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TITLE: Strawberries AUTHOR: seraC EMAIL: seraphcelene@yahoo.com SPOLIERS: thru Wrecked RATING: PG13 ARCHIVING: Essential-Imperfect. All others please ask. SUMMARY: Strawberry flavored Willow and magic addiction. Is it really such a surprise? NOTES: A rather throw-away reference spun out of control. THANKS: Kassie, Kaz and Susan G. for the beta. DISCLAIMER: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, et al. I'm just taking them out for a little excercise. "She leaves without a sound; it's like falling backward into no one's arms." -Goo Goo Dolls, 'Bullet Proof' Strawberries. He said she tasted like strawberries. He leaned in and said it against her ear, a ripple of sound on a whispered breath. Strawberries. Oz never told her that, neither had Tara. Tara, who was a witch, too, and should be able to taste the flavour of magic coating her skin. Neither of her lovers ever told her she tasted like summer fruit: sweet, ripe, and lush. It had been left for a stranger to say. How had it come to this? Why hadn't her lovers been able to taste the heart of her? She was the same girl, wasn't she? Always the same girl despite the costume. Naked on the inside, but always dressed for the part. Only a little more now than she was before. Decorated with sweaters and tights for Oz; quirky for him, awkward and shy for him. Undiscovered for him. Her big, doe eyes full of craving innocence. A coy schoolgirl in rainbowed overalls, blushes dusting her cheeks because he was the dominant one. Werewolf on the hunt. For Tara she had been a vixen. The metamorphosis, almost, undetectable. Until one day everyone looked up and quirky was gone, replaced by sleek and sexy. More so everyday. The temptor and tempted. Loving the feel of Tara's sulky mouth against her skin. Passion, awakened and simmering. And for the first time she took the lead. She became the initiator, the dominant one, painting spells on her lover's skin. Soothing the lonely ache. They fed off each other, witches each. Like for like. Companion spells drawing spider webs in the dark. Alluring and so full of promised pleasure, larger than life and loss combined. Power fulfilled. But even when her eyes are onyx no one notices that she's taken his place. A wolf in witch's clothing. Still, the ache became a knowing hunger, taking more of Tara to sate it and hold the monster at bay. Until good wasn't enough. Until Tara wasn't enough. Until her lover walked away and it was Oz all over again. But this time she didn't need something blue. She knew how to pretend, how to hide the pain of failure and never again. How to breathe without the world falling apart. And if there are moments of longing and wistful doe eyes, it's okay. She's been through this before. Only the first time she yearned for encompassing arms, lightly furred and ridged with muscle. Hands, large and square, tipped with black nail polish. Her opposite, but still her heart. This time there's magic to fill up the empty corners. All those dark little places where Tara used to be and useful is never enough. Where selfish resides. 'I' and 'me' living with resentment. Where the guilt is a clawing and tearing thing, reminding her that she is Eve and paradise was lost because of her. But she is the strong one. Didn't she save her lover from the moon; putting her back together so that she made sense once again? Isn't she the strong one? Anointed to hold the group until the Bargain was made and the warrior returned. Adonai, Helomi, Pine Strength and the good are forgotten. Now it's too much and people say addiction. Only they don't understand how lonely it is when no one can really see you or touch you and no one can taste the strawberries staining your skin. There's a hole in her heart where Oz once lived and half her soul left with Tara. Broken and forgotten, split into three. And all that's left is a shell of Once-Was-Willow. A fragment filled with power enough to last but not power enough to keep. So when Amy, hungry de-rat-ed Amy, says she knows a guy; it's seductive hunger painted on the ceiling and oh, so, mind blowing beautiful. He said she tasted like strawberries. After that she was hooked. How could it not have happened? Not when he touched the place just over her heart left empty by Oz and Tara. Not when he looked inside and saw everything she was and all that she had to give. Not when everything was fine, high and over-bright; and the color of the world was green and blue. Not when he looked with twilight eyes and saw her. When he touches her he fills up all the empty places. Fills her up and swallows her whole so that she isn't Just Willow anymore. And it keeps coming and coming. Never quite cresting. Almost an orgasm forever, reminding her that she doesn't always have to wear a white hat. In the end she loves him, too, in a way. Her demon lover. Because in the end when she is opal eyes and killing rage all he sees is sweet, lush and ripe. All he tastes is strawberry. end |