Desperate Remedies by Dark Angel

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Willow, Tara, Buffy, Anya and the rest of the Scooby's belong to Joss Weldon and Mutant Enemy, Damn it!
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Anywhere as long as you tell me and include my contact details for feedback.
Spoilers: Spoilers: Missing scene from the season five, episode Spiral.
Feedback: That would be nice.
Author's Note: The spell Willow recites is a Latin translation of something I dreamed up. If you speak perfect Latin please don't write and tell me I have the syntax wrong. It was really just because I thought it sounded better and is by no means meant to offend any fluent Latin speaking Wiccan's.
Pairing: Willow/Anya

Summary: While the gang's on the run from Glory, Anya steps in to help Willow deal with an unanticipated effect of Tara's condition.

Even as the exhaustive twitching of Tara's body subsided, and her breathing leveled to an effortless rise and fall signaling she was finally asleep, Willow waited beside her, nestled close in the corner she'd found for them to rest. She didn't want to leave Tara; not even for the fraction of time that would pass, but try as she did, there really was nothing left to do now besides get up and get the inevitable over with. She lingered, finding stray strains of hair to comb back into place or a piece of clothing twisted about that might inhibit the blonde's movements in her sleep – anything that delayed the task that awaited her a few moments more.

Finally with a sigh borne of accepting she was out of choices, Willow eased Tara's weight to one side, covering what part of her body she could with a blanket for warmth. Then she stood up rolling her own shoulders a little, before stooping down briefly to check her movements had not disturbed her lover's sleep.

Near-by she could hear the unintelligible murmurings of Dawn talking to someone in her sleep. Buffy sat wrapped around her sister, stroking her head, barely acknowledging Willow's presence as she passed them by.

At the front of the abandoned gas station, she could see Spike taking his turn at watch. His hands remained bandaged tight from wounds he'd sustained earlier that day and the redhead figured even with the whole immortal rapid recovery thing going for him, they stung a lot more than he was letting on. A broadsword he'd claimed as spoils from the same battle, rested hilt up against the wall adjacent to him, ready to be drawn if the need arose.

A few feet to the vampire's left, Giles lay still heavily sedated. One of the spears the Knights of Byzantium used got him just short of something deadly. She wasn't entirely certain the spell she'd cast to knock him out was even the right thing to do. But with the amount of blood he'd lost, and no chance of getting medical help soon, it had come down to a choice of doing something or watching him die.

Willow didn't know where Anya and Xander were at that exact moment, but by the looks and whispering being exchanged between the two, they were most likely making use of the structure's only other room for privacy. She paused glancing in the direction of where a door long broken from its hinges had been propped closed from the inside.

'Always a place and time,' she mused pushing herself onward to another door that led outside. It too barely withstood the motion of being freed from years of cobwebs and flaking paint, creaking loudly as she coaxed it free and then eased it shut behind her.

The moon had risen three quarters full along with hundreds of stars dotting the night's sky. She breathed deep, welcoming the chill darkness had brought as her eyes slowly adjusted. Then she pushed off, distancing herself from the others and their shelter as best she could without bumping into the protection barrier she'd erected earlier on.

There wasn't a lot of room between the barrier and the building, perhaps eight feet running the perimeter – but it would be enough for what she needed now. Once she'd found a spot that didn't include a window or gapping hole in the building wall, Willow stopped, bowing her head in one of her hands as she pinched the bridge of her nose with the other.

She had grabbed what time she could during the proceeding days, stealing moments here and there to try and get a grip on the mix of emotions she was feeling. And, in her own words, threatening to boil over and expose her as the frightened little girl she believed she was.

For another beat, Willow allowed the frustration and grief of what had happened to claim her totally, cursing the powers she possessed while acknowledging without them they'd all most certainly be dead. For all her strength she was as much its captive – equally driven by it as she was drawn to the fuel that was its source.

At first she had just been plain out annoyed by all the warm and tingly feelings going on below her waist – They'd been such a natural extension of the spells she and Tara did she hadn't really made the connection before. The connection that their love-making and magic's had somehow woven themselves together, in the end becoming reliant and inseparable to each other. The more they did of one, the more the other feed off it further cementing the dependency.

