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BRAVE EYES	By : psimetis Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > FemmeSlash - Female/Female > Tara/Willow Views: 6019 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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BRAVE EYES.Part3html

Title: BRAVE EYES

Author: psimetis

E-mail: psimetis@hotmail.com

Rating: NC-17

3/?

* * *

‘Rise’

The night, that dangerous, unpredictable night, now became Tara’s. If she feared coming out at night, she did not show it. She walked with quiet assurance, with earned territorial right, and sometimes Amy would be beside her, stepping with a girl’s cockiness. When they were out together, they projected power, and even dark things were wise to stay out of their way. They were witches, and they acted like they feared nothing, neither Slayer or demons.

“I wanna curse her, you know,” Amy would say to Tara, referring of course, to the Slayer, whom Amy had developed a rather healthy hatred of.

“Jenny won’t like that,” Tara would chastise.

“Not even with the runs?” Amy would snark. “Imagine the Slayer in the cemeteries with a nifty case of ‘Montezuma’s Revenge’.” As usual, Tara couldn’t resist a self-conscious smile.

“No,” Amy would continue. “I want the big spell. I want to curse Buffy Summers with a soul.”

It was two weeks after Willow’s rescue when, one night, Tara met the Slayer again.

The blonde witch stepped out onto the sidewalk as the Magic Box door jangled shut behind her. She held the ingredients for Willow’s salve in her left hand, which freed her more powerful right hand for casting.

Buffy just stood on the lit walk, staring at Tara, her body all easy, coiled grace.

“How’s your pet demon?” she simply asked, her cold eyes unreadable.

Tara didn’t care to answer. The witch was not a violent person, and she did not think like a warrior. She did, however, think like a protector, and since her ‘Willow’ crystal continued to rest warmly and reassuringly against her skin, she knew Willow was safe in her dorm room. Tara could easily dismiss playing the Slayer’s cruel games. She stepped away from Buffy.

“Oh. So it’s like that, huh?” Buffy merely commented, and Tara paused in her attempted departure. Someone else was standing in the shadows to her right, while Buffy stood to her left. Tara’s senses went haywire.

“Dang, B’, I think she tagged me,” a young woman’s tough, Bostonian voice remarked from her right. Tara watched a dark haired girl emerge from the shadows, with a swagger and devil-may-care attitude. Unlike Buffy, her aura was vibrant with a passionate fire.

“Witches, y’know? Have noses like bloodhounds. Or is that ears,” Buffy quipped. She cocked her body to the side, and Tara couldn’t help returning her wary attention to her.

“Never understood the demon fetish, though,” the blonde Slayer said slowly to her, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Tara gripped the bag in her hand, and felt the other Slayer silently move to flank her.

“Is there something you’re asking?” Tara inquired in a calm, even tone. She was privately surprised that she had managed it. And without stuttering.

“Yeah,” the Slayer acknowledged. She stood awhile, just looking at Tara. “Where’s Angel?” she finally asked.

Tara turned to look the Slayer fully in the face.

“You know where he is,” she gave quietly. The witch stepped off the sidewalk and into the dark street, and didn’t bother to look back.

Later, Amy would explain to her that another Slayer had been called when Buffy had died briefly for some reason or other. That Slayer recently died in New Orleans at the hands of the now rejuvenated Drusilla. The new girl Tara had seen, Faith, was the current ‘Chosen One’ now.

“I swear on my mom’s cheerleader trophy that they’re a couple,” Amy gossiped. “Jonathan saw them making out behind the Bronze.”

All Tara could think was, that if Buffy was having sex with Faith, she wouldn’t have time to capture something else and torture it.

Somehow the boys of the coven got a hold of Faith’s hairbrush, although Andrew and Michael suffered mysterious black eyes from the covert adventure. They re-cast the wards of Tara’s dorm building to include blocking the new Slayer. Only until that had been done, did Tara finally tell Willow of the new, young hunter in town.

* * *

Three weeks after Willow came back home, she could walk again.

One, two, three, four, five steps, to her witch’s desk. Rest, then five more plus four to almost the door. Then the same back to the bed--although that became more like ten steps, depending on whether she hit the bed’s end, or ended up past it.

She showed off her walking accomplishment to her witch and it made her girl very happy. She got to bite and suck on Tara almost right away after that, and Puppy even watched.

In that same amount of weeks, her witch told her that her eyelashes had finally grown back.

“Itchy,” Willow said, even as Tara firmly put her hands away, and wouldn’t let her rub her healing eyelids. So she got Puppy to lick them.

