself. Opening her eyes hesitantly, she blinked against the harsh sunlight that filtered into the room. Her reluctance was quickly dissipated however, when her dark blue eyes beheld their first sight of the day.

Red hair reflected the brilliant multihued rays of fading dawn, sending them back out imbued with some of its fiery essence. It tickled where the bulk of it lay under her chin, with a few stray locks strewn across her lips and upper chest.

She lifted one lazy hand that had been draped over her forehead to smooth the errant wisps, and to touch the wondrous sight. And when her fingertips made contact with the blazing silk, she made her first conscious realization of the day; the warmth that had enticed her from dreamless sleep, the body she perceived curled around her own was real. Though she was faintly surprised by this knowledge, her mind accommodated it easily, as this reality had become increasingly common over the last month.

With this realization, she became fully aware of her situation. She was in her dorm room, in her bed… with Willow. A serene smile ghosted the corners of her mouth, a reflection of her bliss. Her hand continued to stroke the other girl's silken hair, and she slowly shifted her head to place a reverent kiss there.

Willow made an incoherent, happy noise and cuddled closer. A moment later, there was puzzling utterance, "No cookie dough on the exam paper."

She stifled her laugh, not wanting to jar her companion, but she was amused nonetheless. She'd never believed that people really talked in their sleep until she'd met Willow. The redhaired witch would even answer questions unconsciously sometimes, although whether or not her answers made any sense was a different matter entirely.

Still smiling, she murmured Willow's name twice, softly, and then felt the girl's breathing shift subtly as she emerged into a wakeful state. The smaller Wiccan turned in the bed, and stretched lightly, making a series of satisfied groans that electrified her companion, while she loosened each muscle. When she was done, she resumed her former position, a broad grin plastered across her face.

"Mmmm… morning, Tara." Hazy green eyes fluttered open.

"Morning." Tara whispered almost shyly.

They regarded each other silently, dark blue eyes containing a vivid spark that was mirrored in green. Willow leaned forward to place a gentle, lingering kiss on the blonde's lips, and then drew back.

"How'd you sleep?" She asked, her tone shaded just beyond casual inquiry.

Tara's face smoothed, as she answered seriously, "Still no dreams, if that's what you mean."

Vertical wrinkles appeared on Willow's brow, "I don't understand it, we performed that spell a month ago, and my dreams have been almost perfectly normal."

Though that fact troubled her as well, the other girl couldn't help but add with a sly grin, "Whatever that is…"

"Listen you…" The redhead poked her gently in warning, and her bedmate was unable to keep from flinching, "… I'd be more respectful of someone who's figured out most of your ticklish spots."

The blonde debated giving a raspberry in response, but opted instead for heavy sarcasm, "Quite an impressive display of your deduction skills, considering almost anywhere on me is a ticklish spot."

Willow blinked at her, and then flashed a devilish grin, "Oh yah? What about here?"

Tara shivered in a not entirely ticklish way as the other Wiccan swooped down to place a line of kisses on her sensitive neck, and trailed warm breath in their wake.

"Is that a ticklish spot?" The redhead asked, her words laced with laughter and stirring desire.

The blonde opened eyes that she hadn't even realized she'd closed, and replied in a rather shaky voice, "I'm not… sure… yet… maybe… if you… " Her eyes screwed shut again, as Willow anticipated her request, only too happy to oblige.

Under tender ministrations, Tara tried to focus long enough to speak, "Oh yah-- that's definitely a… ticklish spot." She felt a hot blast of exhaled air, as Willow laughed into her neck.

"What?" She prodded teasingly.

The redhead lifted her head from its cradle and replied, her voice suddenly serious, "Nothing… I just-- this feels so right."

"What does?" Tara questioned in a hush.

"This." The blonde felt the arm around her midriff tighten, as Willow placed a single adoring kiss on her neck. The smaller witch's lips then hovered above the skin, where Tara could still sense their heat. The nerve endings below fired rapidly, and their response diffused throughout her entire body, yielding a delicious shiver that ended in a tingling all the way down to her toes.

Willow sighed contentedly, and snuggled closer, "Do you feel it?"

"Yes." The blonde sighed. How could I not?

They lay there for a minute, each steeped in her own thoughts, which ran roughly parallel, until Tara became conscious of a gentle but insistent presence butting at her back, and then her elbow. Then a tiny black limb hooked over her arm, and a precocious little creature hauled itself up and plopped itself in between her and Willow, sticking a paw in Tara's mouth along the way.

Willow immediately picked up the kitten and began cooing, "Somebody wants some attention."

The other witch smirked skeptically, "More like food. That's why she's kissing up to you; she knows who gives the good grub."

"Well-- some of us don't skimp on the kibble." The redhead's forehead scrunched up. "Do cats have kibble?"

"What does the bag say?"

Willow flipped onto her other side, and looked over the edge of the bed. Pretending to concentrate, she read aloud, "Made in Taiwan."

Tara gave a sigh of exasperation, and played along, "That's my lamp. Try a little to the left."

Willow shifted her vision accordingly, and fabricated another quote, "Miss Kitty's Kat Kibble. Looks like I was right, cats have kibble." She dictated the last to the ball of fur that was slipping from her grasp.

Tara grinned as the kitten twisted free, landed paws-down on the floor, and proceeded to make her way to a food dish embossed with 'Miss Kitty' in flowing script. The white-socked creature sat down beside the dish, and glanced back at the two women who were now sitting up in the bed.

"Uh-oh, she's got her Feed-Me-Face on."

"Well, get to it, Miss 'I don't skimp on the kibble'."

Willow gave Tara a mock-salute before slipping from the sheets to attend to the demanding creature.

The blonde witch followed the hacker's progress with her eyes. She let her vision flit upon the girl's bare feet and calves, and slide up the smooth line of her back, encased in one of Willow's well-loved nightshirts that she'd left at Tara's dorm room the last time she'd slept over. Her eyes were drawn to the redhead's strong, but elegant hands, as she poured out an indeterminate amount of 'kibble' into their cat's dish, which Miss Kitty promptly crawled into. 'Our cat', that sounds so strange. I've never really been part of anything 'our' or 'us' before.

That last thought threatened to propel the Wiccan into the shadowed corners of her memory, but she resisted. She felt too good, too happy, and wasn't about to let things long past interfere with her mood. Instead, she slipped silently from the rumpled bed, and snaked an arm around the redhead's waist. "So…" she began coyly, "… are you going to stick around today, it being the last day of classes and all."

Willow returned the embrace, but answered in an apologetic tone, "Well, you know me, all for the skipping, but Professor Chou seems to have other ideas; ideas that don't include skipping. I think I told you about him, right?"

She received only a blank stare in return, so she held her hand level with her nose, "Say, about yea high, black hair, perfected the art of being an autocratic despot… ?"

Still no response.

"Anyway, he's scheduled a test for our last class, and hinted that all the studying in all the world wouldn't help anyone who missed it to escape his wrath."

"Oh. You're right, very despot-y." Tara nodded seriously.

"Plus, I should probably show up for English Lit., and grab the essay questions…" The redhaired girl looked so pained as she trailed off that Tara wrapped her arms around her fully to soothe her worries and reassure her. "I'll see you tonight though?"

"For the Scooby bash?" The blonde asked somewhat hesitantly, Tara still wasn't entirely certain of herself around Willow's friends, although they seemed, at least on the surface, to have accepted their relationship… and her.

Willow was quick to respond, "Yup, it's be there or be square, or your three-dimensional geometrical shape of choice. I'll be done by late this afternoon if you want me to stop by, before then?"

"That would be very okay." Tara nodded for emphasis into the other girl's shoulder. She added as an afterthought, "I might be out on the front quad though, studying."

The hacker pulled back slightly so she could see the blonde's face, "Don't you have any classes today?" She prodded with a suspicious squint.

Tara smirked, "Unlike your professors, mine have seen the wisdom in giving the last day of term off… seeing as how half the students show up drunk anyway."

Willow remarked sagely, "That might have something to do with the frat houses switching the pop in the pop machines for beer. The drunk students, that is, not the wise professors."

Pressing an open hand against her chest, the blonde witch pretended to be shocked, "Is there alcohol on campus?! I never would have guessed."

"Neither, apparently, has campus security, or the contents of those 'pop' machines would have been promptly confiscated, and dealt with very harshly." The hacker pantomimed a drinking motion.

The two witches shared a quick grin, then Tara glanced at the clock on the wall, "Well… if you're going to make your first class, then you should probably get going."

"I know," Willow acknowledged grumpily, as she reached for her clothing piled neatly on the floor, "but I don't wanna leave, especially since we're not going to have a lot of time together next week, what with icky Finals and all." She looked up plaintively, "Can't we cast some spell?"

"And what… make you're Chem prof disappear?" The blonde gave a wry grin.

Tilting her head, the hacker pretended to consider the option, "We could do that… or we could turn him into a man-sized representation of a Bucky-ball…" Willow continued enthusiastically, "… or we could even do him a favour and return him to his natural state as a bozon."

"Bucky… bozon-- huh?"

Willow touched Tara's arm, "Sorry, guess it's too early in the morning for me to be all with the geek-speak."

"No, that's not it. It's just, we were up so late with that incantation, and with all the exams and papers lately…" The blonde witch shrugged "… my brain bears a striking resemblance to Jell-O, and not one of the cool flavours either." She wrinkled her forehead.

"Wild Berry?" The redhead asked excitedly.

"Lime." Tara admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

"Lime is good. There's lots of fun things you can do with Lime Jell-O."

Tara's brain processed the girl's words and promptly initiated a fierce blush, as she fixated on the floor.

Realizing what she'd just said, Willow's skin shaded a light pink as well, and she attempted to amend her statement, "That is, lots of fun, wholesome things, like making cute little green dinosaur shapes and stuff, cuz I would never have thought about using Jell-O in a non-wholesome way, nuh-uh, no-sir-ree."

Peering up through strands of unruly gold hair, Tara interjected mischievously, "And besides, things could get sticky."

"Exactly." Willow confirmed without thinking, and then gave the other girl light poke in the ribs for which she yelped. "What did I say about teasing people… ?" She issued a mock frown.

Dark blue eyes suddenly locked with sea green ones, as Tara responded, "I don't really remember-- maybe I need a refresher..." This time, it was she who leaned forward, bridging the gap between them, but stopping just short of full contact.

Instead, her hands ghosted over the contours of the redhead's skin, leaving a heated path of sensitized flesh as she followed the elegant shape of Willow's hands, her arms, and up to her face. Still without touching, she curved her hand around the other witch's cheek, as Willow waited with hitched breath, her eyes swirling a deep green.

In her mind, the blonde marveled, as she had so frequently over the last month, I can't believe this is real.

To quench the doubts that stalked her happiness, she let the tips of her fingers caress the soft skin just behind Willow's ear, and at the base of her jaw.

When the hacker shuddered and closed her eyes, Tara startled, still harbouring a lingering fear of rejection, still not used to touching another human being; but one glance at Willow's expression with her lips parted and her breath shallow, told her that her attentions were most welcome.

Taking the pile of clothes from Willow's grasp, she placed them on the bed behind her, and returned her focus to their owner. Her hand trembled almost uncontrollably as she reached out to touch her fingers to the redhead's hair.

So much had happened over the last few weeks, what with their discovery of their mutual feelings, and Oz's return to Sunnydale shortly afterwards. She'd never expected she could feel that kind of pain again, when she'd thought she would lose Willow; and she'd certainly never dreamt that someone like Willow would ever choose her, not over her last boyfriend that she had been crazy-in-love with.

