An Umbrella in a Sun Shower

By Pat Kelly

Copyright © 2006

pat2082@verizon.net

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss, and whoever it also still belongs to. Like FOX.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
If anyone with an archive wants it, just ask.
Feedback: Thank you.
Spoilers: Season 6
Author's Notes: Anyone who reads Buffy/Tara fic knows that S6 and "Dead Things" is a very popular fic launching point, but I just had to try my hand at it. If only to finally tackle S6, a season which I love but find hard to write, and to tackle Tara in that season.

It'd be good for her, for the best; she knew that. This town, this house, this room, was home. She still thought of it that way, despite what she had watched happen from this window. She peered out now, right into the backyard – the place where her whole world, in a single moment, could have split apart at the seams. Echoes of memory reverberated in her mind, refusing to play out coherently. Which was fine, because she wouldn't have been able to handle each vivid, successive blow. Not without disappearing inside herself to some dark, empty void. That would mean she couldn't do this.

And Willow had to leave. For a while. Magick was a part of her, something she had to learn. It had taken too extreme of a circumstance for her to understand the consequences, the gravity of it all. Consequences she felt heavily responsible for. Though she had no desire to delve haphazardly into magick, to abuse it anymore as a result, she didn't trust herself enough to stick to her resolution. Wasn't a good feeling.

Nor was seeing a person she loved do…and the screams…

Willow turned away from the window and closed her eyes, trying to keep the bile from rising up. It was all wrong; the sun shouldn't be this bright. How was Buffy supposed to…? How was she supposed to do anything positive here? That's why she had to go. They had one another now, anyway. It was time to stand on her own.

Her suitcase sat on the bed, fully packed and waiting, as someone intruded on her thoughts, coming to stand in the bedroom's doorway. Feeling her presence, the weary redhead opened her lids and could only acknowledge the blonde briefly, before sitting on the mattress with a sigh. She fiddled with the zipper absentmindedly.

Tara moved into the room. "Giles is downstairs. He said he's ready when…wh-whenever you are." She went to sit beside Willow. "Are you?"

Willow barely heard any of this; she looked over to realize she wasn't sitting alone. "Huh? Wha…oh." She gave the zipper one, last flick with her finger. "Yep. One, 'un-ready' ready person right here."

With lightened eyes, "'Un-ready'? Is that like an un-birthday?"

"Nope, different. Besides, I can't be the Mad Hatter – no hat. Well, uh, not the proper one. If I pretended to fill his shoes and wore like, my beanie, that'd be, you know, pretty much criminal."

"Well, I think you could pull it off – I like your beanie." They smiled at each other, and clearly, despite everything, feelings lingered. But as Tara quickly ended the brief moment, smile flattening, it was also clear that no "do-over" was waiting somewhere in the future. "Then…how about the March Hare?"

"Born in October, remember? And my ears are too short." Willow joked, seemingly in a final effort to deny what she just witnessed. "An-anyway, they were both *way* over the border into 'cuckoo land.' Me? I'm still tiptoeing on 'less cuckoo' somehow. So hopefully when we land in England they won't wheel me off the plane in a witch-proof straight-jacket, face mask optional, and shoot me full of…" She caught Tara's flinch, and saw how fast her hand went protectively over her belly. Couldn't she do anything right? "How's, uh…how's Buffy?"

"Quiet, like yesterday. But Dawn's getting her to eat a little, at least."

Trying to sound chipper, "Good…that's good. It's good that she has Dawn, and-and you, and you all have each other…like a big family. It's great, even; cause I'll feel better knowing that. When I'm across the ocean. Totally away."

Grabbing the handle of the suitcase, she lugged it off the bed as she stood. Tara stood also, blocking her and frowning. "Willow…"

Willow exhaled a slow breath, while berating herself internally. She didn't want it to be like this. "My world's askew, Tara. Kinda in here spazzing. Nothing's how it oughta be, and I dunno if I can fix what's wrong. Stuff's different already, but what about when I come back? There's, I mean…then what'll be different, huh? Or what if I can't ever be okay again?"

"I don't know, sweetie." Tara said sadly, answerless. "But you're strong, you love learning new things…nobody soaks up knowledge faster. Just keep an open mind, trust the Coven, a-and find a way to-to trust yourself. Be an Amazon."

Weak smile. "That last part is the part that's hard."

"If it helps? We all believe you will. Only, don't try to force your brain into agreeing with us. Take as long as you need; once it's tired of being stubborn, it'll fall in line." Pause. "Giles says you've gotta go alone, or else I'd – "

"And I'd make you stay. Buffy needs you." She attempted to smile. "I swear, I'll be completely fine with it by when I'm Hellmouth-bound again. Ooh, maybe I could meet a nice, Westminster girl, then woo her away from the abbey – hopefully she'll just be taking the tour and won't be a nun, cause, uh, even though I'm darn woo-y…still not *that* good. But we'll have dates where we play cricket and drink afternoon tea at breakfast. Just to be wild." Then she paused a moment, thinking over what her ex-girlfriend had said. "How can I trust me if you don't?"

The blonde thought they'd come to terms with this, as far as understanding the reasons went. It wasn't that she expected Willow to easily accept that she and her (assumedly straight) best friend were slowly pursuing a more romantic relationship – especially on top of the various, many things weighing on her mind – but she didn't want to feel guilty any longer. Timing, situation, mutual affection…these all had contributed.

It wasn't planned, and it certainly wasn't intended as punishment for Willow. It grew out of a process of self-discovery, quite honestly. Once she left, Tara suddenly had to face the world solo. Without someone she'd given lots of credit to for making her a person people noticed and wanted to be around. Willow's absence meant she could've either sunken (reverting back to who she'd been), or swam, to find out how much this "new" her was simply…smoke and magic mirrors.

She chose the latter, which allowed her to see that while Willow had given her confidence, helping her to come into her own, that confidence had become something she'd carry forever. Classmates wanted to be social voluntarily, and not only did some flat out tell her they thought she was attractive, but she was able to finally tell others how she felt about them. It had led to dates and parties simply to counter loneliness.

Yet she had options available…unbelievable. The dates never progressed beyond perhaps one or two, until she admitted something that planted a seed, at the close of an open, emotionally charged evening with Buffy, several months ago. And the eventual "dating" between them would no doubt be an entirely different animal compared to the handful prior. They were complicated and uncertain at this point, but worth exploring.

She needed Willow clear on things. Hugging her, she felt her let go of the suitcase to return the gesture. "I do trust you, Will; and…and I also love you very much. That won't ever change. You've got such a kind heart, and that you decided I was worth sh-sharing it with…you have no idea what that means to me."

