What Could Have Been

by Chance

Copyright © 2008

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: W/T and BTVS characters belong exclusively to JW, ME, and anybody else they actually belong to. Don't sue me. I'm broke and a student and all you'll get is my DVD collection.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
If you have a desire to put this elsewhere, absolutely let me know, and then I'll give you my permission, and then y'know…you can put it there.
Feedback: Please leave feedback on the What Could Have Been thread on the Kitten Board.
Spoilers: None.
Author's Notes: Begins in 2008, jumps back to the summer after their first year of college, which by my calculations would be June 2000. Will jump to 2008. Will also jump between Sunnydale, CA and Portland, OR. Important things to note: Tara is not now or has she ever been a student as UC Sunnydale. Faith has never been to Sunnydale. Oh, and there are no slayers and demons and other evil creatures that go bump in the night. These are just people living life. Sad and depressing, Amazing and elating, it's just life. 1. I used to post fics on The Kitten Board a long time ago. I fell off my post. I have some in the unfinished section, one one off in the finished section…blah blah blah. I'm sorry I fell off my post. But I'm older now, and I'm working on my follow through, so hopefully you all can give me a hand with that. 2. I would like to call your attention to the place and time headings I've put in this fic. I believe I'll be doing a little bit of jumping, so I'm hoping that it makes sense for you all. Let me know if it doesn't. 3. I don't know yiddish, but I've used a few words that I borrowed from a yiddish dictionary online. Please, please let me know if I'm using it incorrectly. Bren (BREN) n. A person of great energy or charisma. A real firecracker or livewire. From brennen, to burn. 4. Thoughts are in italics. Mostly because I'm lazy... Thank you for taking the time to read all these notes. Now, on with the show.
Webhost's Note: Special thanks goes to Chris Cook of Through the Looking Glass, MKF and Artemis for the graphics, wallpapers and source coding. Thanks, Chris!
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Summary: The summer after Willow's freshman year of college, she takes a vacation with her parents to Portland, Oregon. There she has an experience that changes her life forever.

Part 1

Portland, Oregon
September, 2008

She fought the urge to bolt out the door, running her sweaty palms down the front of her smart gray slacks. Her eyes hit the floor, and she let out a long breath, sucking another one in through her red full lips. Her tongue shot out and wet them, and she immediately pursed them together and glanced in the mirror one last time. Her hands went out to smooth her light brown hair, allowed to drop naturally down around her shoulders. Her blue cardigan was tight across her chest and stomach, unbuttoned slightly so a hint of her white undershirt peaked out. Her black boots peeked out just the right way from her pants, and she smiled despite herself. Not so bad, Maclay, not so bad at all…Not so bad for a girl who always felt like the nobody in the room. Well, you're not going to be the nobody tonight. She let out another long breath, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"Tara. You look beautiful." She jumped a foot in the air, her frazzled nerves giving a shout as a voice sounded from the door behind her, a small blond stepping into the room and into Tara's view in the mirror. "There won't be a dry seat in the house!" Anya exclaimed, her grin reaching from ear to ear. "You're ready to wet the dreams of hundreds."

"Th-thanks, I guess." She winced, she hated stuttering, and had almost completely eradicated it from her speech patterns.. She had long since gotten used to her friend's sexual nature, but it did nothing to calm her down. Now was the time to continue her slow breathing. Her eyelids shut, allowing her a moment to collect herself. "Is it packed in there?"

"Oh, god, yes." Anya sounded positively thrilled. "Isn't it great? We're going to make loads of money!"

"It's a free reading, Anya. We're not going to make any money." Tara smiled despite herself, leave it to Anya to care about two things: money and sex. At least it was comforting that that would never change. In this moment, she would take a reminder of anything that hadn't changed.

"But when they hear you read, they're going to want to buy several copies of your book so they can read it again at home and masturbate." Anya gave her two thumbs up in the mirror, smiling her "money smile". "Okay," she said, clapping her hands together, "you have about five minutes. I'm going to go sit in the audience, you…" Anya made a face, "you try not to have that look on your face when you come out, alright? Nervous isn't sexy." Anya bounced away from the doorframe, again leaving Tara alone with her thoughts.

Portland, Oregon
June, 2000

The soft pitter patter of the rain on glass did nothing to relax the redhead as she stood staring out into the great unknown of the city. A sigh forced her hand up and through her locks, and her green eyes searched out into the darkness. She didn't look up at the knocking on the door, barely acknowledging the older couple who came through the door. Sheila flipped the light switch as she came through the door. "What are you doing in the dark, Willow?" The girl didn't bother to open her mouth to answer, setting her jaw firmly into a look of distaste directed at the woman but turned away from her eyes. "Well, we're ready to go. Have a great time exploring! We should have breakfast in the morning, don't you think Ira?"

"Breakfast with the two most beautiful women in my life? Absolutely." Her Father's face cracked into a grin, both of her parents seemed completely oblivious to her anger at being left. "You won't get lost, will you, Bren?"

Willow rolled her eyes at her father's endearment, feeling, not for the first time, exasperated by her parents. "I can read a map, Dad."

Ira moved across the room and placed a kiss on the back of Willow's head. "We're so happy you came with us, sweetheart. You have fun tonight."

Willow sighed again before turning to face her parents' retreating backs. "You too!" As the door shut behind them with an audible click, she muttered dejectedly, "I love you."

In the absence of anything else to do, she moved across the room and picked up the hotel room phone, dialing without thought. She waited until a voice greeted her on the other end of the line. "Hi, Ms. Summers, is Buffy there?"

"Hold on, Willow, I think she's just about to walk out the door. Buffy?" Muffled sounds of mother and daughter conversing filled the empty noise in the room until Buffy picked up the other line.

"Hey Wills, how's vacation?" Buffy chirped cheerfully.

"It's…fine."

"You're strangely monosyllabic. What's wrong?"

"They haven't spent any time with me! What was the point of coming all the way to stupid Portland if they were just gonna do what they do in Sunnydale?" She let her body fall down to the hotel bed.

"I'm sorry, Willow. Soon you'll be on your way home to Sunnydale and your friends, so don't worry okay? Why don't you just make the most of it?" Buffy sighed. How often could Willow continue to be disappointed by her parents and not begin to resent them? She remembered how excited Willow had been that her parents had suggested she take the trip with them.

"And do what?"

"Go out. Meet some people. You spent weeks checking out information on Portland, I'm sure there's stuff you want to see, right? What was that bookstore you were going on and on about?"

"Powell's. It's a whole city block of new and used books. I saw it, it's incredible, all of that information in one place. It's so amazing, Buffy." Willow's voice perked up at the mention of books.

Buffy smiled hearing the upturn in her friend's mood. "I know how hard things have been for you since you and Oz…" She winced, wishing she hadn't said his name. "But this is a chance for you to go out and be someone else for the night! Think about it, no one knows you Willow! You can be anyone you want to be. Meet some people, have some fun, and then come home to the Scoobies. We miss you."

Willow sat, letting her friend's words wash over her. It made sense, didn't it? That this was her chance to break out from Willow Rosenberg, high school nerd, now college nerd. Ever since Oz left, she'd pushed herself back into her studies, keeping herself busy. In this strange city she might actually get a chance to be Willow Rosenberg, woman of mystery.

She had succeeded in wandering through Powell's for a few hours, picking up a few books that she had found interesting. After talking with the cashier for a few minutes (a good looking boy, even with his spiky hair dyed blue and his several piercings), he had persuaded her to walk down to VooDoo Doughnuts.

"Everybody from the bars go there, so you may have to deal with some drunk kids, but it's a Portland institution." He flashed her a disarming smile. "Kind of like this place, actually, just more tasty."

"Well, if it's a must see, then I must see it." She smiled back him, wondering at her bravado. Am I actually flirting with him? He looks a little bit like Oz, short and spiky hair, nice smile, much more talkative. WooHoo with mystery woman Willow!

"Maybe I'll catch you around there, later." He smiled at her again.

"Maybe you will." She tried her best at a sexy smile. "Bye." She grabbed her bag, directing herself out of Powell's, and in the direction of the doughnut shop.

Approaching the street VooDoo was on, she passed by several adult bookstores and a few bars. People passed by her in a hurry, but she allowed herself to slow down and really look around her. The Burnside Bridge was clearly visible from where she was standing, and she knew that there was a whole other east side to the city she was probably not going to ever get to see. She had passed a fair amount of homeless people on her walk, but for the most part they had seemed friendly, if not a bit desperate. I feel comfortable walking on my own here. She thought to herself, pleased with the revelation. I feel strong. I feel competent and able. She smiled, feeling fully herself for the first time in a long time.

Her stride picked up as she allowed the confidence to flood her body. She approached the shop, carefully sidestepping a group of five or six kids hanging out in front. She was about to move towards the door when one of them pushed in her way.

"Hey Red, got a dollar?" The girl asked, pushing her whole body in front of Willow. The brunette wore a leather jacket and dark jeans, and had a slightly dangerous look in her eye. Willow hesitated, unsure of how to respond, and the girl slid her body more closely into Willow's. "C'mon, a pretty girl like you has to have a dollar." She smiled, the crook of her mouth and the glint in her eye forming an overall predatory demeanor. "I'll kiss you for it."

"I…" Willow's mouth opened to speak as her eyes darted frantically around the group. They were an odd bunch. Her eyes slid from face to face, looking for the hint of something to tell her it was a joke or if it was another bully taking her lunch money. She faltered, her eyes falling to a girl, leaning back against the brick wall. Her breasts pushed against the restrictive white cotton of her shirt, and Willow's eyes fell to them, unable to glance away. In the dim streetlight, the girl's mouth was parted, and her eyes were large – her pupils black and dilated. She moaned, running a hand over her stomach.

The bully's eyes followed Willow's, and she smirked. "Better yet, I'll let Tara kiss you." Willow's eyes looked to the brunette in shock, and she began to shake her head. "Aww, c'mon, Red, I saw you looking. She won't care, she's too fucked up to notice."

"What's wrong with her?" Willow's voice trembled, and her face pinched as she gave away her weakness.

"Nothing's wrong with her, Red, she's just having a good time." With that, the girl grabbed the blond and pulled her into her own body, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, T, this girl will give us a dollar if you kiss her."

The girl's eyes sought out Willow's, and Willow felt herself gasp. Staring at her were the most blue eyes she'd ever seen, beautiful, like a lake or the ocean or something amazingly wonderful that she couldn't place. The brunette slid her arm away from the girl, and pushed her forward. The girl seemingly had little control as her body propelled forward into Willow's and she giggled.

"Your eyes are so green." Her breath smelled sweet, and it tickled Willow's face. Their lips were close, and the blond leaned forward, her soft lips sinking into Willow's, her hands feeling their way around her sides and firmly planting themselves on Willow's back. The kiss was soft until Tara opened her mouth and pushed her tongue unceremoniously into Willow's, tracing the redhead's lips, and seeking out the inner walls of her mouth, mapping it. Finally she pulled her face back, and gave a contented sigh. "You're beautiful." She whispered, her words reaching Willow's ears only. Her hands began to move again, feeling the softness of Willow's breasts pressed down against hers. She moaned into the feeling.

For Willow's part, the girl's kiss had been earth shattering. She had never felt such a beautifully warm sensation before, so soft, so lingering. But it was nothing, not even a slight miniscule of anything, in comparison to the moan that had escaped the girl's lips. That moan, that moan that their bodies had caused by fitting together in a delicious embrace, that Willow had caused simply by existing and living in the body she did, that moan would haunt Willow for years afterwards. The sound of it would compell her to do things she never before thought possible, it would drive her insane with need and want, and it would fuel her fantasies until the day she died. Before she could process the paradigm shift that was changing her entire world, Tara was being pulled away. And in her place, ugliness remained.

"The dollar, Red." The brunette's voice now hinted at the homicidal, her anger poked through around the edges and sent a shiver down Willow's spine. She began to reach for her pocket, simply afraid of not complying, when she heard another voice that echoed the first in its effects but not its tone.

"Can I just be kissing her?" Tara laughed. "Please, Faith? She tasted like strawberries and she looks like fire." Tara's hand reached into the air, as if tracing Willow's hair.

"Let it go, T. You're just rolling. You won't even remember her in the morning." Faith's hand pushed in front of Willow's face, her eyes sending a warning to not speak or move a muscle. Willow found and placed the dollar in Faith's palm before pushing her way into the store.

As she felt herself coming back to consciousness from her dream state, she was mildly aware of her discomfort. Groggy, somewhere between awake and her dreams, she tried to place where she was. She felt dirty and thirsty, and there was a cramp in her neck. Slowly she opened one blue eye, placing much more slowly than usual the faded curtains over the windows, the brick of the walls and the chill that hovered in the air. She must be in Faith's rat trap apartment. She brought her hand to her neck, slowly rubbing at the concentration of pressure and tenderness. "Hey T, good morning." Faith's voice was cheery in the gloom, and at the sound of it she closed her eye again.

