The Dark Rose

By darkmagickwillow

Copyright © May 2003

Chapter 21 (The Spectre of Buffy Summers)

Tara had been staring into the mirror in her dark room for hours. She was still hugging her pillow to her chest, her arms wrapped around herself in a futile attempt at comfort. The redness of crying faded from her eyes, but her heart was still desolate.

The world in the mirror was soft and indistinct, like her life had once been. It had been easy to be happy then, but now she knew too much. Then she had thought she'd been loved. Now she knew that that feeling had just been an illusion. In a way her whole life with Willow had been an illusion, a replay of what happened before, but now she saw reality. Wasn't that better?

It wasn't.

Reality sucked. The illusion had been so much better. But it would have been even better than that to have never loved at all. If she had been cautious and hadn't foolishly followed her dreams, she wouldn't be here sitting in the dark trying to piece together the shards of her broken heart.

She felt lost as she looked into the mirror. She was alone. Yet why should that matter? She'd spent most of her life without Willow beside her. Everything had seemed fine then. Why couldn't she return to the feeling now?

Her momentary flash of anger faded, dropping her once more into the icy embrace of despair. Anger could only warm her heart for so long before she fell back into this cold grey feeling of broken emptiness, but it was good to feel something. Anything was better than this growing void within her.

She had learned the truth of the legend of Icarus. Willow had inspired her to leave the ground of her life behind, and she had dared to learn to fly. But she had flown too high, too close to Willow's sun. Her wings had burned away and she had fallen so fast, so far, crashing into a pit so deep that no light could reach the bottom.

Despite all her fears, her instinct was still to go to Willow for comfort, to forget her pain in her gentle embrace. This time she couldn't though. She had no one to go to. Willow was the source of her pain. She desperately wanted Willow to call, but at the same time she didn't know if she could talk to her.

She had always been able to find a safe place inside of herself where she could hide from the pain before, but now every place inside her was filled with complicated, heartbreaking emotions. There wasn't anywhere she could go to be free of them.

Why couldn't her life be simpler? Why did they have to have this huge burden of history between them? Yet without that history, would she ever have found someone who fit her the way that Willow did?

Tara started at the sound of a knock on her door. She jumped up, dropping her pillow to the floor, and rushed to the door, hoping that it would be Willow. Yanking open the door, she saw Dawn instead. She couldn't stop her face from falling in disappointment.

"Dawn," she said in a dull voice.

"I've had brighter welcomes," Dawn said with a wry smile. "Are you okay, Tara?" she asked, concern entering her voice as she noticed Tara's disheveled appearance and the lost look in her eyes.

Tara shook her head wearily. "No, I'm definitely not okay," she said. Recalling that she was blocking the doorway, Tara stepped aside to let Dawn enter. "Come in."

Dawn entered the room and sat down on the wooden chair beside the bed. Tara closed the door behind her and sat back down on the bed. She stared down at her feet without speaking. Dawn couldn't help her. She was just another person who expected her to be the old Tara.

"What's wrong?" Dawn prompted, her gaze still full of concern.

"You wouldn't understand," Tara said, waving Dawn's concern off with her hands.

"Did you have a fight with Willow?" Dawn asked, thinking that she had seen this look on Tara's face before. That couldn't be good. She remembered what had happened the last time they had argued, but what did the two of them have to fight about? Surely Willow wouldn't break her promise again.

"How did you know?" Tara asked in surprise, looking up at Dawn's face for the first time.

"I've seen that look before," Dawn said with an unhappy half smile. "What was it about?"

"That!" Tara said more loudly than she had planned, jumping up and beginning to pace restlessly. "You've never seen that look on me before. You all know the old Tara, but I'm not her," she said. "I'm me."

"I see," Dawn said, nodding with understanding. She had thought about this potential problem already, wondering what issues Tara's knowledge of her past life might bring up. She had hoped that she could talk with Tara before any problems came up, but it looked like she was already too late. "All of us have expectations of you because of what we remember from our past with you. What exactly was the problem with Willow?"

"She loves the old Tara," Tara said, whirling to face Dawn.

"She did," Dawn said in a soft voice, subtly trying to sooth Tara. She knew that Tara couldn't help but compare herself with her past self and probably come up wanting if she saw her past self from Willow's idealized perspective. "She loved her very much, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't love you."