Within those same three weeks, her fingers no longer had to wear splints, but they were very weak and fumbly.

“What’s this for?” Willow asked, when she felt her witch put a soft rope in her hands.

“Knots and braids,” Tara told her. “Do you know how?”

Tara taught her four different knots, and three different braids, but it was while her witch was in classes that Puppy actually taught Willow all the interesting bondage knots, and how they were used. And then when he laid down for a nap, Willow tied up her unsuspecting Puppy as pretty as can be for her witch to see.

Tara cut up all her knots on Puppy and didn’t give her rope to play with anymore, but at least her fingers and wrists were alot stronger.

It was the night when Willow had mastered knots that Puppy’s tongue felt less like healing and more like sex, and Willow could cum finally without any pain.

* * *

Tara always watched Angel when he went down on Willow.

She wasn’t exactly turned on by the sight; in the beginning, the act was so painful for Willow, she couldn’t help but share in it, and Angel felt her vampire’s pain as well, even though he did respond physically.

“Is--is Puppy hard?” Willow had asked once, even as she whimpered from Angel’s ministrations.

“Oh, um, yes,” Tara answered, sparing only a hummingbird like glance at the area in question. She immediately shielded her eyes with her hand--before she could stop herself.

“Re-Really hard?” Willow gasped.

“Oh.....Yes. L-Like a fireman’s pole.”

Willow shrieked with sudden mirth.

“W-We can go--up and down it!” she laughed, and when she came, it wasn’t so bad that time.

Angel would excuse himself after such sessions, and retreat to the bathroom for a while. Willow would sometimes comment that she liked it that Angel got aroused, because that meant she was still desirable.

Then Tara would feel really terrible, hearing that, and kiss Willow breathless. No matter how much Willow begged, Tara wouldn’t let her vampire use her mouth on her yet, not when the witch couldn’t reciprocate in kind; it just felt like taking advantage. She was waiting for the night when Willow could finally accept intimacy without pain.

Tonight, seemed to be that night, Tara realized. Willow rolled her pelvis with an urgency she hadn’t done before, and Angel’s attentions became as urgent and responsive, his large hands like a dying man’s grip on the redhead’s hips.

“Oh--Tara, oh--” Willow moaned, clutching at her with newly healed hands and a vampire’s preternatural strength. Tara tore her gaze from the now erotic sight of Angel’s mouth between her vampire’s legs and gave all of her attention to Willow’s ecstatic face. Tonight, tonight, maybe she’ll finally see her eyes.

“Oh--guh TARA--”

Angel worked at Willow’s sex like a starved man. Her vampire’s hips were frantic, and Tara resisted the sudden overwhelming urge to shove Angel aside and finish loving Willow herself. She needed to be where Willow was right now, she wanted to see.

Willow arched as she cried out Tara’s name, and opened her eyes.

Then she squeezed them shut as another, abrupt orgasm tremored through her, and when she opened them a second time, tears spilled.

“Baby, baby,” Tara soothed, her heart racing and her breaths hard as she held and feverishly touched Willow all over--kissing, pressing.

“Mmuh. Muh huh,” Willow sobbed sadly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tara whispered, trying not to cry herself, and she was ready to make Willow forget all about her disappointment until she suddenly remembered something.

She glanced back quickly and saw Angel at the end of the bed, his face wet and concerned.

“Is she--is her--” he sort of said, arousal and the blood that had all rushed to his raging hard-on having starved his brain.

Tara quickly flung herself off the bed and grabbed him, hauling the vampire up. She wasn’t about to let him voice his question outloud right now, not while Willow was vulnerable.

“In the bathroom now. Please,” she said, as she pushed the big guy into it. “A-And don’t come out until we, um, we’re done, okay?” She shut the door on his confused face. Then she opened it again, having grabbed a book he had been reading from her table, and put it in his hands. She slammed the door shut again.

Willow was weeping when Tara returned quickly to the bed. The blonde scrambled on to it, mounting her.

“My eyes--” the vampire began in a tearful whisper.

“Shhhh,” Tara hushed, and brushed her breasts against Willow.

“Oh, oh,” Willow exclaimed softly. “Tonight?” she asked eagerly with a shuddering sniffle, quickly groping Tara.

“Yes,” Tara assured. “C’mon, help me out of my clothes.” Her vampire eagerly complied, her sadness forgotten, as she loudly ripped Tara’s shirt off.

“I’m going to eat you up,” Tara growled playfully down at her.