The noise that came out of her throat resembled something of a moan. She felt something slightly wet being pushed into her hand and opened her eyes to see a glass of water. Raising it to her parched lips, she nodded in thanks. "Morning, Faith." Her jaw ached as it opened and closed, and her hand darted to the side of it, giving it a good rub.

"You were outta your mind last night, T." Faith laughed.

"I remember." Tara sighed.

"Aww, c'mon, T, don't be like that. We all had a good time." Faith sat down on the edge of the bed beside Tara, dropping a hand to her knee. "You wanted to have fun, remember?"

"I remember that too. Although, I don't remember asking for ecstasy to be involved." Tara's face contorted into a grimace, feeling the pain that she had caused herself last night.

"You were gung ho about it at the time." Faith's hand began to run in circles on the inside of Tara's thigh.

"Faith, please…" She stood up, immediately regretting her rash decision. She took a step forward and then back to steady herself. "We can't do this again."

"Do what?" Faith's voice was harsh. "We're not doing anything."

"What time is it?" Tara asked, changing the subject.

"Just shy of seven. I was going to wake you in a few minutes anyway. You have work to get to." The harshness in her voice had dropped back down, seemingly controlled. A genuine warmth, a caring replaced it.

"Shit. I do."

"Borrow something, and I'll drive you there."

"I can't wear leather to work." Tara teased, before heading over to Faith's closet, and pulling out a fresh shirt and a pair of black pants.

"Alright, then put on the crappy clothes you leave here and then I'll drive you." Faith teased right back.

The way to the restaurant was quiet. Neither girl felt the need or the desire to speak. They were almost halfway there when Faith began to laugh. "You really were outta your mind, T. Do you remember kissing a total stranger?"

"I thought that was a dream." Did she remember? Of course I remember kissing the woman of my dreams! She was so beautiful, and I was so fucked. The story of my life. She sighed again. If only I could have met her some other way…what I wouldn't give for a chance to talk to her, to apologize, to try to explain. Explain what, McClay? That you take drugs? That you want to escape your pathetic life so badly that you'll buy artificial happiness? Why would a girl like that ever want a girl like me?

Willow stood with her parents, waiting for a table just inside the restaurant. Her mother babbled on about the conference they had attended that week, including the dinner they had just attended the night before. Willow tried not to fall asleep or scream. But she wanted to scream. She wanted to stay in bed that morning, when her parents had woken her up, reminding her about the previously planned breakfast. Why is it that when I want to spend time with them, they can't get any further away, but the minute I want some space to work things out, there they are? At least the restaurant had coffee available for the people waiting for a table. That at least she could be thankful for. Finally, the hostess came over to tell them that they'd been seated. She plopped down in a seat across the table from her parents and faked a smile as the hostess handed her a menu. "Your server should be with you in just a moment. We're a little busy today." The hostess flashed the Rosenbergs a big smile and retreated.

"What are you in the mood for, Bren?" Her father asked, looking over the menu.

"Ham or bacon." She said, under her breath, muttering. She was doing her best to ignore this entire situation, hoping that her parents would take her silence for her being tired. "I don't know, Dad, maybe pancakes?"

"What did you do last night, Willow?" Sheila asked, looking at her daughter as if she were some kind of exhibit at a museum.

I kissed a girl. I liked it. I'm afraid it means I'm gay. "I went to Powell's, and then to a place called VooDoo Donuts…"

"Hi, my name is Tara, I'll be your server this morning." Tara had heard the last two exchanges of the customers' conversation but had begun speaking before she completely registered the words. Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of the redhead sitting in front of her. Oh my god, it's her.

Willow glanced up at the sound of the voice and was similarly flabbergasted. It's her. And for what seemed like an eternity to both of them, they stared at each other. Ira and Sheila looked back and forth between the girls, and then at each other, wondering what was passing between them. "Do you know each other?" Ira asked, wondering at the look of horror on his daughter's face.

"No."

"Yes." Willow answered over Tara's reply. Their eyes met again, and finally Willow spoke with careful concentration. "We met last night, actually. Outside of the donut shop I was just starting to tell you about. Yes siree, just met her outside. She was hanging out with a bunch of her friends." Finally, she turned her attention back towards the girl, amazed she had gotten out all of the words without passing out. "Tara, right?"

Tara nodded, wishing the floor would swallow her. "N-nice t-to see you again?" It came out as a question, though she hadn't meant it to. I haven't stuttered in months! Shit. She forced herself into action. "S-so, what can I get you folks?"

"Willow was just saying how much she wanted pancakes." Ira answered with a smile, happy to see his daughter was well adjusted and could make friends anywhere.

Her name is Willow. That's so beautiful, what a gorgeous name. Just like the girl herself. "G-great, and f-for you?"

After the order had been taken, and Tara had slipped away to work, Willow excused herself from the table. Pushing open the door to the bathroom, she walked straight over to the sink, ran the cold water and began splashing it in her face. Her eyes played a game of darting away from the mirror whenever she started to look at herself, but ultimately they failed. She stood for several moments, staring herself in the eye, wondering who it was that was staring back at her. She looked mostly the same, red hair that touched her shoulders, bright green eyes that took in every line of her own face, nice skin that betrayed nothing of her aging, remaining perfect still, as if frozen in time. She could see no change, but she knew. She knew she was inherently different than the girl who had called Buffy last night. That girl was still in love with her ex-boyfriend, the one who left her for someone else. This girl was attracted to a woman. She was so busy staring at herself she didn't hear the door open. She didn't see someone standing behind her in the mirror. In fact, Tara's presence in the room was only given away when the scent of her touched Willow's nostrils. She inhaled deeply, turning to seek the origin of what seemed at once totally familiar and completely foreign.

"I'm sorry, Willow." Tara's voice was soft, but her words were crystal clear. Willow couldn't help but feel her heart lift as the girl spoke her name.

Part 2

Portland, Oregon
February, 2008

She pulled her glasses off of the bridge of her nose, and set her face in her hands. She rubbed her fingers over her forehead, temples, and eyes before looking back at the computer screen in front of her. Rereading the passage for the fifth time, she knew something wasn't right. The words seemed awkward and out of place, something about the paragraph irked her. A reminder popped up on her computer screen, letting her know she'd been working for nine hours and twenty-three minutes. Despite the irritation of the reminder, she smiled. For a girl who only cares about money and sex, Ahn, you sure do seem to do a lot to take care of me. Her feet uncrossed and placed firmly on the ground, and using her hands she pushed away from her work.

Grabbing the coffee cup from her desk, her feet padded against the hardwood floors of her apartment as she headed into the kitchen. Dumping out the old coffee, she tossed the mug into the dishwasher before grabbing a wine glass and a half-drunk bottle from the fridge. Her movements slowed as she stood, pulling the cork from the bottle, staring off into space. Glass of wine for one. Well, that's not exactly surprising, is it? You spend all your time editing and hiding in this apartment. The only time your roommate can get you out is for readings. The last time you had a date, you spent three hours comparing her to a girl you met eight years ago who might as well be a fantasy. Feeling frustrated with herself, she pushed a hand through her hair, and was completely startled when the phone rang. She stared at it, willing the person on the other end to just stop calling, knowing full well it was probably Anya.

Finally, the answering machine picked up, playing the message she'd grown so used to hearing. "Hello, you've reached Anya Jenkins and Tara MacClay. We're not here right now – well, Tara is probably here and ignoring you – but so far as you know we're not here right now, so leave a message." The machine beeped, and the same voice she had just heard filled the apartment.

"By now, you've seen the reminders I've left on your computer for you to stop working for today. If you still are, I've set your computer to self- destruct once it hits nine hours and forty-six minutes, so I hope you're taking a break." There was a pause, followed by a brief laugh. "I'm partially kidding." Another laugh. "I am out tonight, but I'm sure you already know that. My advice to you, Tara, is to go out and do the same. You need an orgasm friend, and despite all my offers, you keep rejecting me. Have a good night, stop working and take care of yourself! I'll see you in the morning." The machine beeped again, and then went silent. At least somebody loves me…Well, she's right about one thing, I certainly need an "orgasm friend". Her face crinkled in disgust. Or at least a friend other than Anya!

She moved towards her bedroom, her hand caressing the wood of her door before pushing it open. Her room had just a slight chill to it, and she felt her nipples respond to the change in temperature. She placed her wine glass on the bedside table, and slid into bed, moaning slightly as she stretched her body. She was surprised by how achey her body felt, how removed from it she was. Although, I guess if you're spending your time with words rather than people for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for the past few months, then it would make sense to feel removed. She allowed her hands to drift over her form, passing over her breasts, touching the skin over her stomach, her hand slipping down to her thighs, tracing what little nails she had over the skin. Her hand passed unbidden past the waist of her sweats, underneath her panties, and grazed herself lightly. She was not shocked to find herself wet. You spend all that time with words about her, of course you're turned on.

She allowed herself to push her finger back down, making light contact with her clit, her hips rolled in response. I must need this more than I thought. She closed her eyes and called up the image, the sensations readily. Willow. The name popped in her mind, and she saw it all: the red hair, the beautiful green eyes, her perfect, soft body. She remembered the sensation of kissing her with abandon on the street before she had a name to identify this beauty in form. With a moan, the sensation of pressing her breasts against the other girl's flooded all of her senses. With shocking clarity, she could recall the scent of shampoo and a slight hint of perfume, the heat of the skin of her back on her hands. It was made more intense by the effects of the drug she had been on when the moment happened, but she pushed the thought out of her mind, wallowing in the sensations if not the reality.

Her imagination firmly took the assorted memories and began to press them into new form, the feel of her breasts against Willow's back, reveling in the heat. She pushed herself harder into the mattress, her hand seeking and finding her own wetness. Her fingers traced the outline of her sex, dipping in and touching her clit lightly. She moaned, grinding the finger down harder against herself. Biting her lip, she tasted blood, and moaned into her mouth. She was accustomed to the ferocity of her own desire. Thrusting her hips forward, she pressed into herself again and again, feeling the curve of Willow's ass meeting her insistence. She pushed the thin fabric of her t-shirt up, and grabbed at her nipple with her other hand, wincing slightly against the pressure, rolling out onto her back.

Thrusting her hips forward again, she arched her back as she drove her fingers into herself, gasping. A flash of red hair flitted through her mind as she pushed her thumb into her clit. Dancing green eyes forced her fingers into her harder, faster, again and again, until pressure started to build in her mid-section, stretching down her legs and curling her toes. She stilled her movements, and driving her thumb over her clit once more, releasing herself into her orgasm, moaning as she called out for her imaginary partner. "Willow!" Catching her breath, she sighed, her lips curling around the name and whispering it again for good measure. "Willow…"

Sunnydale, California
July 2000

Tara cracked a grin and laughed, filling the bedroom with its beautiful, lyrical quality. Willow reached up and pushed her fingers into Tara's armpits, wiggling them to tickle the girl, a matching grin springing up on her face. Tara's form collapsed onto Willow's, hips to hips, stomach to stomach, breasts to breasts, and then lips to lips. They slid together, Tara arching forward into Willow, calling forth a low moan from the other girl in delight at the unexpected contact. Their hands met on the mattress, before Tara brought them both up and over Willow's head, loosening her grip with one hand, while pressing the other girl down at the wrists with another. Her grin shifted into something lascivious, running her free hand down the length of the redhead's body, and pushing her hand up between her thighs. "Is this what you want?" She demanded, her voice sending a chill down Willow's spine, forcing her back to arch and her hips raising to meet Tara's.

"Yes." Willow felt her voice crack, staring up in wonderment at the assertive girl on top of her. "Yes…"

Tara's smile beamed brighter, her hand sliding easily into the depths of wet that she found between Willow's thighs, pushing easily inside of her with two fingers. "This is what you want." Her voice was as penetrative as her fingers, and Willow dropped her hips, bucking against Tara, feeling herself filled with the other girl.

The sound of a thud forced Willow to open her eyes, her dream slipping out of the grasp of her memory as she shot up in bed panting. Her body felt taut, her skin flushed and aching for touch, her mind desperately trying to keep some semblance of the dream with her. This is what you want. Tara's voice repeated in her mind, the soft, warm weight of the girl seemed to hold still to Willow's body as she pieced together what her subconscious mind was telling her. This is what I want. I want Tara. I want her. I want to have sex with her.…Okay, definitely feeling gay here.