Willow gave a sad, resigned half-smile. "But the kind of love…that's changed. You can't be with me, because…" 'Because of what I did to you.'

Tara pulled away. "Part of me wishes I still could…I mean, it's not that I don't forgive you, I-I have. Because you are trying, and I'm sure you'll start to understand your power better; believe it or not, 'control' is going to get easier. So if we got back together it would pro-probably seem fine, but what happened," The spell and its fallout, "would al-always…be underneath. I can't forget; I'm sorry." Forgetting could be worse than remembering, which the witches were all too aware of. "Besides, it wouldn't be the same. We both know that." She received silent, reluctant agreement. "Sometimes when I realize how we used to…and how today, we-we aren't…"

"It's weird and scary? You betcha." They were both comforted by the dual acknowledgement, and she took a long pause. "Except, it's getting less tough. Think that's a sign?"

"So you're all right?"

"With the moving on and not forcing anything that's been kinda over, you mean?" Willow finished the rest, truly getting it, though liking it was another story. "Workin' on it. I'm just worried I won't find somebody as great as you, including 'Abbey Girl.'" Her brow scrunched. "'Kay, déjà vu. I said the same thing to Buffy…only it was more about Oz and Oz-missage after he was gone, and less girl-focused. Uh, which I'm thinking might not technically count as déjà vu, being 'Pre-Gay' and all." Still, she gave herself some hope. "Then we met – changed my life."

"Mine, too. And not only because you saved it." Tara told her gratefully and warmly. "See? 'Change' can be nice. Like, I'm actually starting to enjoy being me, for one thing." She then seemed immediately concerned. "We're-we're, um, friends though, right?"

"Duh, of course we're friends. No question." The redhead reached out to squeeze the other girl's hand.

Happy, she smirked her personalized smirk. "Then I guess I'll need to be overprotective and meet this new girl. Before you two get serious. Hmm…the fifth degree could work. She won't see it coming."

"Um, isn't it the 'third degree'?"

"Only if you want a sucky interrogation; it's my job to put her through hell, and I plan on dragging her down. To make sure she's good enough." Tara said with a slight grin, showing a rare hint of her aggressive side. "Damn British slut."

Bursting into giggles, they basked in the tension relief briefly, before Willow's eyes bugged – there was somewhere she had to be. "So…Giles…downstairs…airport."

"Here." The blonde offered, hefting the suitcase – they walked to the door. "Lis-listen, about Buffy and me, we don't exactly know where it's going, except it's something we wanna try. I like her a lot, th-that way. So please don't be mad. Especially now."

"Oh, no…you think I'm…? Uh uh. *Zero* madness now. I was sorta shocked and yeah, stung, when you guys first told me, but I'm adjusting. Coping. Some stuff isn't controllable, like feelings. Boy, do I have experience with those." Came the reassurance as they entered the hall. "I don't blame you or Buffy. Gotta ask, though – take care of my best friend? I meant it about her needing you; you heal people, Tara. Then bring out their best, shiniest sides." Her hand rose. "Plenty of experience there."

Her ex blushed from the compliment.

"Buffy has great taste. Usually." Spike and Spike-related activities purposely weren't spoken of. "Not to mention a quality that could be seen as…possibly a tiny bit captivating. To-to everyone else not me who falls…n-not falls…um, uh…jumps! Or, no, nobody's jumped, and if they did they'd hafta fall sooner or later cause that's how gravity works, so basically I have…no clue about words and the saying. Other than I wasn't ever, uh, captivated. Not once. Less than. Negative once!" She was out of breath.

Tara couldn't blame her either. Smiling reassuringly, she didn't respond to the babble at all. "Why don't you say goodbye to them? I'll give this to Giles so he can put it in Xander's car." There was no movement. "Go…it's okay. Really."

She wasn't hated, then? Willow quietly went to Buffy's door and knocked – for the hundredth time wondering what dark place she would've gone to had Tara died – prepared to learn the answer as her friend descended the stairs.

Buffy's choked sobs rang loud in Tara's ears, despite being partially muffled by her lap, where a blonde head lay. Sitting on the couch, she thought about how the otherwise silent, dimly lit living room only served to amplify the sounds. It wasn't just empty – like every room in the house, it wasn't warm anymore, either. Maybe it was as lost as the rest of them. "Depressing" came off as too weak a description for their lives lately.

Yet, with everything going into a seemingly endless spiral, Tara had somehow been able to find positives within herself.

And currently, within Buffy. Realizing the inevitability of the slayer's collapse now, she felt grateful to be here, honored. Because while seeing this broke her heart, there was also beauty beneath the pain. What was beautiful about a fallen hero? These outpouring emotions proved that Buffy could feel, did feel, and was very much human. Her friend wouldn't recognize that in such a fragile state, though.

Still rubbing Buffy's shortened locks comfortingly, she softly spoke. "Buffy? Buffy, sweetie, look at me."

From the floor, the blonde lifted up her head, her eyes shimmering and puffy. Tara had never seen her so vulnerable; she'd only seen her cry openly once before: after Riley left town. Also, from her and Willow's talks, she'd learned how rarely Buffy had let go in the past, and Willow was her best friend: when Faith murdered the Deputy Mayor, when Angel broke up with her, and then later, emerging from her coma – triggered by losing Dawn to Glory. Bottling things until you have a major meltdown hardly seemed healthy.

It wasn't that they made a habit of discussing Buffy behind her back, but all of the Scoobies knew their leader closed herself off, distanced herself. That practice had become more frequent with each passing year, as life and slaying continually took their toll, and they became more concerned; no matter what they did, nothing changed. Because they cared so much, it was extremely frustrating. As well as sad.

This moment, however, had to be the worst. Her abrupt exit from a blissful, heavenly dimension, being resurrected by her friends – which forced a frantic, clawing escape from her own grave – whom she didn't feel able to turn to, having to face bills and raising her sister alone without her mother, Giles leaving, her best friend nearly getting her sister killed, discovering that Spike could hit her, thinking she'd come back wrong, using him for sex…it all led to *this* overload, to the release she could no longer contain.

Again, inevitable. Necessary. Except Tara was allowed to be a witness. And because she could count, on one hand, the number of times Buffy revealed her vulnerability, revealed that she wasn't always the rock that could weather anything, that's why the witch felt honored. Plus, there was another positive. This might have been the hero's worst point, her lowest, but now that that anguish wasn't trapped inside, she could start climbing. Feeling Buffy cling to her waist suddenly, Tara knew she'd be steadying the rope a while.

