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Challenge 10: Now she's gone

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  • Challenge 10: Now she's gone

    Title: Now She's Gone
    Author: Litzie
    Rating: R/NC-17
    Disclaimer: not mine.

    Author's note: I cant believe I actually made it under the deadline! woo! KoC, my word count is at 790...I tried, m'dear!

    This takes place in the middle of Tough Love. Instead of meeting Glory after her fight with Willow, Tara ran into something else.

    Oh, ETA, I couldn't decide if Tara and Willow actually lived together during season 5, so I just decided to say they did.


    When she stepped out of the shadows, Willow was not surprised.

    A part of her knew, from the moment she walked in the door. There was something indefinably different, some tension or lack thereof in the air. The door didn’t open the same way. The flowers on Tara’s desk didn’t smell as fresh. Their bed wasn’t made right, the spread was too rumpled, the stuffed animals were crooked, Tara’s impression on her pillow was wrong, and so when Willow walked in the door and turned to look at Tara, standing in the corner by the sink, looking into the mirror with no reflection looking back at her, she was not surprised.

    She bowed her head.

    Tara laughed, a horrible laugh. It seemed to latch onto her vocal cords and stick there, stuck, stuck, stuck. It echoed in Willow’s ears like the crash of some horrible cymbal, glass breaking, fingernails scratching the chalkboard and crunching bone all in one. She laughed, and then she was at Willow’s side.

    She ran her fingers along Willow’s arms, through her hair, along her face, until her hands rested around Willow’s neck. The casualness of her grasp was a lie, Willow could feel that through every fingertip. Tara – this mockery of Tara – was trying to decide whether to snap Willow’s neck. But Willow kept her head bowed. There was no reason to raise her eyes. The Tara in front of her was not her Tara. Her Tara was dead, and while that thought had not yet truly sunk in, Willow knew already there was no point in going on. So she bared her neck, and let the shell of the woman she loved so completely weigh the pros and cons of closing her fingers around her throat.

    Slowly, Tara’s grip grew gentle, and she leaned in for a kiss. Willow would not turn up her face, so Tara kissed her jaw, her ear, her neck. Willow flinched, involuntarily, and Tara laughed again.

    “I knew you didn’t love me, you know,” she said, conversationally, drawing her hand up along Willow’s thigh. “When I died, I knew there was no way you could love me. Lil’ old me with my mousy ways and my st-st-st-stutter. I died thinking that you would never love me, and that I didn’t deserve your love.” She leaned in close to Willow’s ear, her breath hot and fast, and her hand reached between Willow’s legs. “You never convinced me,” she said, barely a whisper.

    Willow kept her head bowed, but she felt tears well up in her eyes, spill over onto her cheeks. This Tara, this monster Tara was smart. Willow was ready to hear that Tara never loved her – she was on guard against it. She expected it. So to hear that Tara never accepted Willow’s love – something that she had worried about so often when Tara was alive – it was too much.

    “Aw, does that make you sad, my little witch?” Tara said. Her right hand was soft and gentle between Willow’s legs, caressing. Her left grabbed Willow’s face with incredible force, and compelled her to look up. “Do you want to reassure me? Tell me how sorry you are about the fight, how much you wish you could take it back?” Her fingers were harder now, insistent between her legs, and Willow could feel her treacherous body begin to respond. Tara’s left hand continued to grip Willow’s face, giving it a shake with each question she asked. “Tell me how much you love me, Willow.” Her name was a curse in Tara’s mouth. “Tell me that you care. Tell me that you’ll protect me, and always keep me safe. Tell me. Tell me that you love me.”

    Finally, Willow raised her eyes to Tara’s face. To the coldness there, to the empty eyes and sneering mouth, the angry brow. It was actually a relief. The pressure behind her eyes eased. Something in her stomach unknotted.

    “I don’t love you,” she said, slowly and carefully. “I loved Tara. And now she’s gone. I can see it in your face – you’re not her. I loved Tara, and she knew it, just as I know that she loved me.”

    Willow saw disappointment flicker through those eyes she knew so well and not at all. It was enough. With a brief thought, almost a prayer, for everyone she was leaving behind, she bared her neck. Tara’s teeth on her neck, and her hand between Willow’s legs, blended together, until she felt something rising within her and broke on the wave. When Tara cut her chest and pressed it against Willow’s mouth, she drank, desperately. Tara was waiting for her, and Willow was going to meet her.
    Last edited by litzie; 27-10-08, 09:35 PM.