Tara ran her hand through the fiery silk of Willow's hair, and down porcelain skin to rest her fingers at the hollow of the witch's throat. As she measured the steady pulse there, she reflected, And now, here we are… with a cat…

She pressed forward, replacing her fingers light touch with that of her lips. A gentle fire kindled when she did, and proceeded to spread throughout her body. She felt, rather than heard, Willow's sharp intake of breath, and she trailed her lips over quivering skin up to meet the redhead's mouth with her own.

Their lips touched in a bare whisper, and Tara inhaled slowly, sharing the searing air with Willow, sipping at the other witch's breath. When this activity no longer sustained her, she moved forward once more, and thrilled at the sensation that fuller contact produced.

Wow…

The electricity flowing between them just from the impress of their lips threatened to overload every nerve ending in Tara's body, but she braved the danger to slide her mouth over Willow's and drew her closer with a gentle, but insistent hand curled on her hip.

The redhead followed her silent cues, but was unable to remain passive any longer. Catching her hand in gold-spun hair, Willow pressed further into the blonde witch, deepening the embrace, and surprising them both with her urgency.

And suddenly, it was all too much for Tara. Even though they had shared many kisses since their first a month previous, it seemed to Tara, that these, kisses that were more than a quick peck or a gentle meeting of lips; these kisses seemed to build upon each other in terms of an unrequited need, a need that could not be neglected much longer. And although that reality excited her beyond what she'd believed possible, it also frightened her in way that only the unknown could.

Tara reluctantly pulled back so that she could tamp down her brief surge of fear, and reign in her body's reactions. Willow issued a disgruntled groan in response, her eyes fluttering open, and employed her 'pouty look', sticking her bottom lip out as far as it would go.

Though she was still a little rattled, the blonde was unable to keep from smiling, "Class, Willow. Remember class? Bucky Balls and bozons and some of that Chemistry-type stuff?"

Willow retracted her lip, and gave her an impish grin, "You started it."

The blonde gave a long-suffering sigh, "I know, but you have to do what I say, not what I do. I'm a lousy role-model."

"Oh I don't know…" Willow replied with an evil grin, "I think I like what you do…" She darted forward to place a quick kiss on the other witch's lips, and then held up her hands in mollification, "I know, I know -- 'class', boring ol' lectures with professors who are long overdue for their public exhibitions at the Sunnydale Museum of Stuffy Old Stuff."

She picked up her clothes off the bed, along with her bathroom kit off the table, and headed out the door for the washroom, muttering along the way, "Why can't I skip class…? I must be missing the gene that allows for guilt free skipping… I bet I could fix that with a retro-virus…"

Tara smiled softly at Willow's retreating form, and then a slight frown appeared on her face as she contemplated her fleeting panic from the minute before.

It wasn't the first time that she'd felt anxious around Willow and that worried her. Why can't I let myself be happy? Sometimes it seemed as though her feelings were too much; like she was on the verge of something so amazing, so profound, but if she ever discovered what it was she'd burst into flames from the sheer joy and beauty of it. And so she held back, and yet she was also afraid that Willow sensed her reluctance. They'd been together for a month, but they hadn't progressed much beyond the smooching stage. Although admittedly, the smooching stage was immensely enjoyable, and Willow had yet to really complain, and had never pushed. There seemed to be some kind of tacit agreement between them to take things slow.

It was all so new and confusing and wonderful at the same time, and Tara felt horribly guilty. There's so much she doesn't know about me…

"Hey, y'know the janitors should come by more often, cuz there is one heck of a biology experiment going on in the sink of… Tara? Are-- are you okay?" Willow closed the door she'd just burst through, and immediately moved to her girlfriend's side.

The blonde witch was embarrassed to be caught in her negative thoughts, she never wanted to make Willow worry. "I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"Hey…" The redhead soothed. "Don't you know? Frown-y thoughts are my department. I'm the girl who always runs around thinking until smoke starts coming out of my ears. I have the Sunnydale fire department on speed dial." Willow looked up at her, trying to elicit a smile.

Tara complied, genuinely warmed by the redhead's efforts to distract her.

Willow reached up, tenderly drew two fingers down the side of the other witch's face and under her jaw, and then cupped her hand around the pliant skin. She remained silent for another moment, and Tara drank in the sensation of her warm touch, reveling in the heat from her magnetic gaze.

"Well… I'm gonna have to motor, but I'll be back this afternoon…" Willow spoke reluctantly, and then added in latent concern, "Think happy thoughts… okay?"

The blonde smiled softly, nodding her acquiescence, and returned the other girl's quick embrace.

"Bye."

"Bye." She whispered unheard as the door closed.

The scent of fresh-cut grass, the endless sea of emerald green littered with lazing bodies, the welcome heat from the sunshine that was mutating her DNA with every passing minute, all of these things and much more, combined to comprise the situation on the quad in front of Tara's residence.

As for the blonde Wiccan herself, she had staked a claim on an oak tree, away from the busy pedestrian pathways where couples walked and laughed a little too loud, and wa-ay serious students stalked with their heads down buried in a book, cramming on the journey to their next class; and most especially, away from the revelers who'd obviously gotten an early start on the End Term celebrations. Although, even where she sat, in relative seclusion, she noticed there was a half crushed beer can and its five lifemates tossed on a nearby patch of grass.

Tara was sitting with her back up against an ancient oak tree, a textbook as thick as her leg open in her lap, and a black and white ball of fur rolling around on the grass in front of her. She had one eye scanning her copy of Plutarch's 'Lives', while the other observed not entirely impassively, the antics of Miss Kitty Fantastico.

She grinned as the rambunctious kitten made to swat at a passing butterfly, but over-rotated and landed in an upside-down pile of twisted limbs, and a confused 'mrreow'. She and Willow had only taken Miss Kitty outside once before, after making certain that all her shots were in place, and the young cat had been surprisingly reserved, almost timid, as she took her first view of the outside world. When they'd let her loose, she'd taken a few steps out on the grass, sneezed, and promptly leapt into Willow's arms.

Things seemed to be going better this time.

Tara had carried the kitten outside, safely ensconced in her book bag to avoid the 'pet patrol', as she now called the dorm supervisors, from spotting her contraband cargo. And this time, when she'd placed the kitten on the ground inside her lap, Miss Kitty had seemed much more amiable to the option of exploration, although she remained close to the witch's side even without Tara keeping watch.

However, knowing how careless young animals could be, Tara continued to keep a close eye on the tiny creature just in case, and as such, her studying was not progressing very far. She'd only made it a couple pages into re-reading the 'Life of Pericles', and they'd already been out on the grass for almost an hour. But to be fair, she couldn't blame her lack of concentration entirely on the adorable Miss Kitty. Not when you've got a thousand other things occupying your attention, some of them adorable and some not.

Foremost in her mind was of course, Willow.

She exhaled in a sigh. The redheaded witch was never far from her conscious mind, not since the first time she'd caught sight of her on the way to Wicca group. She remembered that day distinctly. She'd been walking with her head down, like always, when for some reason, a sweet scent on the breeze, or perhaps a kind spirit whispering in her ear, she'd chosen to look up. And in the time in between when she had shifted her gaze and brought it into focus again, the world had drained of all its colour, leaving only a monochrome grey, save for one thing; and as her breath had slowed, becoming the only sound in a hall crowded with people, her sky-blue eyes had settled on that last shining point of colour, a flash of red that seemed imbued with the essence of flame.

A second later, the world had sped up and her breathing had resumed normal as the owner of the titian hair had turned and walked toward her, brushing past her without a thought. But in that second, Tara had sensed a whole other universe stretching out before her, one where her happiness was no longer a myth, where her heart beat out of love not fear.

Mom always did have a touch of the Sight, maybe she passed some of it on to me.

Even so, the blonde witch had almost dismissed her perception. She'd been closed off, severed from most normal human interactions for so long, she was willing to attribute almost anything to her loneliness. Yet, when she'd met with the decidedly un-witchy Wicca group later that day, and the sight of fiery red hair had greeted her as she entered the room, she'd been unable to dismiss the advent of fate's invisible hand.

The arrival of the unexpected, of Willow, had cheered her heart, but it had also filled her with a familiar sense of foreboding, a quiet dread that crept and gnawed at the edges of her mind. Don't get too close. It was the same fear that she had lived with for so long, a dark companion that fed off her soul. Yet at the same time, she'd been nourished by it; her fear had kept her whole and alive this long, her fear had protected others as well.

Don't get too close. That was the final lesson she'd learned from her mother, because of her mother, and it was the maxim she'd lived by ever since, and now, she was breaking it; there had to be consequences.

Maybe I'm being too paranoid. I've been living like this for almost more years than I can remember, and nothing bad has happened. She reasoned defiantly.

A heartbeat later, her whole frame jerked as wiry whiskers brushed against her bare skin; Miss Kitty had crawled into her lap. The black-eyed creature gazed up at her unrepentantly, as if to say, C'mon, it's time to go. Taking stock, Tara concurred with the kitten's unvocalized suggestion. It was time to go, she could see the stormclouds gathering on the horizon.

Marking her place, she shut her book, and gathered up her loose belongings into her knapsack, including the kitten pawing at her shirt. She stood up too quickly, stumbled, and placed a hand against the oak's unmoving bark. The sun dimmed behind her as the thunderheads rose to overtake it. She hooked her bag over her shoulder and set off for her dorm, cutting across Sunnydale U's over-manicured lawns.

The wind was picking up now, unbound strands of hair flailed Tara's skin. The grass turned cold against her feet, its icy filaments stabbing at the spaces between her sandal straps. I hate storms.

The bruised clouds were almost overhead, and most of the other students on the quad were scattering for the nearest shelters; all except one, who stood in shorts and Birkenstocks, looking up to the heavens, his arms spread wide, a beer clutched in his left hand. He was grinning maniacally, unable to feel the cold as he awaited the coming rain that would wash him clean.

Tara hurried towards the doors of Rideau Hall, they were almost within her reach. She felt Miss Kitty squirming frantically within her knapsack, and paused before her dorm's steps. A knot was forming in her stomach.

At the edges of her vision a shadow flitted, and she jerked her head to catch sight of it. What she found there was not a shadow, but the bright glint of brilliant gold hair, though how it could reflect through the gloom was unknown to her. She gazed intently at the owner of the shining blond hair, whose back was to her. He turned so that he was almost in profile, she thought he was a young man; a memory welled to the surface of her mind, I know you, but remained elusive. In her next breath, the sky opened up and fat drops of icy rain beat down, seeping the last vestiges of warmth from the Spring day.

Tara sprinted up the front steps to huddle under the overhang of Rideau Hall. She turned to try and spy the gold-blond youth once more; but there was no one left in the field save a few wet stragglers and that one student, his hands still outstretched, ecstatic face turned up to the sky, now spinning wild circles in the sheeting rain.

"Are you sure this is okay?"

"Yes, a thousand times yes. I'm totally, utterly, completely sure I'm sure. Okay?"

"Okay. But only if you're sure."

Willow pantomimed a Homer Simpson-esque strangling motion, but instead of wrapping her hands around Tara's neck, at the last second she opted to re-adjust the other girl's lei once more.

True to her word, Willow had arrived in the late afternoon, knocking hesitantly on the blonde's door, and then enveloping her in an enthusiastic hug when she opened the door; a hug that had stripped away all of Tara's lingering negativity about that afternoon. How could anything be wrong in the world when she was with Willow?