She glanced around the room, trying to find the source of the thud noise. Nothing seemed out of place, and her eyes began to close again, her mind drifting, trying to force herself back to the dream. But the thud came again, and once more, and her eyes shot open and looked towards the door. It wasn't long before the sound came to confirm her fears. "Wills? Willow. Wake up." Buffy's voice was muddled by the door between them, but it's insistence was not lost on the girl. Sighing, she rose from bed.

"Just a second, Buff." She stretched, glancing at herself in the mirror. Bed hair, pajamas, and barely opened eyes met her gaze. Deciding Buffy deserved no special treatment, she wandered over to the door and opened it, wincing against the flood of light.

"Hi!" Buffy grabbed the girl pulling her into her arms. "What's going on with my Wills?" She stepped back out of the loose embrace and crinkled her nose at her friend. "Why are you still sleeping?"

Willow shrugged. "I didn't have anything else to do."

"Willow, where's your head these days? We were supposed to do mochas!" She pushed past her friend into the darkened room, flipping the light switch and wandering over to the closet.

"I'm sorry, Buffy, I just forgot." Willow sat down forlornly on her bed, watching her blond friend rifle through her things, pulling out jeans and a t- shirt.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Willow." Buffy turned towards her a friend, a concerned look in her eyes. "Ever since you got back, you've been super spacey."

"Like Kevin Spacey spacey?" Willow's lips upturned ever so slightly into the beginning of a smile.

"Something like that." Buffy answered, sweeping her eyes over her friend's mostly sullen form. "Something's going on in Willow world. It's like…" She trailed off, biting at her lip to stop her next words.

"It's like when Oz left." Willow finished for her, and their eyes met. Buffy crossed the distance, nodding, and sat down next to her.

"So, spill, Will." She smiled. "I'm here in best friend capacity to help you back into the real world."

Willow leaned into Buffy's shoulder, giving herself a moment of comfort before shaking off her growing sense of dread. "I'm not sure you want to know." Willow's voice was small, the general effect on the girl made her seem fragile.

"I always want to know." Buffy reaffirmed.

Willow stood, and began to pace the carpet beside her bed, trying to find the words. "Something happened in Portland, something weird. Something I…I don't know, I guess I just can't rationalize it away. It keeps invading my thoughts and my brain and my dreams and I can't let it go. I keep trying, but it just won't go away."

"Did somebody hurt you?" Buffy's eyes expanded, flaring with anger. "I'll slay them!"

"No, no, nothing like that." Willow sighed, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to push the words out, but her tongue was heavy and resistant. Finally, she drew a deep breath and forced out "I kissed a girl!"

Neither of them moved. Silence filled the room, and Willow felt her body refill with dread, and in the absence of anything else to do, she began to babble. "Well, actually, she kissed me. But still…I think I liked it. A lot. And I keep trying to put it out of my head, y'know? I mean, I'm not gay. I'm not gay." She repeated herself with more force. "But what if I am? I loved Oz, I did, but he left. And maybe he left because it was never truly right. Maybe because I loved him but I couldn't be in love with him the way he wanted…" She trailed off, casting her green eyes in the direction of her speechless friend. Buffy's face gave little indication of what she was thinking, she was just staring at Willow, waiting for her to continue. "I'm just confused. I can't stop thinking about her, but I know I shouldn't. She told me I shouldn't…"

"She told you?" Buffy asked, her voice strangely calm as she spoke for the first time.

"Well, yeah. She was our waitress the next morning, and she cornered me in the bathroom, and she told me how sorry she was, for kissing me like that. She apologized for her friend who kind of forced us into it, and she said that had she been sober she probably wouldn't have done it."

"She was drunk?!" Buffy's voice rang incredulously in the room. "What the hell happened in Portland, Will?"

Willow sighed. She hadn't really wanted to tell Buffy the story, and the truth was, she wasn't sure she understood either. The conversation in the bathroom did nothing but confuse her further. It had begun and ended so quickly that she hadn't had time to process the words or the questions she wanted to ask. Everything had just happened so fast. "I'm not sure I really know, Buffy." She grimaced. "Are you mad?" Her voice sounded small again.

The silence filled the room again as Buffy's expression slowly changed to something else unreadable. It continued on for at least thirty seconds until Buffy's mouth opened. "No. No, I'm not mad, Will. I'm not freaked. I don't think I understand what happened…" Her brow furrowed, and her eyes swept over her friend again. "But that doesn't mean I can't accept what you're telling me. You could be gay." And now, a smile began to form on Buffy's face, small and sweet, and completely accepting. "And that's fine, Willow. I'll never love you any less."

"Really?" Willow's eyes lit up hopefully as she read her friend's face and smile with a growing happiness in her chest.

"Really." Buffy nodded at her, the smile never faltering. She leaned forward, and with surprising strength, scooped her friend into a huge hug. "So. What do we do now?"

Portland, Oregon
August, 2000

"Where the hell have you been, T?" Faith shouted over the music.

Tara had just arrived at the bar, chucking her coat over a chair, and sitting herself in it before Faith had started yelling. This is just what I need. Tara ducked her head against the onslaught, letting her hair cover her face to hide behind it. "Nowhere, really."

"I've been calling you for weeks. I was worried. I thought…" Faith had the decency to trail off before screaming out some horrid scenario of where Tara had been. She moved in closer to the other girl, and spoke more softly in her ear. "I thought maybe your Dad found you."

She had been expecting it, but it didn't stop her from wincing at the sound of it. "No." She said, searching her brain for something else to add that she'd want Faith to know. She peaked out at Faith from behind her hair, and saw the girl's eyes studying her intently from just a few centimeters away. "I'm fine." She decided on, waving away the scrutiny. Faith leaned forward into her again.

"You had me worried." Her voice was soft, and her eyes probed Tara's face. There were bags under her eyes, but that was pretty typical. Any trace of the abuse she'd suffered had long since faded away, but it didn't take much for Faith to remember the bruises all over her beautiful friend's face. Her impossibly shy, beautiful friend. She brushed Tara's cheek with the palm of her hand, and leaned forward to press their lips together.

Tara pulled back quickly. "I'm fine, Faith."

"T…why can't we just let this happen? We both know it's there." Faith smiled, brushing her lips against Tara's once more before leaning back without waiting for an answer. She reached into her pocket while Tara tried to think of something to say that would be gentle, that would convey to Faith that she simply had no interest. How could I want you when I want her? She asked herself, shaking her head slightly. And you just pushed me into her like it was a joke. From her pocket, Faith brought out a tiny plastic bag. Tara could make out the shape of four round small pills.

"Faith, no." She pointed at the baggie.

"Aww, c'mon, T, you had so much fun last time. You remember that stupid girl you kissed?" Faith laughed at the memory. "How pathetic." Her voice was laced with venom, as if she knew already that she had lost her girl to the redhead. Except, I'm not her girl. I've never been her girl. She hits on me, gets me drunk, feeds me drugs, tries to take me to bed, and it's never worked.

It's not that Tara was ungrateful for Faith. Truly, it had been Faith who had saved her life. When she stepped off the bus from the middle of nowhere Oregon and arrived in Portland, she had had no plan. Originally, she had thought about going down to California and trying to get into school. No money, no point. How would I afford it? Who would give me a scholarship? She thought dejectedly. Very quickly, she realized she had no plan for money in Portland either, but somehow staying in state seemed to comfort her. She never wanted to go back but she wasn't ready to give up either. After a few days of wandering, trying to find a job and a place to live, it was Faith who had given her a chance for both. They had met in a bar, similar to this one, and Faith had hit on her relentlessly until Tara, a little drunk and very sad, burst out crying. Faith had been stunned. Tara laughed now at the memory, the look on her face made me think she was going to run as far away as she could get. But something in Faith's tough demeanor had cracked, and she took Tara in to her shitty apartment until Tara got on her feet two weeks later.

The entire time they lived together, Faith had been respectful, as if she didn't want to scare the girl away. But it didn't stop her from her conquests. A few days of living with Faith, and Tara was convinced she never wanted to be with someone who used and lost sex partners as quickly and as carelessly as Faith did. Unfortunately, when Tara had found her own place, Faith's advances had begun anew. And so they continued for months, over a year now. Faith making references to how they belonged together, and Tara feeling further and further away from that reality. She had tried to explain, tried to tell her friend, but her words were waved away as if she didn't know what she was talking about. That alone, Faith, that alone is why you'll never have me. Now I know that I'm better than this life. You are too, but you'll never ever realize it.

"She wasn't pathetic." Faith looked up at Tara's words, surprise written plainly on her face. "She was beautiful." Tara still hid behind the curtain of her hair, but the assertiveness that Faith had taught her, the shield which Faith had taught her to put up to live in this world, it served her well. Her voice was strong.

"Don't tell me you're reforming for some girl who doesn't exist anymore." Faith snapped back at her angrily. "C'mon, T, she left two months ago and she's not coming back. I'm right here." Her voice was just as strong as Tara's, but had a weirdly desperate after taste.

Tara pushed the curtain of hair back, the look on her face an odd mixture of sympathy and disdain. "Maybe she's not. But I deserve better than this." She reached for Faith's hand, wrapping it tenderly with her own. Almost as an afterthought, despite her knowing what little good it would do, she added: "So do you." She sighed. "I have to stop, Faith, or I'm gonna die like this."

Faith pulled her hand away and stood abruptly, staring down at the girl. Tara's whole body flinched at the aggression of the move, instinctively shielding herself. "You think you're too good for this life now? Why? Because of some stupid bitch? Some fucking rich tourist? C'mon, T, you were born to live this way. When you get over your fucking high and mighty act, you come see me, and I'll show you what living really is." Faith looked down at her, as if debating for a moment whether or not to actually hit her, and then turned on her heel and stormed out of the bar.

A steady stream of breath pushed out from between Tara's lips before her head sunk into her waiting hands. Elbows on the table, sitting alone in a shitty bar, she bowed her head completely before a sob raked its way from her chest and broke free. She cried, drowned out by the music in the dim light in a room filled with smoke. She cried for an hour and a half before standing and walking out. Nobody noticed. Nobody cared.

Part 3

Portland, Oregon
August 2002

Had it really happened? It was so long ago now that she could only remember it as being the singularly most unexplainable, important event in her life. One kiss. One kiss that was the best kiss of your entire life and it was some girl on the street! She sat in the lobby, staring blankly ahead of her, her eyes glazed and fixed on a point just past the receptionist. Her hands were folded in her lap, her legs bouncing impatiently, nervously. Not to mention the fact that it could have been the drugs that made it so amazing. It doesn't seem that way. It doesn't seem like it was the seratonin flooding my body that made that kiss seem so unbearably perfect. It was her eyes, the nervousness with which she regarded me, the electric shock that runs through my body when I remember it. Her mouth released the smallest sigh ever known to man. Still could be the drugs.

In the end, it didn't really matter whether it was the drugs or not. Not when the redhead was still the only woman Tara could think about, day or night. Not now, two years after the fact when she still woke up with the name on her tongue, when it sprang unbidden to her lips throughout the course of her day, a blessing and a curse. Willow, the girl who gave solace without truly existing. Willow, the girl who broke Tara's heart every day simply by not being there.

Still, in many ways, Tara owed her life to Willow. I wouldn't have "left" Faith. I wouldn't have met Anya. I wouldn't have this chance. Her heart began to pound wildly in her chest; she had ignored this impending meeting by keeping herself busy with her favorite distraction…until now. Now, the mind numbing terror flooded through her body anew, now more terrifying than it had been on the streetcar as she made her way to these offices, than when she had woken up that morning. She was terrified of what they were going to say. We've decided your book is terrible and you should never attempt to write again. You have to give us back the money we gave you.

"Ms. Maclay? He'll see you now." The receptionist forced a smile at Tara, shooting her eyes over towards the elevator as if to direct the girl.

"Oh." It was all she could say as she picked her body up on unsteady legs, and slowly berated herself in her mind as her limbs seemed to rebel against normal, casual movement. She reached the elevator and pressed the button, feeling very much like she was on her way to certain destituteness. She swallowed heavily, and it seemed to echo in the emptiness of the elevator as she rode to the top floor.

The doors slid open on another receptionist behind a mahogany desk, behind her, the company name carved from a copper plate. Council Publishing Company, one of the largest publishers on the West Coast, certainly the biggest in Oregon. She always felt intimidated when she walked in here. She took a step forward out of the elevator, and promptly tripped over her own two feet. She winced, more out of pain than embarrassment, and nearly died when she heard a voice from above her.

"Dear Lord!" The man swept the glasses off of his face, and offered Tara a hand. "Are you alright my dear?" He asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Her skin flushed bright red, and immediately the curtain of her hair swept forward to cover her face as she stared down at her feet. Stupid feet! "I-I'm fine." More wincing. Stupid mouth!