“But, I want you here, too,” Willow pouted, pointing to her mouth, her green eyes looking blindly in her direction.

“That can be arranged,” Tara said lightly, and they maneuvered around and did just that.

For the next hour, Tara made sure Willow would forget that she still could not see, because of the scarring cataracts clouding her beautiful eyes.

* * *

“I’m, um, sorry I shoved you into the bathroom, last night,” Tara apologized shyly, when Angel joined her in the laundry room.

“No y’not,” Angel grinned down at her. Sometimes his brogue would emerge, especially after reading to Willow, or after telling them one of the many Irish faerie tales he knew. Tara was very appreciative of Angel’s presence in her and Willow’s little home. His help had been immeasurable. But Tara knew his presence was only a temporary circumstance, and that soon it would end. Considering what happened last night--the fact that she had pushed ‘alone time’ with Willow--she wouldn’t be surprised if he broached the subject now.

“You’re leaving aren’t you,” she uttered, surprising herself by speaking of it first.

Angel shook his head bemusedly.

“Yer an uncanny lass,” he admitted, his brown eyes twinkling. “But I’m not leaving town.” He sobered then. “The Slayers have been hunting peaceful demons, even targeting those who’ve helped in the past. It’s not right. I think I can help make things right.” He shifted self-consciously. “I’ve an idea, of buying a mansion property, and having it warded by the coven. Then I can help demons who should leave this town.”

“An underground railroad,” Tara clarified. Angel looked at her, slightly proud but still self-conscious.

“I’m probably getting myself into a whole lot of trouble, entering this gray area, of who is ‘good’, and who is not,” Angel shared. “And living as long as I have, and knowing what I was, and what I am, we demonkind are truly deserving of the judgment that is meted out against us.” Tara opened her mouth to protest but Angel stilled her attempt with a gentle hand on hers.

“I know how you and the Little One disagree about this,” Angel said.

“She is not deserving,” Tara argued, the pain evident in her voice.

“Evil,” Tara miserably recalled her vampire saying. “Means bad. Holy water burns evil. See? I’m bad.”

“You are a rare creature,” Angel gave softly. “And so is she. I had to come and see for myself, what you two have achieved. She has no soul, while the Slayer does, but it’s the demon in Willow who has decided to make a life with you, even when holy water condemns her.

“That gives me...faith,” he added wistfully. “She may be only one out of a million demons who can achieve this, while the rest of us belong in hell, but to see her rise, this baby, dark darlin’ of ours, above what she had been born into...

“I no longer believe she will kill you later, Tara, as demons eventually do. It is our nature. But Willow, I know she will not. And such a realization has given me faith.”

Angel fell silent, and they stood a while there, in the laundry room, Tara too moved to speak.

The aspect of their existence that was known as ‘Good’, Tara realized, as Angel helpfully carried their laundry load up the two flights of stairs, had two hands. One was unforgiving, and one was forgiving. One judged and waged war, and the other unconditionally loved, with a blinding faith perhaps, that could be called foolish.

Tara knew what kind of hand she was; she therefore, did not care if her love did not stand up to the judgment of holy weapons, or to the sanctified.

* * *

Angel left their home, in order to establish his ‘safe haven’ plan, but he still came to spend the evenings, to feed Willow his blood and especially to appreciate Willow’s progress.

Not long after practicing walking, Willow finally left the confines of her witch’s room and familiarized herself with every floor of the dorm building and any common room she could get into. She even explored in the daytime, her other senses apparently heightened by her lack of sight.

“I can smell sunlight,” she would say, easily avoiding any sunbeams that fell into the stairwells, or from rooms that took the direct light of the moving sun. She learned how to run the laundry machines and clean their clothes. She finally got to luxuriate in full showers, no longer having to worry about burns and bandages. She visited the vending machines and brought her witch snacks. She had to stop doing that for a bit, however, because someone saw her once, roughing up the machines in order to get the items out.

“It’s like hunting!” Willow had protested, when her witch had confronted her about her method of obtaining her food trophies. “Can’t take prey without some fight.” Then she’d smile as winningly as possible, hoping her witch would finally relent and eat the hard won candies, chips, and sodas she brought her.

With her other perceptions having become so keen, Willow could sometimes sense Puppy’s presence long before he reached their building. She wasn’t sure what the range was, though. Perhaps fifty feet. They had never tested it out. One time, she thought she felt the Slayer, a sensation that had frightened her so much, she did not move from where she was in the stairwell until a passing student asked her if she was all right.

The coven, she knew, had set the parameters of the wards for one hundred feet from the dorm exterior walls. Willow knew where each exit was. She kept well away from them.