Before Glory's last attack, that was all well and good because sexy goodness with Tara was always on the top of Willow's favorite things to do list It was more than the magic and yet in a way it was the magic –private, special of their own, it was a bonus and a gift and…

Now it was highly embarrassing, not to mention rudely timed in the extreme. How could she be thinking of such things, wanting such things with Tara being hurt? Her mind flashed with memories of the first couple of days after she'd taken on Glory, and how she thought she'd have to resort to doing all her spells under a cold shower to get anything right.

Then something else had happened. Willow would smile at Tara and find that occasionally Tara would be smiling back as if she recognized her and understood exactly what the redhead was thinking. Other things, familiar things like an arched eyebrow, a tilted gaze saying; 'I need you baby,' offered hope.

Willow understood the looks and reaching didn't actually translate in Tara's current state but they helped to remind her of their deeper connection and ease the below the waist nagging with a bit of game. They were young and madly in love, there wasn't anything wrong with wanting her – just now was not the time. She'd even managed to make some passing joke in her head about needing to take matters into her own hands if things got any worse, but that was that, it was a game to relieve the tension – no more.

In fact Willow hadn't found the need or desire to masturbate since she and Tara became lovers. She certainly wasn't going to start now just because she couldn't get a rein on her hormones.

Of course things had got worse – a lot worse. Spells Willow and Tara once thought too risky for them, even with their combined powers, were being cast without so much as a blink of an eye, even from Giles who normally aired heavily on the side of caution with anything leading to the dark arts.

Why was simple; they needed it. They needed her to have and maintain the power. She was taking enormous risks magically without the usual safety net of her lover close at hand and no one was thinking anything of it – except Willow.

At her sides, she could feel her hands trembling, the recognizable twitch activating on her left cheek warning her time was growing short. She was running on empty and if she didn't cast soon even what she had planned may not help.

Willow had considered her options all afternoon. Could she? Should she? What were their chances if she didn't – wouldn't at least try? Then with an audible sigh that at the time had made both Tara and Buffy stare at her uncertainly she'd made her decision. What free grey matter not occupied with further casting, caring and channeling ducked away to the confines of her already exhausted brain searching for the necessary spell.

A flash of her lover's beautiful smile appeared behind closed eyes reminding her not just about why she was standing in the dark about to do just that, but also what was at stake if she didn't.

All the questions Buffy had posed about what Willow planned to do on the long term, that's if they actually managed to defeat Glory but couldn't return Tara to her previous state lobbied for some kind of front row seat too. Tara was hers, meaning her responsibility and that's all she needed to think about for now. The rest would have to wait for a time when it didn't scare her so much. – To a moment when she could think of more than how terribly helpless she felt, or how desperate and equally apprehensive she was about what she was about to do.

Tara's image continued to flicker before her, the brilliant smile slowly transforming to a guarded half smirk of a woman wanting. A look she knew only ever signalled no one but the two of them was on the agenda now. Willow sighed, silently thanking her love for the approval the apparition gave. Then she drew the image close, so close she could almost feel Tara's breath, almost taste the scent of musk and sandalwood upon her tongue. Soft hands and breasts pressed against her – wrapping around her and slowly, ever so slowly, becoming a wall of heat cloaking her mind and heart.

Within seconds, she felt the mildly disconcerting sensation of space and time shifting as the landscape rippled around her, and a low glaze of illumination appeared in the now enclosed space. Relieved, she exhaled and turned back, testing the barrier's strength as she went, colliding headlong into the other woman unbeknownst to her who'd been there all along. The jolt and break in her concentration almost caused Willow to lose her balance and to her additional horror made Anya scream.

"What are you doing here?" Willow hissed doubting Anya could hear her. She could barely hear herself over the ex-demon's shrieks.

In the midst of it all, Willow rolled her eyes feeling the familiar warm trickle of blood settle on her upper lip. "Goddess, what else?" She cursed.

The spell was thankfully holding, but it had also brought on one of the most chronic side affects of her drained magics. With little choice, Willow dragged the back of her hand over the affected area, before grabbing Anya and pushing her up against the part of the building that was encompassed by her magic's.

"Anya," she begged clamping her free hand to the ex-demon's mouth. "Calm down. If you calm down I'll take my hand away."

She could see Anya nodding as if she understood and trying to work her hand away, but for several beats muffled squeals still vibrated under the redhead's skin. With a bit more pressure and extra promises to let go when Anya stopped, the noise slowly faded away.

Even then they stayed that way, two sets of eyes peeled on the other over the bridge of Willow's shaking hand, a lot like deer, Willow thought, struck by oncoming lights.