"I should hope so." He smiled in a fatherly way that was actually completely reassuring. "Are you Tara?" Her name off his tongue made her relax as if enveloped in a warm hug.

Letting out a breath to steady herself, she opened her smile and looked him in the eye, "Yes, I'm Tara Maclay. I'm here to see Mr. Giles." She searched his face trying to place the man, and realized quickly his very presence was comforting. Something about him was terribly familiar, but how she did not know. Still, he was in no way threatening, and she felt her whole body relax.

"Wonderful. I am Rupert Giles. Follow me."

"Ms. Maclay…" He started after sitting her down in his too impressive office.

"Tara, please." She smiled at him, stilling the nervousness she felt tingling all over her body.

"Tara, then…" he smiled back at her. "As you know, the Council has been very interested in bringing your children's books to the market. We would be very lucky to be the ones to bring your work to the world."

"Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr. Giles. I think we're making good progress. I was so pleased…"

"Giles, please. Everyone just calls me Giles." His face filled with an exasperated smile.

"Of course…Giles." It sounded silly coming from her mouth, used to the pleasantries of common courtesy. She felt comforted by the familiarity and his warm manner, but it still felt odd. Strange to be in this office of ornament and antiques. "I was surprised by your interest in my books."

"You shouldn't have been. They are incredible, Tara, really, my own children will not put them down. The books are a parent's dream," He smiled at her again, and continued, "but your work in children's literature is not why you're here today."

Her eyes widened as she regarded him with a puzzled expression. The Council had been working with her for six months on her book, There Is Always Magic. "I'm sorry, Giles, I…I don't understand…"

"You are working with Mr. Wyndam-Price on your children's novel, and that has been going extremely well. I hear nothing but good reports, everything is fine." He smiled at her. "I do not work in children's literature, so I'm afraid I had to sneak copies of your manuscript home to read it to my children. My apologies, but it's been quite the hit in the office, and we wanted to hear some opinions from the target audience, if you will."

She waved off his concern. "Of course, Mr. Giles, I mean, Giles, I'm glad your children enjoy it. But forgive me, why am I here with you?"

"Ms. Maclay, I had the fortune of being in attendance at an open mic at Three Friends coffeehouse. I believe you're familiar…"

Three Friends? The surprise registered on her face. That means he heard me read…Oh god! "Y-yes, I…I read there a few weeks ago."

"Yes, you did." He smiled. "I myself have been known to enjoy a cup of tea…and performing…"

Recognition flooded her eyes. Of course! This is the man who plays his guitar and sings. What a great voice. Anya drags me there all the time to watch him play! "I've seen you sing. You are wonderful."

This seemed to embarrass him. "Yes, well, thank you." He pulled his glasses off his face again, and began to clean them with a white cloth he drew from his jacket pocket. Tara watched his face flush red, and couldn't help but shoot him a grin. "I saw you read." Tara's face matched his in its tomato coloring. "It was wonderful. You have quite a way with words, Ms…Tara." He smiled at her once more. "So, as you can see, although my children and I love your book, I am much more interested in your adult work." His eyes went wide for a moment, and then he repeated, "Your other work, that is."

"Thank you." The red of her blush colored her cheeks and threatened to fill her chest and neck. She focused her big blue eyes on him, embarrassed by the compliment, but politely demure.

What a lovely creature, Giles thought. "Given the nature of your…other work, our company would have to insist on a pen name if we were to pursue publishing it." He made a face that expressed his distaste. "You Americans are so puritanical." He muttered.

"I think that's understandable." Tara smiled, giggling to herself about Giles' off handed comment. She found herself truly enjoying the man's company. "Would I be working with you?"

"Yes, if that pleases you. This is a bit of my pet project you see."

"Yes, Giles, that pleases me very much." She offered him another grin, sinking back into her chair.

Sunnydale, California
August 2001

Willow looked on in horror as her date took down three shots of tequila, one after another. She raised her glass, offering a weak smile in toast, and taking a sip of her mocha.

"You're not going to drink anything?" Amy asked, tossing her badly dyed blond hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not much for the drinking. Sometimes, you know, during social occasions en masse, like a party? But for the casual hanging out, not so much."

"Oh." Amy answered, her eyes running over Willow's form as if bored at her answer. Her v-neck shirt clung to her curves nicely, the red of it actually complimenting the girl's hair and making her green eyes sparkle. Her dark blue jeans hugged her hips, her form, though perhaps not as curvy as others, was certainly deliciously womanly.

"You like the drinking I see. What else do you like to do?" Willow attempted to make conversation, feeling put off already.

"Mostly I party. Oh, and I love a good cheese tasting. Usually with wine. Or brownies. Especially with a cup of coffee and a shot of Bailey's." Amy stepped forward, putting her hands on Willow's hips. "I like to do other things, too."

Willow looked down to the girl's hands on her hips in wonderment. Well, she's got guts, that's for sure. More guts than me, anyway. She placed her own hands over them, attempting to decide whether or not to push them off. Amy took this as a positive sign, and pulled Willow's form into her own, inching her face forward until their lips met with a crushing pressure from Amy. Too much! Willow's mind frantically screamed at her, even as her lips opened in pure shock. Amy took the opportunity to push her tongue into Willow's mouth, greedily moving towards more than Willow intended to give. Willow found the strength in her body to push back off the hands on her hips, their lips shooting back from each other with an audible pop. Amy stared at Willow with some form of disbelief written over her features. Who the hell does this girl think she is?

"I should have known better than to go out with a nerd." Amy said mostly to herself.

"Hey! You back off." Willow answered. "We just met. You don't know anything about me."

"Are you kidding? Willow Rosenberg, 'I used to date a musician'." Amy's voice was cruel. "Are you even gay?" She demanded. "Have you ever been out with a woman before? Fucked a woman before?"

Willow opened her mouth to speak and quickly shut it. She eyed the girl before her. "Yes, I'm gay. I'm here, aren't I?" Okay, not the best comeback in the world, but at least I said something!

Amy laughed. "Oh, sure. One date with a woman and you're gay. Very trendy. How very now. It's unbelievable how lame you are!"

"Amy, you're nothing but an alcoholic!" Willow's voice rose so most of the Bronze stopped what they were doing and paid attention.

"Maybe, but at least I have a life, at least I have friends. What do you have?"

"She's got us." Xander's voice had never sounded better. In fact, as he and Buffy appeared from around the corner, she wanted to kiss both of them squarely on the mouth. My saviors!

"More fucking losers." Amy grabbed her stuff and pushed past Buffy and Xander, knocking them both with her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, placing a hand on Willow's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Never happier to see my two best buds, though." She shot a thankful smile in their direction. "What are you doing here?"

"Where else is there to go, Will?" Xander offered her a kind smile. "What the hell was that? She was an uberbitch…reminds me of Cordelia."

"Well, if she weren't gay, I would have suggested you asking her out." Willow answered with a grin.

"We saw things begin to get rowdy from over there, and figured we'd make our presence known in case you wanted a way out." Buffy said, rubbing her hand on Willow comfortingly. "I see your date went well. And I ask again – what the hell were you thinking?"

Willow sighed. "I was thinking that it was time to stop agonizing over some girl I may never see again and try to get on with things. But the whole time I was sitting here, before she turned into a psychotic alcoholic, I couldn't help thinking that she just wasn't Tara."

"Willow, not to go all Mom on you, but how much different was that from what happened with Tara?" Xander's voice was soft, knowing he was delivering a bit of a blow.

"What the hell does that mean?" Willow snapped back, her eyes beginning to fill with unmistakable Willow rage.

"Woah, Will…relax. Best buds to the rescue, remember?" Buffy moved to stand in between her and Xander.

"No Buff, it's time we finally say something…From the story you've told me, Tara wasn't exactly sober when she kissed you, right? How far off is this from that?" Xander asked, holding Willow's eyes in his own.

"It's completely different! Kind of." Willow moved to sit down on the unoccupied couch beside the table she had just shared with Amy.

"Kind of?" Buffy shot Xander a look that said tread carefully.

"I know you guys mean well. I do. And I know from the outside, it doesn't look all that different, but…" Willow pushed her hands through her hair, and looked down to the floor, her eyes shutting in concentration. "The kiss wasn't all that different, admittedly. But the day after…"

Portland, Oregon
June, 2000

"I'm sorry, Willow." Tara's voice was soft, but her words were crystal clear. Willow couldn't help but feel her heart lift as the girl spoke her name.

"Sorry." Willow parroted back. She swept her eyes over Tara's form, the black pants with creased legs that drove the eyes up to wonderfully curvy hips, the point of her tie acting as an arrow towards the place Willow didn't want to look but couldn't keep her eyes away from. What mysteries laid beneath the fabric? Was her skin really as creamy and perfect as Willow imagined it would be? She followed the tie up, and appreciated the ampleness of Tara's chest, and felt an ache she had experienced so many times before. She had always dismissed it as wishing she had larger breasts herself, but what if…what if what she really wanted was the breasts themselves? She imagined Tara's free of constriction and under her hands and mouth, a shiver working its way up her spine. She shook her head to free herself of the images. "Sorry for what?" She asked, her curiosity peaking.

"For kissing you." Tara responded, looking mostly at the floor, unaware of the green eyes she longed to see feasting on her form.

"For kissing me." Willow repeated again, her head nodding as she thought. "Don't be." Her answer was nearly whispered, but firm.

Tara finally looked up at the redhead, aware that her heart was beating out of her chest. She instinctively took a step toward the girl, this time she could do nothing but repeat what had been said. "Don't be…" Another step towards Willow, and her mind rebelled. "No, I am sorry."

"Why?" Willow asked, her head tilting to the side, watching as Tara moved closer.

Another step. "Because…" She trailed off, trying to think of the reason she had had, the reason why she regretted their kiss. "Because Faith pushed us into it, and she was rude. Because you were a total stranger, and I just violated you. Because it wasn't consensual. Because I had no right." Tara shook her head, stepping back away from the girl, feeling her heart break at her own indiscretions. How could I do that to her? She berated herself.

This time, Willow took a step forward. "You're right." Her right foot reached out propelling her forward again. "When you kissed me, I didn't know I wanted you to." Her left followed suit. "And then you pulled away…and…"

Tara's brain tried to wrap around the words that came out of Willow's mouth. Didn't know she wanted me to? Wait. That means that after I kissed her, she did want me to. Wait. What? "Willow, I'm sorry. I-I wasn't…I-I wasn't…sober." Great, now I'm a drug addict that forces myself on people. "It wasn't right." She took another step back.

"Are you sober now?"

"What?"

"Are you sober now?" Willow repeated, more forcefully than the first time.

"Yes." Tara still didn't get it. She didn't get it as she felt Willow move towards her with increasing speed, and she was utterly at a loss when she felt Willow's arms close around her, pull her close, and Willow's lips covering hers in a kiss that knocked her back against a wall. What the hell is happening here? Tara's brain screamed at her even as she felt herself respond passionately to a woman she'd met the night before.

When they finally pulled apart, it was their bodies reacting to the lack of oxygen rather than an act of will. "Don't be sorry." Willow repeated again.

"I-I don't really know what to say." Tara gathered all of the strength in her body and looked into those beautiful green eyes. "I have to go back to work…" Why did I say that? I don't want to go back to work, I want to push you to the floor and rip your clothes off.

Willow nodded solemnly. "You should." She doesn't want me.

"Okay, then." Tara's brow furrowed as she stared at Willow, backing towards the door. When she felt the handle hit her back painfully, she finally turned around, pulled open the door, and walked out. God, Willow, I want you so badly.

Sunnydale, California
August, 2001

Xander and Buffy shared a look before Buffy spoke. "You never told us that you kissed her."

Willow leveled her gaze at her two friends, neither missing the unshed tears in her eyes. "I didn't know how to say that. It was easier to tell you and myself that I could be gay at the time then admit out loud that I actually was."

"But it changes the whole story Will." Xander interjected. He and Buffy sat down on either side of Willow, and without consultation, each grabbed one of her hands. "It's one thing if she kisses you and you feel a thing, right?" He searches Willow's face as Buffy nods behind her. "It's another thing if she kisses you and when you meet again you kiss her, 'cuz then we're past just thing territory and into y'know, feelings stuff."

"There's a difference between an attraction and real feelings. When you act on attraction, all you're risking is that moment. When you act on feelings, you're kinda risking yourself." Buffy nodded as if acting on some kind of supreme authority.

Willow eyed Buffy up and down and laughed a bit, her face lighting up enough to remove the gloom. "Sage Buffy." As she looked at both her friends, she felt comforted. A long standing tension seemed to dissolve from her shoulders and she stood up pulling them both behind her. "We might as well have some fun tonight. Let's dance."

"Boogeying at the Bronze." Xander grinned and followed the redhead.