They'd spent the next hour preparing for The Luau as it was being hyped, taking turns fiddling with each others' hair and clothing. They'd finally settled on braiding Tara's hair, anointing the end of each with a brightly coloured bead, and interspersing them throughout her hair because braiding it all would've taken hours. Willow's hair, in contrast, wasn't much different from her norm. It was swept away from her face, threatening to fly away in a fiery halo at any moment, but Tara had been inspired by the Polynesian theme, and woven her a crown of blossoms from the violets on her windowsill.

As for their apparel, the two witches were decked out in flowing, multi-hued skirts; Tara's shimmering from sea green to deep cerulean blue, while Willow's shaded from red to orange and back again. They topped these with matching white tank tops and a hot pink lei for Willow, bright yellow for Tara, just to throw off their colour-coordination a little.

Now, here they were, on their way to the party that was taking place in Rugg's Field, set to meet the rest of the Scoobies once they arrived. Tara was feeling a little awkward in the extremely bright clothing, but Willow had continuously reassured that she looked okay.

As they approached the gate, Tara unconsciously reached out for Willow's hand, she found it warm and welcoming, but self-consciously discrete at the same time.

The blonde witch's stomach was flip-flopping in nervousness; she'd never really been out in a social setting with Willow's friends before. So far, though she'd met them all, her interactions with the Scoobs had been almost strictly business, your standard patrolling, body switchings and basic bad guy stuff. Everyone had been unflaggingly civil, especially Buffy who was almost stiffly polite.

Willow had told her about the blonde Slayer's reaction to learning about their relationship, but they seemed to have smoothed over the awkward phase. Even so, Buffy had yet to say more than two words to Tara since Willow's revelation. Although, to give her credit, she has been busy, y'know, saving the world and all. Annihilating Franken-demons and chatting up the First Slayer. Strangely enough, ever since their being holed up in Mr. Giles' bathroom during the Big-Stupid-Fight-That-Was-All-Spike's-Fault, as it had subsequently been labeled, Tara found that it was Anya that she had connected with the most. Who would've thought that you would willingly chat up a demon, granted, an ex-demon, but all the same… pretty risky behavior considering...

She was startled out of her thoughts when she felt Willow give her hand a gentle squeeze and then fall away as they entered The Luau through a Tiki Torch gateway at the edge of the field. The party was in full swing, with drunken co-eds laughing and dancing in a huge milling melee, the DJ'd music blared and the dying sun beat down. Tara wondered how she and Willow were ever going to find her friends, but no sooner had they stepped through the archway when they were spotted by a grinning Xander, who had a slightly bored looking Anya in tow.

Xander was of course, sporting full Hawaiian regalia, but distinguishing the clothes from his norm was a difficult task; one that Tara felt she wasn't up to as his swirling orange and yellow shirt attempted to draw her into a hypnotic headlock. Anya however, did surprise her, though the ex-vengeance demon was wearing fairly standard grey capri pants and sandals, she did have a decidedly bright coloured shirt hanging loosely over her sleeveless top, and it did contain a mildly raucous floral pattern reminiscent of a traditional Hawaiian shirt. Perhaps she'd raided Xander's closet for the occasion.

"Hello Ladies." Xander enveloped Willow in a hug that was rapidly executed so Anya didn't have time to glare daggers. He chose a somewhat conspicuous handshake to welcome Tara, but she clasped the offered hand warmly. "It's a good thing that storm died down this afternoon, otherwise I'd be enjoying traditional Hawaiian fair from the traditional vantage point under my bed."

"It's true. Although his cowering was rather… manly." Anya said lasciviously, and then wrinkled her nose mildly in disgust, "You should clean more often under there. I don't enjoy sex with dust bunnies." She continued with a mildly disinterested air. "This is a disappointing luau. I remember the last time I visited a Polynesian isle… I exacted a particularly gruesome form of vengeance from an unfaithful Chieftain's son at his coming-of-age luau. Back then they offered up human sacrifices… I never knew that human flesh could sizzle in such a satisfying way."

Everyone stood stunned for a moment, and then Tara caught Willow rolling her eyes and stuck the tip of her tongue out at her; they both stifled their giggles. "So, Anya…" The redhead began, "… that's a very -- festive shirt you're wearing."

"Yes. I know." She responded tersely, "I find the pattern nauseating."

Xander cut in nervously, "You two look very nice. Nice, in a very non-nauseating way."

"I wouldn't say that." The ex-demon muttered, fully aware that her boyfriend was trying to deflect her.

He nervously cleared his throat, and gave a saccharine smile. "He-- he-- no, seriously, I totally dig the swirly skirts, and kudos to you Willow…" He flashed a thumbs up. "…excellent flower-crown-thingy."

"Why thank you, Xander." The redhead grinned broadly. "But it's really Tara you should heaping the kudos on; she made the flower-crown-thingy."

"Well then, I stand corrected." The dark-haired boy made a pointed shift in his attention to the blonde witch. "Tara, I now offer to you the glorious kudos, use them for good, not evil." He admonished, while the addressed witch smiled, a bit bewildered by his antics. "And Willow…" He pivoted back to the hacker, "… no kudos for you." He waggled a stern finger in his subject's direction.

Tara almost laughed at the forlorn look that swept over Willow's face, the redheaded Wiccan had employed it too many times for her not to recognize it as a blatant ploy; even so, she never failed to fall victim to its charm, and Xander proved to be no different.

"Alright… maybe a coupla kudos… uh, nice lei?" He offered and then said, "What's a guy gotta do to get lei'd around here anyway?" His wiggling eyebrows were accompanied by an ear-to-ear grin. Anya punched him, and knowing it was futile, he didn't even attempt to look abashed.

There was a brief awkward pause, and everyone looked around as they searched for something to say. Tara decided that now would be an alright time to chime in, "So, uh, when is B--Buffy going to get here?"

"Not for a bit." Xander replied.

"Really?" Willow said, obviously trying to conceal some of her disappointment.

"Yah, sorry Wills, she said she and Riley were running late." He wrapped his last two words in finger quotations, and they all shared a look of understanding, all except Anya.

"They're probably having orgasms right now." She nodded sagely, mostly to herself. She then reached out to pinch her boyfriend through his shirt, "Which is what we could be doing, except we're at this-- party." The ex-demon suddenly seemed to notice her audience once more, and she gestured widely with her arms, "Oh, and you too, Willow and your witchy friend."

Tara felt a blush raging across her cheeks, and she avoided meeting Willow's gaze. She couldn't however, ignore the look that Xander was giving both her and the redhead, a look that contained something of the knuckle-dragging element combined with raging hormones and curiosity. Her blush deepened, and then she inhaled slowly and met his eyes, challenging him. When she did, Xander immediately blinked in confusion, and shook his head lightly.

"So-- uh, how about this luau? Did I mention how très originale I thought the theme was anyway?"

"Xander, that's French." Anya remarked in frank surprise.

"Yes. I've decided to learn the ways of the pomme de terre and become master of that je ne cais quoi." He polished his nails against his shirt with a preening grin.

Willow smiled slyly and added, "All Hail Xander: Master of the Potato."

"And don't you forget it. Speaking of potatoes… and awkward segues… how about some chips? Or maybe something a little stronger-- like a Hickory Stick? There's also a rumour that there's beer to be had somewhere around here." He looked around the group.

"I'm okay." Tara declined softly.

"Whatever." Anya sighed.

Willow raised her hand, "I'm up for a little salty goodness. Want me to come with?"

"Bien sur." Xander responded with a jaunty grin, although his linguistic feat was marred by his pronunciation of "Bean sure".

Tara felt a light touch on her forearm, as Willow caught her eyes, "I'll be right back, okay?" The blonde nodded once in acknowledgement, and they shared a smile before the redhead made to follow Xander, "Lead on, Jacques or should I call you Inspector Clouseau?"

"Hey! I resemble that remark." Tara caught his last indignant statement as the pair moved out of earshot.

As Willow wended her way through the throng of people, the blonde Wiccan let her eyes follow. When she could no longer track the other girl through the crowd, she turned to face Anya, and discovered the ex-vengeance demon was doing the same, her eyes almost soft and vulnerable instead of their usual mocking or bored. A kindred warmth touched Tara's heart, and she spoke without thinking, her voice filled with awe, "You really love him, don't you?"

Anya startled, ripped from the mental world she'd been residing in that had obviously had a population of two. She looked contemplatively at her addresser, "Yes. I do." The former demon then turned Tara's question back upon her, "And you -- love her?"

The way she said it threatened to put the Wiccan on the defensive; she replied assertively, and to her relief, without stuttering, "Yes. I love Willow, more than I ever knew was possible."

"I understand." The brown-haired girl said in placation, "Not all of the wishes I granted were for women scorned by men." She emphasized her last two words.

Tara blinked in surprise at that piece of knowledge. A sarcastic inner voice piped up, And just why should you be surprised? It's not like you're the first chick in the history of humankind to have these feelings for another girl.

"I'm sorry. It's just that Willow's already had a hard enough time with this." She said, remembering the redhead's brief rift with her friends, knowing how much her alienation from them, from Buffy, had hurt her.

"It's okay. I'm not exactly Ms. Popular with the Scooby Gang either."

A sudden commotion distracted Tara, as excited yells arose from the cluster of people beside her. The blonde felt the heat and heard the crackle of newborn flames, she turned to the source.

"Well that's just what this party needs, a bunch of inebriated college students and a raging bonfire." Anya remarked in annoyance.

Tara continued to observe the fire for a moment, until she was satisfied that she wasn't in imminent danger, and then faced her companion once more. Standing there, feeling slightly out of place, she searched for something else to say to the bored looking girl.

"So… Anya-- how did you become a demon anyway?" She spoke hesitantly for fear of offending the girl, but Anya answered in typically blunt fashion.

"I was an amateur witch, performing fairly standard curses - boils on penises that sort of thing, and one day, I was offered the job by a demon named D'Hoffryn."

"D'Hoffryn? From the order of Powers?"

"The one and only. So, I became a vengeance demon." She shrugged her shoulders. "I spent 1120 years eviscerating unfaithful lovers, and boiling out their eyeballs with my thoughts."

"Er, that must've been difficult for you… always hurting people."

"Well, it could've been much worse I suppose. I could've attracted the notice of some of the far less savoury demonic elements, like the First Hierarchy of Hell."

"No…" Tara said, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. "… only the truly unfortunate gain their attention."

When she said this, Anya peered at her closely, as if seeing something for the first time; but before she could ask any of the questions that were bubbling to the surface, Xander reappeared. He was followed soon after by Willow who stopped close enough beside the other witch that she could feel the heat radiating off her lithe body.

The dark-haired boy brandished an armload of assorted chips and brand X munchies. "Hail the Conquering Heroes and all that… we have returned triumphant!" He passed an open bag of Salt N Vinegar to his girlfriend. "You know, I, uh, opened that myself." He said proudly, "And unlike the last time, I managed to salvage at least 3/4's of the bag, with a minimum number of tramplings."

Anya glanced down at the chip she was eating, placed it back inside the bag, and returned the contents to him. "What else did you bring?" She scrutinized the items he held.

"Aha!" He took the contents of his arms and handed them to Anya, "Hold these for a sec, will ya, hon?"

Anya gave him her trademark look of death, that at one time would have been far less metaphorical and much more literal, but in any case, Xander was oblivious as he fished through the pockets of his cargo pants. "Say hello to the ultimate product of man's ingenuity and nature's frothy goodness… beer!" He pulled two bottles from his pockets with a flourish, and looked around expectantly.

"Pass." His girlfriend said emphatically, "I've observed centuries of drunken behavior, and I have yet to discover the allure that killing hundreds of brain cells at a time holds."

Xander switched his focus to Tara and quirked an eyebrow in question.