She didn't mind.

As far as Buffy's actions, Tara's words hadn't gotten through. Placing her hands on Buffy's arms, she silently urged her up, telling her there was nothing to forgive. But if forgiveness was needed, then it was hers to have. Buffy rose just enough to quickly sit herself on the couch beside the taller blonde, and embrace her apprehensively. Only when she felt the gesture returned, when she felt herself hugged strongly, did she respond in kind. Forgiveness was communicated through the act itself.

Regardless of how tight Tara's hold on her petite frame was, Buffy held on tighter, feeling protected, safe, feeling nothing other than good energy. Exactly the opposite of what Spike offered. However, like with him, she knew as soon as Tara was gone, the feelings would follow. She wished they didn't, she wished she wasn't this dependent on another person, she wished she were in control, confident…

In the several minutes they sat there together, she wished a lot of things.

"It's all right to need someone. To let go. Even just once in a while." Tara whispered, almost reading her mind. "And nobody sh-should ever be alone if they don't have to be. Including you. So don't feel ashamed, okay? Because I st-st-still think you're pretty amazing." She blushed while Buffy's muscles relaxed. That small embarrassment was worth it, then. "I'm…I'm glad I'm here; thanks for trusting me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Buffy was beginning to smile when she released and looked at her friend. "You're the most non-judgmental person I know. It's weird actually, because we don't hang out much, do we?" Pause. "Except, if it was Willow or Xander…I wouldn't have gotten this far. I don't think I could've. Admitted this to them, I mean. Guess I should be able to, but I can't." Wiping her eyes, she took a deep, cleansing breath. "Anyway…I really am trying to find a pretty specific point. Which is, I'm glad you're here, too.

"And yunno, I'm thinking we should hang out more often, starting now. S'long overdue."

Tara smiled back in return. "I'd like that."

"Some friend, huh?" The slayer smirked, shaking her head. "Here I am dumping all my stuff on you, and I haven't even asked how you're holding up. Sorry. 'Rude Buffy's' outta the building, I promise. 'Polite Buffy's' in charge, and she's asking if you want something to drink, then if she oughta mind her own business."

"No apologizing." The witch ordered, but then cracked another smile. She saw that Buffy was away from the dark place for the time being, and she was going to allow her to set the pace. "But if you're sure you're up to it…is there still hot chocolate in the cabinet?"

"I dunno. Let's check. Could always use more warming." The girls got off the couch, and Buffy subconsciously brushed her fingers lightly over Tara's before they began walking to the kitchen. "Definitely up to it, though – I'm all cried out for tonight. Not a hundred percent sure about tomorrow, but tonight? I'm good. Or close to it, at least."

"Aha." Buffy remarked as she pulled an unopened box from the cabinet to the above-left of the sink. "Consider your question answered – it's kinda hard to believe, but powdered, cocoa beans? We're stocked with 'em. *And* they come in handy packets. So you want, right?" She turned to Tara, who was heading for the fridge. "Sit." She gestured to the island, and then broke the box's seal. "Hot chocolate's one of the few things I know how to make without the kitchen going 'boom.'"

Tara opened the refrigerator door. "You're too late; I'm already helping." She rooted around inside while her host got a smallish-sized pot from one of the lower cabinets.

"Okay, now my arm's twisted. Ya happy?" The slayer grinned as she thwacked two packets of cocoa mix against her thigh several times while waiting for the milk. "Help. Go nuts." Then she remembered how the witch *had* gone nuts not too long ago. "Or…don't, because I'm pretending I never suggested it." Sigh. "Takes foot out of mouth," Having set the packets on the counter, she pantomimed her words, "and even though she's tempted to apologize – " Milk gallon and cream in both hands, Tara gave her a look as she walked over, " – she resists the urge, not giving in."

"Good." Tara said, placing her items down on the counter beside the packets. "Because I wasn't even thinking…about Glory; it's been m-m-months since I-I have." Closing her eyes, she breathed in, and calmed herself. "And usually, if I do?"

"Like now? Cause I've got guilt issues and couldn't just quit?"

"If I do," Uh oh – that look again, "I don't…fall apart anymore. Took a long time, though."

"Yeah, I can imagine." The petite girl was in her own harsh mindset, but she wasn't arrogant enough to believe that her pain was on the level of someone who'd spent what must have felt like an eternity in a dark, empty void searching for a way out. "Sorta."

There was a sad smile on Tara's face. "Willow w-would always…"

Buffy could tell this was difficult for her; Tara was annoyed with herself. She had thought, in these nearly two months since breaking up with Willow, that she'd gained confidence, the ability to stand on her own two feet, some semblance of self-identity…yet she stuttered and stumbled over things she believed handled. Awfully fast, too. But the slayer would've thought her perception was skewed, having seen a very assured woman walk into the house.

A woman who finally seemed comfortable in her own skin. More comfortable than she, at any rate. It was probably a giant part of why defenses were lowered back there – because she knew Tara was in a position to withstand it. No, a change certainly occurred. It was still occurring. Both were aware of that, so Tara, by trying to rush it, by corking her emotions…

…Well, she wasn't following advice she'd given mere minutes before, which was rather hypocritical. Maybe whatever change remained was being prevented – by avoiding the whole, unresolved issue of a redhead, and separating herself from people she called "family." And if she was holding back to spare Buffy, that was just silly.

"She really hurt you." It was a statement, not a question. As much as the small blonde wanted to help her best friend, unfortunately, her best friend didn't make it easy to sympathize. "Do you miss her at all?"

The witch was silent only briefly, considering her response. "I miss how she used to make me feel."

Nod. "I get that."

And Buffy wasn't kidding. There were two periods in her life where she could identify – back with Angel when she was eighteen, and most recently, her present situation. She missed how being alive used to make her feel. Interlocking digits, it was her turn to let Tara know it was okay.

"Uh, shouldn't we finish making…?" Tara started and trailed off, self-conscious.

"Right." Buffy said, still gripping her hand. "Then we can go sit and – "

"Talk?"

"Right." Hand released, she cleared her throat, concentrating on the task ahead. "Oh, is there whipped cream? And cinnamon?"

"Are you attractive?" Buffy asked Tara after careful consideration.

"Mm, I guess?" Was the uncertain response given. "I mean, I wouldn't go out with them, but…" Her eyebrows rose. "You really think he's attractive?"

Around a half an hour later, they were in the dining room drinking their mugs of hot chocolate, and playing Guess Who? The game involved an exaggerated assortment of cartoon, male and female characters on two, separate boards. It asked the players to guess which character their opponent had picked at the beginning of the game.