"It's what we do best." Buffy muttered to herself, trailing behind and grinning.

Part 4

Portland, Oregon
February, 2007

Tara smiled politely over the rim of her wine glass, tilting it back over her full lips. The liquid warmed her whole body and loosened the ever present tension in her shoulders. She felt slightly awkward in the clothes Anya had picked out for her, the shirt too revealing, the pants just too tight on her curves, she felt open for display. Not that my date seems to notice, she thought to herself with a bit of a smile, watching the woman's eyes as they seemed to continually sweep her face looking for signs of merriment or displeasure. She's so nervous. Tara couldn't hold back a full blown grin at her date, who instantly saw the expression. Her leg began shaking under the table nervously, even as she continued to babble on. "I didn't really think you would go out with me. I mean, you've turned down everyone else at work who's asked you, and I thought…well, you're so unbelievably beautiful, I just…"

Tara sighed. It was true, she went to the same coffee shop three times a week, and every employee there must have asked her out. Twice. She had grown so used to it that it was mostly routine of her day. And then Vi started working there a few weeks before, and she had instantly liked the younger woman. She was nervous, watching customers intently as they ordered and still not getting their order quite right. When she had seemed to take the same interest in Tara that all the others did, Tara seriously debated whether or not she could be attracted to her. It was not the first time she'd been attracted to a woman that wasn't Willow in the past seven years, hell, it wasn't even the first date she'd been on. But it was the first time she'd been hopeful beforehand.

Tara zoned back into the words that were coming from Vi's mouth, and her cheeks instantly reddened, shooting down her neck and flushing her chest as well. She's nice. Really young. But she's very sweet. Oh Anya, why did I let you talk me into this? "Thank you." She said, interrupting the babblefest, her eyes cast down to the hem of her shirt, where she picked off some invisible lint to avoid having to look the girl in the eye.

"Oh, no need to thank me." Vi smiled. "Thank you."

If we just keep thanking each other for nothing, this is never going to go anywhere. "So tell me about yourself then." Tara smiled at the girl reassuringly as she went white as a ghost.

"About me?" Vi looked both scared and perplexed. "Why would you want to know about me?"

Tara shook her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Well, that is what people do, isn't it? It's been awhile since I've been out on a date, but I was sure there was talking about ourselves involved." She smiled, this time hoping to encourage.

"But you're the interesting one! You write, right? That's what Rona said. Rona, she works with me…"

Tara did know Rona, as they had shared a laugh every few mornings when Tara had come in for her usual drink. She was surprised to find out anyone actually knew who she was, though in this town, she supposed she shouldn't be. "I do. I write children's books." And erotic poetry. Tara hid a giggle behind a wide smile. But if I tell you that right now, you may explode. "And you work at Stumptown."

"Yeah, I do." Vi's eyes stared up at Tara in total wonder, her statement an afterthought.

When Vi didn't continue, Tara tried to hide her disappointment. The conversation continued, mostly with Vi gazing up in wonder at her dinner companion, and Tara feeling very much like a zoo exhibit. When their dinners were finally cleared, the waiter approached with the typical offer of coffee and dessert. They politely declined, and stood to head out the door.

As they neared the end of the block walking towards Tara's car, Vi broke the silence. "I had a really, really great time tonight, Tara. I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me on Friday?"

Tara found herself looking up into Vi's expectant smile, and felt her heart break at the ever so hopeful look on the woman's face. I thought I could do this, but I can't. I'm sorry, Vi, looking at you makes my heart ache for someone else. You like me so much, and it's very flattering, but you're just not what I want. Oh well, be as polite as possible, make her feel good, and then get the hell out.

Sunnydale, California
August 2002

Ira Rosenberg had always known his daughter was different. From the moment she was born, holding her in his arms, she looked magnificently small. And yet, as he moved his hand to check her fingers and toes, as he touched his hand to her face for the first time, he could feel something in her reach out to him. It was almost ghostly, his experience, the feel of her essence reaching out to touch him in that room that smelled of medicine and science and clean.

He felt the same way when he heard her voice in his mind when she was six and broke her arm several blocks away from home. He had been at his office, reading an article of interest when he heard her, clear as day, call out for him. He could still remember the panic in her voice, the first and last time he remembered her truly needing him. He had convinced himself that was hearing things until his wife called him a few hours later. The sitter had called her, she explained, and then she had met them at the hospital. Willow was fine, and she was getting some work done in the waiting room. He had rolled his eyes at his wife's bored tone.

And yet he had always known he was no better than her, with her clinical detachment. He loved his wife, she was a brilliant woman, but she was not particularly maternal. And yet, what was he? Paternal. No, no better. He should have rushed to her the moment he knew he was needed. Instead he had sat, reading in his office, convincing himself that Willow was fine. And so he had done for most of her childhood, truly believing that such an intelligent, capable child had no need for his guidance. How much he had missed he was only painfully aware of now.

Now, as he watched Willow pace back and forth in front of him, he realized with a stunning clarity that this is exactly what she had come to tell him. She was different. Finally, she turned on her heel and looked at him. "Dad." She paused, searching his face for a reaction he had yet to form. She took a sigh, and began to pace again. Ira glanced at his watch out of habit, regretting it instantly when he saw his daughter sigh, screwing her eyes closed.

"Bren…" he began, sinking easily into habit again.

"Dad, I have something to tell you, and it's hard. It's hard for me to tell you, because, well, you're my father, and…" She shook her head, as if to clear it, and took a deep breath that cleansed her. She opened her eyes. "I'm gay."

For a moment, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. His expression did not break, merely staying on her without seeing her. He inhaled sharply through his nose, a whirlwind of reactions coursing through his brain. What does this mean for you, my dear daughter? What will this world do to you? And finally, the one he voiced. "Are you happy, Willow?"

It surprised her how strong his voice was, how tender, how filled with emotion. It was the first time in her life Willow ever truly felt the depth of her father's love. "I'm happy, yes." She smiled, feeling the truth in her words.

"Then what else is there to say?" There was silence between them as they gazed at each other, their eyes meeting. The same smile formed on both their lips, a product of genetics.

Finally, Willow broke the silence. "Can you help me tell Mom?"

Ira's eyes grew wide, before he began to laugh. "There is no power on this Earth great enough to help you tell your Mother, Willow."

Willow laughed at him, smiling wide, her tongue pushing out from between her teeth in pure delight.

Portland, Oregon
August, 2001

Tara stared at her reflection in the glass window, looking carefully at her outfit. She shot a dejected look at herself, feeling silly. Am I dressed right? How do you dress right for this kind of occasion? She sighed, not knowing the answer. Hesitantly, she pushed open the door of the old house, now converted to a coffee shop and glanced around. Not seeing anyone close to whom she was supposed to be meeting, she looked for someone to direct her. Finally, she flagged down a waitress' attention. "H-hi. I-I'm supposed to b-be meeting someone." She frowned at her stumbling.

"Oh!" The waitress brought her hand to her forehead in a salute. "Right this way…" She began walking back out the door that Tara had entered from, and lead her to an outdoor sitting area. There, sitting off in a corner was a pretty woman with blond hair. The waitress pointed at her. "Good luck." She whispered before scurrying back in the other direction.

During Tara's walk towards her, she felt the woman's eyes appraising her. "Well, you're shy, aren't you?" Anya called when Tara was ten feet away, her head slightly bowed.

"I guess I am." Tara laughed, feeling relaxed by the honesty.

"So, why are you moving?" Anya asked, still eyeing Tara up and down.

"Oh, well, my apartment is the first place I moved into when I got here, and I guess I'm looking for something…nicer?" She took a seat on the bench opposite Anya.

"What's your name?" She leaned forward to pick up a cup of coffee sitting in front of her.

"Tara Maclay." She answered, her fingers pulling at the napkin on the table in front of her.

"Good name. You seem very honest." Anya reached over and picked up Tara's hand, examining her skin in the light. "You have soft skin and clean hands." Anya seemed to check off some kind of list in her mind. "Do you shower regularly? Personal hygiene is a must."

Tara nodded, somewhat bewildered by this strange creature. "I'm very neat."

"Well, that answers my next question." Another check. "Do you steal?"

"No." Check.

"Do you have loud friends and late parties?"

"No." Half-check.

"Do you mind if I do?"

"With some warning?" Anya nodded good-naturedly. "No, not really." Check.

"Well, you'll do. My name is Anya Jenkins. I would love for you to be my new roommate." The girl smiled, the expression covering most of her face.

Tara nodded, despite herself. "When can I see the apartment?"

"Oh. Well, when you move in, of course. Don't worry, you'll love it." Anya continued to smile at her. "So, do you have a lot of sex? Is your shy demeanor really just a ploy to get people into bed with you? Because it's very convincing." Tara stared at Anya, not quite knowing what to say. She found herself enjoying the strange girl's presence. And she found herself agreeing despite herself when Anya looked at her straight in the eyes and said "I think we're going to be best friends!"

Part 5

Portland, Oregon
September 2008

Tara stood, waiting to be called "on stage" with a nervousness she couldn't quite shake. She had become used to readings, mostly thanks to Anya dragging her to open mic after open mic. For years, Anya had patiently listened as Tara read her work again and again, a different inflection or tone used each time. She served as critic, support system, and general pain in the ass. Tara smiled. Thinking about Anya and all the work it took to make it here, to this moment, it calmed her down. Now, if only she didn't know about Willow…

Willow felt her heart leap out of her chest and shoot back in, thumping loudly in the midst of the crowd. Her face was beet red, her breathing coming in short gasps, she stared unable to move her eyes away from her. Tara Maclay. How many times had she considered the woman's last name? Too many to count. Simple, American names: Tara Simpson. Tara Jones. Tara Smith. Tara Johnson. Irish? Tara Riley. Tara Connor. Tara Duffy. Italian. Tara Lombardi. Tara Espisito…none of them had ever sounded right to her ear. Tara Maclay, of course. How perfect, how simple. How beautiful. The picture outside had done her no justice. Even after eight years, not one detail of her face had left Willow's mind, she could see the changes, the newer laugh lines, the tired look around the eyes that Willow knew was mirrored in her own. And yet still, there she was, the woman who she had been searching for with her heart everyday for eight years.

Her voice sounded over the crowd, but spoke directly to the heart of her, to the Willow who existed nowhere else but for Tara, with Tara. She looked so confident, so gorgeous, her blue eyes shimmering in the light, dancing around in their mischeviousness. Her words flowed from her, cocooning the audience in their warm, sensual glow. She tried to pay attention, tried to hear. So much love in her voice, as she read to the crowd. Each one of them could have been her lover, the one she spoke to in such soft tones. Willow watched her read, poem after poem, imagining how many moments she had missed with this beautiful creature.

Finally, there was a lull, a collective whimper as the goddess stopped speaking, letting her eyes search the crowd. Who is she looking for? Willow's mind demanded, aching with the idea of someone else in the crowd the poet was speaking of. She searched the faces of the audience, a game of hide and seek as they caught her eye and dropped their eyes to their laps blushing. Finally, her eyes seemed to stop at Willow's, and even with the distance, and the lights shining on her face, a spark of recognition seemed to float across her face. Her blue eyes widened, glimpsing those green that she had seen time and again in her dreams. They stared so long that the audience began to turn in their seats, trying to find the face they saw her staring at. She shook her head, ripping her eyes away from the redheaded woman, and laughed softly, drawing the attention of the crowd back to her.

"I'm going to read my final poem for the night, but first I'd like to tell you a little about how it came to be. When I was younger and wild…" She trailed off as the audience began to titter. She waited for them to settle again. "I met this girl. I knew her for only twelve hours, and she changed my whole life. Everything I write is in some way or another about her. I've never seen her face to face again, but I've always wanted to. What I remember most about her is the way she smelled…" For a moment, Tara lost herself to a memory. "This is the poem I wrote for her." She sought out Willow's eyes in the audience once more. "I've never read it for any audience before." With her eyes locked on Willow's, she began to speak.

if i close my eyes i can still smell you
so sweet, nectarines and honey
it lingered on my skin for weeks

alone in my room just yesterday
i called you to mind again
everyday and a thousand times before

your form pressed against me
now naked in our privacy
your hips buck against my intrusion

i am tension, the high wire
carefully balancing
desire and need

you are a blur in my fantasy
frantic energy like that morning
you kissed me against bathroom tile

all I have now in desire and need is
the ghost of you, nectarine and honey
on my tongue when i come

Portland, Oregon
September 2006

Anya grabbed a hold of Tara and pulled her towards the door of the bar. "You're never going to have sex if you don't even meet lesbians!" Anya shouted, before turning to face the bouncer with an ID in her hands. The woman leered forward towards her, clearly taking the chance to look down Anya's shirt. Her eyes took a slow trip back up from her breasts to rest on her lips. "I'm a lesbian."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Of course you are." She shot a beaming smile back towards Tara who returned the look with a shake of the head and huge eyes. "So's she." Anya pointed, deliberately avoiding the petrified look in her friend's eye.