The red head stepped away distractedly searching her pockets for something to wipe the increasing flow from her nosebleed.

She could feel Anya watching her every movement in that annoying ex-demon in an unsuspecting world type way, but she also knew she had much bigger problems right now. A voice in the back of Willow's head kept saying, 'keep moving – if you keep moving you can work this out.'

"You cast yourself a privacy bubble." Anya announced continuing to stare all the same.

Willow ran a tense hand through her hair wondering where she'd put her handkerchief. And why on Earth did Anya always have to state the obvious.

"Yes I did," Willow mumbled back. If she'd had a handkerchief it was long gone, possibly to some alternate dimension being wasted on a non nose bleeding person who didn't need it half as much.

The privacy bubble as Anya called it was not that powerful and probably only had a shelf life of two hours at best. It had been the best of a poor choice. The only such spell she could perform without the aid of ingredients that would halt both space and time. She hadn't expected to take anywhere near that long. But she hadn't expected to have company either.

"Look Anya," she added as an afterthought. "How do I explain this? You're right. I created the field so I could have some privacy. As in alone time – by myself." Her eyes shifted along the side of the building to the rear door. "So – would you mind?"

Anya twirled a stray lock of her own hair abstractedly while she considered the witch's manner. Her back, her shoulders, her mood, not to mention that Willow hadn't actually looked directly at her since she'd tried scaring her out of a decade of her mortal life. It actually made perfect sense.

Willow coughed self-consciously. And even in the limited light within the shield, Anya could tell her cheeks were developing that dark red tone that meant she was embarrassed.

The ex-demon's brow knitted momentarily. She'd done one of the things on Xander's 'Anya shouldn't do,' list. Number 3 – talking about other people's sex lives, combined with Number 6 – talking about other people in front of them. A mental note to stop reading Xander's silly collection of dos and don'ts lists slid through her conscious before she refocused back on the young, very red faced witch.

Of course she knew why Willow was so jittery, why she'd been like that all afternoon, especially while she was settling Tara down for a sleep.

Like the other members of the Scooby gang, Anya took Willow and Tara's heightened sexiness as a side affect to their spells for granted. It went with the territory and was no different from the huge eat outs Buffy had after slaying, or Dawn's compulsion to whine as a normal part of adolescence. What she didn't get was why everybody else acted so blind whenever the two witches snuck off to the training room at the back of Giles' shop, or made excuses to go to the bathroom at exactly the same time at the Bronze.

She'd even caught them once. She'd had to put the toilet seat down and climb up to peer over the partition in the adjoining cubicle to see, but sure enough there they were busy kissing, groping and sweating, just like she thought.

She and Xander often had sex in public places so why shouldn't they? The only thing was, for some strange reason, she was expected to act like it never happened or notice when it was happening and not involving her.

"You don't have to pretend you know? I've been watching you for days," she declared confidently.

Willow shot her another 'I don't know what you're talking about' look but it only made Anya's smile widen. Unexpectedly she pushed off the wall, ignoring how her sudden closeness made the red head jump.

"It's not like it's a secret that you and Tara have a lot of sex – almost as much as Xander and I. I'm not sure how that's possible without either one of you having a penis – but you do – and sometimes I know you do it because of the magic's you've done – like as a system recharge or something."

Willow's mouth was partially open as if she was about to say something and then thought better of it. She looked up mildly disappointed the privacy bubble didn't permit her to see the stars. 'Of all the possible 'my life is over' scenarios, why did I have to score the Larry King of vengeance floorshow?'

"I've seen a lot of lesbian sex in my day." Anya went on oblivious. "-A thousand years of enacting vengeance, you're probably not that surprised I looked elsewhere sometimes. Not too often mind you," she added hastily. "-I personally like the penis, there really is no substitute no matter what way you look at it – but I've watched and learned and -."

"Is there a point to any of this?" Willow demanded finally finding her voice, be it highly pitched and baring signs of uncounted fear.

"Just that I know what you're up to. Like how you're just wishing you and Tara could sneak off somewhere quiet and get with the touching and kissing. Except right now she's not really able to help you out – is she?

Willow frowned and used her shirtsleeve to wipe another outpour of blood coming from her nose.

"All right," she conceded really just wanting to shut Anya up. "I need some alone time to recharge and well – yes, to do that, that thing because I'm out of options and I think it's the only thing that's going to help. So you have to go – now."