* * *

It was while she was walking back to her dorm after an evening class, that Tara met the Slayer again.

“Hey,” the small blonde addressed, emerging slowly from the cover of shadows. Tara wondered where the second Slayer was.

“What is it this time,” the blonde witch asked, not bothering with niceties. Buffy just smiled. She reached up with a small hand and easily snapped off a twig from a branch, twirling it in her fingers.

“You’re so ‘get to the point’ girl,” she remarked, sparing the twig between her fingers an easy glance. “Not like evil people at all, you know? They like to chat.”

Tara really had to bite down on the retort she nearly--and quite uncharacteristically wanted to make (“You mean, like you?” her inner Amazon-Tara snarked). She was still a simple, polite, country girl and she also wasn’t much for banter. Simple-Tara did wonder what the heck Buffy’s point was, and when she would get to it.

Obviously recognizing the uneasy silence that was falling between them, Buffy looked up at Tara from beneath her lashes.

“Just want to offer pax,” she finally said.

“Why?” Tara honestly asked.

Buffy shrugged. “It’s your town too. Don’t want you to have to feel...unwelcomed in it.”

Tara got an uneasy feeling. “I don’t,” she briefly answered. And it was true. Buffy was in the wrong, and she was in the right, therefore Tara felt entitled to walk freely in the night. She knew what kind of reputation she now had in the demon world, because of her relationship with Willow. Unlike the Slayer, who had earned her power with fear, Tara had earned a bemused respect.

Respect from evil things, but in Sunnydale, that was still respect.

Buffy just smiled, and Tara didn’t like how its cold curve expressed more than the Slayer’s usual false front. It looked intrigued, and it got her guard up.

The Slayer stepped forward suddenly, and before Tara could react, she was caught in a brief, yet powerful hug, a hand patting her with mock affection on her back.

“Say hi to your Willsie Pet, for me,” she suggested in Tara’s ear.

Tara saw red.

How.

dare. she.

But before Tara could do anything--again--the Slayer was suddenly gone.

Shaken, and very, very angered, all Tara could do was resume her walk home.

* * *

When Tara entered her dorm room, she heard Willow’s laughter. Her vampire was wrestling with Angel on the floor, trying to pin the much larger vampire’s broad shoulders.

“Rarrr rrrr rrr,” she threatened down at Angel. “Stay down!”

Tara would never say it outloud, but when Willow got like this, she looked like a fierce little chihuahua trying to dominate a benign rottweiller. She did her best to suppress her giggle.

“Tara,” Willow cried, abandoning her play with Angel. She got up to go to her witch. Then she suddenly backpedaled, a look of utter horror on her face. She tripped over Angel and fell.

“W-W-Why do you smell like--?!” Willow whispered frantically, wild fear in her blind eyes.

Tara didn’t remember leaving the room.

She didn’t remember how she got down the hallway, nearly to the stairs, until Angel caught her and wrapped his arms firmly around her body. She struggled frantically in his embrace.

“L-Let me go!!” she managed to bite out to him. “I-I-I’m going to k-ki--”

“No,” he refused, holding her tight. “She meant this. She’ll be expecting you. Don’t go, Tara.”

And Tara let out a frustrated, anguished cry, because she knew Angel was right.

“Tara?” she heard softly called behind her, and when Angel allowed her to turn in his arms, Tara saw Willow hesitantly making her way down the hallway, feeling along the walls. “Tara? I’m sorry. I’m sorry ‘bout...please come back. Please don’t go out. Don’t go outside.” She held out a pleading hand, and Tara resisted the urge to take more than just the hand and hug Willow, because of the smell still on her.

“We, we can take a group shower,” Willow suggested, holding tightly to Tara’s fingers. “You just have to try not to look at Puppy’s...thingie.”

Tara laughed painfully.

They took that shower, almost immediately, although Angel occupied his own stall.

When Willow suggested that Angel sleep with them in the bed, Tara didn’t mind at all. Nor did she mind the brotherly comfort of his arm around her shoulders when they had settled on the bed. Willow scooted down to nuzzle between the lapels of Tara’s flannel sleep shirt, undoing a button to reveal the top of her breast. She rubbed her face there, bringing out her demon visage. Then she gently bit down to feed.

Tara ran her fingers through Willow’s hair as her vampire softly sucked, feeling Angel’s arm securely around her. She wearily wondered what to do about the Slayer. She’ll have to something about that awful, frightening girl, and soon.

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BRAVE EYES