Flicking the male characters down she deemed unattractive, the slayer hesitantly answered. "Probably, yeah. You know, compared to the other people…" Tara smirked good-naturedly, but she was embarrassed nonetheless. "Like you didn't gawk at Jessica Rabbit. And hey, she didn't even have a nose."

"No," The witch agreed trying to hold back a shy grin, "but that wasn't so bad. And she made up for it…um, elsewhere." While Buffy chuckled, she posed her next question. "Do you wear glasses?"

"'Fraid not." Buffy said before taking a sip from her mug while the non-glass wearers were flicked down across the table. "It just keeps my 'Poor Guy Choice' streak alive. Gotta say, wouldn't mind if it dried up." She tapped her fingers on the side of the mug for a few moments. "You think Spike loves me? Meaning, sincerely?" Next she chewed on her lip, thoughtfully. "And d'you have a hat on?"

Tara double-checked her character's card and shook her head. "Uh-uh, sorry." She was glad that Dawn was at a sleepover and that Willow was crashing at UC Sunnydale's library tonight. The redhead had fallen behind on her assignments, and was trying to play catch up, according to Buffy. "I think he tries to. Except it isn't…exactly pure love."

"Because he doesn't have a soul. And he's a vampire." The petite blonde stated, mulling over things. "But it's in him somewhere? Cause, I never got that impression."

"Maybe you didn't wanna notice." Tara said, bringing the mug to her lips. Drinking and putting the mug back down, she saw that the game had ceased being a priority. "Last year, it seemed like he wanted to be the kind of person he th-thought you'd respect."

"And fall for? I noticed. Only, most of the time he was playing stalker and stealing my clothes for his psychotic, underground ode to all that is me. Or whoever he wishes I was – enter 'Robo Buffy.'" Buffy was still bitter and unsettled about that. "Spike having his own, personal sex toy was plenty disgusting enough, but adding the '*way* too chipper' factor? Whole, new level of creepy."

Both silently realized that if the robot had survived, Spike would no longer have need for it. Buffy now fulfilled its role, and there were times when she felt robotic herself. Hmm. Maybe "dehumanized" was a more appropriate word.

"I meant…" The witch started to explain her side better, but the will left her, because frankly, her side wasn't holding up well. "N-n-never mind. I'm probably wr-wrong."

"You aren't, Tara. I'm just…focusing on the non-pure, I know that." The slayer admitted that for Tara's sake, not because she accepted the parts of Spike that weren't villainous. "But him suddenly being emotionally schitzo when he's supposed to just be regular, old evil? Yeah, doesn't change the fact that I can't love him."

"Do…do you want to?"

"What? No." Denied a touch too fast. "Even if he had a soul I'd…" She heaved a large sigh, unable to turn down the idea flat. "…rather not go there. But, seeing him, it's never about love; it isn't even about the part where we actually have sex, cause during, I'm numb. Didn't start out that way, only like everything else in my life lately, whatever I felt wore off fast."

Tara was afraid of what she'd hear next, but the question came regardless. "Then why?"

Ashamed, Buffy lowered her head already. "Violence tends to, um, happen a lot with us. Especially before…if-if we're alone." Yet she felt her friend's warmth again. Tara reached across the table and laid an encouraging hand on her forearm. Looking up, she was met with saddened but understanding eyes. "He'll tell me how I don't belong around people; in his mind, that's somehow the perfect reason for why I should hide in the dark instead. With him. Then, cause I don't wanna believe what he's saying, I'll get angry and we beat the hell out of each other." Pause. "After we're…done, I kind of hurt everywhere. It lasts a-a couple days, but once they're over there's nothing, and – "

"Spike's there." It was clear that while Buffy might've been using him, he wasn't innocent in this. He was trying to break her mentally, which Tara found far more horrible – she had firsthand experience with that kind of abuse. Multiple experiences.

"Pain's generally the one thing I can count on; reminds me I'm still breathing." Buffy knew the taller blonde was searching for words that weren't available, so with hands shaking just enough to draw attention to themselves, she finished her hot chocolate in a single gulp and tried to recall where they'd left off. "Please let it be your turn."

Her eyes did little to conceal how much she hoped it was.

Though it'd been her turn to guess, Tara knew Buffy had stopped caring about their diversion. No, it was also her turn to talk, because her friend was understandably exhausted. As she started summarizing life post-Willow and packing the game in its box, Buffy took their mugs to the dishwasher. Getting this part out was easier if she didn't have to fear eye contact; she was nervous enough.

Only when the slayer returned into the dining room did she respond to what she'd heard. "Really? You're dating?" Leaning against the adjoining entranceway, she seemed mildly surprised, but not upset. "Like, how exclusively? Very? Not so very?"

"Oh, not." Tara was quick to shake her head. "May-maybe I shouldn't have said 'dating.' It's more just…getting to know people. In, um, public places."

"Are drinks and/or food involved?"

"Well, s-sometimes there's coffee." All right, so it did bare a strong resemblance to "dating." She smiled unsurely, and then half to herself, "Okay, wh-when I thought it? Could've sworn it sounded a lot different."

Buffy smiled as she came further in and took the box off the table. "You're just fishing – it's allowed." She continued into the living room. "More than. It's required."

"'Fishing'?" Tara hadn't ever fished before; she'd only watched her father and brother. Though she highly doubted her fellow blonde, who was sliding the game underneath the couch, meant literally.

"Yeah…where you water-test and find out who your options are. Then after a few practice casts, y'see if one of 'em wants to maybe bite. Or nibble." Buffy was on her way back into the dining room as the suggestive nature hit her. "Nibble your lure, I mean." Well, that wasn't much cleaner. Redness. "Wow. That kinda spiraled. I was going for a PG-rated metaphor in the beginning, except since it's doubling as a euphemism now…think I'll stop before things get worse. Which they could. Easily."

The witch gave her patented half-grin. "If it makes you feel better? I think I am fishing. Only it doesn't go past PG. Nobody ever…" Slight match in redness. "…re-reaches my lure. They don't even s-see the bait. That's all I'm comfortable with for now."

"Understandable." The slayer said, laughing with her friend, who had a side to her she hadn't seen before. "Wanna go sit out back? Cause I'm not through with you yet." She then reconsidered. "Unless you have an early class tomorrow…do you have an early class tomorrow?"

A blonde head shook, as Tara stood up from the table. "My first class isn't until two."

