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The End Of Summer	By : Prophecy Category: BtVS AU/AR > FemmeSlash - Female/Female Views: 4063 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Tara cried when they came in, wrapping her arms around Dawn and englufing her as though she'd never let her go again. Dawn was stiff to the touch, still harboring more resentment than she herself even knew. But they all sat down to Tara's supper of spaghetti topped with vegetarian sauce.
Buffy brought out the wine and this time even she used a glass. There was a tense moment while Buffy debated whether Dawn should be allowed to drink, but in the end she poured four glasses of wine. It was the end of the world, after all.
"A toast," Tara said, tapping her glass. "To family. To holding on until the end. To all of us."
"Hear, hear," Xander said with a smile and a nod of his head, and they all lifted their glasses.
The wine loosened them up just enough that they gathered on the balcony to smoke as the sun set behind the ocean. Xander did not smoke and claimed that Dawn smoked more than enough for both of them, to which they all laughed.
Throughout the evening, Tara noticed that Buffy was pale and would clutch her stomach every now and then, as though willing nausea away. She shuddered inwardly, knowing that if it was the radiation, she would no doubt be next. She had known Buffy would fall victim to it first, travelling north through several cities to buy cigarettes and visit some of her clubs.
There were reports now that the winds might change so suddenly that they would sweep the radiation back up to the northern hemisphere. Theories that the air above the sixtieth parallel was clean and fresh and soon they would be choosing who would go and who would stay to die.
This all bothered her a great deal, knowing that so many of them might be weeded out and forced to leave or forced to stay, according to whether they had the sickness or not. Whether they were young and fit and fertile or not. That this theory had even come into play at all. Was it the end of the world or wasn't it? Tara just wanted to know for sure.
And now she worried about Buffy. That the world might not end and Buffy would die anyway was too harsh a thought to roll around in her head. She opted instead to focus on the here and now. Dawn and Xander were here and happily in love, she and Buffy were here and happily in love, they had a roof over their heads and clothes on their backs and food in their stomachs and thus they were luckier than most.
Tara smiled. The world would probably end, yes, and they would all die--but she thought she might die happy. And that was what counted in the end, wasn't it?
It unnerved Buffy quite a bit to realize that Dawn and Xander were planning to share a bed. She tried to remind herself that they were adults, a couple, and perfectly entitled to sleep in the same bed and, yes, even have sex. But the thought of her little sister.. it was too much. So she sat on the balcony long after Xander and Dawn had retired, and and long after she urged Tara to go to bed as well. She stayed and smoked until the sun began to rise once again and yet she was not tired.
Not strictly tired, anyway. She found herself more fatigued than anything, and that, along with the fact that she'd vomited over the edge of the balcony three times, scared her. She wasn't ready to die yet, not now, not when it might be another month before the winds brought the radiation here to her safe haven. Not when they might blow in the opposite way, away from her little beach sactuary in Australia, and protect them all.
She couldn't die this way. She couldn't die now.
She busied herself in the kitchen, cooking pancakes for everyone else that would probably be cold by the time they got around to them. She stacked them on a plate and turned another plate over on top of them so they might stay warm at least a little longer. Then she moved into the bathroom and stared at herself long and hard in the mirror.
Bony shoulders. Short spikey hair. Dull green eyes. Deep purple marks under her eyes that looked like the bruises spreading across the rest of her body. She realized then, staring at a new sore just beginning to appear near her mouth, that she was rotting like the fruit they'd bought. Peaches and bananas and ripe strawberries. Yes, she was rotting from the outside in. Bruising and open sores, the now-hourly vomiting.
She was dying.
She sank to the floor in tears, loud hopeless wails that echoed through the bathroom and into the bedroom and rang in Tara's ears. Tara bolted into the bathroom, hair wild and matted and threw her arms around Buffy because she knew. She should have seen.
"I won't let you go, I won't let you go," she whispered, rocking Buffy back and forth.
They were all awake eventually and all eating pancakes, save for Buffy whom Tara had made comfortable on the couch, propping her head up on a down pillow and covering her bony, shaking body with a thick quilt. They ate in silence, the unspoken conversation taking place with their eyes revealing that yes, Buffy was dying and yes, they were next.
After breakfast, Tara sent Dawn and Xander into the city on a mission and came to Buffy's side. She stroked her red hair lightly, taking in the angles of her face, her sunken cheekbones, and the tip of her quirky nose.
Buffy's eyes opened. "Where are they?"
"They went to pick up a few things," Tara answered. It wasn't a lie; not really.
Buffy sat and took Tara's hand, standing shakily and urging her towards their bedroom. When she protested, Buffy reminded her gently that this would more than likely be their last time. The pain was becoming unbearable, too much for dancing or making love.
Tara acquiesced, following her to their pomegranite-encased king-sized bed. Buffy lay back against the downy pillows, pulling Tara down on top of her and then everything was stars and velvety ethereal softness. For Buffy everything was pain entwined with pleasure. Her body ached and when she came, she cried from the stinging hurt and from knowing that this was the last.
Her body couldn't handle it. When her back arched she felt as though it were cracking in half. Her stomach contracted and she thought it might be ripping open and bleeding out into her body. She saw flashes and stars and she was crying and Tara was crying and then everything went dark.
- 4
- 5
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The End Of Summer