Stranger In Her Eyes
by Shyfox
Who Am I This Time?
[reviews]
Chapter two
Who Are You This Time?
"I woke up in a Soho doorway,
A policeman knew my name.
He said, 'You can go sleep at home tonight,
If you can get up and walk away.'
I went down to the Underground,
And a breeze blew back my hair.
I remember throwing punches around
And preaching from my chair.
Well, Who Are You?
'Cause I really wanna know!"
--The Who
"Who Are You?"
Willow Rosenberg-Summers cooed with pleasure as jets of hot water cascaded against her naked body, while Buffy kneaded the area behind her left shoulder blade. "Ooh, yeah," Willow groaned as Buffy's skilled hands eased the kinks out of a particularly sensitive spot. "You practice this out on Angel when you two were together?"
Buffy slowed down her hands, as Willow turned her head to her, grinning. "Well?" she asked, her eyes flashing, almost cat-like.
"I refuse to answer that," Buffy said, amid her companion splashing her, "on the grounds that I may incriminate myself. Hey, cut that out!"
"C'mon, Buffy," Willow insisted, feeling friskier. "We're married now. Total honesty."
Buffy regarded her beloved's face with a mixture of bemusement at her impertinence, and rapture that she chose to share her life with her. "No, Willow," she said somberly. "I never gave Angel a backrub."
"Just as well," Willow contemplated as she sank back against Buffy's chest and luxuriated in the hot tub in their honeymoon suite. "One good rubdown like that, and that happiness clause would kick in. Your hands, Buffy, are magic."
"Considering who's saying this, that's high praise indeed." Buffy shifted slightly, turning her body to face Willow's. "You make me happy, Wills. If I never knew you, I don't think I'd have survived my sophomore year. I never knew what it was to truly love someone, to give my heart in exchange for another's, before you. I love you, Wills." She stroked Willow's cheek with her hand, and Willow smiled, taking Buffy's hand in her own and kissing the palm.
"I love you, too, Buff. And you make me happy too," she replied, love illuminating her green eyes. "You're my family now. You, your mom, Giles, the Scoobs, and soon," she rested Buffy's hand on the swell of her belly, "our daughter. She's gonna be so lucky to be raised in that family. Just as I'm lucky you wanted to be mine." She leaned in to kiss Buffy, who reciprocated without hesitation. No more words were needed, as the two lovers caressed each others bodies languidly. They made love in the hot tub for over an hour, happy in their love and confident that nothing would ever part them again.
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"Candles, check. Bowl, check. Herbs, check. Spell, check. Okay, seems I'm ready."
The room was dark, lit only by a ring of pillar candles. Their flames burned steadily in the still air of the room. Tara sat
inside the ring of candles, going over the supplies she required for the spell she was planning.
She looked wistfully at the bulletin board on the wall in front of her. Every square inch was covered with photographs, clippings from yearbooks, and a few newspaper clippings. The pictures were of the same subject. Willow Rosenberg, now Willow Rosenberg- Summers. The most recent clipping was of the wedding announcement between Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers. The clipping bore tear stains.
Tara blinked tears away as she turned her eyes from these reminders of her heartache. She had loved Willow from the day they had first met, from the time those silent demons that she called the Gentlemen attacked Sunnydale and stole their voices. But she now knew that she never had a chance. Willow's heart had already been claimed by Buffy Summers. And now they were married. And Tara was miserable.
She began her spell, hoping to end her sorrow;
"Hark and will ye elements, I summon thee now," She began as she prepared handfuls of herbs and placed them in the bowl. As she mingled the herbs, she recited the spell;
"Control the outside, control within.
Land and sea, fire and wind.
Out of my passions, a web be spun.
From this eve forth, my will be done.
So mote it be."
As she spoke the arcane words, her thoughts were still centered on one person.
Willow.
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"How's the steak, Buff?" Willow asked, as she observed her wife on the opposite side of the table, tucking into her filet mignon.
"Mmm-mm," Buffy answers as she finishes swallowing the bite in her mouth. "I could see myself doing this regularly. Too bad our budgets don't allow it."
"All the more reason to enjoy it more when we have it," Willow observed, as she savored her pasta primavera with shrimp. The dining room at the Piedmont hotel was subdued, as the two women enjoyed their meal later in the evening. They would have arrived sooner, but they were otherwise occupied with each other. However, the two women were so infatuated with each other that they wouldn't have noticed if Tom Cruise were at the next table. Their eyes were fixed solely on each other.
"Hey, honey," Willow suggested, "the ballroom's open tonight, and there's supposed to be a live swing band playing. You wanna shake and shimmy off the calories from this decadent meal?"
"You mean a chance to see your body gyrating on the dance floor?" teased Buffy. "And to hold your body as we move against each other?" She smiled wickedly. "Wouldn't miss it!" She took Willow's hand in her own, her fingers caressing the diamond engagement ring. "When's the last time I told you I love you?"
"About five minutes ago," Willow answered, her cheeks dimpling with her smile.
"I though I was behind," she chuckled. "I'm just glad I got you when I did. If I had waited three weeks more, I might have lost you for good."
Willow stopped eating and asked, "What makes you think that?"
"Oh, don't tell me that you didn't notice Tara looking at you today at the Quad," Buffy teased Willow. "The way her eyes were practically ripping your clothes off. Trust me, Wills, she's warm for your form."
"No way," answered a disbelieving Willow. "Really?" Buffy nodded enthusiastically. Willow giggled at the thought. "Well, it's a good thing you got your bid in when you did, isn't it, Slayer?" She sobered slightly, adding, "I wouldn't worry about that, Buffy. You had a claim on my heart long before I even met Tara. I have always loved you from afar. Now that we're here, together," she squeezed Buffy's hand, "married, it's like my existence has been verified. Like I know why I'm on this planet. To be a witch, to fight evil, to help others, and above all else, to love you and build a family with you."