"Nice to meet you, honey." The bouncer eyed Tara up and down as well. "You are one hell of a woman."

"Thank you." She answered softly, the corners of her lips turning up into the slightest hint of a smile. She pushed her ID into the bouncer's waiting hands.

"Don't be nervous. You'll knock 'em dead." The woman offered Tara a wink, and opened her hand to usher them both inside. Anya grinned, and Tara offered the woman a true smile before ducking into the bar.

Tara felt her mouth drop open in wonder as she stared at the small stage from her table with Anya. Performing karaoke to a Disturbed song were two young women, obviously not much past twenty-one if at all, Tara thought, allowing it to bring the smirk to her lips. Anya was beside herself in the next seat, truly tickled by the performance. "Lesbian karaoke is amazing."

"Well, it's certainly different." Tara replied, unable to rip her eyes away from the women. As the song ended, and the girls fell over laughing, Tara allowed her eyes to wander over the bar. The bartender was laughing, her head thrown back, obviously truly enjoying whatever had just been said by a brunette in tight jeans and a white tank top.

The brunette seemed to realize the performance was over a few seconds after Tara caught sight of her. She climbed onto the stage, stealing the microphone back from the girls, and casting a look out at the audience. "Alright you drunkards…" At the sound of the voice, Tara's eyes flew to the woman's face as she flashed a sexy smile out at the crowd. "Next we have Kate and Darla performing Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow's Picture." Faith.

Faith stood on stage, a hand buried in her pocket, the other with the microphone extended to two blushing blond women headed towards her. Tara's eyes took in her face, which looked the same as it had six years before. Faith was beautiful. She slowly let her eyes travel the other girl's form. Not too thin, anymore. Faith rocked back and forth on her feet, as the first woman reached out to grab the mic. She looks…sort of nervous. Tara laughed at the idea, seeing so many and so few changes in her old friend. Faith stepped off the stage as the song began, heading back towards the bar. Tara felt herself stand and begin to move towards her without thought.

"Hi." The word was out of her mouth before she could even begin to berate herself for its absurdity.

Faith stopped and a beat passed before she turned towards the voice. "Tara." She said the name mostly to herself before she let her eyes take the other girl in. She swallowed. "Good to see ya, T."

"It's good to see you, Faith." Her voice was soft, her hand reaching out to touch the other girl's wrist. Her fingers dropped around her arm, closing around the skin. "How are you?"

Faith stared at the touch before raising her eyes. "Good." She took a deep breath. "Better."

"Good." Tara's voice filled with genuine warmth before she smiled at the girl. "That's really good."

Faith nodded. "It is good."

"How long have you been working here?"

Tara felt Faith start to relax, and she let her hold on the other girl begin to slip. Faith caught her hand with her own, and laced their fingers together for a moment before squeezing her hand gently and dropping away. "A year or so." She pointed at the bartender with a smile. "My partner."

"That's great." Tara gave the girl a half grin. "That's really, really great."

"It is." Faith smiled back at Tara, letting the warmth of the girl wash over her. "I'm…"

She forced a sigh out, looking away for a moment as her features formed into a wince. In an instant it was gone, replaced with a gaze straight back at her old friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't…" She trailed off again. "Things changed after…after you left."

Tara nodded. "I'm glad."

From behind the bar, the bartender's voice sounded. "Faith?" She called, her eyes taking in the two women a little suspiciously.

"I should go. But you should come back. Maybe we can…talk some more." Faith's voice betrayed the fear that she felt.

"I will." Tara smiled. "Good to see you." She grabbed Faith's hand and squeezed it again. "Go tell your girl not to worry about me."

Faith flashed her a grin before nodding and pushing herself off in the direction of the bar, a private smile flashing in the direction of her lover as she scurried off to calm her doubts.

Sunnydale, California
August 2003

"Open mine!" Dawn jumped about excitedly, her party hat falling back behind her head.

Willow grinned as she watched Dawn's excitement, and turned to look at Xander. "What do you say? Just for my birthday, a little Snoopy dance?"

"Aww, c'mon, Will, I don't want to ruin the Christmas magic." Xander grinned knowingly, and ruffled Willow's hair with his hand.

"Alright, alright, fine. But my present had better be excellent." She answered him, grabbing the small wrapped package from Dawn. She began to pull the paper apart, quickly realizing that Dawn's idea of wrapping also included covering every spare inch of paper in tape.

"I was at the mall, and I saw this, and I thought, perfect for Willow!" Dawn grinned, moving to sit down next to the redhead. "Open it!" She demanded.

"I'm trying, Dawnie, but you certainly don't make it easy." She began a new tactic of pulling with all of her might.

"Demon wrapper Dawn strikes again!" Buffy called as she came in from the kitchen carrying sodas and popcorn.

"Finally…" Willow muttered to herself as she got the item within the packaging. She pulled out a small hardcover book, the cover immediately drawing her eye as her quick mind made work of the black and white photograph of a woman's torso. Her green eyes opened wide in surprise as she looked up at Dawn. "Dawn, I…"

Buffy and Xander leaned forward to get a glimpse of the gift, as Dawn began to explain. "It's not what you think!" Buffy and Xander followed Willow's example in shooting an open mouthed look at Dawn, struggling for words. "Really! Well, not really, it's this book of poetry, and I remember that Willow really liked her feminist poetry class, and this new book came out by this new author, and I thought maybe she'd like it! Plus, lesbian!" She flipped over the book to reveal the author's bio on the back.

"She lives in Portland…" Willow said softly to herself, missing the look that Xander and Buffy exchanged. "Well, thank you Dawnie." She smiled, looking back up at the girl. "Really, it's very thoughtful, thank you so much."

Dawn grinned, swelling her chest out and standing up to her full height. "And, ooo, it fits with Xander's present!" Willow and Buffy both shot a withering look at Xander, and he raised up his hands for protection.

"It's not like that, really!" He offered before disappearing into the dining room and bringing out a beautifully carved bookcase. "See? Book fits in book case." He and Dawn looked quite proud of themselves as Willow stood with tears in her eyes. "Xander, it's beautiful!"

"Really beautiful, Xand." Buffy smiled, glancing at the chest he had made for her earlier that year.

"It will fit in your room under your window, y'know, the one you wanted something for? And you can put plants on top of it, so they'll get light. And each of our initials are carved into the trimmings…" He began to point them out as Willow ran her hand along the wood.

"Thank you so much. I love you guys!"

She pulled Dawn and Xander into hug before Buffy pushed her way in on the other side, smiling as she said "Group hug."

"Happy birthday, Willow." Dawn chirped happily, her head trapped in the crook of Xander's arm. Buffy and Xander followed suit in repeating Dawn.

"This is the best birthday ever." Willow whispered, and the hug got tighter.

Part 6

Sunnydale, California
February 2006

Willow awoke calmly, despite the regret she felt at leaving the cocoon of her bed. Sitting up slowly, she fought off the last remnants of sleep and allowed her eyes to open. She smiled at the walls, a warm brown, allowed her right hand to run the length of the bed, the beautiful mahogany wood warm beneath her hand. The sheets beneath her were almost silky in their softness. A general feeling of peace pervaded her senses, and she inhaled deeply, the smell of cedar filled the air. She brought her legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching her arms over her head. Unrelenting calm filled her limbs as she stretched out the sleep. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and was amazed to note the laugh lines on her face, the green lingerie that matched the color of her eyes. She noted with some sense of surprise that she looked sexy, sexy carved from comfort and ease and…is that happiness? She drew a deep breath into her lungs, testing it. Contentment. So that's what it feels like…

She startled when she felt two strong arms wrapping around her waist, but she felt safe. So right, these arms that grabbed her with a well tested knowledge. They were firm, and she was drawn back into softness unparalleled. A whimper escaped her mouth as she realized there were bare breasts against her back. She felt the nipples through the flimsy material of her night clothes. She closed her eyes and pushed back into the warmth.

Whispers filled her ear, hot breath trailing just moments behind them, and her knees nearly gave out. "You are enchanting in the morning, my love." She allowed herself to be turned in the arms, and met sapphire blue with emerald greens. Before she could register what was happening, lips were pressed to hers in a flimsy contact, not nearly close to what she wanted. As they began to pull away, she reached forward and pulled her lover close, pushing their lips together, her tongue seeking and gaining entrance into the other woman's mouth. Their tongues melded together, and she felt herself float away from her body, feeling whole, wholly connected to this beauty. As they pulled away, a melodic laugh filled her ears. "Well, every part of you except your morning breath is enchanting." A kiss followed the words at the nape of her neck, a tongue lathering attention to her pulse point and then finally lips wrapped around her earlobe and sucked with a gentle pressure she felt directly on her clit. She moaned. "Even with morning breath, you're irresistable. How do you do that?"

Her lover's impish grin was an arrow through her heart, and tears welled up in her eyes as she mouthed more than spoke the woman's name. "Tara." There was such reverence in her voice it almost sounded like a sob, a moment of silence passed between them and they stared at each other.

Tara cocked her head and regarded her love with quizzical eyes. "Baby, you haven't said my name like that in a long time."

"When was the last time?" She asked, sounding miles away.

"When you married me." Tara leaned forward and pressed their lips together again, her hand reaching up and settling on Willow's cheek. "Are you okay, love?" She looked at Willow with a worried expression. "You're not sick, are you?"

"Not sick." Willow shook her head, her usually busy mind still in Tara's arms. She grasped at the feelings that flooded her mind, adoration, love, respect. There were no words beautiful enough, no words big enough, no words grand enough to describe how deeply to her core she worshipped this woman. "Not totally right either."

"You're scaring me, Will, what are you thinking over there?" Tara took Willow's hand and pulled them back onto the bed. They laid facing each other, and Willow's eyes filled with tears as they trailed up Tara's form. Her hands grazed over the woman's hips, dragged slowly up the sides of her stomach, before resting on Tara's cheek the way Tara's hand had on hers moments before.

"I love you." She stared unblinking into Tara's eyes. "I look at you and all I can think is…" She trailed off, cursing her vocabulary for not having the perfect words to explain.

"Will. You think what, baby?" Willow still refused to answer, dropping her eyes to Tara's hand still linked in hers and the tears that had been unshed up to this moment began to flow openly out of her eyes. She shook her head against Tara's questions, still unsure of what to say. Tara followed Willow's eyes, and finally found herself smiling.

"Willow, my love, don't cry because we love each other. Don't cry because you love me too much!" Tara laughed that beautiful laugh again, and Willow's heart broke with how full it was. "Don't you see, baby? Don't you see that I know how you feel because I feel the same way? I'm yours. You're mine. Distance means nothing to us. Time means nothing to us. I'll be yours forver. You'll be mine forever. Nothing can take this away from us because we'll always be waiting for each other."

"You'll always find me?" Willow's voice was so small, and she choked back yet another sob.

"I will always find you, baby." Tara smiled. "Lighten up, love. Don't cry for our happiness, revel in it. And when it feels like too much, let it spill out in laughter." She grasped Willow's hand tighter. "And if I get lost, my Willow?"

"Then I'll find you." Willow answered, finally looking up at her love.

"Please do. I love you here and now. I loved you my entire life, and I'll love you in the afterlife or in the next all over again. You belong to me. So it's up to us to find each other, okay?"

"Okay." Tara smiled and held up their hands to show the redhead. "See?" She pointed at the ring on her hand and then the one on Willow's. "Our rings are just a symbol, my love, of the eternity we've promised to each other." They didn't speak again as their lips crushed down on each other, leaving little space for breathing, and no space for getting useless words out. Who needs words when everything important has already been said?

When Willow actually woke up alone in her bed, all she could remember from her dream was a snippet…thankfully, it was the most important part. With Tara's question in her mind, as well as her answer, she flipped open her laptop and got to work. It was time. It was time to do what her heart had been telling her to do.

"And if I get lost, my Willow?"

"Then I'll find you."

"Please do."

Sunnydale, California
August, 2004

Tara wandered down the main strip of the town, her eyes shooting back and forth between all of the shops and people wandering. She ducked out of the way of the crowds, and stood back ducked into the doorway of one of the many shops. People wandered by, and she was amazed how many people there were in Sunnydale, considering how little she had ever heard about it. Portland gets all kinds of crazy Californian refugees, and yet none that she'd ever met spoke of Sunnydale. Whatever that was about, she liked the town, with its Spanish influenced architecture and its general bustle lacking hustle for the most part.