"That's okay." The blonde declined, recalling her first and last attempt at college drinking in her freshman year, the smell of yeast still had the power to turn her stomach. She didn't like not being in control anyway, being oblivious to the world around her could be… dangerous.

"Wills?"

"Nuh-uh. Remember the last time I boarded the beer train? Besides riding the porcelain bus home, I think a certain someone turned into a 'demon magnet', Giles went blind, and Spike proposed to Buffy."

"Oh yah… I still wake up screaming from that last one."

"You're not the only one." Two new voices chimed in unison.

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed, immediately giving her best friend a welcome hug, and a warm 'Hello' to Riley, who stood beside her.

The Slayer smiled at Willow and turned to re-address the rest of the group, "And besides, I'm pretty much avoiding beer these days; trying to get away from the extreme Neolithic-look, bad for the hair, bad for the teeth, but surprisingly good for the social life."

"Glad you could make it, Buff." Xander grinned, giving the petite blonde a brief hug. "Riley." He nodded his acknowledgement of the ex-commando. "Looks like the civilian life is treating you pretty good."

He looked mildly embarrassed, "Yah, that and the hefty amount of 'hush money' they threw at me on my way out the door."

Xander smirked, "Hey, so I guess you could say you're Living the Life of…"

"Don't say it." Buffy interrupted with a mock growl.

The dark-haired boy raised his hands in supplication, "C'mon Buff, you have to admit, he walked into that one. His mother pretty much set him up from day one, what with the typing of the birth certificate and all."

Riley made a pointed change in conversation, and was also the first to greet the two remaining girls, "So… Anya, Tara, how's the party shaping up?"

"Standard college fair; overconsumption of alcoholic beverages leading to lowered inhibitions, leading to sex, which will eventually lead to vengeance." Anya observed in a business-like tone, "I used to get quite busy after parties like these."

"O-kay… Tara, what do you think of the party?"

She pondered it for a moment, and spoke, "It's interesting, I've never been to a party like this before." She smiled.

"The music sounds halfway decent." Buffy remarked to no one in particular, tucking herself into Riley's side.

"Yah, we were considering joining the gyrating masses." Xander began a one-man Conga-line, beers still in hand, and looked expectantly at his girlfriend.

Anya rolled her eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh, "Alright, but only if there's groping involved." The couple headed towards the concentration of dancers near the DJ.

"You up for some dancing?" Buffy craned her neck at the large T.A.

"I think I could manage that." He replied with an easy smile.

"Great." Buffy beamed, tugging at his hand. The blonde paused, and seemed to consider something. She glanced over her shoulder, and addressed Tara specifically, though she was including Willow in her question as well, "You coming?"

Recognizing an olive branch when she saw one, Tara was quick to respond, "Sure. Willow?" She looked to the redhead.

"I'm there." The other witch replied, obviously happy that her girlfriend and best friend were making an effort to get along.

"Great." The Slayer chirped, and Tara felt that she actually meant it.

The Scoobies moved toward the dancing, and fell into the hypnotic rhythms easily. Tara couldn't help but smile, as she and Willow danced; everything seemed to be going so well.

It began as an itch, something she was aware of, unable to ignore, but not yet unbearable. Her movements slowed, and she fell out of step with the music she'd been dancing to for the past half hour. A tingle slid up her spine, raising the tiny hairs at the base of her skull, she felt innumerable eyes upon her, no, just one set of eyes. Through the laughing party-goers, the dancing, the almost palpable alcoholic haze, she searched… for someone. She was only vaguely aware of Willow calling her name in question as she began to spin, scanning the crowd with increasing desperation. Where is he? She knew somehow that it was a he; deep inside she feared that she knew more than that. Unconscious alarm bells rang incessantly in her mind. Where is he?! She turned in smaller and smaller circles, her eyes darting wildly, something snagged at her wrist and she stopped. Her skin was cold and clammy as her whirling gaze came to rest on shining blond hair. The heart that had been thundering in her chest came to an abrupt halt, frozen in sudden terror. It was the same youth she'd spied during that afternoon's freak storm, his back was once again turned to her. I know you! Her mind played hide and seek with her, there was something she wasn't seeing, it was something so simple, something… I should know.

Tara's mouth and nostrils filled with the sickly-sweet, but ghostly sensation of… blood?

The flaxen-haired apparition was slipping through the crowd, away from Tara, she still couldn't see his face. Unaware of the questioning hand that touched hers, she gave chase. The normally clumsy witch glided past the dancers and the drunken students who reached out to grasp at her brightly coloured clothes. She flowed through the narrow openings between bodies, but never gained any ground on the retreating youth, until finally, the boy paused at the threshold of a Tiki Torch archway.

Though she'd been eagerly, almost desperately pursuing him, now Tara found herself hesitant. Her steps slowed, and she had to force herself to shuffle closer to the blond stranger. He's waiting for me, why? Her hand lifted up of its own volition, floating surreally towards the youth's back that was painted with flickering shadows from the dimmed torch flames. Tongue glued to the roof of her mouth, she vainly attempted to moisten her suddenly dry throat in an effort to speak; she succeeded just as her hand made the barest contact, but her words still rasped like dead branches on a window pane, "Who are you?"

The boy's head whipped around sharply as an asp's would to strike. Tara gained the faintest impression of intense blue eyes, and a flash of white teeth in the uncertain light before a hand grasped her shoulder from behind.

"Tara!"

She glanced backwards to see a worried-looking Willow and Anya, the redhead was connected to her by touch. She quickly returned her attention to the archway only to find it empty, the torch flames blazing brightly. Her momentary distraction had cost her.

"What are you doing?" Willow asked as she moved in front of the other witch, she was still slightly out of breath from the trip through the crowd. Her hand traveled down the blonde girl's shoulder, over her forearm, to intertwine their fingers.

"I d--don't know. I thought-- I, uh, saw s-- someone." She finished, staring at Willow in complete confusion, already beginning to doubt what she had seen. Her eyes started to tear, and her hand tightened reflexively on the other girl's.

"Who?"

"I don't kn--know. I c--couldn't s--suh--see…" She trailed off, her stutter getting progressively worse as she became more upset.

Willow reached out with her free hand and slid her thumb over the blonde's sculpted cheekbones, smoothing out the lines on her forehead, "Shhh… it's okay. There's nobody here now." She pulled Tara close, and gave her a long hug.

The taller Wiccan rested her head on the redhead's shoulder, gathering the shreds of her composure. She kept her eyes open, and from her vantage point she noticed Anya staring fixedly at the Tiki Torch archway, or more specifically, the ex-demon was scrutinizing the exact spot where the blond youth had been. Then, the brunette's attention shifted, and she pinned Tara with a dark searching gaze, attempting to glean something from the witch's hooded blue eyes.

Tara quelled a guilty shudder and pushed away gently from Willow's embrace. Looking down at her feet she mumbled, "I t--think I uh, need to go. It's late, and I have to study all day tomorrow and Sunday, my first exam is on Monday." Could you think of a couple more lame excuses? She chastised herself internally, but the hacker seemed willing to accept her words.

"Sure." Willow agreed readily, her face still containing traces of concern, "I'll come with you, okay?"

"Okay." Tara breathed unsteadily, she could never say no to Willow.

The redheaded witch ran her hands down Tara's arms, the skin raised in goosebumps, "I'll be right back, just let me say goodbye to the group… alright? You stay here with Anya."

The blonde nodded silently, lifting her head briefly to give Willow the reassuring smile that she knew the other witch would want to see.

"I'll be right back." Willow repeated, more to her herself this time. She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Tara alone with Anya.

The former demon wasted no time mincing words, "You were chasing someone. I could almost see him, but his form was being obscured. Who was he?" Her tone was almost accusatory.

Tara answered honestly, "I don't know. I feel like I should, but I don't." Not yet. She managed to keep her voice from breaking, but her words still wavered.

Anya's piercing gaze softened slightly, "You're in trouble."

"Maybe." Tara admitted sadly. "I'd hoped I'd escaped it… it's been so long." She added mentally, but you can't escape yourself…

A dangerous light flickered in the ex-demon's eyes, "Is Xander in danger? Because if he's in danger… " She trailed off in warning.

The blonde held up her hands defensively, "I don't know. I d--don't think so. I truly hope not. I would never knowingly endanger any of you, especially not Willow, I'd leave first." But that's not true, is it? A snide voice needled her, you could be putting them all at risk, just by being here. Tara wanted to protest, but couldn't deny what she knew to be true. "I just, I just n--need a little more time, to figure out what's going on."

"Fine. As long as Xander's not in any danger." Anya agreed, self-satisfied. The blonde nodded miserably, and upon seeing this, Anya's expression transformed into one that was almost compassionate, "I sure everything will be… okay." She spoke the platitude haltingly, and raised an uncertain arm to pat Tara awkwardly on the back.

"Ready to leave?"

Tara whirled to face Willow, tamping down on the guilty flush that threatened her fair complexion. "Y--yah. Um, you said goodbye to the gang?"

Willow expression indicated that she wanted to ask something more, but she answered succinctly, "Uh-huh. Buffy and Xander say 'bye'. Oh, and Riley too. And they all wished us luck on our exams, and said they'd see us next Friday."

"What's next Friday?"

"The post-exam blowout at The Bronze… you said you wanted to go."

"Oh yes, yes of course I'll go." She'd completely forgotten about it.

Anya interjected with a roll of her eyes, "Well, this banal exchange has been fascinating, but I'm going to go find Xander now." She made to head back into the crowd, but before she was enveloped by the churning mass of bodies, Tara laid a gentle hand on her arm and mouthed, "Thank you." The ex-demon seemed surprised, but then gave her an uncharacteristically kind smile and continued on her way.

Tara returned her attention to Willow, who by all appearances, was waiting patiently. Yet, the blonde witch could tell by how the redhead's face was twitching, that there were at least a dozen questions warring with each other for supremacy in the smaller Wiccan's mind; and despite her situation, Tara couldn't help but think, She's so cute when her brain's working overtime.

The taller witch leaned down and whispered in the redhead's ear, "Let's go."

Willow shivered lightly and grasped the outstretched hand that was offered to her, bringing a small, happy smile to Tara's face, as the two girls headed out.

"Do you want to talk about it? Whatever 'it' is?"

The two witches had returned to Tara's dorm room, whereupon a pregnant silence had settled over them, filled with things unsaid, until finally Willow had broken down the audio barrier.

And now, Tara was squirming guiltily at the barely concealed hurt in the redhead's wide green eyes as she took too long to answer the other girl's question, which was an answer in and of itself. I don't deserve her. She's been so patient. "I'm sorry, Willow. You deserve an explanation, but I don't know which one to give you." She glanced up at the hacker from her seat on the bed.

"I've always found the truth to be rather fun and educational." She said with a pointed look.

"I'm not sure I know what 'the truth' is."

"W--well, how about something simple, like why you were trying to break the land-speed record at the party, chasing… whatever?" Willow gestured wildly with her hands and her forehead scrunched up in frustration.

"I don't know." Tara replied, her voice quavering. But I should. She looked down at her hands that were playing with the seam in her skirt.

Willow sighed, long and slow, and then sat at Tara's side. Grasping the fiddling hands, stopping their movement, she waited until the blonde raised her head before speaking. "I'm sorry…" She began.

Tara opened her mouth to protest, thinking that the redhead owed her no apologies, but Willow covered her lips with two gentle, yet firm fingers. "No, listen. I'm sorry. I don't want to push you, but I'm worried about you. And it just seems like every time someone has a secret around here, it turns out to be the end of the world or something. And when I say 'end of the world', I mean End of the World. "

Willow's eyes grew almost comically wide as she emphasized the last of her statement, but Tara refused to smile, even a little, she felt too horrible. I hate keeping secrets. "Willow… there's so much you don't know about me, and not just about tonight…"

"I know. But there's only one thing I really need to know right now."