Anya hesitated feeling oddly sympathetic to the look of panic on the redhead's face.

"You don't normally do your magic's alone, do you?" Anya questioned wondering if Willow might just need her to spell it out.

Anya sighed. "You need an anchor Willow," she countered back. Producing a handkerchief from her own pocket she handed it awkwardly to the witch. "For that thing you're not talking about doing to work."

Anya watched, as Willow appeared visibly shaken. The redhead took a step back as her words and the full implication of what they meant penetrated the wall of denial Willow had been so desperately trying to build. For all their arguments, the underlying mistrust and petty jealousies they'd shared over the years, she liked Willow, and Tara. It made her very uncomfortable that they were both so sad. Or at least Willow was sad – and horny. She doubted Tara was feeling much at all right about now, at least nothing that made a lot of sense.

"And besides," she added, trying to sound a lot less patronizing this time. "I can't leave without bursting your bubble and you know it. I doubt you could float a feather right now." Something about the tears bridging in the witch's eyes made her look away herself. "Let alone, construct another one of these."

Willow begrudgingly snatched the handkerchief out of Anya's grasp, taking sometime to clean the blood away before handing it back. The blood flow did seem to be lessening and she grateful the ex-demon took her cue for now, registering the moment as one deserving quiet and not trying to add some ridiculous platitude.

She didn't know how much time actually passed while she tried to make some sense of what was going on. One moment she'd been considering the quickest most direct route out of there and the then next, Anya's hand was resting on her shoulder, languid and sure, like it belonged there. Willow couldn't help thinking how odd it looked.

In all the time they'd known each other they rarely touched and if they did it was usually because of things like birthdays, thank yous, or by accident. She recalled they'd embraced the morning Joyce had died and at the hospital when Anya and Xander had come to see Tara. But they had been ritual hugs, what you did when you didn't know what to say.

This was different; it was intentional. Willow rolled the word over in her mind, yes that's what it was. It was an intentional touch, placed by someone who intentionally and happily belonged to someone else – just like she did.

The hand stayed still, non instigating but apparently not about to leave, almost as if it glued them together.

And though Willow hadn't meant to, her eyes traveled the lines of smooth flesh, over the ex-demon's jaw, down along her neck and collarbone to the top of her blouse, before freezing, panicking and just then daring her to look a little more.

As usual, Anya was wearing something revealing, a burgundy colored top cut low at the front that allowed more than a hint of her cleavage to show. Green eyes moved downward past the rise and fall of steady breathing, along each line of knit to where the garment ended and a flat milky white stomach lay till her jeans caught up.

"Wha …" she whispered, trying to identify exactly what it was she was feeling herself. "What are you doing?"

Anya's ever-present hand finally became unstuck as fingers began walking over the witches' checkered over-shirt. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Willow held her breath, not game to feel or move, willing the fingers and Anya to just disappear. Surely there was a way to teleport her out of there without breaking the seal. If she had any power that was. She tried to concentrate, to find a smidgen of her usual self to draw upon. At least she tried, until Anya's fingers started sliding lower, cupping and squeezing gently at her right breast.

Disgusted and confused, she brushed past Anya, striding as far as the enclosure would allow until aging wood stared her in the face. For a moment she pressed her forehead to the uneven surface. Her own finger tips stroking the splintered boards as her head lightly pivoted back and forth.

"I'm supposed to just forget about Tara, about us – and let you do what it was I came out here to do because over a thousand odd years you've watched some lesbians make love."

"I watched, but I also did – on occasion." Anya corrected, attempting to make the redhead turn around. With effort she succeeded but only to have Willow glare at her like she had two heads.

She was more than a little miffed. This wasn't going anywhere near as smoothly as her other seductions. Granted they were usually men who already wanted to cheat on the wives. The two or three women she'd seduced had also been pretty much ready to cheat too. But there was no excuse for Willow making this more difficult than it needed to be. She was clearly in pain and exhausted and more importantly she was wasting the small amount of time they had. Maybe that was why she really hadn't spent as much time watching the lesbians after all, they always took much longer and needed a lot more pre amble than men.

"I am sorry Tara got her brains reshuffled by Glory. I am sorry you can't understand her any better than the rest of us now. I'm sorry you've got an ache that you feel you can't let anyone else get rid of."

She reached up, lightly stroking the redhead's face, as Willow looked away and whispered, "I can't."

The intentional hand was back with reprisal, making a warm impression under resistance of one of the redhead's own hands over the assorted fabric covering Willow's midsection and breasts.

