Title:  Pillow Talk

Author:  Miss Murchison

Rating:  NC-17

Disclaimer:  All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.  Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.

Notes:  A Spuffy story that starts in early Season 6 before deviating from canon.   A slight change in circumstances, a different decision or two, and you wind up with very different results.

Thanks: To Keswindhover and revdorothyl for the beta.

The story begins here.

This chapter marks the beginning of Part II of the story. The first part took the story from one kind of pillow talk to another. Part II begins with yet another conversation.

There will be three parts in all. There is a list of links to the individual chapters here.

Part II, Chapter 4

Tara looked around The Hill of Beans.  It had changed since its Espresso Pump days, but it still looked as if it were struggling to be a European-style café and not quite succeeding.  Still, it was the best imitation that Sunnydale had, and it wasn't as if Tara had much chance of ever visiting the real thing.  Besides, she liked the movie posters.

She found what she assumed was the end of the line of customers waiting to be served.  It was hard to tell, because people kept wandering over to look at the baked goods in the large glass display case next to the cash register.  A glance at some of the pastries on the top shelf told her why.  She'd only planned on getting a cup of tea, but these were irresistible, even to Tara's slightly nervous stomach.  When she reached the register, she was still wavering between the cherry tart and some other decadent thing covered with strawberries.

"May I help you?"  The plump, middle-aged woman greeted her with almost defiant cheerfulness and efficiency.  She reminded Tara a little of Anya in shopkeeper mode, but this woman obviously knew the right words and attitude to project.  She was unlikely to say, "Thank you for leaving your money."

Tara asked for a cup of tea and the cherry tart.  She hesitated after taking her receipt, and the woman asked, "May I help you with something else?" in a tone that almost managed not to imply, "There are people behind you waiting to be served."

"Um, is Buffy Summers here?  She asked me to stop by—"

"Oh, you're Buffy's friend.  She was waiting for you to take her afternoon break.  She still has to wait for the next batch of cookies to come out of the oven, but when I can spare her, I'll let her know you're here."

Tara thanked the woman meekly, accepted her cherry tart, and turned to take her cup of tea from a very pretty—  She blinked at the barista.  From a very pretty person.

She found a table by the wall and wondered if she had made a mistake ordering anything to eat.  She'd been worrying about this meeting since Buffy had called her early in the morning and asked her if she could stop by between classes.  It had sounded important, so Tara had said "yes."

No, you said "yes" because you know that you don't have a right to say "no" to Buffy.  Even if she is going to try to talk you into returning to Willow.

Tara looked down at the tart, tastefully arranged on a plate and adorned with a dollop of whipped cream that the cashier had added.  She was still staring when Buffy sat down next to her, dropping a large, garish shopping bag from a local department store by their feet.

Tara wondered about the bag momentarily, but then all her attention was focused on Buffy.  Something was different about her, and it wasn't just her severe black-and-white waitress' outfit.  Tara still felt that scary distance that had been there since Buffy had come back, but she no longer had the eerie impression she was about to have a conversation with a dead person. 

Yes, that was it.  The stillness was gone.  Buffy was reserved, and she was having trouble meeting Tara's eyes, but there was more movement to her aura.  She wasn't the Buffy who Tara remembered from a year earlier, but there were hints of that once vital personality in the way she held herself and the quickness of her movements.

"How are you?"  Buffy uttered the standard greeting as if she were afraid it would turn out to be a live hand grenade.

"Fine," lied Tara.  "You look good."  Also a lie.  She looks better, but something is still wrong.  Or several somethings.

Buffy was running her finger along the table-top, watching the movements as she traced some meaningless pattern.  "How's your pastry?"

"I, uh, haven't tried it yet."  Tara picked up her fork, stared at the tart, and put the fork back down.  She pushed the plate aside.  "Did you want to talk to me about Willow?"

"Willow?"  Buffy looked confused for a moment.  "Oh, no.  I—I haven't really had a chance to talk to Willow much, to tell you the truth, Tara.  I've been, uh, working.  And stuff.  And she was out, and—and stuff." 