"What?" Tara said, almost afraid to ask.

Willow chewed the inside of her lip, something she only did when she was extremely nervous. "Are we…"

"What?" Tara prodded in a tender hush. Willow's thumbs were tracing increasingly rapid whorls over the back of her hands.

"Are we, uh, okay?" The last word came out almost in a squeak.

Tara felt a quiet, guilty relief that Willow hadn't asked anything further about her odd behavior, "Of course we're okay. Unless y--you're not okay." Her voice raised hesitantly in question.

"No, no, I'm wa--ay okay, better than okay." Willow's eyebrows crinkled together, "Has this turned into one of those 'I'm okay, you're okay' kinda conversations?"

This time, Tara did laugh, even if it was only softly. Her brow drew together in mock concern as she answered seriously, "Yes… I'm afraid it has."

"Oh. Well, next thing you know, I'm going to break into a 'you like me, you really like me' rant, à la Sally Field." The redhead grinned, her tongue just poking out of the corner of her mouth.

Feeling a little more playful and sure of herself, Tara grasped the hacker around her waist and pulled her into her lap, "But it's so true, I do like you, really like you."

Willow blushed faintly, and then clasped her hands to her bosom and gushed, "I'd like to thank the Academy, and all my friends, you know who you are, and of course… most of all… my cat, who provided my initial dramatic inspiration."

They both looked over at the bundle of fur who was sleeping obliviously in her basket in the corner. Tara remarked dryly, "Don't shower her with too much praise, we don't want it to go to her head." Miss Kitty twitched in her sleep, as though she knew she was being talked about.

Willow ooh'd a little, "She's so cute when she's all tuckered out."

"Yah, I think she used up a lot of energy on my curtains earlier." Tara inclined her head towards said fabric, having noted previously its rather tortured condition.

"Oh my." Willow clucked her tongue at the hanging tatters.

"Don't worry, I make certain she has a balanced training circuit; wallpaper, stuffed animals… I think tomorrow, the bedspread is up for a little action." The blonde mentioned idly.

Willow's mood shifted abruptly, as she leaned in closer to Tara's neck, her breath tickling the sensitive skin and bringing the tiny hairs there prickling to attention. She whispered in a low murmur that set the blonde's skin humming, "Does the bedspread have to wait until tomorrow?" She placed a lingering kiss at the base of Tara's jaw, leaving an imprint of fire with a quick flick of her tongue; and then she pulled back, waiting for the other Wiccan's response.

It took Tara's beleaguered brain a moment to process Willow's words, as the thrum of hot blood in her veins had grown steadily louder. When she finally did comprehend, her first response was purely physical, a tingling flush diffused through her body, the majority of it heading for points south. However, a second later, reason chimed in the way it always did, forcing her to mute her body's reaction somewhat.

"Willow--" She began with obvious regret, but was interrupted by her subject, who held up a hand to her lips to forestall her speech.

"Shhh… it's okay, I know we're taking it slow, and I agree that we shouldn't rush into anything. It's just…" The redhaired witch paused, gathering her thoughts, her forehead screwed up in frustration.

Tara lifted one soothing hand to stroke away the hard lines on the other girl's face, and Willow released a long sigh. She waited for the hacker to finish her sentence.

"It's just that, I, uh, there's so much, so many-- feelings, swirling around inside me. And some of them I've felt before, but others are so-- new and strong." She looked into the blonde's eyes her expression touched with awe. "And sometimes, I feel like, if I don't do something, to let them out, to show you what I'm feeling, I'll just-- explode. Like, what I'm feeling needs to be shared." Her features morphed into bewilderment, "Does that make any sense at all?"

Tara was quick to reassure her, "Oh yes, believe me, I've been feeling the same-- f--feelings, and more than anything, I want to share…"

"But…"

She wracked her brain, thinking of the best way to say what she wanted to say, knowing she had to speak carefully, so as not to hurt Willow's feelings. "But… when we do… you know," She gestured vaguely with her hands.

"I know." Willow said with a throaty whisper and an amused grin at the other girl's light blush.

"I-- I want it to be p--perfect, you know?" She looked up uncertainly.

The redhead stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable, and then suddenly enveloped Tara in a firm hug.

The blonde held on as tightly as she was being held, one hand tracing varied patterns over the other Wiccan's back. They stayed that way for a minute, until Willow whispered into soft, golden hair, her voice strained with emotion, "Of course it'll be perfect… I'll be with you." Her trailing breath tickled the shell of Tara's ear before she pulled back to gaze at her. "But I can wait." She grinned and moved forward once more.

All of Tara's worries from throughout the day, melted as Willow's lips descended to rest upon hers. They touched together briefly, and then broke apart as Tara's mouth curled into a wide, happy smile. "Thankyou." She peered reverently into dark green eyes that were slightly indistinct at such a close distance.

"No biggie." Willow leaned her forehead against the blonde witch's for a moment, and they both shut their eyes.

Tara then asked quietly, "But, we can still d--do other stuff, right?"

Willow laughed softly, and lifted the other girl's chin level with her own, "You betcha-- I still haven't had my smoochie quotient filled for the day, and I expect you to help me with that." She said with all the seriousness she could muster.

"Yes m'am." Tara agreed readily, bringing her lips to meet the redhead's in a press of liquid flame. The two witches sighed in mutual contentment at the contact and fell back together into the soft bed.

Where am I? Have I always been here?

A suffocating darkness enfolded her, squeezing the air from her lungs while it breathed around her. She knew this place, she'd been here before, but not since she and Willow had performed a warding spell after sharing this nightmare.

She remained statue-still; knowing that unbreakable restraints would be pinning her down, instead she fought the sick taste of bile that was forcing its way up her throat. The only thing that kept her giving in to the panic, was the sense that Willow had not joined her in the nightmare this time.

Even so, she knew that she was not alone.

A second later, the cold claw that she remembered drew a line of fire up her throat. The faint smell of rotting flesh tickled her nose just before a voice, like dry leaves, rasped beside her ear, "Tara…"

Screwing her courage she spoke, "Who a--are you?" Her voice rasped even in her own ears, her throat had been driven dry by fear.

She caught a brief flash of intense blue eyes in the gloom, cold fire in an endless night, "Remember…" A voice rumbled, before a leathery hand clamped over her eyes.

Tara screamed in pain as cruel fingers pressed into her skull, steadily increasing the pressure at her temples. A thousand icy spiders skittered over her brain, burrowing into the folds and crevasses, seeking out those things that had been hidden. She writhed futilely, trying to escape what lay within her, and the voice rang out again in a deafening peal, "REMEMBER!"

A brilliant flash of white seared her clenched eyes.

"Tara. Tara… honey, you have to wake up now. We have to go."

Tara was disoriented, off-balance, she didn't know where she was.

"Momma?" A tired girl's voice questioned.

I remember this. She thought in sudden terror. In truth, there was no way she could have ever forgotten, though she'd spent 10 years trying. Yet, at the same time, it was like her life had somehow been frozen here… on this day, until I met Willow. And now, here she was, living it again. Only this time, from the dizzying advantage of two perspectives; one, a scared, confused little girl, who resided forever unchanged in the memory of this place and time; the other, a grown woman… me, still scared, still confused, but different.

It was the woman, her present self, floating as a dream-consciousness that dominated her perceptions; but the dormant sensations of the little girl, long grown up, resonated deep within her as well.

"C'mon sweetie, we have to hurry."

But there's no school today. Tara thought sadly.

"But there's no school today." The bleary-eyed girl stated in sleep-filled confusion, touching a chord in her older self observing the exchange with mounting terror.

"I know sweetie, but we have to go."

The girl opened her eyes and asked with quickening suspicion, "Does Matthew have to go too?"

Matthew! How could I have stopped thinking about him, for even one day? Her mind roiled in anguish.

"Yes, Tara. I need to go wake him now."

Though her mother gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before moving to the next bed over, the girl had still caught the underlying tension… fear… in her mother's tone.

I'd never seen her like this before, except maybe, when Matthew jumped off that woodpile and broke his arm. Only this was worse, much worse.

The seed of fear now planted within her, the girl called after her mother in a voice pulled taut like an elastic band waiting to break. "I think I had a bad dream, mom, but I can't remember it."

"So did I, but-- but it's not important now."

The Wiccan's attention shifted from her younger self to her mother. She looked different than Tara remembered her. As a child, she'd always viewed her mother as an almost perfect, almost otherworldly figure, capable of giving and receiving an infinite amount of love, yet impossible to fathom. Now, as Tara gazed at the features that were so similar to her own, she noticed the gentle feathering lines at the corners of the older woman's eyes; eyes that were two shades lighter than her own, an endlessly clear blue, and her mother seemed younger, whereas before, she'd been almost, ageless. Tara reached out a substanceless hand, longing to touch the strawberry tinged hair that she recalled as being softer than anything else in the world, and to rest in the strong embrace that had so often soothed her as a child, capable of warding off all evils… except one.

"C'mon Matthew, get up." Her younger self cajoled as she swung her legs over her own bed.

Tara looked over to the other bed, where her mother was now kneeling. A fair-haired boy slowly sat up, yawning as wide as his mouth would let him. Matthew… Tara thought wistfully. Rubbing at his eyes, the boy said in a sleep-roughened voice, "I was dreaming."

Their mother leaned in a placed a loving kiss on his shining blond hair, "It's okay, Matthew, but we have to leave now."

Dark, nearly navy blue, eyes opened in confusion, "Why?"

The little girl moved closer, wanting to know the answer to that question as well; Tara waited in sadness, already in possession of that knowledge.

Their mother sighed, a long mournful exhalation, before responding, "Do you remember, what we talked about, a few months ago? About our family?" Both Tara and her young mirror nodded in apprehension, but Matthew hadn't yet caught on, and his mother read this on his innocent features. "Remember, I told you about our family's secret? About the demons and Kalos?" Matthew's face froze in fear, and the girl put a gentle hand on his shoulder in sympathy. The older woman then added one more piece of information in strangled whisper, "He's sent a demon after us, he's sent Metus"

Neither child questioned further, she prepared us as best she could. Instead, they moved quickly, changing into their clothing, grabbing the few items that might be necessary, and met their mother by the door. The woman knelt down beside them both, and gave a brave smile to shore them all up, "Now, I want both of you to stay close to each other, and Tara, because you're the oldest, I want you to look out for your brother, alright?"

The blonde girl nodded solemnly, and linked her hand with her little brother's. "I'll protect you, Matthew." She said with as much conviction as an 11 year old could muster.

"I know." The boy replied with adoration, having the utmost confidence in his big sister.

"Alright." Tara's mother said with obvious pride to her two children. "We'll stay together. We'll be okay." Her voice quavered at the end, and then she opened the front door to their house.

Tara watched with dulled eyes. We made it as far as the car.

The blonde suddenly clutched for her head in pain, the ghostly sensation of a leathery hand still clamped across her eyes faded in and out. Flashes of light and stars flitted across her vision, and the sound of screaming, not her own, grew louder and louder. Momma?

Not yet… a dead voice whispered …I want you to remember it all.

She was outside the house now, standing in the morning twilight. The distinctive scrunch of gravel underfoot helped her to focus her attention, and her eyes traveled to where three forms were walking towards an old station wagon, complete with faux wood-paneling, and more horses under the hood than your average race car.