"I know it's not me that you want to be here running my hands over your perfectly shaped body. But right now Tara can't. She can't feed or dress herself let alone take care of your magical lesbian wants."

Willow shook her head and at the same time, more kindly, eased the vengeance demon's hands away and held them firm.

"Why are you doing this?" Willow asked nervously, her words affectively preventing the kiss Anya was about to bestow.

The redhead's gaze moved rapidly up down what little space there was between them.

"This doing – Being so – I don't know, beyond the whole 'this is pretty much no', and 'ewh, cause we're both spoken for' – and, oh there's the 'we're not evenly mildly attracted to each other' part as well."

Though her lips remained turned away and out of reach, Willow's neck was not. In fact it was at a perfect angle Anya thought, for what she wanted to do next. She leaned in balancing on the balls of her feet and ran the tip of her tongue lightly over the top of Willow's neck. A wave of tiny shudders and a flush of crimson to the redhead's skin made her smirk.

"I'm not much help, with the other things we've got going on." Anya murmured before repeating the deed again.

When Willow didn't try to move or push her away, Anya pressed a little harder, flatting her tongue and moving slowly and diagonally across, enjoying the fresh round of trembling and soft gasps as she went.

"Buffy's all up for the fight as always, peppy and punching," she continued. "Spike and Xander will follow her and do what ever she wants cause of those puppy dog eyes they both get whenever she says jump. Giles is – well he's wounded in a very bloody way, but Dawn's helping with Tara and being surprisingly less whining so far."

"I'm good at sex and, well, if you let me do this, then I could be doing something to help too."

"I can't believe I even let you start this conversation." Willow cut her off. "Your being good at sex is supposed to remove the wrongness factor? How? Because I am pretty certain there are at least two other people who would totally disagree with that."

Anya placed one slender and extremely soft finger to Willow's lips, silencing her. Tilting her own head to the side she tried to catch Willow's eyes.

"And I'm pretty certain you don't have to talk half as much as you do," she pointed out.

Willow was about to protest again, to explain in hopefully more coherent detail all the reasons why they couldn't be doing this – let alone anything more, when Anya pressed forward one more time and finally kissed her – hard.

Willow's lips were very soft and smooth, Anya noted abstractly, not like Xander at all. In fact not like any of the men, not that there had been all that many over the eons. She pressed more, using her tongue to gently prod and tease, inwardly smiling when Willow's mouth opened, relenting. It made Anya want to kiss her more and in other places too, to lick and drink the salty sheen forming on her skin.

The next kiss, placed on Willow's jaw line was cautious by comparison, just the tip of her tongue like she'd used on her neck and mouth to start, leaving a little trail to test the redhead's want. Then without breaking contact with her skin, Anya hands slid down seeking the opening to the checked over shirt she wore. Anya let her mouth travel back, capturing pouting lips again as she grasped the fabric with both hands, freeing the snap studs that had held it closed.

Willow clamped her eyes shut; her head dropping back a bit too hastily against the side of the building and sighed audibly. 'This isn't happening,' she told herself. 'I am not letting Anya get me off. I'm not. I'm not.'

But the undeniable sense of Anya actually smiling against her skin told Willow the opposite was true. It was exactly what was happening and once more, the ex-demon was very pleased by how her efforts were paying off. Willow watched in awe as the now unfastened over shirt was being eased over her own unyielding shoulders, down along her arms until it was hanging free. Anya held it up in front of equally pinned green eyes as a kind of prize before discarding it at their feet.

Anya shifted her attention again, positioning one of her hands against the wall just above Willow's head for balance, while the other focused on the green high neck sweater left in her way. Her lips too returned to Willow's mouth, finding little opposition when the nipping and tasting became more definite about her neck and jaw.

"So do you have some specific lesbian thing you like?" She whispered as her tongue found its way behind a previously neglected ear.

"Ah, yes – I mean no," Willow managed between her own breaths. "Just, keep doing – what you're doing's pretty much – right."

Anya smiled working the garment free of Willow's corduroy jeans, coming in contact with silky smooth flesh hidden beneath. Willow gasped, as her fingers intruded higher still, snaking around to unsnap her bra in one easy unhalting move.

Free of restrictions, Anya ran her hands up and over Willow's torso, enjoying the sharp intake of breath that accompanied it.