"Oh." 

"I need to talk to her, I know. I will talk to her as soon as I can."  Now Buffy looked guilty, which was the last thing Tara wanted. 

"Buffy, it's okay.  I know that things have been—hard for you." 

Buffy ducked her head.  The energy that Tara had noticed earlier was fading.  "I'm okay."

"No!"  Shocked at her own response, Tara looked around to see if anyone had heard her protest and lowered her voice.  "Buffy, you haven't been okay.  I know something is wrong, that something went wrong with the resurrection spell.  Willow won't admit it, but—"

Buffy was staring at her blankly. 

"I'm sorry," said Tara helplessly.  "I want to make it better.  Please, if there's anything I can do, if you want to just talk, or anything."

"It's all right," said Buffy listlessly.

Tara looked down.  Her fingers started pleating the fabric of her skirt.  This wasn't going well.  Buffy was just pretending everything was normal again, and Tara had no idea what to say to make her stop.

"At least," said Buffy slowly, "you can make it better by doing me a favor.  Kind of a big one."

Tara's head rose with a jerk.  "Like, amends?"

Buffy looked surprised at the word.  "Yeah.  If that's how you want to think of it."  She reached down and shoved the large shopping bag towards Tara.  "Leave it on the floor.  Nancy will have a fit if you take it out and scare the customers.  It's a big bone.  Looks old, like something a very big Fido dragged home, but it has weird symbols all over it, and Spike thinks it might be magical."

"Oh."  Tara let her hand hover over the bag.  "Yeah, there's something."

"Can you tell if it's about to turn into a dinosaur and start stomping around the town, or make zombies or something?  Should I be grinding it into dust?"

Tara laughed.  She felt more comfortable, suddenly.  "No, whatever power is there is latent. It's safe to handle, which is good because it will take me a while to analyze.  Can I take it with me?"

"It's yours.  I don't want to look at the thing, or remember the stupid thing I—never mind.  Let's just say it's not my idea of a fun conversation piece."

"I'll try to let you know real soon."  Tara gripped the handles of the bag.  "Will a day or so be okay?"

"That's great.  But there's one more thing."  Buffy hesitated.  "I promised Dawn I'd do this, but I need to know for me too."

Tara sensed this "extra" thing was the real reason Buffy had called her in the first place.  She let go of the shopping bag, and her stomach clenched again.  "What is it?"

"When everyone had the munchies the other day, Dawn and I were affected less than anyone else.  Anyone human, that is.  And—there's another thing that's happened to me that made me wonder."  Buffy was meeting her eyes steadily, the picture of calm—except for her hands, which she'd linked together on the table in front of her.  Her fingers were twisting around each other nervously.  "I need to know just how human Dawn and I are.  Or not."

"Oh."  Tara sat back.  This was bad.  This was worse than having to talk about Willow.  Well, you said you wanted to make amends.  Why did you think it would be easy?

"So you'll check it out for me?" 

Buffy's expression was so worried, Tara hated to reply.  Maybe I should lie? She ducked her head again.  I offered to help.  I don't want to make things worse.

"Tara?"  Buffy sounded confused.  Clearly, she hadn't expected Tara to refuse.  "It's just—I had a dream once, where you were telling me something about what I was and what I would become.  I thought that if anyone could help me, it would be you."

No, I can't lie.  Tara took a deep breath.  Lies and pretending have caused too many problems already.  "I can.  And I don't have to research, or—or anything.  I got worried, after Willow brought you back.  You were so different, and sad.  I knew something was really wrong, even though Willow wouldn't admit it.  So I did a spell, nothing invasive, I promise, just enhancing your aura to make it easier to read.  Remember when we first met, or didn't meet, and I knew it was Faith in your body?"

Buffy nodded, her eyes widening in horror, and Tara rushed to clarify.  "I didn't mean you're not you.  You're Buffy.  If it hadn't been you, I would have known as soon as you were back.  It's just, the bits that are you, the things that make Buffy Buffy and the Slayer the Slayer, they're unbalanced, or not balanced in the same way they used to be."  Tara was pleating her skirt with nervous fingers again, desperately seeking for words to describe something she'd only felt. 