The shadow of gathering clouds darkened the grassy fields all around them; they lived in a fairly remote area, 10 km from the nearest town, but only 30 from the city. Tara looked toward their house. It was as she recalled; large, with windows like eyes, but not imposing, it was a happy shade of pale blue, though the paint was peeling on the porch and the window sills. That house had been in her family for almost 100 years, her grandmother had been born in it, and so had her mother and aunt. And now, with the rising wind, the unsecured shutters clattered against the panes, and the screen door banged against the frame.

Despite the growing chaos, her mother vainly tried the shuffle her children and herself into the car, but with the first jagged tear of lightning across the sky, and the deafening crack of thunder in its wake, she had to concede defeat.

Tara watched as her mother locked the doors, feeling what the little girl felt, the desperate clutch of her brother's hand in hers and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, as her mother turned away to face what was coming.

Two sets of wide blue eyes followed the woman's figure, their brilliance visible through the car window's reflection of the roiling skies.

Tara turned to the east, toward the waking sun. She spotted him before the others, she knew where to look.

A distant form moved through the flailing grass, a man with night-shaded hair, his raiment was undisturbed by his progression. He walked at a steady pace, unhurried, but relentless. The unmistakable gleam of white shone through the gloom, he was smiling.

Her mother inclined her head to one side, listening through wind's rage, she turned unerringly to the eastern meadow as well. Seeing the approaching figure, her features hardened into unswerving resolve.

Putting herself between the car and the approaching stranger, she traced a rapid circle through the gravel around them all, foregoing the usual ceremonies she'd taught her children. Folding her legs beneath her, the determined woman bowed her head for several seconds, concentrating, and an amber glow enveloped the circle, then disappeared. She kept her head lowered, focusing, gathering her strength, and then did something that still had the power to astonish Tara, even after all this time. Her mother picked up a sharp stone beside her and pressed it deep into the soft flesh at her wrist.

Red, for protection… I'd never seen her use blood magic before.

She drew a tri-point rune in the dust with bright, oxygen-rich blood, and then painted a circle around it. The man was only 100m away, when she began her plea. "Salve nos, Magna Dea! " Her faced was turned up to the swirling grey sky. "I call upon you, Goddess! Imbue me with your power! Dele donum! "

The man continued forward, dauntless. Now that he was closer, Tara could scrutinize their tormentor's features, she'd never had that chance before, always remembering him as a faceless terror who chased her through sweat-soaked dreams.

He had olive skin and a hard, angular face, but he was a handsome man. He looked to be in his mid-30s, but looks can be deceiving. His hair was deep black, thick and full, just curling over his slightly pointed ears. It was his eyes though, that captivated Tara; they were dark, like his hair, his skin, but in the murky depths lay a dancing flame of unholy red. Tara shuddered, he should have remained faceless.

She turned back to her mother, who was still chanting, the same phrases over and again, heedless of the stranger's approach. When the dark man finally reached the edge of the circle, he passed through it without pause, a shower of sparks announcing his entrance.

Tara's heart stopped in her chest, held by fear. He shouldn't have been able to do that. She stepped forward, wanting to prevent what had already happened. Inside the car, two children pressed against the window, their breath fogging the glass sequentially.

The man grabbed her mother by the throat, pulling her level with himself, though she was far shorter than him. He then revealed his true demonic nature, his features shifting into a feral snarl, long claws sprouting from his fingers, his eyes lit with flame, but Tara's mother continued to rasp her chant.

He ignored her words, overpowering them with his own. His voice was unnaturally deep, "The time that was prophesized draws near. The children of his blood must prepared."

Tara watched with shining eyes as her mother, with strength failing, said, "They are of my blood as well, Metus." She knew what would happen, she planned on it.

Lifting her torn wrist to his mouth, the dark man smiled wider at the rivulets of crimson running down her arm, "This blood?" He loosed a forked tongue to lap at her wrist, savoring the salty liquid. Beneath them, the blood-rune on the ground began to glow, and Tara's mother renewed her chant.

The demon continued to grin, until his victim whispered with a grim smile of her own, "Yes, this blood." And then, he began to scream. The blood-rune glowed a painful, pure white, and the open wound at her mother's wrist began to do the same. Metus' hand closed convulsively over the woman's throat, but she made no noise of complaint, though her expression revealed her pain.

Tara shuddered as slivers of light began to peek out beneath both her mother's and Metus' skin. The demon threw back his head with a howl, but never released his grip. Tara wanted to turn her head away, but the sight and memory of the two children still observing behind the car window shamed her into watching.

They were almost both enveloped by the white light when Metus roared his last words, "The prophecy will be fulfilled! You have only delayed Kalos' plan, not destroyed it!"

And now, her mother screamed, whether because of what was said, or because she could no longer contain her agony, she screamed. She continued to scream until the light grew to blinding proportions, and Tara was forced to look away.

When she was able to turn back, nothing remained of her mother, nor the demon. Only the rune on the ground lingered. Her eyes shimmered, but there was no time to mourn. Her head whipped towards the car, where her younger self and brother kept vigil. Run! She thought, but knew that it was futile, what was done could not be undone.

The sky was bruised and black, and the wind began to blow stronger in the wake of Metus' death. A flash a lightning struck a dead tree 50m away, and the children in the car jumped. The tree was set aflame, but no rain fell from the heavy clouds to quench it.

Run! Tara thought again in despair.

The earth trembled, as though rebelling under an unbearable burden. The tremors grew stronger. Now, the children seemed to realize that the danger had not passed. Tara felt the fear rising again in the little girl, too late.

A four-pronged crack appeared in the centre of the blood-rune, spreading quickly out to the sides. The station wagon began to list drunkenly. Tara's breath hitched as she and her little brother scrambled to escape the car. A yawning crevasse opened below the rune, swallowing it as it crumbled. The fissure rapidly approached the station wagon, accommodating it easily into the endless depths, as the children rolled out the far door.

The little girl grabbed for Matthew's hand and pulled him to a run away from the crack.

The widening mouth of the hungry earth raced in all directions; the porch of the pale blue house sagged and fell into its maw. The remainder of the house leaned, but was only partially consumed.

The children stumbled through the western meadow, but managed to keep ahead of the dark abyss, until another flash of lightning ripped across the sky and touched down just in front of them, tearing their hands apart. Tara observed, but also felt her child-self being thrown through the air away from the growing rent, they both blacked out.

When Tara awoke, she and her younger self were both face down on the ground, but only one of them felt the sharp sting of icy rain, and the thick flow of mud between her fingers. The girl's hair was caked a dark brown to her face and skull, her clothes were scorched and torn, and the soles of her shoes melted. Yet, despite her state, she remembered her charge, and began a plaintive wail for her brother.

I looked for him until the ambulances came and they dragged me away to the hospital. No one found him. I was supposed to take care of him. Tara wanted to cry, but those tears had been shed years before.

Look… The dead voice whispered beside her ear, fingers bored into her temples.

Tara's perspective changed, she was no longer tied to the little girl's viewpoint. Instead, the scene shifted nearer to the pale blue house, it's door hanging askew, half of the structure had slipped into the ground. The insurance money made certain that I was never cold or hungry. She thought grimly, but when she moved closer, her thoughts flew apart; lying on the ground in a crumpled heap, was her brother's still form. Matthew! As she watched, the boy took a ragged breath, proving he was as yet alive. He stirred slowly, and made to sit up. The rain painted tracks through his mud-streaked skin, his voice squeaked out, small and uncertain, "Tara?"

A sinister, unnatural darkness flowed up from the ground behind him.

"Tara?" He called again.

The dark began to coalesce.

"No!" She cried at the shadows. Tara could feel the rough hand over her eyes once more, and the pain in her temples grew to unbearable proportions. Swirling points of light dominated her vision, and spread to become a blanket of harsh white light. "No!" She screamed again in anguish, but it changed midway to a shriek of agony. She felt her strength slipping away.

"Tara. Tara, it's just a dream. Wake up."

Her whole frame tensed as she jerked awake. Something was touching her shoulder and threatened to set off another wave of panic, but then she caught the scent of something warm and familiar. Willow.

The redhead curled a worried arm across her shoulders, her hand rounding a hunched shoulder. "W--what is it, Tara? Is it that nightmare again?"

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Tara teetered on the edge of revealing everything to Willow. All the secrets she'd busily tried to ignore or deny to herself. The blonde Wiccan knew that in telling the hacker she would begin to heal the wounds of the past, and that if necessary, Willow could help her face her demons. But, as she opened her mouth to speak, a harsh voice, not her own, hissed through her mind, Shhh… sending an icy shiver down her spine that she suppressed, afraid that the redhead would feel it too. Sensing the danger in uttering the truth, she made her decision, though it tied her stomach in knots. "No. It, it was just a dream." You're a horrible liar. "You know, l--like when you dream you're climbing a long flight of stairs and you miss a step, it juh-jars you awake."

Willow looked at her in suspicion, and Tara could tell that she knew something wasn't right, but thankfully, the redhead chose not to challenge her. The blonde decided that a quick change in subject was in order, "So, uh, what t--time is it?" She noticed that soft rays of sunlight were already pouring through the windows.

The other girl allowed herself to be diverted, "It's just after 8 o'clock."

"Oh." Tara unfolded her arms from around her knees, feeling increasingly awkward and guilty.

"I should probably get going soon…" Willow said after an interminable pause.

"Oh?"

"I have that interview this morning at 10."

"Oh, right. For the computer company." Tara recalled how excited Willow had been when she'd informed her of the possible job a week ago.

"Actually, it's a web company."

"I remember. They'll pay you a whole bunch of money to make them coffee."

"Java." Willow corrected her.

"Right, although I prefer tea…" She mumbled distractedly, her mind was still fixed on her nightmare; and there was something she needed to do, something she couldn't do while Willow was still there. "So, um… you'd better get going if you're going t--to change clothes and everything."

The redhead looked at her strangely, and seemed about to don her resolve face, but Tara headed her off, "I'm sure you'll do great, but you don't want to be late."

"No… I guess not."

"I should probably hit the books anyway." Tara mumbled without meeting Willow's eyes. She felt the bed shift as the hacker got up to dress in her clothes from last night. When the blonde finally looked up, Willow was already finished; her skirt hung limply from her slim waist and her tank top was somewhat rumpled. Tara got up to escort her to the door, feeling a near claustrophobic amount of guilt, but she needed for Willow to leave.

"Um, so, I'll, uh, call you later?"

Tara hated the uncertainty that crept into Willow's voice, knowing that it was she who had helped place it there by virtue of her odd behavior. "I'll be here." She said with genuine warmth, placing a hand on the other girl's shoulder.

The redhead smiled, and gave Tara a simple, but lingering kiss on the lips. "Later…"

The blonde briefly allowed herself to enjoy the kiss, but as soon as Willow shut the door, she bolted for her closet. Ripping it open, she pawed the various boxes inside, turning the contents onto the floor, her dream acting as her impetus. She emptied several containers, slowly burying herself in pile of old jewelry, lecture notes, and witchcraft related items, until she found what she was looking for.

Inside a garish orange box from a Hallowe'en shopping trip of old, she pulled out a silver-framed picture. Her hand shook as she rotated the image upright, revealing the smiling faces of three people. In the centre of the photo was a regal looking woman with strawberry blonde hair and warm blue eyes. In her arms, she held two children. One, Tara recognized as herself, though much younger than she was now, perhaps 10 or 11. The other, a little boy, held the gleam of the devil in his eyes, but his smile was genuine as he looked toward the other members of the photo to which he was obviously related.

Tara stared at the picture with mounting horror as things began to fall into place. Miss Kitty hissed from the basket in the corner just before a mirth-filled voice jarred her from her contemplation.