"And this is okay too?" she questioned assuming by the redhead's reaction that it was. A long running debate she'd had with Xander about who actually was who in the two witch's relationship made her chuckle and lose her place.

"Xander always pegged you as more of the giver type, that's all." Anya told her finding her rhythm again. "You know, more Corky than Violet," she breathed. She began making tiny circles around taut nipples feeling them harden almost instantly under her touch.

It took Willow a few moments to register what Anya was actually talking about, and a few more to try to think of a way to argue that the ex-demon's choice of example probably wasn't the most accurate anyhow.

She shook her head, gasping as Anya maintained the pressure. "That's not true, I mean I'm both, we're both – often – just not at the same time."

Anya nodded digesting the revelation as she continued to pull and shape the tight mounds of flesh. She even pondered keeping this part of the conversation going and asking why Willow thought Xander had this whole fascination with lesbians anyway.

"So am I still doing it right?" she asked instead, choosing that moment to release the now very erect nipples. Her hands drifted lower starting the process of undoing Willow's jeans.

Willow looked downward herself, seeing the tops of Anya's tapered fingers pull the stud clip of her jeans aside and begin working on lowering the zip. Feeling what Anya's fingers were doing was one thing, but watching them on her was something entirely different again.

The mention of her lover's name struck the redhead hard, all but not entirely destroying the mood. As painful as it was, Willow knew she had to let go of the sense that this was a betrayal of her deepest heart. She knew after, when she'd pulled herself together – when her hormones and magic's were back on track, she'd castigate herself for weeks or even months over this. Now was not that time.

Anya used one of her own boots to nudge Willow's feet further apart, creating room for her fingers to access the space between the heavier corduroy and silky texture of the red head's briefs.

The fingers moved a fraction lower, pushing softly against the already damp sheen and Willow moaned in response.

Willow's breath caught for a moment unable to release as her body soaked up the sensation.

Pleased things were progressing much smoother now; Anya returned her attentions to Willow's lips, enjoying the softness against her own. In truth there had been a considerable gap between what she'd done on occasion in the past and what she was doing now, though she wasn't about to tell Willow that. But touching her, feeling her and having Willow touch her back, be it ever so restrained, did make her honestly wonder why. She let her tongue push a little deeper into Willow's mouth, teasing some more and happily reaping the reward.

Kissing really was what women did best, she decided as her free hand worked to get the witch's sweater higher up. And Willow in particular kissed very well.

With effort Anya dragged her mouth away from the warmth and wet and bent down to the bare patch of skin freeing Willow's sweater had exposed. She kissed and licked again, making little lines up around her navel before drawing away. At the same time, fingers still pressed firm against Willow's crotch began to worm their way about, rising and searching until they'd found their way back under a thinner waistband – a fine layer of damp thatch greeting them there.

"Oh goddess, Oh god…" Willow groaned. Unwillingly she hinged forward finding her face buried against the other woman's upper back. Anya held on as best she could, supporting both of them as the tremor appeared to pass.

But for Willow, the tremors continued on making her heart feel like it would pound right through her chest. So frightened and brittle from the want, it was almost like she was doing this for the first time ever yet patently aware she was not. She was actually betraying the most precious love she'd known. She hated her body for wanting and needing and she hated her mind for having the good sense to keep coming up with excuses why she shouldn't just let it happen.

Images of the first time she and Tara made love hit her with each new touch Anya made; cautious and clumsy beginnings being played and mingled against a backdrop or hours of learning, teaching and listening as they'd found the perfect rhythm. She wondered where the fear had gone and the bliss began, or how she ever believed she knew what love really was before Tara came along.

Somewhere between the memories, between the questions and Anya actually getting her sweater higher enough to kiss as well as fondle her breasts, Willow let go. Mentally and magically sapped, she watched her own hands help guide her jeans down past her knees, her own hands bend and stretch as her high neck sweater and bra fell beside her shirt.

She moved her hands to Anya's shoulders and grasped firmly, unsure of exactly when she went from being wracked with guilt to feeling like she'd die if she made her wait a second more.

It wasn't long, and again Willow's head hammered back. She felt Anya hot against her skin, felt fingers pull damp silk aside, to touch and spread the wet beneath. Not sensuous fingers like her lover, not tempered because she knew it suited her best, but full of knowing all the same, with determination and equal want.