"She loves her," Tara said, stressing the last word harshly. "Not me." She sat back down her on the bed, the energy of her anger quickly deserting her in her despair. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Did she tell you that?" Dawn asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

"No," Tara admitted. "I read it in her journal."

"Are you sure she feels that way now?" Dawn asked skeptically, finding it difficult to accept the idea of Willow not loving Tara in whatever form. Willow had changed, but not that much.

"She's never told me that she loves me," Tara said miserably, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Isn't that clear enough?"

"I don't know," Dawn said. "But I don't think so." Looking at the unhappy lines of Tara's face, Dawn realized again how young she was. Tara saw this one argument as the end of the world. But it didn't have to be the end of anything. Dawn tried to find the words that would give Tara some of her perspective. "Willow's led a lonely, dangerous life for a long time now," she said. "She's lost so much. I think saying those words could be very hard for her."

Tara looked down for a long moment. "I didn't think of that," she said softly, her voice almost inaudible. "I was just so angry I walked out."

"Well, it's over now," Dawn said, trying to reassure Tara that she and Willow would make it through this argument.

"Over?" Tara asked frantically, her face a mask of fear. "How can it be over? I just found her!" Love and desperation mingled in her voice as she realized that she did want to try again with Willow. How could Dawn offer her hope one moment only to tear it away from her the next?

"The quarrel is over," Dawn reassured her quickly, upset to see how she had caused Tara such distress.

"Oh," Tara said. "Yeah." She looked down, feeling little embarrassed. Her heart was still beating rapidly from her momentary fright.

"You should talk to her when you're both more calm," Dawn continued encouragingly. "It's an unusual situation to say the least. It'll take time for both of you figure out what your new life means."

"How can we figure it out?" Tara asked, flinging her arms wide in confusion. She wanted to see Willow again, but what could she say to her? How could she explain how she felt when she wasn't even sure who she was? She couldn't be the old Tara, but she also couldn't go back to how she was before she had learned about her past.

"I think you're like a quantum particle," Dawn said. Catching Tara's puzzled look, she explained further "Sometimes it looks like a wave, other times it looks like a particle, but it's really something else entirely. Sometimes you're like the Tara we knew before and sometimes you're like who you were before learning about your past, but you're actually someone different from either of those people now. You're still yourself, but you have new memories and connections to the past that is changing you. It'll take time for both you and Willow to learn what this means for both of you."

Dawn's explanation made more sense to Tara than anything she'd come up with herself. Tara had constantly confronted what she now understood was an impossible choice between her past life and her current one. Now she realized that she didn't have to make that choice. She didn't have to force herself to be someone that she wasn't, but she also didn't have to give up everything that had come into her life with the knowledge of her past.

She looked over Dawn's shoulder into the mirror that she'd stared into for hours this afternoon, looking for answers, and saw herself in it for the first time. Simply herself. Nothing more. Nothing less. There was no past, no future, in the mirror, simply herself as she was in this moment. That's all she could be.

As she accepted herself, Tara also accepted that Willow did love her. Willow had come so close to saying that tonight. Tara had seen the fear in Willow's eyes as she had said that she was Tara's. Wasn't that love, belonging to each other? She could be patient about hearing those three small words as long as she kept that knowledge in her heart.

Her stomach tightened as she had another thought. "I walked out on Willow," she said in a stunned voice as if realizing what she had done for the first time. "What if she doesn't want anything more to do with me now?" she asked, looking to Dawn for hope.

"She'll understand," Dawn said, placing a reassuring hand on Tara's shoulder.

Tara stood up. "I should go see her now," she said, not reassured at all by Dawn's comment. She wanted to fix things between them while there was still time. She started towards the door.

"You don't even know if she's home," Dawn protested.

"Yes, I do," Tara said with a smile as she felt for Willow with her mind. Then as her tendril of thought touched Willow, her smile faded. She couldn't tell exactly what was happening, but she could feel that Willow was fighting for her life. And she wasn't there to help.

"Willow's in trouble," Tara said grimly as she ran towards the door.

Willow had almost reached the Heart. She had descended into the depths of the darkness beneath Sunnydale, defeating demon after demon that the Master had set to guard himself. She'd kept her promise to Tara, destroying her opponents without recourse to dark magic. Tara would never know, but it felt right somehow.