With that settled, to the backyard they went, sitting beside one another on the bench. Fresh air and a clear sky didn't solve Buffy's problems, but being here certainly felt less oppressive than being in the house. She thought it might've been easier for Tara too, when talking about other girls, if the young woman was free of the building that held memory upon memory of times with her ex. Seemed logical.

And if she also happened to enjoy Tara's presence and wasn't ready to face a house where she was the sole, lone occupant, was that a crime?

"Nice night." Buffy commented, looking up. "Almost makes you forget there're all those demons loitering everywhere being evil. When they're not playing poker for kittens." Tara looked equal parts perplexed and horrified. She assumed they didn't give their winnings good homes stocked with catnip. "Well, only some demons. Like Spike."

This was as close as the listener would ever get to being glad that Miss Kitty Fantastico had been the unfortunate, accidental target of Dawn and a crossbow – at least the cat wasn't something's lunch. But more important, it was evident that the sooner Buffy was weaned off of Spike and what she believed he offered her, the better she'd be.

Tara wanted her healing ASAP. "What time do you work tomorrow?"

"I got stuck with the late shift." Came the grumble. "Why?"

"Do you w-w-wanna…I mean, there's something I think you should see," The witch said apprehensively, "and I was wondering if I could show you. Do you mind getting up early?" Not hearing an immediate answer, she chickened out. "If you – "

Raised eyebrow. "How early?"

"Before dawn."

Gape. "Dawn as in, the time of day, 'dawn'?"

"Um, yes." Tara confirmed, resisting the temptation to hide her face. "I'll bring a thermos. With coffee."

Why did this sound awfully familiar? Oh right. "Regular, decaf, or date coffee?"

Sounded familiar to the embarrassed, blue-eyed blonde as well. "R-r-regular. Of course. I want t-t-to help, uh, as a fr-friend, so I – "

"It's okay. M'only teasing." Said the hazel-eyed blonde lightly, putting a hand on a tense shoulder. "And somehow, I'll find a way to wake myself up on time; either by drinking a gallon of water before bed, or replacing the batteries in my alarm clock. Depends how lazy I feel. Then we can go where I'm betting you won't tell me."

Smile. "Not yet. But it'll be worth it. I hope."

"Fine, but I'm taking a lot on faith here. Surprises are over-hyped as it is." Pause. "So, the real dating. When did that start?"

Tara breathed deep, and got underway. "About three weeks after we…after I broke up with Willow." She sat a little straighter. "I wallowed for a while, second-guessing myself about whether I did the right thing…and then I was here making pancakes for Dawn, and Willow came in with Amy, who suddenly wasn't a rat anymore – they'd been doing magick all night. She didn't care, Buffy. So I decided, to hell with it, you know? I needed to move on."

Buffy nodded. "I remember that morning. I came in at the tail end, but…was pretty strong, Tara."

The compliment was shrugged off. "I had to just do it, finally; I was sick of feeling miserable. And going out, meeting different people, who for some reason wanna meet me…we have a good time. No one's looking for a commitment, and we both know what the boundaries are. Plus it's honest; I know what to expect." A second wave of nervousness hit, then. "I didn't think I-I'd be able to handle being on my own, but it's made me realize," Her expression saddened a bit, "I don't need Willow. Which scares me to death, because I thought it w-was a given. That I always would."

"Well, you weren't around for Angel, but believe me when I say, there was a time when he was my entire world. We're talking tunnel-vision to the point of absolute sureness that I couldn't survive without him. Only I am. Not in the greatest way, but I've figured out he can't just swoop in and fix everything, no one can; so long story short, he's in the 'I love you, but I'm not in love you' file cabinet these days." The slayer was trying her best to relate. "Is that where Will is?"

There was a long beat before Tara spoke the truth aloud, with some resignation. "I think so." Somewhere it shifted, and that was that. Beyond her control. "Goddess, she is. That's new."

Buffy automatically returned the earlier favor, offering a supportive, firm hug. "I wanna hear steady breathing; no hyperventilating on my watch." She rubbed Tara's back in slow circles while the sinking in passed. "Sneaks up on ya, doesn't it?"

"Uh huh. A little too well." Tara confirmed, following good instructions. "Wish it woulda made more noise. Tiny squeaks at the most."

The slayer wasn't going to subject her to another tale of "Angel Drama," but she couldn't help reflecting back again on being eighteen, on how badly she tried to make it work once he returned from Hell. Her body still wanted him, her brain was wary, and her heart was confused. But they were "Buffy and Angel"; he had a soul again. He was what all of her *wanted* to want, if that made sense.

When he ended their relationship in that sewer tunnel and she wept to Willow, it was more because she let herself know then, she was no longer in love with him. Not like she'd been pre-Angelus. And recognizing that was a painful experience – if your world isn't cutting it anymore, what are you supposed to do? A question which pounded relentlessly during the prom, during their dance that was as sweet as it was bitter.

She never did quite find a satisfactory answer, either. Releasing Tara, Buffy's eyes told the story well enough. They told the witch she understood firsthand, and that was the message she really wanted to convey. "Gonna be okay?"

"I might hafta dismount and stretch my legs." Tara responded, making Buffy's forehead crinkle. "Before getting back on the horse again…a-a second time." Comprehension came as a silent "Ah," and she added, "Thanks."

Pressure-less dates had passed the minutes nicely, but she wasn't ever sure what they were passing towards. Though she still wasn't, she was sure they weren't heading Willow's direction. Feelings and attraction existed at a respectful, fond, figurative distance – she had indeed moved on. Inside she was rather hectic, however.

"Haven't felt very helpful since I got back – I didn't know I missed it." The petite, resurrected woman kind of smirked at the odd disconnect that was her life. "But does this mean you and Willow aren't gonna re-couple if she beats her, uh, magick problem?" Beat. "Sorry. Stupid question." Just, knowing Willow's perspective…

Smartly gathering why it was posed, color began to drain from the witch's face. "Is…is that why she stopped? To win me back?"

"She may be hoping she can, yeah." Buffy called it as she saw it, because she'd gotten that vibe from the redhead in spades. "She also stopped cause of that whole night with Dawn, but you're tied on the list. I think she thinks you guys are temporarily – "

"No." Confidence rang in that small word. "I told her if she could stop for a week, I'd stay. I didn't want it to be an ultimatum, a threat like that, but she wasn't listening to anything else; I was worried, and…pretty desperate." Tara shook her head disappointingly at the next turn of events. "She couldn't even last a day. Instead she did that spell on everyone. So we'd forget. She m-manipulated my mind. Twice, without having any idea why it was wrong."