"Took ya long enough, sis."

The blonde witch's head whipped around to spy the same youth that she had been chasing the night before standing inside her door. He ignored her, looking instead toward the angry black kitten that was still hissing, her back arched almost to the point of snapping, "Boo!" He exclaimed with a chuckle, and the cat sprang for the window, slipping through the tiny amount it was cracked. A wry smile twisted the blond's mouth as he continued what he'd been saying, disregarding Tara's open-mouthed surprise.

"I mean, here I dropped ya all these hints, had a little fun with your girlfriend at the same time. By the way, you're not playing very nice." He waved his index finger in admonition, "Casting dream warding spells and all, it took me a while to break through yours, I haven't quite got hers yet, but soon, I think." He quirked an eyebrow, "You throw a little extra punch into her protection? Seeing as how you're so close and all?"

Tara had recovered enough now that she felt able to attempt speech, "Matthew…"

A hidden bank of coals immediately flamed in his dark blue eyes, "Not Matthew! Matthew died a long time ago, broken, bleeding, alone, abandoned by the people who said that was the one thing they would never do. My name is Metus." He announced with a porcelain smile, ready to crack. "When Matthew died, he was offered a place, a conveniently vacant position, with his father."

"Kalos is not our father."

"He is the beginning of our entire family line. He's our father in the truest sense of the word."

Sensing she couldn't reason with him, Tara did the next best thing, she changed the subject, "W--what do you want f-f-from me?"

"What every kid brother wants from his big sister…" He pinned her with wide puppy-dog eyes, but his mouth remained twisted in a sadistic grin, "… a little attention every now and then, the occasional noogie -- oh, and her help in bringing about an ancient prophecy to destroy the world." He shrugged. "That sort of thing."

"I won't help you." She replied sadly.

"That remains to be seen." He responded with an easy smile. "You've accumulated a lot of leverage over the past few months."

In horror, she looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. Her eyes scanned his face closely searching for traces of the boy she'd once known; and although there were undeniable physical similarities, gazing into his flat blue eyes, she had to wonder where her brother had gone. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, this and that." He said with a deliberately casual air. "Y'know, they always say that being a teenager is a living hell, but I think Dad missed the metaphor on that one and went straight for the literal translation." He paced the room with nervous energy, and then halted, and glanced around in apparent boredom, "Well, as nice as this little reunion has been, I still have some work to do. Dad can be quite the slave driver, all with the fire and brimstone, y'know." He opened the door to her bedroom, morphing into appropriate clothing for wandering around campus. He looked like any other student in jeans and a t-shirt, albeit younger than most, his eyes though, held an unnatural spark. "I'll be seeing ya." He yelled over his shoulder as he left.

Tara stood staring at the doorway, not quite certain how to classify and absorb all the information she'd been handed over the course of the morning; she wasn't sure she even wanted to.

One thing that she did know however, was that she needed to do some reading.

It's Thursday, isn't it? No. It's Friday? Yes, it's Friday, wasn't there something I was supposed to do on Friday?

Tara sat at her desk, her head propped up by a too rigid arm that had long ago fallen asleep in sympathy for her own deprived condition. She had her blue orbs glued to an ancient text; one so old that the leather was dry and cracked, and if she turned the pages without due care, the words would be lost forever in crumbling dust. There was no title on the cover, but it was obvious to anyone observing that the tome was not a standard college textbook, especially since it appeared to be written in Greek.

Tara's eyes scanned back and forth, reading and re-reading one specific paragraph, but no longer really reading anything; she was so tired. Over the past week she'd spent every waking moment going over all the books that had been left to her in her grisly inheritance. There was nothing she hadn't seen before, but she wanted to make certain that every detail was sharp in her mind. The same could not however, be said for her school work. She'd only spared a fraction of her time for studying; managing to drag herself in to her 8 am exam on Monday morning by 8:25, just minutes before she would have been disqualified from taking the test. Thankfully most of her courses hadn't had Finals, opting for term papers and projects instead.

It also didn't help matters any that she wasn't sleeping well. Now that his identity had been revealed, it seemed as though her brother was free to do what he wished; and he visited new horrors upon her nightly. He came to her in prophetic dreams filled with blood and destruction and pain, but the worst dream of all was where everything was black; where she existed in a darkness so pervasive that no light could pierce it, where no warmth at all could survive, and the only sound was the endless tortured screams all around her. She wasn't sleeping well.

Egw eimi thn Melitthn, h tou Kalou qugater, legw toutous...

"I am Melissa, daughter of Kalos, these things I say…" Tara read aloud in an effort to stave off her exhaustion. "…to each generation of the Blood will only one child be born to beget another generation. All others will die without successors. And when the time is come that the face of Selene is wet with blood, and the Pantheon stands behind the Huntress on the two-fold anniversary; the last children of Kalos, one dark, one light, will stand at the portal to Tartarus, and the fate of the world shall rest in them. And if the dark destroys the light, The Night will fall; and if the light destroys the dark, The Night will fall. Yet, one must kill the other in order that the world be damned or saved. "

Legw toutous.

"These things I say. "

The first time she had read the prophecy had been about 5 years after her mother's death. She'd known of its existence before then, her mother had alluded to it previously, but hadn't yet revealed its details. She didn't want to scare us. Perhaps she thought she could keep it from coming true.

She could have easily gone without reading it all, however. Once the furor had died down, and her family's tragedy had been attributed to a 'freak' earthquake, she'd been sent to her only living relative, in Canada. Her aunt, though a kind woman, was significantly older than Tara's mother; and was a complete loss as to what to do with a child, having none of her own. The one thing she did insist on, was the absence of any witchcraft in her household, a rule that Tara had no problem living with initially, not realizing the danger she could still be in. As far as she was concerned, witchcraft had taken her mother and brother from her, and anything to do with the supernatural was to be avoided; that is, until she turned 16.

When Tara turned 16, she came into her inheritance, and one of the items she had received was the musty book she currently held in her hands. Though reluctant, she had poured over the pages. The rusty Greek and Latin of a childhood filled with ancient incantations came back to her in pieces and long afternoons at the local library. To begin with, she'd read the book as a way of remembering and paying tribute to her mother. Yet as she'd moved through the translation, she'd realized that the book and other things she'd acquired from her mother's estate contained knowledge important for understanding the disaster that had befallen her.

Respecting her aunt's wishes, she'd moved out of the older woman's house and begun practicing her family's art once more. Her adolescence had been a lonely one, especially once she'd learned the truth and danger surrounding her demonic ancestry; but she'd honed her craft through the years, ignoring the whispers in the halls at school about 'that weird chick'. She'd always consoled herself with the knowledge that by avoiding contact, she was safeguarding people against her family's secret.

The prophecy though, she'd all but ignored. It was her understanding that the 'last children of Kalos' had been herself and her brother; and with his death, her mother had inadvertently prevented the prophecy from coming true. But Matthew's alive. That knowledge frightened her immensely. Seeing what her brother had become, she feared the words of her ancient sister, Melissa, all the more. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't deny that some part of her was happy that her brother still lived. For years she'd carried a crushing guilt over his death. Living in relative isolation as their family had, the two siblings had been each others' best friend, despite the 4 year age difference. Matthew had adored his older sister, and she'd been in awe of her little brother, who was always so fearless; the first to try anything new, always willing to do anything she suggested.

Now, though she was free from one guilt, she'd taken on others. I'm putting people in danger by staying here.

The knock at her door surprised her, and her arm almost slipped out from beneath her head to allow it fall.

She heard the knock again, accompanied by hesitant query, "Tara? Are you there?"

It's Willow. She thought blearily. The blonde glanced at the clock, 4 pm, and suddenly remembered what it was she supposed to be doing on Friday. "Just a minute." She called out, closing up the book in front of her and replacing it on its shelf.

She went to open the door, feeling a rush of guilt; she hadn't seen Willow all week, and they'd only talked on the phone twice, both were short conversations. The blonde had taken to leaving the phone off the hook. Tara had been afraid to talk with the redhead, or to be with her in the flesh, fearful that the other girl would detect her anxiety and figure out that something was seriously wrong. Of course, Willow had to know something was up, and it was a tribute to her trust and patience that she hadn't yet called Tara on it.

"Hey." The blonde said, with as much of a smile as she could rally from tired muscles.

Willow looked at her closely, "Hey, yourself. You've been a tough person to get a hold of this week." She walked into the room, her black skirt swishing around her ankles, her arms crossed in front of her wine-shaded blouse.

Tara shut the door, and turned to face the redhead. Adopting what she hoped was a casual tone, she replied, "Yah, sorry, but you know… Finals." Her answer sounded weak, even to her own ears, and Willow wasn't about to let it slide this time.

"Yah, I know… Finals, but I also know you only had two tests to take, and they were over by Wednesday. And now, I come here, and you look like you've just pulled a month of all-nighters…" Willow's face creased with frustration, "Tara, what's going on with you?"

The blonde folded her arms defensively around her middle, a mannerism she'd rarely employed with the other witch over the last month. "Willow, if this is about me forgetting about The Bronze…"

"No. That's not what this is about, we still have some time before the party starts anyway." The redhaired witch looked at her plaintively, "I don't understand. You've been avoiding me all week. I know you're not sleeping well, but you won't talk to me." Willow stepped closer; close enough that Tara could feel the heat radiating off her body. The hacker reached up a hand to curl it around the other girl's cheek.

The blonde leaned into the caress, her eyes falling closed; she was just so tired.

"Tara…" Willow whispered in earnest. "…talk to me, what's going on? Whatever it is, I can help."

Not this time. She almost spoke the words aloud, but didn't want to give the redhead anything to add to her list of concerns. Instead, Tara pressed her cheek more firmly into Willow's palm, nuzzled the centre of the sensitive flesh, and kissed the base of her fingers. Her eyes opened, a dark navy as she looked over the rise of Willow's hand to lock with swirling green irises that were filled with confusion and burgeoning desire. "You can help me." The blonde said hoarsely.

Tara waited, her breath clutched tightly in her throat, as Willow absorbed her request. The redhaired Wiccan's eyes grew wider the moment she understood what the blonde was asking, but she remained silent. Even so, Tara could see the soft pulse of blood in the other girl's neck increase to a heavy thrum and her eyelids flutter half-closed.

And though it might not have been the best moment, or the right moment, Tara knew it was perfect.

Hovering near, the taller witch closed the distance between them to press her lips tightly to the other girl's. Her hand reached up, briefly stroking a smooth cheek before traveling down to intertwine with Willow's. Another hand slid up the redhead's back, reveling in the sensuous fabric of her shirt, and then the silken fire of her hair.

Every muscle in the blonde witch's body was tensed and quivering, every touch, every taste set her senses aflame; and when she opened her mouth to boldly slide her tongue across Willow's full lower lip, it almost overwhelmed her to then be met by other girl's tongue. Yet, instead of shying away from the mounting feelings, as she always had before, Tara chose instead to drown in them, wanting to forget everything but the moment.

Casting away rational thought, the ever-present voice of reason that always whispered… don't get too close… in her ear, she lost herself in a world where only she and Willow existed, together.

Tara's hand was pressed to the back of Willow's head, even as the hacker was pulling tightly at the blonde's hips, both vainly attempting to eliminate any and all of the remaining space between them. Their touches grew more urgent, as they had now both released themselves from their self-imposed constraints.