Which is why she had backed into this corner, her moleskin in hand as she stared out into the street and people hurrying by. She smiled at the sight of a man with brown shaggy hair, a red checkered shirt and jeans swing an arm companionably around the petite blond beside him dressed fashionably in lighter jeans, a white shirt, and a leather jacket. They smiled at each other, and she touched his arm in a familiar way. They continued to talk as they walked past her and Tara imagined who they were and what their relationship was. It didn't seem romantic in nature, not from the way his head turned as if looking for someone else, or the way they playfully punched each other in the arm. There was something about them that she couldn't place, something that drew her eyes to them even as they moved out of her sight range, drawing her a few steps forward from her hiding place and watching as they disappeared into a coffee shop down the street.

She closed her eyes, and settled back into the recessed area, leaning her back against the brick wall behind her. She tried to fight it, but the dream she had had the night before came back to her with stunning clarity. The dream of married life, of a soul mate, of the girl who had kissed her so many years ago. It's probably just because I'm in California. Why else would Willow have popped into my mind? She sighed. Because Willow is always on your mind. Well, it's not like this is where she's from. You don't know anything about her! Only that her name is Willow and she's from California. This is so stupid, four years later and you still can't forget one girl. Just because she saved your life doesn't mean she's the one. It just felt that way. She opened her eyes, forcing the thoughts away. She spied an empty bench across the street and decided to sit down and try to write something. New town, new work. That's the rule. She opened her notebook and began to sketch out impressions of this place, of the people she had seen, and of worlds she created for them.

She hadn't mean to work so long that she caught sight of the friends as they left the coffee shop, but she had. She glanced up when the sound of their familiar voices had passed her, and dropped her notebook. A head full of red hair the color of Willow's traipsed just ahead of the man and woman she'd taken note of before. She refused to allow herself to look again, feeling her breath begin to quicken, her pulse begin to race. Could it be? No, it obviously couldn't be. Don't do this to yourself, Maclay. Don't pretend it's her again just to find someone else's face. It's gone far enough. You're never going to find her again. Angry with herself, she stood and walked off in the other direction, back towards her hotel, not allowing herself a glance back.

If she had, she would have seen one Willow Rosenberg stop dead in her tracks and flash a look back towards when Tara had just been sitting, nearly knocking Buffy and Xander over by stopping dead in front of them. "Whatcha lookin' at Willster?" Buffy asked, her eyes following her friends and finding empty space.

"I'm not sure, I thought I saw someone…" Willow looked back towards the empty bench before shaking her head. "It was nothing." She flashed her friends a reassuring smile and slid her arms between theirs, and kept walking. Wishful thinking. It couldn't be that easy that she would just appear in Sunnydale. Not with my luck. Willow sighed, pushing thoughts of Tara out of her head for as long as she could.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to call you guys all day!" Dawn stood in the hallway as the front door opened, talking to them before they could see here.

"Where's the fire?" Xander asked, seeing Dawn in full resolve mode, something she had clearly picked up from Willow over the years.

"I was calling to tell Willow that the poet she likes, y'know, the book I bought her for her birthday? Is reading tonight at the Espresso Pump. I wanted to go with you, but now it's too late!"

Buffy shot Willow a look before settling her eyes back on Dawn. "I'm not sure I would have wanted you going to that reading anyway, Dawnie. Don't you think you're a little young for erotic poetry?"

Dawn rolled her eyes as she threw her arms into the sky. "Don't you think there are worse things I could be interested, Buffy? I could be taking drugs, or staying out late, or getting pregnant…"

"She's got a point there, Buff." Willow smiled at the girl. "I'm sorry, Dawnie, I would have loved to go, but I have work to do anyway, and we" she gestured to Buffy and Xander, "had made plans for the day already. Y'know, kind of, let's hang out before we forget what each other looks like kind of plans."

Dawn snorted. "All you three do is spend time together! There's talk of polyamory all over the neighborhood!"

"I guess that makes me the stud." Xander said, grinning. He lost his smile when Buffy punched him in the arm. "You're really stronger than you think you are, Buffy." He rubbed his arm as he sat down, knowing a bruise was forming.

"That's not fair, Dawn. We've all been busy working and doing grown up stuff, there's been no time for mocha goodness and gossip." Buffy sounded exasperated.

"Gossip about what? You three don't have anything going on to gossip about!" Dawn sighed. "Well, this just sucks."

"I'm sorry, Dawnie, I'll make it up to you. Next time she comes here, we'll go, okay?" Willow said with a hopeful smile, stepping forward to wrap Dawn in a hug.

Tara smiled at the assorted group of fans sitting in the audience. "I would like to do something I almost never do." She made eye contact with a few of the people in the front, noting with amusement her book in their hands. "I'd like to read something I wrote today. Would you mind that?" The audience cheered their consent. "Excellent. This is called 'After The Discovery of Us'".

after the discovery, my love,
swimming in the remnants of
our wet and sweat on the sheets
you'll turn to me, your eyes
the green of grass, your smile
innocent and wide in the
face of the things we said,
forgotten is the way
you've taken my body
christening it yours in
saliva,
blood,
sweat,
and arousal,
signing your name in broad strokes
with the ink of your sex
after the discovery of us, my love,
you will turn to me with your smile
in your particular shade of green
and with flesh
and bones
and blood
make us everything we should have been
ah, what could have been…

Sunnydale, California
September, 2004

Willow reread the email again, her eyes scanning every line so as not to miss a word. Her mind reeled as she tried to make sense of what was actually being said. Job offer. Web design. Portland, Oregon. She stood up from her computer, and flopped her body back down on her bed staring at the ceiling. Maybe she'll be there. Maybe I can find her. She groaned, tired of the same riff of mental thought that had been in her brain for four years. "She won't be there! You're not gonna find her, so just get over it already!" She screamed at herself.

"Willow, are you okay?" Buffy's voice was muffled behind the door.

"I'm fine!" She called through the door, praying Buffy would accept that and go away.

"Can I come in?" She sighed, chucking her pillow at the door. Of course it can't be that easy.

"Sure." Willow answered, and she kept her eyes trained above as the door opened. She felt the bed shift as Buffy sat down.

"What's going on?"

Willow turned her eyes to look at her friend, who was staring back at her with a mixture of amusement and worry. "I just got a job offer."

"That's great. What's the job?" Buffy settled herself back on the bed, crossing her legs in front of her.

"It's web design. It's an increase in salary. It would be a move, though, and I don't know, I just…I don't think I'm ready to leave Sunnydale."

Buffy's face betrayed the emotions that played across her face. Sure, she didn't want Willow to move away, but if this would advance her career…"Why don't you think you're ready to leave?"

"Life is good here. I have you, and Dawn, and Xander, and I love being around you guys. You keep me sane." Willow smiled, reaching her hands palm up towards Buffy. Without second thought, Buffy slid her hands on top of Willow's, palms down. It was something they did whenever they started to have a serious conversation, a way of comfort, something about sharing energies that Willow had read years ago and had just become habit.

"How far away are we talking, Will? Can't we still be friends if you move away?" Buffy's tone was teasing, but her intention was serious.

"Of course! We'll always be friends. That's not even a question." Willow started to pull away, but something in Buffy's eyes stopped her. "The job's in Portland."

"Oh." Buffy let her eyes roam over her friend's face. "Maybe that would be a good thing, Will, maybe…you could find her." Her last words were spoken softly.

"She's probably not even there, anymore. And why would I move there? For a woman I met once? I feel so psychotic for even thinking about her the way I do."

Buffy shrugged. "Willow, I can't lie to you and tell you that you've having a typical experience. But why is that important? You found a girl that you really liked, and no one has measured up since. Now you have a chance to do and see if you can find that woman and make something happen. Why wouldn't you take it?"

Willow sat for a moment in silence, staring at her friend and wondering at how she ever got such amazing friends. They were incredibly supportive, even with how truly crazy she was. "I'm not ready to go there and never be able to find her." Willow's voice was small. "If I knew for sure she was there…" She trailed off, looking past Buffy, searching for words. "I just think…if it's supposed to happen, then it will. Does that make sense?"

Buffy noded. "It does. I just don't want to see you sabotage a chance for happiness."

"And if I knew that's what I was missing out on, I'd go in a heartbeat. But I don't know that, and right now…I'd rather stay here with you. Where I know I'm loved." Willow sighed. "I could have gone to college anywhere, right?" Again, Buffy nodded. "And I chose to stay here."

"Right, you did, which is what I'm talk…"

"Buffy, I stayed because I knew what was important to me. You. Xander. Dawn. This family, our family. I stayed because I knew this is where I needed to be then. And nothing about that has changed. At least not yet. Maybe someday. Maybe never. I'm okay with where I am now. Really, if you think about it, I'm blessed." Willow smiled at Buffy. "I've got more love in my life than most people ever get."

"Alright, Will, but you have to promise me…promise me that if the chance ever comes for happiness, that you're going to take it. I mean it. I want you to be happy."

"I am." Willow smiled, even as she felt her heart ache from loneliness and her brain ache from her lie. She was happy, if just a little bit sad for a chance she was never sure she'd have.

Part 7

Sunnydale, California
June, 2009

She almost let out a moan as she felt warm arms encircle her around her waist. Leaning back into soft comfort, she sighed, rubbing her eyes against the computer screen ache. Willow's hands reached up and began rubbing her temples as she softly whispered, "Poor baby."

Tara smiled, grabbing Willow's hands and pulling her arms around her neck, nuzzling into the cheek that fell to touch hers. "Hi sweetie."

"Hi." The answer was short, breathy. They relaxed into each other, letting the moments tick by with no concern for time or sound or anything else at all really. Tara felt her eyes grow heavy, the lids closing against her will. She was certain she would be asleep completely in just a few moments when she heard Willow's voice again. "How do you know?"

"Know what, baby?" Tara turned into the embrace, Willow dropped to her knees in front of her girlfriend, snuggling in between her legs and resting her hands against the other girl's back.

"What to write about? What to write? What words to use? I just…I can't imagine writing the way you do, putting words to paper to…create beauty. Is there some sort of method?" Willow's voice was small, mildly tamed by the realization there was something she didn't know how to do.

Tara laughed, filling the air around them with a delicious sound that made Willow's heart leap with happiness. She hummed a bit, a long drawn out note as she thought of a response that might make sense to her very inquisitive, science driven girlfriend. "I hear words in my head, usually just an opening line or two, sometimes four or five. I try to write them down as quickly as possible and let the image expand from there." Willow's face contorted immmediately into a puzzled expression. "Sweetie…" Tara trailed off, her eyes sweeping over the redhead's face. "I have a theory. I write it down. From there, I experiment with possible facts to expound on the idea."

Willow leaned forward into Tara's body, nuzzling her face into ample breasts that she had come to know and love. She had seen beautiful sights in her life, that she was sure of: sunrises, sunsets, nature in its glory, manmade wonders, a computer program that achieved its primary goal with simple ease. But the moment she had seen Tara's breasts for the first time, rays of sunlight streaming in from the window, dust particles floating about the air, and those rosy nipples cast in a heavenly glow – tears sprung to her eyes in the realization of the beauty of humanity. If one woman could be so perfect, certainly there was a Creator, a mastermind of the universe that had made a world of wonder. A God or Goddess who had seen fit to make the world splendid, to make a fit for Willow that felt like a missing piece of herself. A piece of herself that was able to take those moments of perfection and make them palatable for human consumption with words. This was the essence of Willow's question. How do you make the world perfect with words? It was a question she didn't know how to ask.

Tara smiled and ran a hand through her lover's hair. "I think of you, my love, and the words just seem to pour out." The gorgeous smile she received in response brought a flood of words to Tara's mind.

Portland, Oregon
February, 2005

Her eyes skirted over the lines she had just written, resting her pen between her lips like a cigarette, she used her tongue to wiggle it from side to side, something she did out of habit whenever she reread her work. She rolled her head around her shoulders, feeling the tenseness of her muscles. Dropping the pen, she ran her hands over her face, and felt herself begin to shift back to the real world. On stage, a woman strummed the strings of her guitar as her voice sailed out over the low rumblings of patrons in the coffee shop and the hiss of the espresso machine. Her voice was haunting and beautiful, the lyrics a requiem to some lost love. Tara ran her hand through her hair, tired of empathizing with this kind of music.

The door of the coffee shop opened, and Giles strolled in in his usual manner, carrying his briefcase in one hand and a guitar case in the other. His lips curved into an affectionate smile as soon as he saw her. "I'm not late, am I?" He asked as he reached her, dipping forward to drop a kiss on her forehead. He straightened and took a long look at her. "You are not sleeping nearly enough." He placed his case down gingerly, his suitcase followed. "You are certainly a sight for sore eyes."