Her eyes were angry, yet another side Buffy hadn't seen. "When I left the house, it wasn't to teach her a lesson or to get her to quit casting – she already had that chance. It was for me. Coming to Sunnydale, I swore I w-wouldn't let somebody control me that way again. Not…after my dad." She smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress before resuming. "I'm happy Willow's doing what she's doing, but it should only be for herself. Her body absorbed lots of dark energy; once she finishes getting rid of it, she has to find a place to learn. Magick's part of her, she has to want to take the time to respect it, or she'll never…"

"Can't you – ?"

"I can't be with her, Buffy. As much as I'd love to give in sometimes, and wish we weren't – "

"No, not…" The slayer got hung up on what words to use, and decided not to use any, bypassing it altogether. "Can't you tutor her? 'Friend' tutor?"

Tara silently apologized for jumping to conclusions, and had the grace to look sheepish. "Spending time with an experienced coven is her best choice. When she's ready."

"Does she know all that?" Buffy wondered. "Because she's one hundred percent magick-free, and isn't the keenest on bippity-boppity-booing. Past the cleansing period, or ever. No offense." The Cinderella reference sort of snuck in there.

"The Fairy Godmother's a positive role model – plus just a nice, old lady. So none taken." The three-dimensional witch said of the two-dimensional one, smiling. After a moment, returned to the matter at hand. "Willow probably doesn't. Know."

"She needs to, then. You should tell her." The Chosen One stared in a manner reserved usually for demons. A stare that said she wasn't backing down. "Everything." Thought. "Hey – at my party next week. You're coming, she's coming…"

She identified with Tara, she didn't begrudge the woman her choices, and had gained a good deal more respect for her tonight to go along with what'd been there. But Willow remained her best friend despite tough times, and she deserved to have all the facts, so she could try moving on as well. Short-term heart breakage was a sad side effect.

"We'll talk." Tara assured, then seized an opportunity. "That reminds me, Dawn thinks she found you the perfect present; she keeps saying how excited she is whenever we're out. I bet she-she'd give away a couple hints if you asked."

Ooh. Clever. Respect kept on climbing. Like that little man in the Price Is Right game.

"Okay, that's fair." Buffy accepted, ruefully. "I'm not in the running for the 'Bestest Big Sister of 2002' award. If there's a top fifty, I'm overshooting last place by a continent, and won't even rank this year."

"The year just started."

The blonde's eyes widened in disbelief, and her voice was laced with a tone Tara couldn't nail down. "Uh, remember that meltdown about an hour and a half ago? I'm pessimistic now. Terminally." Sighing, her mask withered. "Dawn wants me to be her sister: her never dead, never resurrected sister. But I don't know where that person is, and when Dawn wants to hang out and bond, I'm scared she'll talk to the unrecognizable substitute instead.

"I *don't* want that. I'm sorry she's upset, but it's better than the alternative." She pondered that. "Unless the alternative was Joan. She seemed to like Joan. Heck, I liked Joan – she was 'Older Buffy' without the five years of negativity build up, cause they were a downer. And she was perkier, don't forget. Naïve, but perkier." Before she succumbed to regret, she held it in for Tara's sake. To her, Willow's spell wasn't a violation. It was a welcome dream. "Joan isn't the alternative, though. The real one? That's hard to recognize? She feels ugly. Inside'n'out."

"Dawn doesn't need protection." Tara countered with her rebuttal. "She needs to feel useful, to know she matters. You don't have to share all the details with her, but trust her to handle the basics – she's grown up fast."

"Then why's she act so childish?" That was blunt. And snappish to a person who didn't deserve it. Buffy bit her tongue in penance. "Wasn't directed at you. It just…came out. Plus I think it was rhetorical." She trudged onward. "Even if I thought she could deal, I can't. First I hafta explain who I am to…whoever I am."

Tara was probably looking for a different result, one where she rose above her issues and decided to see Dawn in a new light. Buffy was conscious of how selfish she seemed, but it wasn't as if she enjoyed being lost to herself. She believed she would be no good to friends or family, until "Buffy" resurfaced. How to achieve that was a mystery to her, though the person she shared bench space with, had that even more mysterious idea.

"That's what morning's for." Tara didn't press her on Dawn. "Well, as a start. If-if it doesn't work, we'll try something else." A wordless stretch of crickets and car engines signaled that the evening had naturally run its course. She stood. "I should…"

"Leave me to avoid Willow?" Buffy queried with faux-innocence. "In case she comes home early?"

"An-and to let you get s-some sleep." Tara wasted zero time in adding. "I know you're tired."

The slayer had taken baby steps. She generally hated complaining to anyone other than herself about her problems; she dealt in private, sparing her friends to keep up the facade of strength. But Tara being Tara, angst was brought out with ease, and didn't make her feel weak. She wouldn't call this experience "cathartic" per se, because she wasn't exactly lighter and re-energized, but unleashing her dark secret and not being crucified for her actions was the first hurdle she had to clear.

Recovery wasn't guaranteed, but by choosing Tara, the odds had improved. She'd managed an intelligent decision – good omen? Or wishful thinking?

"You're right. I'm pooped." Came the agreement, and she pointed to her vocal chord area. "Don't have any 'heavy-talk' left in here."

"So go inside, go to bed…and dress warm tomorrow."

The shorter blonde smiled. "Want me to walk you?"

"To the driveway?" The witch said, mirthfully. "I'm sure I'll find it." While her friend blushed at the silliness of the offer, she had one more thing to say. "But, Buffy? You are absolutely *not* ugly; please don't believe that about yourself…you're-you're beautiful."

Blushing carried on, but was tempered with being flattered. "From a 'friend' viewpoint, or a 'gay woman' viewpoint?"

Tara's half-grin, more enigmatic than usual, more than she even realized, claimed her face muscles again. "Good night."

"Night, Tara." She'd do her the courtesy of not pressing, either.

Buffy watched her disappear around the side of the house, listened to the car pull away, and sat under the stars a couple more minutes before greeting her mattress with a bona fide, happy sensation that went straight to the bone; she was alone, yet the fire hadn't been completely snuffed. Encouraged by that, she banked on her internal clock wanting to go off in time for Tara, so she didn't bother with the alarm. Or the water.

Meanwhile, on the drive back to campus, Tara puzzled over what hell-spawn had possessed her back there, because she didn't seriously do that of her own volition.

"The beach?" Buffy said with some confusion as Tara brought her car to a stop. "I was expecting a giant mountain with a monastery at the top. Or Disneyland."

"I don't think it's open." The driver pointed out, hoping her passenger wasn't too let down.

