Didn't Turn Back

Buffy the vampire slayer. Buffy doesn't go back to Willow at the end of Wrecked. Hours later Spike finds Willow with a bruised head and shredded arms nearly dead. Love vs guilt.

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15. Time To Go

[The Day Willow Was Taken To LA]> A siren-less ambulance arrived at the Summers house at 8:03am tuesday morning to take Willow Rosenberg to LA and away from her friends.

At seeing the red and white vehicle out the window, Buffy called out to Tara “Tara wake Will up, they're here early” “What?!” Dawn squealed and charged toward the window by her sister. “They can't take her.” She stated, her face showing her panic.

“They, they can't. They said 8:30. 8:30 on the dot. No sooner, no later. They can't take Willow. They, they, they,” The young brunette was close to tears. Buffy wrapped Dawn in a huge, trying to comfort her. “Yeah, they can't. And if they try I'll stop them.” The slayer said truthfully. She looked back out the window. The people in side shut off the engine but didn't make a move to get out. I guess they know that. The blonde guessed in her head.

Tara was sat in a meditation position on the right side of Willow's bed with her eyes closed, her hands resting palms up on her knees. The redhead had only been awake for 2 or so hours after her seizure when she fell back to sleep. She was sleeping on her side, with her back toward the door.

“Tara wake Will up, she should probably start getting ready.” The slayers voice called from downstairs. Buffy's words were barely more than a muffled whisper to the witch. She was locked in meditation. It was much like the place inside her mind Glory had forced her into. Except that place was just a dark, creepy-crawly filled, astonishingly loud, cramped box. What she found herself in now was very different.

It wasn't cramped or dark, it was endlessly enormous and had a perfect level of light. There were no creepy-crawlies. There was however, each and every second of everyday since she'd first met Willow. Everything Buffy had done since then, everything Xander had done since then, everything Giles had done since then, everything Anya, Dawn, Spike, Dr Allan, Dr Cootes and she had done since then.

She had been searching for a way she could've stopped this all from happening to her beloved redhead.

Her Willow, with her Willow-hair, and her Willow-hands, and her Willow-feet, her Willow-skin, her Willow-eyes, her Willow-lips, her Willow-fingers, her Willow-toes, and all her Willowy-ness, was broken. I should have stayed with her. Tara told herself. I should have stayed with her and helped her get through her dark magic addiction.

Tara walked through the memory room and stopped at a frozen image of Willow sitting in that chair at that first Wicca meeting so long ago. She was so excited then. So full of curiosity and bravery and intelligence and yet to be touched power. Tara looked at the girl in the picture, that fiery haired girl, and thought, as she had done from that moment and every moment following it until now, that she was wonderful.

The blonde was back in reality now. The fire haired girl lying in front of her. Broken into so many pieces that it might not be possible to put her back together again.

That wonderfulness seemed to be buried under all the shards of her.

Dawn cautiously opened the door to Willow’s bedroom, snapping Tara from her haze. The blonde deftly whipped her eyes clear of salt water with the ends of her sleeves. “Tara?” Dawn asked meekly. The witch turned her gaze from her love to the brunette. It was easy to tell the youngest Summers had been crying.

“Y-yeah Dawnie?” She answered, trying to steady the writhing sea of sad fear storming inside her. “Um Buffy uh, she said to get Willow ready to go.” “Ok-kay.” Tara said, untangling her legs from under her and standing from the bed.

The blonde leaned over to Willow, supporting herself with a hand resting on the mattress. She placed her hand on Willow's blanket covered shoulder and softly shook her awake. “W-Willow? It's, it's time t-to get up, baby.” A small moan escaped the sleeping redhead, and her eyes sleepily flickered open.

“Y-you have to get r-ready t-to go Will.” Tara said, straightening up. “Okay.” The girl on the bed replied. She rolled onto her other side, her back now towards the blonde, and made to get up and out of her blankets, but at seeing that her skin was bare she quickly pulled the blanket back over herself.

She blushed brightly and held tightly onto the top edge of the blanket from beneath it, trying to cover herself as much as possible.

“Um why, why am I naked?” She asked, turning her head from Dawn to Tara to Dawn and to Tara again and again.

The blonde also blushed and instinctively moved back into that stance of trying to be as small and unnoticeable as possible she had often assumed before she’d met Willow. “I-I um, c-cleaned you u-up after-” Her voice trailed off, the mere mention of that seizure brought that terrifying scream back into her head.

A brief pause then she went on. “And I-I d-didn't k-know what you'd l-like to-to wear.” Tara admitted truthfully. She had felt at the time that not picking the right clothes for her love was a very, very bad thing. 

“Oh,” Willow said, her panic at waking up naked suddenly gone. She looked back at Dawn, then to Tara again. “Um could, could you two uh?” She said uncertainly. “Oh, yeah.” Dawn said, instantly remembering the implication of Willow being naked and needing to get ready. She turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

The nude girl turned her eyes to the blonde, who had yet to move. “Um, Tara?” The standing witches eyes went wide with embarrassment, suddenly remembering her and Willow were broken up. She blushed brighter. “S-sorry.” She said and quickly went to the door and opened it. “Tara.” She stopped halfway through the door, and looked over her shoulder to the bed.

“Y-yeah?” She asked. “Thanks.” Willow said after a short pause. “For cleaning me up.” She clarified. Tara swallowed. “A-anything f-f-for you Will.” Tara told her, then turned and left. The door shut with a thud.

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