She knotted her own fingers through lighter hair and groaned into each and every kiss and touch, forcing Anya to swallow what she gave. And when her body convulsed and the breaker climbed, her hips thrust forward to meet it. Anya's fingers moved within her and she welcomed them, even showed her how – even pulled her leg up and wrapped it around her thigh.

She took fuller breasts in her hands and pretended they felt the same. She sucked and moaned and pushed the rising tide back, teetering for what seemed like hours on the edge. Until almost frantic she just clung on, riding out the storm as it took her to a place where she didn't need to stand out side and watch – where she could just be herself, and sob unashamedly as it set her free.

Long after Willow's heartbeat slowed and her hips ceased to grind and buck, Anya dropped her head forward onto redhead's shoulder, pulling herself closer around her waist. Her breathing labored on and still she held her, listening and visualizing the seeds of what the release had brought, feeling the power return as if a tap had been turned back on.

'Xander would be very proud if he were allowed to know,' Anya thought. 'Which he isn't, but never mind that.' He would be though, just as much as she was proud of herself.

"You look very beautiful when you have an orgasm," she chipped in unable to hide her own delight.

Willow managed a half grin and even to brush some arrant strands of hair off of the ex-demon's face before kissing her again. Then she straightened up, eyes shifting towards the door.

"Anya," she said a little while later. "You know I'm going to act like this never happened when I bring the shield down."

"And that's all right with you?" She asked. "I mean you understand why and –" Willow trailed off trying to explain what the ex-demon already knew.

She drew back raising her right hand still containing the witch's scent to eye level between them. "A remarkably talented helping hand mind you. But still just a hand." She sighed losing the sarcastic tone she hadn't meant to creep in in the first place. "Besides something tells me you'll get Tara back real soon, and you won't be needing a magic remedy from anyone but her."

Willow held out her own hand, joining it with Anya's as an unsaid thank you, intertwining her fingers in place of the words she couldn't quite bring herself to say. They stayed that way for a few more beats, silent, looking at one another with renewed respect.

Anya acknowledged the polite but clear dismissal with a brief incline to her head. Then she bent down retrieving the high neck sweater and bra that had fallen to her left, ensuring they were in the red head's grasp before she turned away.

Willow watched her take a few steps before a flicker in the night and the return of a star filled sky signaled the barrier and their privacy was gone. Another stream of much brighter light appeared shortly after when the rear door opened admitting Anya back inside.

Finally alone, Willow closed her eyes inwardly focusing on the new power pulsating within. She didn't need to cast a spell to test that her magics were back. She'd sensed their return almost to the second her orgasm overtook. What she did need to know, what was crucial to them all, was just how much power she had and from that to make an estimate of how long she could make it last.

In a partial daze she mechanically reclasped her bra and pulled her sweater back over her head, then she stooped down to collect her over shirt and jeans. She took a long and deliberate breath as she re-zipped her jeans blocking her thoughts to anything remotely related to what had just occurred. Then she leaned back resting her head against the wall and countered back from twenty.

As expected, everyone was pretty much where they'd been when she'd made her exit, by their time frame only moments before. Xander however was now bending over Giles' checking his breathing and Anya had propped herself up against the wall near where Spike was keeping watch.

No one seemed to notice as she retraced her steps, other than Buffy whose expression looked like she was having some really bizarre deja vu experience in her head. Willow offered a half smile to her friend, signaling all was well and she too was going to try and get some rest.

Standing over her lover, she stretched, removing the over shirt she'd just finished re-buttoning and folded it to make her own pillow.

"Mice running, fifty seven paces and back." Tara announced as she spooned in behind her. Willow placed a loving arm about her waist and snuggled close.

"Yes, baby." She whispered with a kiss, steadily stroking blonde tresses that traveled down to the middle of the other woman's back. Tara seemed to settle immediately with the touch, smiling broadly now as she slept on.

The night before Glory had taken her mind, Tara had said the same thing; the exact same words to express what making love to 'her Willow' reminded her of. They had giggled and rolled about the bed, before lovingly returning to each other arms to 'prove the theory' time and time again.

Cascading tears caught Willow completely off guard. She pressed her face close against Tara's shoulder blade dampening the material between them. Never had she been more grateful for the protection of a turned back and darkened room. Never had she been more grateful that Tara would not be able to remember any of this.

But for now, the best Willow knew she could manage was to shut her eyes, hold her love and pray sleep would claim her quick.

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Desperate Remedies

by Dark Angel

Copyright © September 2003

darkangelxena@hotmail.com