"So, I'm unbalanced."  Buffy's lips twisted.  "Insano-Buffy.  Yeah, that figures."

It's so like her to make a joke, when I have to be tearing her apart.  "A-a little.  Less now than you were before.  You're more like—differently balanced."

"Balance challenged?"  Only Buffy's hands, writhing together on the table top, betrayed how tense she was.  One thumb massaged the back of her other hand so hard Tara was surprised the bones didn't crack.

Jokes again. Tara fought for a smile.  "You're finding a new balance, I think.  But there's a lot interfering, almost like there's too much you inside.  Wherever you were, whatever happened to you, added something, or emphasized it."  She spread her hands out helplessly. 

"That's strange, because I've been feeling very unemphatic."  Buffy's hands were still now.  "Until recently.  Just lately, I've been kind of too emphatic."  But there was another smile, and this one seemed less ironic.

I wonder what that means.  Looks like it was fun, whatever she did.  Good for her.  "You must have been instinctively seeking to balance your emotions."  Tara shook her head again.  "Last time I tried to read you, there were bits of you that were still lost, or shrouded.  Old stuff that I couldn't see very well."  She focused on the energy coalescing around Buffy.  "Now, it seems like the shroud's starting to disintegrate, but I still can't sense what it's hiding."  Great metaphor, Tara.  The poor girl crawled out of a grave just few weeks ago.  You're really sucking at this reassurance thing.

"Something old?"  Buffy just looked curious.  "You mean, like, something from the Slayers?"

"Oh, no, the Slayer part of you is the strongest.  That was part of the balance problem.  It was as if you were more Slayer than ever, but less—"

"Human?"

Tara nodded reluctantly, but Buffy seemed unsurprised, if less than happy.  "That makes sense, I suppose.  If the Slayer powers come from where I think they do."  Her hands twisted again.  "Do you know anything about that?"

Tara shook her head.  "I'll see if I can find anything out, though."

"Okay, that's as much about me as I can stand right now.  What about Dawn?"

Tara put her hands on the table, staring at them.  She whispered what she'd known for some time. "Dawn's never been fully human.  Willow and I found that out when she was researching the spell to bring you back.  She's not demon, either, though.  But knowing that wasn't any use to the spell, and the spell was all Willow could think about.  I didn't think about it much either.  Dawn is Dawn.  The rest just didn't seem—important."

"It might be." 

Tara looked up, startled.  Buffy's face echoed what Tara had heard in her voice.  She seemed more intrigued than upset.  Buffy knew most of this already, at some level.  All she wanted was reassurance that it wasn't worse.  Tara sagged in her chair in relief. 

"Buffy!"  A voice called from across the room. 

Buffy turned and waved back at the cashier, who was signaling to her.  "I must have taken an extra 30 seconds for break.  Okay, it's back to kitchen duty for me.  I—can I call you if I need to talk about this some more?"

"Of course."

Buffy started to stand up, then stopped and reached a hand across the table to squeeze Tara's.  "Thanks."

Tara watched her go.  The Slayer looked surprisingly at home in this place and those unfashionable clothes.  She hadn't looked thrilled at being sent back to bake cookies, but she hadn't looked desperate either.  She looked as if minding an oven or a cash register was just one of those things she had to do, like fighting demons or making sure the garbage was sitting by the curb on the right day of the week.  And her steps weren't dragging the way they so often had these past few weeks. 

Tara looked down and noticed that her tea and pastry were still untouched.  She pulled the plate towards her and picked up the fork.  There was a miniscule amount of topping on one tine.  She licked it.  Real whipped cream.  She dug the whole fork into the tart.

Five minutes later, she'd finished her snack and was practically licking her lips in satisfaction.  She sipped the last of her tea.  Feeling inexplicably better than she had when she arrived, Tara picked up the shopping bag with its strange contents and headed for her next class.

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