The slayer countered with, "Well, factor in the driving time, and by when we got there it would be. Ooh, and if you have a VIP pass, they let you in before everyone else." Then she had to dejectedly concede a sad truth. "Which I don't have. Yet. But someday." Unbuckling her seatbelt, she took a deep breath. "So…the beach it is." Her gloved hand reached for the door handle.

"Don't forget your coffee." Tara removed the Espresso Pump cup from the car's holder, and gave it to her company.

"If I'da known 'make coffee' meant 'buy coffee,' I would've given you money. Shoulda told me." Buffy blew through the lid's "drinking hole" to cool the liquid off. "Cause one of us obviously has a really sad grasp of the English language. Or, best case scenario, an out-of-date dictionary. With missing pages. That starts with 'Zork' and hasn't even heard of the letter G."

"We had a coffee machine in the common room, but when I woke up, it wasn't working."

"Or that. How scary's it gonna get later?"

"Um, well…the people who brought their own from home better have strong doors. And maybe a-a good spot to pray."

"So, caffeine-deprived, zombie madness." The petite blonde stated casually, following her friend outside and closing the door behind her. "Too bad. It's my day off." She took a sip. "Wow. That's perfect. And not just kind of. To a T."

Tara smiled, somewhat proudly, at Buffy's surprised look. "When we had 'Greek Art' last year? You'd usually bring a cup to class, and have three, sugar packets and a cream stuffed in your pockets. I guess I…j-just remembered."

"Yeah. To a T. Okay, that's my phrase of the day." With one step they were off the gravelly parking lot, and touching sand. They passed through a section of tall grass that exited onto the main beach, quietly consuming coffee until, "Let me pay you back for this."

"Sure, I could," Tara began, turning up the collar on her long, brown, wool coat and half-grinning, "but then today would be completely ruined."

Eye roll. "What's the plan exactly?"

"The, uh, first part? Treating you." 'Like a human being.' Her brain added. "And I, you know, li-like my plan. A lot." The Wiccan's mind was set. "Save your money, Buffy."

"Fine." Smile. "But next time we switch."

For some reason neither could place, hearing that sentence silenced them again. Arms across her chest, Buffy listened to seashell fragments crunch under Tara's boots, glad she'd followed the witch's wise instructions. Her leather jacket, white scarf, gloves and black, knit-cap fought off the early morning chill nicely. Despite red hues coloring the sky, the sun refused to heat them, still not having risen above the horizon.

Tara's coat took advantage of every, last button, acting as a snug shield. One hand rested in a pocket, leaving the other to hold her beverage. They were bare – she didn't use as many layers as her friend. A friend who would've been freezing. But she seemed content. Even more, she seemed radiant, long hair blowing lightly in the breeze like it was. With that quality going for her, Buffy guessed UV was sort of redundant.

Soon they were standing just shy of the encroaching and receding water, blue ocean before them, getting a big whiff of salt. "Phew." The slayer uttered, crinkling her nose. "Don't get me wrong, this is doing wonders for my sinuses, but other than that…"

"That's not the reason we came." Smirk. "Not that clear sinuses aren't totally important."

Buffy suddenly found herself listening to a lack of environment. There was no sound. The water's motions wouldn't make a whisper, and the commonplace noise of seagulls apparently wasn't so commonplace this morning. After a few minutes she turned around to view the beach, then swiveled her head to Tara, and the odd sense of déjà vu that bugged since leaving the car, forced her to sit down before she fell down. So she did, right on the sand. What did this remind her of?

"What's wrong?" Tara asked concernedly, crouching down beside her.

Blink. "Huh? Oh. Nothing. 'Mummy hand' moment." That was now the slayer's shorthand for every time she felt like she'd done something before. Except she immediately retracted her brush off, even though it had felt ridiculous. But then again, there was no "embarrassment worry" with Tara. "I mean…maybe nothing. I'm remembering being someplace with you. I think. Someplace like here. And it was…I dunno." She let out a frustrated "grr." "Ignore the unstable slayer; her and reality aren't chatty today."

"Thank god." The witch's reaction brought forth a pained frown from Buffy. "N-no, this is why we came. More or less." She had her confirmation; the experience hadn't been hers alone, which was a long-delayed comfort. "Before anything else, I thought we n-needed to talk about it. We probably should've a long time ago, but it didn't…feel right."

"Talk about what?"

"When I was borrowed."

That was it. Recollection now spilled from Buffy's lips easily, the details coming to her in quick flashes. "Desert, anti-social first slayer, cheese guy with shaky symbolism…" She drew in a surprised breath. "That was really you? In my…? Get out."

"I wanted to; because she didn't, you know, ask exactly." Tara moved from the crouch to a full on, Indian-style sitting position facing her friend. "I-I was just *there*, and what she made me tell you – "

"That slayers make great loner-types?" Came the rhetorical question. "Kinda not wrong."

"Maybe. But you chose not to just accept her history like the others did; you've kept people by your side. It's-it's brave, and smart, and right. Nobody should ever be alone." The arguably more stable twenty-something echoed her words from last night. "I hated being f-forced to say those things. I didn't believe any of it, and still don't."

Buffy could have replied with how she preferred solitary away-ness from her friends now, right or wrong, but that would've just been rehashing, doing neither of them any good. She also could have declined what sounded like an apology, telling Tara it wasn't her fault that she was hijacked and used by her primal relative, but that would've only dredged up the witch's history of being used and manipulated, again serving no purpose.

Instead she only asked, "Were you in Willow's dream, too? I mean, you were together at the time and sort of, uh, connected."

"If I was, it's because she dreamt me up, the way it's, usually supposed to happen. But it wasn't really me." Pause. "I was actually *put* in yours. I shouldn't remember it, but I do…every moment. And I'm s-sure I wouldn't have even made a crinkle in your regular dreams. I definitely wouldn't have been – "

" – real. Except you were. Because, hey, my insomnia would've been more normal than the 'sleeping' that night. To a freakishly scary degree." The slayer said, wryly. "Okay, so…why you? We barely spoke to each other back then. Why not Janet Reno? Or Dorothy Hamill?"

"I guess they were busy?" Smart-alecky Tara was something Buffy still had to get used to, and she could only roll her eyes again. "Dorothy Hamill?"

"I went through an 'ice-skating' phase. When your parents are falling apart, it's a good distraction; there should be an ad campaign. And now that I'm thinking, it probably would've been a healthier, less stressful one than the currently – that has a big, 'unhealthy violence and death' theme." The lost hero laughed hollowly at that, disbelieving how far she'd gone astray. "How's 'hindsight' work again?"