She walked steadily down the narrow stone passageway, her only illumination the cold blue witchlight she directed in front of her. Cold water dripped on her from high above, making her look up. There was nothing on the ceiling this time, but there had been spidery demons lurking above earlier. She ignored the water and followed her sense of the Heart's corruption.

It was easy to follow the path to the Heart. With each step closer, the tunnels and caverns grew colder, and the sense of corruption tore more painfully at her senses. She knew that she was very near as the air was icy and her breath came in clouds of white.

The passageway emptied into an enormous cavern. Willow emerged from the tunnel on to a small ledge. The cavern stretched upwards and downwards out of sight into total darkness. She could hear the sounds of rushing water from below. She sent out her blue witchlight to see across the cavern and found another stone ledge opposite hers on the other side.

A slender span of stone blocks arched over the chasm, connecting the two ledges. It glistened with moisture. In the center of the bridge stood an indistinct figure shimmering with emerald energies. It was the Master's final guardian. Willow began crossing the narrow bridge, warily approaching the wraith.

As Willow neared the spectral figure, she saw that it was a slender woman, shorter than her. Despite its small stature and apparent inattention, it radiated a sense of menace. Finally, when she was close enough to almost touch the spectre, it turned to face her, grinning wickedly. "Welcome home, Willow," it said in a voice Willow knew well.

The spirit was Buffy, looking the same as she had the day of Tara's funeral. The dark resurrection performed by the Heart had erased the marks of age and disease. She was coldly beautiful, a dark shadow of the living Buffy, translucent and limned with an ill emerald radiance.

Willow's mouth dropped open in shock. "B-buffy?" Willow stammered.

It was a miracle. Her best friend returned to her in this moment of darkness. She had missed Buffy so much and had felt so guilty about not being here for her at the end. All the things that Willow had been afraid that she could never tell Buffy bubbled up inside. Forgetting for a moment where she was and why she had come here, Willow started forward to embrace her old friend.

"Surprised?" Buffy asked ironically, arching an eyebrow. "Well, you were the last time you tore me out of heaven too."

Buffy's words stopped Willow mid-motion. Why was Buffy saying this? She hadn't done anything to bring her back. "I didn't-" Willow began.

"Not directly," Buffy admitted. "But the Master brought me back just for you." She took a step towards Willow, her emerald eyes glinting dangerously. "And you brought Dawn here and put her in danger."

"Giles called Dawn, not me," Willow defended herself, but she looked away from her friend and started to bring up a hand to cover her mouth. She wanted to hold her breath as the spectre approached for despite Buffy's youthful appearance, she was rank with the scent of decay as if her spirit was rotting away under the dire influence of the Heart.

"Poor Willow," Buffy said, shaking her head in mock sympathy. "Always blaming someone else for your problems."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Willow asked hotly.

"You hurt and abandoned your friends," Buffy accused. "You left me to die alone, and you blamed it all on Tara." Buffy paused a moment to smile mockingly at Willow, her eyes sparkling with emerald malice. "Yet it's your fault that Tara died."

Willow staggered backwards under the force of Buffy accusations. She had abandoned her friends, even Buffy, who had died without any acknowledgement from her best friend. She shared guilt for Tara's death too. How many times had she asked herself what would have happened if they hadn't gotten together that day or if she had been standing in front of the window instead of Tara?

Buffy advanced menacingly on Willow, forcing her to step back towards the edge of the bridge. Willow gagged on the terrible stench of corruption Buffy brought with her as she continued hammering her accusations home. "You chose dark magic over love, driving Tara away," she said, taking another step forward. "Then you ignored Warren, having fun with your magic until you took Tara back at just the wrong time." She stepped forward again, forcing Willow to the brink.

Willow teetered on the edge for a moment, then Buffy lunged forward, pushing Willow into the abyss.

As Willow fell, she desperately grabbed for the edge of the bridge with both hands, still wanting to live despite all she had lost. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the slick stone. She managed to hold on with one hand, the rest of her body dangling above the abyss.

Buffy leaned over the edge to observe her, an evil sense of humor evident in her eyes. "Still stubborn?" she asked with a short laugh. "Why are you hanging on? You've lost everything you ever cared for. Just let go and let your pain end."