"It's good to see you too, Giles." She smiled back at him, knowing he didn't expect answers from her for half of what he said.

"So, what has you so busy, my dear?" He raised his hand to gesture at the waitress before he settled his gaze back on her, pulling the glasses off of his face and beginning to clean them.

"Oh, it's nothing." She smiled shyly, thanking the waitress for taking that moment to pop up and interrupt them. Giles placed his order for tea, and she ordered another chai. "How are your kids?"

"As delightfully irritating as ever." He smiled. "How is the demon?"

Tara laughed. "She's well. She's on a date or I'm sure she would have made an appearance." The meeting between Anya and Giles had been inevitable, as they all attended Three Friends open mic nights. Tara couldn't have imagined beforehand how totally horrified both Anya and Giles had been with one another. Since then, they had formed an amicable distaste for each other, knowing they shared Tara's best interests at heart was enough of a bond for them to harbor secret good will they seldom admitted to Tara, and never to each other.

"And what are you working on?" He pointed towards her still open notebook.

"I don't know, Giles." She sighed, slumping back in her seat. "Nothing's been flowing lately, except this stupid project I started a few years ago."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "A stupid project?" He shook his head. "I can't imagine such a thing."

"It's really embarrassing. I can't imagine ever doing anything with it, it just won't leave my head."

"Can I convince you to tell me about it?"

"Not right now." She smiled at him, and the waitress brought their drinks before he could totally object. "So what are you not telling me, Giles?"

"What on Earth could you be referring to?"

She rolled her eyes. "I called you at the office three times last week, you never called back. Finally, I call you at home yesterday, and you're secretive and tell me you'll meet me here…Something is going on with you."

He nodded. "Indeed, there is." Giles' gaze drifted down towards his hands, as if they had some kind of hint for the words he should use. "I've quit the Council." He said it quietly, and yet Tara's ears felt no strain to hear the words. She drew in a heavy intake of breath, and released it slowly through her pursed lips.

"Oh…"

He smiled kindly at her. "I believe it's time for me to end my employment with those bloody vultures." She nodded, feeling numb. Of course it's time, Giles! She knew how hard it was for him at the Council, so many rules and regulations about what was "literature" and what was not. Still, could she help but feel a little sorry for herself? The one refuge she had at that company was leaving…who would she turn to now?

"So, what do you plan on doing now?" She asked, attempting to keep her voice level.

He reached his hand across the table, covering hers with his. His voice dropped again, and he leaned forward so she could hear him. "I'm thinking of starting my own company. Portland is a perfect place to start an independent publishing house, and I think it's time I did something that is all my own. I'm hoping that I can take my favorite poet with me." He looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "And, of course, whatever 'stupid project' she's working on."

The tears nearly spilled over, despite her efforts to keep them at bay. Her heart raced as her brain fought to keep up with this new revelation. Could they really be free of the Council's constraints? No, no, she couldn't. She had a contract for another book with them, she had to fulfill it. She shook her head, pulling her hand away from him.

"Perhaps she could publish something under her own name?" Hope flooded her entire body. Of course! My contract is under my pen name!

A smile lit up her face as she looked at him. "This could work."

"Yes, yes it might." He smiled back at her. "So…tell me about your project."

Sunnydale, California
August, 2008

Dawn held the wrapped present tightly to her chest, sharing a glance with Buffy. "C'mon, Dawnie, where's the usual birthday enthusiasm? I'm getting used to you being more excited about my present than I am." Willow flashed a grin at her, her tongue protruding through her teeth in amusement.

"I'm all with the woo and the hoo." Dawn answered distractedly.

"Oh yeah, definitely party girl." Xander laughed behind her. "Will's right, Dawn, you're a little more sedate than usual."

"No, no, I'm great." She flashed a quick smile, the butterflies in her stomach dancing about to a decidedly disco beat. Seeing the looks on her friends' faces, she relented. "I'm a little nervous about this present."

"Anything you give me will be perfect, Dawn." Willow answered, placing her hand on Dawn's arm. "I love you, and you are present enough."

Dawn smiled a real smile, and pulled Willow into a hug. "I love you too, Willow, so much." She pulled away, looking Willow in the eye. "I hope you get everything you deserve this year." Her words were punctuated, as if she were trying to make some larger point.

"You really are all with the seriousness." Xander looked on at his two best friends, slightly bewildered. He turned to Buffy, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Go ahead, Dawn." Buffy gave Xander no answer, her face etched in the same nervous expression on her sister's face. "Give her the present."

Willow grabbed the present out of Dawn's hands, grinning all the while. She shook it, turning it over in her hands. "Is it a DVD?" She giggled at herself. "Oooh, is it D.E.B.S.?"

"Oooh, yeah, is it D.E.B.S.?" Xander repeated behind her.

"You two just like hot women making out." Buffy laughed, easing some of the tension in her stomach.

"What's not to like?" Xander answered, wrapping his arms around Buffy. "If Willster would get with the girlfriend having, we could all be enjoying women making out."

"Some of us more than others, Xand." Buffy elbowed him in the stomach playfully.

"Alright, alright, enough about my non-existent love life. This is supposed to be a party." Willow poised her hands to rip the paper open, and was stopped by Dawn's hands on hers.

"Seriously…" Dawn said, catching Willow's eyes and holding them. "I'm not sure if you've seen this or not, but…well, I thought…you know what? Just open it."

Willow looked at her friends quizzically, finally seeing the nervousness on the sisters' faces. "Guys, what is this?" She asked, but only received hand motions to open it in response. She pulled at the paper, laughing at Dawn's amazing ability to use a whole roll of tape on one present. Finally, she began to pull the paper off, revealing a book. "Oooo…Dawnie books!"

"More lesbian poetry?" Xander asked. "She's got a whole shelf full!"

"Shut up, Xander." Dawn smiled at him.

"'What Could Have Been'…." Willow's voice trailed off after reading the title. She flipped the book over, remembering the line from her favorite poet's last book. The name on the spine was different. Tara McClay. Pretty name, she thought. She settled into her chair, reading the back cover.

Outside of a coffee shop, on a perfect Portland night, Tanya catches sight of a woman, the most beautiful she's ever seen. Shocked by the intensity of her desire, Tanya embarks on a journey to follow this beauty to the ends of the earth. As luck would have it, they cross paths just a few months later, and so begins the trip of a lifetime. Have you ever met someone just once and wondered What Could Have Been? This lyrical work, poetic and haunting, is a look at that moment in one woman's life.

"Have you read it yet?" Dawn's voice brought Willow crashing back to reality.

"No, I haven't even seen it…" Willow answered, her thoughts racing a million miles a minute. Tara. Tara Maclay. Is it possible? Is it even remotely possible? Could this be Tara? She looked up at Dawn. "Have you?"

Dawn nodded, looking down at her shoes. "Yes."

"Oh…and?" Willow's brain was barely functioning well enough to get the words out, but she forced them. Her ears felt dull, barely able to grasp sound. She breathed deeply, feeling vaguely like she was trapped underwater. Her movements were slow, her muscles hard pressed to force themselves to work.

"Willow…it could be her." The words hit Willow straight in the chest, knocking the breath out of her. She stared at the cover of the book, and then back at Dawn. "It's about Tanya, who meets a redheaded woman named Alyson outside of a coffee shop and tracks her down…" Dawn stopped, looking up at Buffy for help. She drew in a deep breath, and finally concluded softly, "Willow, it really could be her. And if it is, she's been thinking about you, too."

"Damn." Xander breathed softly behind them.

The audible click of the door shutting reverberated in her ears, and Tara turned with a tired smile on her face towards the couch. She noted the large brown lump of overstuffed girl and blanket and dropped her body weight next to it. A groan sounded out from beside her, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Will, baby?" She asked gently, reaching out a hand to run along some unidentifiable part of her girlfriend's body.

Something unintelligible came from beneath the blanket, and Tara couldn't help to begin tickling Willow's body over her cotton shield. Shrieking and kicking followed as Willow dissolved into a fury of activity to jump and dodge attempts to tickle her. Finally, she threw the blanket off of her head and declared in a sad voice: "I am never eating so much, ever, ever again in my life." Her body fell limp around her. "Nor are we ever hosting Thanksgiving ever again. I love our friends, but this was so much work."

Tara shot a wide-eyed look at the redhead. "Will…ummm…"

"What?" Willow asked, her eyes growing wide in response to Tara's expression.

"I…I kinda told them we'd make it a yearly tradition." Tara's voice was as small as Willow had ever heard it.

Her head dropped back down to the pillow, and she groaned again. Sympathetically, Tara reached out a hand and starting rubbing her girlfriend's belly. "Buffy and Dawn try to avoid each other and wind up fighting constantly! Xander seems to suddenly be in the room when we kiss, he appears from nowhere! And I like Giles a lot, and Jenny couldn't be nicer, and actually the two of them together are kinda fantastic, 'cuz of the y'know, him liking books and her liking computers? I could just talk to them both for hours…But I kind of get the feeling that they feel out of place here. And Anya…Anya scares everyone." Willow finally stopped to take a breath, and she looked at Tara. "We should definitely make this a traditiony kind of event. We should do that."

Tara burst out laughing. "I told them we should rotate between houses, love."

"It's still a lot of work." Willow pouted a bit from her prone position.

"It is. But I like it. I like having our family here in one place, and I like your friends a lot too, Will. I'm really starting to feel like I could fit in."

"You do fit in. You fit with me, and don't you forget it, missy." Willow grinned, and held her hands out to Tara, who helped to pull her up. They kissed, quickly, before smiling at each other.

"Can you believe…?" Tara trailed off, not knowing how to say how strange life was, how elated she was that things had turned out this way.

"Believe it, baby. We're here." Willow leaned forward, pulling Tara in close to her body. Tara's cheek pressed to Willow's breast and she listened to the other girl's heartbeat. The slow beating, how warm and soft Willow's skin was…she felt herself let go of the tension in her shoulders, felt it drain out of her body like water receding. Suddenly, it was all gone. They fit together. The tension of not knowing, the potential embarrassment they would have faced if it hadn't worked out, the pure heart break of looking for someone for years to finally find them: this moment, this night when thanks should be given to whoever and whatever you hold dear for being with you, for helping you, this was the night when her thanks was truly given freely for the first time in her life. Because for the first time in her life, Tara Maclay had everything she needed.

"I love you, Willow Rosenberg." Tara pressed her hand to the girl's face, sweeping her eyes over the woman's expression. Her eyes filled with tears, bubbling big at the tops of her eyelids and then slowly arching out into the unknown and rolling slowly down her cheeks. Willow could watch them form and slowly take the plunge off the cliff. She saw something different in Tara's eyes, and knew it reflected back at the brunette in her own green eyes. "Do you know that?"

Willow did know that. Willow had known that since the bathroom. Willow could feel it in Tara's hands when they touched her: the moment Tara grabbed her hand after they found each other, the one simple gesture that stopped everything from falling apart. Willow could read it in Tara's poetry, in her books, there in black and white and printed on the page was a love story written by Tara for her and she would never forget the words of it, the flow of it, the meaning of it carved forever into her brain as if the words had been inked on her skin, tattooed permanently to her body. Willow knew unequivocally that Tara Maclay loved her. She knew it just as plainly as she knew she loved Tara. It was the essence of truth in her life. "I know that."

Tara grinned. "I can't believe how much you ate." She reached out a hand, rubbing Willow's stomach gently.

Willow settled into the touch for a moment, gazing at the beauty of her girlfriend. "I can't believe how much food you made. We'll have leftovers for a week." She picked up her girlfriend's arm, pulling it to her mouth, and placing gentle kisses on her wrist. "C'mon, baby, take me to bed. I want to feel your arms around me."

"Nothing sounds better." Tara stood, linking her fingers with Willow's before pulling the girl up off the couch and leading her into their bedroom.

Anya tapped her fingers impatiently on the table edge, glancing over towards Giles, his face buried in a book. She glanced back towards the stage, rolling her eyes at the pimple faced young boy playing acoustic guitar and doing a bad cover of Bob Dylan's "I Shall Be Released". Her eyes shot to and fro about the coffeehouse, resting briefly on a man in a beret drinking coffee and working on his laptop. Nice shoulders, she thought absently. She imagined running her hands over the muscles of his arms and drawing him in for a kiss before she decided that he would be a terrible kisser. Enthusiastic, but overly so with his tongue. She turned her attention back to Giles, who continued to studiously ignore her. "Are you ever going to talk to me?"

Giles sighed, eyeing her over the top of his book. "Won't Tara be here soon?" He asked, glancing towards the door.

"She said she was running late. But I'm bored now." Anya whined. "Can't you at least fake some interest in my day?"

"Very well, Anya." He placed his book back in his briefcase and turned his attention to the gi