For what must have been the trillionth time, she fought the black mood as best she could. Had to focus on rebounding. For the next, several minutes both females watched the sun rise, feeling those first rays light their faces. Out on the ocean, the water sparkled, leaving Tara awed. Not for the first time, either. Buffy's reaction, however, amounted to indifference. Her mind knew that what she was seeing was beautiful, but her heart just didn't seem to care. Which was sad.

"This is what I wanted to show you." Tara eventually revealed, though her eyes were still focused beyond. "I know it's not what you were hoping for, and it might seem a-a little silly, but every morning I feel like I don't know why I should get up? I come here. When you have to face pretty horrible things almost every day, eventually it can hurt so much, the horrible things are all you start to see.

"But here, or…out-out there, I mean," She gestured to the big, blue vastness that was the ocean, "always makes me think of The Lion King, and it, um, gives me perspective."

"They lost me after Beauty and the Beast." Buffy responded, rather confused as to where this was going.

"Oh." The blonde witch had thought that reference would explain it all, but it looked like she was going to have to plow through. "Well there's this song in it, called 'Circle of Life'? Which is kind of what the whole movie's about. This cute, lion cub…" She stopped herself quickly, because the movie itself wasn't the point. "And I should really finish the example I started with." She laughed at herself, wishing she'd written something down to make this easier.

"M'still onboard." The slayer assured her, putting a hand on her knee. "Don't worry, the concept sounds vaguely familiar. Life and death as a big cycle, stuff dies so other stuff can live…right?"

Tara nodded, very conscious of the hand touching her, even if it was gloved and over fabric. "All that's happening under the water. She doesn't realize it, but right now a fish is eating algae to get bigger and stronger so it can feed another fish, who can go feed his family; but first she'll have laid her eggs, and one day they'll hatch, then those fish are gonna eat the new algae that'll grow in the same spot where their parents ate before they were born. When you only look at the poor, mother fish, you never notice the rest.

"It's sad that she gets gobbled, except that that lets everything else keep surviving. We're more complicated, yes…but I-I guess what I'm trying to say, is even though it seems bad now – and it wasn't 'til Sunnydale that I honestly understood – there are reasons. As long as you're willing to learn what the sad parts hafta teach, the happy parts do come back. Maybe not exactly the same, but, what *doesn't* change?"

Buffy worked that all around in her brain, as she drank more coffee. "So I need to believe there's a bigger picture and a light at the end of a tunnel, even if I can't see either of those things?"

"Yep." Okay, so her explanation took the winding route. But at least Buffy got the point. Now came the answer. "But I'll try to help. I think the reason the First Slayer chose me to be in your dream, is because she knew that I'm s-supposed to guide you, and took ad-advantage." This felt like a nice juncture for her own coffee break.

The petite young woman wasn't surprised by Tara's theory. It fit – not in any way that could be rationally spoken aloud to anyone of course, but a definite intangible vibe existed. The first hint of it, if she thought back, was when she sat with the witch in the hospital on the day of her mother's death. It was a unique feeling then too, that the person beside her could somehow see her through the pain; that she understood before a word even got out. Not because there'd been a shared experience of loss, though there was, but because she was just…meant to.

She kind of dismissed it at the time, especially because it wasn't long after that Tara was taken from them by Glory.

Smiling, she again assured her friend that she wasn't alone in her thoughts. "Sure you want the job? Not that I don't appreciate the mystical whatever-they-ares for picking you out, but most of the time I'm like that guy who got stuck pushing that huge boulder up the hill and never stops."

Tara stood, and replied as she helped Buffy up. "I'm okay with pushing – more muscle-y than I look."

"Funny, so am I." They went further down towards the tide, and walked along right where it began to recede. As they did, Buffy considered her ancient predecessor, leading to something finally clicking, and she breathed, "Damn."

"What?" The witch asked.

"The First Slayer. That's who I feel like these days. A demon warrior girl, who forgot how to be normal, and wants to shove 'Buffy' completely out of the way." Voicing that revelation, her brow furrowed concernedly. "And that might be literally." It went a long way towards explaining her present routine and attitude.

Maybe it even explained Spike to an extent.

"Then we shove back and kick her ass." Tara's toughness and mildly-blue language emerged because her friend's realization meant that her choice for a first step bore fruit, which made her think that maybe she could really be there for her companion.

Buffy found herself laughing, and even catching a bit of the enthusiasm – she considered dubbing it, "The Tara Effect." "What's next then, Zagat?"

"You want me to recommend a restaurant?" That headed toward "dating" territory again.

The slayer turned red at her flop of a joke. "See? She's killed my punning ability! It's getting hopeless."

"Small steps, sweetie." Tara told her, and after finishing off her coffee, she linked their arms in support. "To answer your question, though? The party. It'll let you relax and just be with your family, which'll be good for you."

"And have cake and presents." The smaller blonde added. "I remember 'Buffy' liking cake and presents."

"That too." The taller grinned while Buffy swallowed the last of her coffee as well.

A few more feet passed before they decided to turn back to go to the car, though Buffy had one more thing to ask. "So…how did Sunnydale prove to you that badness has a reason? Because in this town? Usually 'badness' doesn't need a reason for occurring. It just does."

Tara prepared her words carefully. "If my father and my-my brother treated me better, if my mom didn't teach me a-about magick, if she didn't…die when she did," Just because she saw the bigger picture now, the events that crafted it didn't hurt any less, "I wouldn't have left home. I wouldn't have met Willow, I wouldn't have loved her, and I'd probably still believe I was a demon. I also wouldn't have been made a Scooby, or been able to help keep people safe. Buffy, when you accepted me, wh-when you all did, that was th-the best day of my life. I never thanked you for that."

Well that solidified the slayer's understanding pretty handily. "Don't have to. You're kind, awesome, *and* slightly quirky – which, plus. You belong with us, Tara; all I did was make it official. But I'm thanking you." She said, with eyes that wanted no argument. "For this morning, and future mornings. I'm lucky t'have you to turn to, and the quiet strolling was…*is* nice." Considering they weren't done yet. "Even though I'm still not past the dead, mama fish and picturing the ocean as 'that deep, soggy place you drown in,' I do get the philosophy. Hopefully someday soon we'll share."

An embarrassed Wiccan said the only thing she could say. "You're welcome." Back at the car, however, she had recomposed. "Before I drop you off at the house, how about I treat you to breakfast? I know a great diner that's open this early."

"Hah! 'Zagat'…to a T. Knew it'd pay off." Buffy sighed contentedly as Tara giggled. "Hey, silver lining."

To be continued...

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