Their tongues slid around each other, in as much a duel as a caress, and their breath came hard and fast. Willow uttered a throaty groan unlike anything Tara had heard before, and it set off a sympathetic shiver down her spine. Breaking with Willow's lips, the blonde bent her head to minister to the tender flesh at the redhead's throat. Her mouth nipped at the receptive skin, and this time, Tara not only heard, but felt the other girl's rumble of pleasure.

She dipped her tongue into the soft hollow at the base of the girl's neck, and would have continued along her collarbone if Willow hadn't suddenly yanked her back up to recapture her lips in a brief, but hard kiss. When they pulled back, Tara noted how dark the redhead's eyes were, a particular shade of forest green that she hadn't seen before. She also noticed how uncertain Willow seemed, a sentiment that was echoed in herself, but she tamped down on it.

The redhead quirked a self-conscious smile under Tara's gaze; her hand traced nervous patterns over the blonde Wiccan's forearm, "I've-- I've never really done this before… with another girl, and now that we're going to do this, I kinda think I don't know what I'm doing."

Tara shrugged casually, though she felt anything but, "Me neither."

Willow blinked, "I just assumed-- I mean, you were doing so well…" She finished in confusion.

"So were you." The blonde smiled warmly, an amused glint in her eye.

Willow blinked some more, and then replied with a little more confidence, "Yah-- I was."

They held each others' eyes for a long moment, the air heating to a point just past comfortable. Tara let herself feel all the things she'd bottled inside for the past week, month, and for the last 10 years; the despair, loneliness, and fear, and only recently, the love. "I need you, Willow." She uttered in a rough whisper.

The redhead's green eyes flashed intensely, and she moved like quicksilver to cover Tara's mouth with her own. The blonde responded unabashedly, wrapping her arms around Willow and accepting the other girl's forceful kiss, returning it in kind. Willow backed her up against the bedframe, forcing her to sit, and then joined her there, all without ending the kiss.

Tara's hands roamed over the hacker's back sliding up and down, and then under her untucked shirt. Her fingers traced over the warm flesh underneath, moving slowly upward again, pulling Willow's shirt along with them. At a certain point, the shirt snagged, hampering her efforts. Tara brought her hands around to the front to undo the buttons there. The redhead broke off their kiss and leaned back slightly to allow her better access.

Her hands trembled as they closed over the first button, but Willow wrapped her own hands around them and together they relieved the button from its duty, followed closely by its peers. Tara watched in awe as the scarlet fabric fell from Willow's shoulders, revealing a wide expanse of flawless skin. She lifted her hand intending to revel in the soft flesh, but Willow pulled away, reaching behind her back to release the catch of her simple black bra. She shrugged out of the undergarment.

Tara's breath caught in her throat as she was mesmerized by the sight. Though Willow's breasts were smaller than her own, they were perfect; the colour of cream with two pale pink nipples that were beginning to harden and darken at the touch of the cool air, or perhaps due to the attention they were being paid. The blonde's eyes were filled with reverence when she looked up into Willow's own sea-green irises.

She immediately saw the vulnerability in the other girl's expression, and did the only thing she could think of to erase the uncertainty there. She pulled her own shirt over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra, not having left the dorm all day.

Reaching out, Tara grasped the other girl's right hand in her own, and placed it over her warm breast. The nipple tightened in Willow's palm, and the redhead looked up in wonder.

Smiling softly, she lifted her hand to touch Willow in the same manner, and then rasped the pad of her thumb over the sensitive peak. Willow gasped lightly in response, and so Tara repeated the movement, eliciting a similar reaction. The redhead did not remain passive, and copied the other Wiccan's actions, causing Tara to arch her back briefly in pleasure.

The two girls continued to explore each other in detail, kissing and touching, playing an escalating game of give and take, until they'd shed the remainder of their clothing. Tara helping Willow out of her long skirt, and Willow doing the same for her, though she was only wearing olive, drawstring pants that were part of her pajamas from the night before.

Tara marveled at the soft glow of Willow's flesh in the warm sunlight of late afternoon that enveloped her room, as the other Wiccan lay bare before her. Their bodies then molded together in a sweet press, and the redhead sighed into her shoulder.

Though she was little experienced, Tara found Willow to be extremely responsive to touch; and through gentle exploration with her hands and mouth, lips and tongue, she sought and found those places that brought the redhaired witch to the brink of ecstasy, and beyond.

Yet, even before Willow was recovered, her breath still coming in uneven gasps, the blonde Wiccan discovered herself flipped over underneath the lithe girl. Willow smiled, her expression tinged with something somewhat feral, which loosed a new coil of heat below Tara's stomach. "My turn." The redhead whispered with a renewed grin, and bent to suckle at a willing breast.

The blonde gave incoherent words of encouragement as Willow roamed over her flesh, implementing a strategic campaign of discovery. The redhead had obviously taken excellent notes during her encounter just previous, and proceeded to put the knowledge to good use. She took her time, teasing Tara to a point of almost unbearable pleasure with an avid mind and body. Until at last, she allowed the girl to go over the edge.

Tara rode through the climax with Willow's arms wrapped tightly around her. She shuddered from the overwhelming sensations and emotions that were washing over her in waves, shedding the tension that had built up inside her near to the breaking point. When her trembling began to subside and tears rolled in their wake, Willow continued to hold her; stroking her honey-blonde hair, her gentle breath carrying warm words of comfort to the Wiccan's ear.

Tara didn't shed many tears, and when she was through, she felt lighter. The exhaustion that had dogged her over the course of the week was removed to the background, and a pleasant contentment infused her.

"I love you, Willow." She whispered, her words somewhat muffled by her position, snuggled into the other witch's shoulder. Even so, Willow heard her, and took a long breath and gave an even longer, contented sigh.

"I love you too." She said, "But I hope you already knew that."

Tara's smiled into warm skin.

They lay there together, watching the golden light streaming through the window shift through darkening hues that heralded sunset.

Tara sensed when her lover slipped into a gentle slumber, but made no attempt to move. She was happy where she was, watching the even rise of Willow's chest as her breathing deepened, the way their hands almost melded together while they were intertwined. She added these things to her growing collection of All Things Willow, an informal archive of memories and sensations she'd etched into her mind. Realizing what she was doing, Tara almost frowned. Deep in her unconscious mind, where the light of rational thought rarely shone, she secretly feared that the reason she was so intent on committing everything about Willow to memory, was that she knew, she somehow knew, that she would lose her.

"Isn't this sweet." Came a sudden sarcastic quip.

Tara startled as she spied the intruder, but suppressed any further reaction as Willow murmured in her sleep. "W--what do you want?" She asked fearfully, as she delicately extricated herself from the redhead's embrace, and placed herself protectively in front of the bed.

Matthew gave a cold smile, "I thought I'd come deliver the good news in person."

She regarded her visitor warily. "What news?"

"The time that was prophesized draws near. You are to come with me."

Tara's heart froze in her chest. "I w--won't heh-elp you, Matthew."

The room seemed to darken around him, and the blonde witch could sense his sudden flare of rage, "My name is Metus!" He fairly roared.

She cringed in the face of his anger; and then panicked, Tara looked back towards her bed, but Willow slept on. Apparently, her brother's visit was for her alone.

Steeling herself, she reiterated, "I won't help you."

His anger dissipated instantly, and he resumed his sadistic mask, "Well, if familial loyalty isn't enough to motivate you, perhaps you need some other reason…" His focus shifted very deliberately to the bed behind her.

"Don't you touch her, Metus." A white-hot rage boiled up inside her at his implication. Her hard gaze pinned him to drive home her point.

"Tara?" She heard a hesitant voice behind her. "Who are you talking to? Who's Metus?"

She didn't turn around immediately, as she was mesmerized by her brother. She watched in horror as he put his finger to his lips, Shhh…. He smiled a predatory grin against the digit, and the white teeth he flashed grew and elongated into razor sharp points. Shhh… He repeated, then disappeared.

Whipping her head around, Tara desperately looked to Willow, who was now standing beside the bed, but her brother was already there. Smiling, he hovered near the oblivious redhead, and waited for Tara's reaction.

Stricken, Tara did the first thing that popped into her head, the only thing she could think of to save Willow from knowing too much. She stepped closer and reached out to touch the other girl on the forehead. Willow looked up at her, a little bewildered, but with an expression of complete love and trust.

Concentrating, Tara chanted before Willow, who was stronger, but less practiced than her, could think to stop her, "Dedisce. Dormi. " She added in a tender whisper, "Goodbye, Willow."

Willow fell to the floor in a dead weight.

Buffy knocked at the door, once, twice and waited a minute in between, but no one answered. She briefly considered kicking it in, seeing as how she was The Slayer and all, but found she didn't have to; when she turned the knob, the door opened. Actually, it creaked open, which Buffy found rather creepy in a cheesy, B-movie, horror kinda way. These thoughts however, disappeared as soon as she entered the room, and spied Willow crumpled on the floor.

"Willow!"

Rushing to the fallen redhead, she knelt down and began searching for a pulse. She didn't find one immediately, but then Buffy wasn't used to dealing with things that had a pulse to be found. It didn't matter anyway, because after a moment, Willow began to stir.

The witch groaned softly in pain, and slowly moved to sit up, with Buffy's assistance.

"Are you okay? What happened? When you didn't show at The Bronze we got a little worried and fanned out. I phoned, but it was always busy." The blonde slayer rubbed gentle circles on the other girl's back. "What happened?"

Willow looked around in confusion, "I-- I don't know."

"Where's Tara?"

"I don't know." The redhead's face screwed up in frustration, "I don't remember, what…" The Wiccan paused abruptly, her features sliding into shock and the colour draining from her already pale skin, "Oh Buffy, I think-- she's gone." She finished in anguish.

Buffy pulled the redhead against her shoulder, wrapping her arms around her, as Willow began to cry.

Inside Tara's dorm, two insubstantial figures stood off to one-side, while two very substantial figures sat on the floor. On the floor; one girl sat, her arms around the other, with an expression that battled between anger and sadness while the other girl cried. Standing to one side; a female watched her heart breaking visibly, while a male observed with thinly veiled disgust.

"Well, your spell worked, but I don't know why you bothered." The male addressed his companion, "You've only saved her for a worser fate. All of these mortals are doomed to die when The Night falls."

"I d--don't believe that. They'll find a way, I'll find a way to stop the prophecy." The female said, adamant.

The male's expression changed to one of bored detachment, "No matter, it's time to go." The female looked at him in terror, and he smiled in feral delight, "Father is waiting, and he so very much wants to meet you."

As they began to fade away, the female leaned down near the blonde girl's ear and whispered, "Kalos." Her tormentor did not catch her disobedience, but the blonde girl looked around in sudden interest, as if the thought had occurred to her that she and her friend were not alone; but just as quickly, her attention returned to the anguished redhead in her arms.

"Shhh… Will. Everything's going to be okay…"

Continued in... Interlude with a Slayer:The Chocolate-Bearer

EXTRA STUFF: I thought I'd mention that I actually did do a bit of research on demonology and Wicca, but by no means do I consider myself an expert, and I apologize if I've gotten something horribly wrong. It seems to me though, that the BtVS version of Wicca ain't spot on either, so shouldn't I be forgiven for making a coupla things up? *bats her lashes*

And just for those who want to be in the know:

Hungry ghosts - Frustrated or angry spirits of the dead who often require solace and appeasement. They are ghosts who have no living relative to care for them, and may turn vicious to get attention and offerings. Spirits of children who died as victims of violence can be included in this term.

Adapted from: World Religions: Eastern Traditions, Ed. William G. Oxtoby. Oxford University Press. 1996. p. 371

Please take a moment to:

She enjoys most of the major food groups, including Criticism and Praise, however Flames and Hate Mail give her indigestion.

There's no place like home