As Willow looked up into the mocking face of what had once been her best friend, Buffy looked larger than ever. The shadow of her death loomed over Willow now as the shadow of her life had loomed over her teenage years. She felt tempted by the specter's suggestion as despair sank into her soul. Her hand and began to slowly slip away from the bridge. She had lost everything, hadn't she?

She deserved to die for all the things she'd done. She'd killed so many people. How could she expect forgiveness and love? Tara was better off without her. Let her find someone untainted by the darkness who could love her like she deserved to be loved.

Willow looked down into the abyss, trying to stare her fate directly in the face. She reeled with vertigo, clenching slipping fingers in a desperate attempt to hold on to the stones of the bridge. Her fingers dragged along the slippery surface until her little finger slipped off the bridge entirely, leaving her hanging by only three fingers.

Was there any reason she should not let go? Death would be a welcome release from too many years of grief and pain. She had every reason to die and had just lost her only one to live.

As she prepared to let go, an image of Tara's face flashed before her eyes. It wasn't just herself she was fighting for. Tara might not love her any more, but she deserved a chance to live. A chance that the Master would not give her. Willow could die, but not here, not now.

With grim determination, Willow reached up with her other hand and grabbed hold of the wet masonry, preparing to pull herself up. The spectre slowly stomped down on her hand, crushing it under its ghostly heel and forcing her to yank her hand away. She shook her hand to rid it of the numbness caused by the specter's icy touch and prepared to try again.

As Willow reached upwards again, it struck her that she was holding onto too much. Despair from Tara's death. The guilt for what she had done afterwards. The fear of losing Tara again.

All of these feelings had their place, but they weren't the whole story. There was love. She loved Tara more than ever. There was hope. Tara hadn't actually said that she was leaving Willow, had she? There was life.

And there was magic.

Willow released her hold on the bridge with a smile, letting her fears go as she opened her hands. She fell freely for an exhilarating moment, then rose on the wings of her magic until she was level with the bridge. She confronted the spectre who was at last without words.

"Buffy, I'm sorry," she said, her eyes full of compassion as she extended her arms and sent lances of pure blue flame at the spectre. Blue and green fire met with a crash as the elemental natures of dark and light magic were pitted against each other. The spectre recoiled and screamed horribly as the magical blue fire ate into its emerald aura.

Slowly but surely the purity of the blue magic prevailed over the unholy green fire until Buffy's translucent form was burned free of emerald ill. The stench of rot slowly faded from the air. Willow's face paled with the strain as she purged the last vestiges of corruption from the ghost. Buffy's diaphanous form was now haloed with the azure fire pouring from Willow's fingertips.

Buffy smiled at Willow, her face finally free of the malevolent contempt brought there by the hateful magic of her dark resurrection. "Thank you, Willow," she said.

"I'm sorry Buffy," Willow said hoarsely.

"It's okay," Buffy said, reaching out to touch Willow's face. Her spectral fingers passed through the mask as if it wasn't there and felt warm against the soft skin of Willow's cheek. "It hurt, but you freed me."

"I mean about everything," Willow said. Her hands began to shake from the strain of holding Buffy to this plane, but she had to say these things to Buffy while she had the chance. "I did abandon you," she continued. "And I'm so sorry." Tears threatened to fall as she looked at her friend who she had missed so much for so long.

There was an understanding in Buffy's eyes that Willow had never seen there before. Willow wished she had been there to know if it was the flowering of Buffy's experience with life or was the wisdom that came from beyond life. "Willow, I forgive you," she said. "I wish you could have shared those years with me as much for your sake as for mine, but you can't change the past." She looked deeply into Willow's eyes as she added, "You can change the future."

"I can't hold you much longer," Willow said, the shaking in her hands growing stronger.

"It's my time," Buffy said with calm acceptance in her voice. Her spectral form was evanescent as Willow's hold on her spirit weakened. As she faded, Buffy found the strength for three final words, "She loves you." Then death returned for Buffy Summers, taking her spirit back to the place from whence it was stolen.

Willow dropped ungently to the bridge, her hands still trembling. As she pulled off her mask, tears began to fall freely from her dark eyes. She knelt on the hard, damp stones of the bridge, her arms wrapped around herself, as she mourned her friend at last.

Continued...