"I love you, Wills," Buffy breathed.
"I love you too, Buffy," the redhead answered. "Now, let's finish our dinner, and hit the dance floor. I wanna dance 'til the cows come home!"
"And then we'll dance with the cows," Buffy agreed wholeheartedly.
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"It is my will that my heart be healed," Tara shouted to the night. "That the ache in my soul abate and my love for Willow no longer tear at my soul." She waited for some kind of result, but still felt nothing but emptiness and pain over Willow.
She tried to test her spell by opening one of her textbooks. "I will that this book speak its words to me!" The book remained silent.
She picked up a bent Q-tip from her dresser. "I will that this Q-tip become unbendy?" Nothing happened. Tara sank to the floor, defeated. Her spell, her one chance at forgetting Willow, at ending the heartache she felt over never having known her love, had failed her.
She picked herself up and looked in the mirror. The straight blond hair, the large blue eyes, her curving figure. She wasn't unattractive, she knew that. She might have been shy, unsure of herself, unskilled in social situations, had a tendency to stutter under stress. But she was still pretty, still intelligent, still a caring soul. So why didn't Willow love her?
She leaned her head against the mirror, and sighed, "Willow, dear sweet Willow. If only I was the one that you loved!"
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When Tara looked up again, she knew at once there was something wrong. She was no longer standing in her dorm, but in a large chamber. A ballroom. The ceilings were twenty feet high, and a large mirror-ball hung and rotated from the ceiling's center. Rich red curtains flanked beveled mirrors along the walls, and several couples danced without care as a live swing orchestra played.
Tara didn't have enough time to figure out what had happened, when a warm voice said to her, "Hey, lover, let's dance." She turned to the voice, and saw her dream, her Willow, standing next to her in a stunning red strapless. She smiled happily, and only for her. For Tara.
"Uh, yeah, sure, let's dance," Tara managed to get out before Willow dragged her to the dance floor, and took her in her arms. They swayed gently to a chorus of "Moon River", and Willow leaned against Tara's shoulder as if she had always belonged there.
Tara was torn between rapture at finally being in the arms of her loved one, and bewilderment at being yanked from the cramped confines of her dorm into this fantasy world. She was afraid that the clock would strike midnight and she would turn into a pumpkin. As she and Willow passed one of the huge mirrors on one of the walls, she glanced at herself.
She saw not her own body, but the body of Buffy Rosenberg-Summers. Instantly, she guessed what had happened; her will-be-done spell worked far better than she had hoped. She wished to be the one Willow loved, and now she was.
She held Willow a little tighter, and said to her what she had longed to say to her since they first met; "I love you, Willow."
"I love you too," she answered. Tara smiled to hear those words. Willow loved--no, she loved Buffy, not Tara.
But now Tara was Buffy, and as Willow snuggled into her arms, she decided that it was going to stay that way.
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Buffy was suddenly aware that her forehead was touching glass.
She lifted her head, seeing her reflection in the mirror. She shut her eyes hard, and opened them again. The face in the mirror wasn't hers. She examined the face more closely. She remembered; this was the face of Willow's friend, Tara.
She looked around her, surveying her surroundings. She recognized the layout; one of the dorm rooms at Stevenson Hall, where she and Willow had lived. The room was lit only by a ring of candles. "Hoo-kay," Buffy said to herself, surprised by the unfamiliar voice that came out of her mouth. "Spooky stuff here." She tried to figure out what had happened to her, when something in the center of the candle ring caught her eye. She looked down on the floor and saw a large, ancient book. Her first thought was "Spell book", and the candles suddenly made more sense. Tara was a witch, and she must have switched bodies with her. But why? And why now?
The answer to both questions hit her like a sledgehammer when her line of sight hit the far wall. The wall was half- covered with photographs, newspaper clippings, and drawings of Willow. "Oh--my--god--" Buffy whispered as the implications hit her.
Tara.
In her body.
With Willow.
That was all she needed to know. It was time for action, and Buffy had to save Willow from an obsessed suitor. She ran out of the dorm room, and headed back for the Piedmont.
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Willow snuggled into her wife's shoulder, blissfully unaware of her surroundings. All she knew was that she was in her wife's arms, dancing as the band played "Fly Me To The Moon". As far as she was concerned, she was halfway there already.
Tara wrapped her arms--Buffy's arms--around Willow's waist, and began to gently caress her back. Willow shivered at the contact, and Tara's soul sang. Yes, my beloved, Willow. You are mine.
========
"Excuse me, miss," a large attendant stopped the blond woman who tried to enter the ballroom. "This is a private dance. Hotel patrons only."
Buffy put up a protest, trying to get past the guard. "I have to get in there. Willow's dancing with someone else--"
"State your name, Miss."
"Buffy," she answered. "Buffy Rosenberg-Summers."
The attendant checked his registry, and turned to Buffy, a sour frown on his face. "According to the registry, Mrs. Rosenberg-Summers is in the ballroom, with her wife, Willow."
"No, that's not her," Buffy tried to explain, her voice growing more panicky as she spoke. "This isn't easy to explain, but she did something to me, she's not really me, she just looks like me--"
"Lady," the attendant said, rolling his eyes. Another crazy gatecrasher, he thought, just what I need. "Do you have a key-card?"
Buffy thought back to the patrons ID cards she and Willow were issued when they checked in last night. "I left it in my other body," she answered testily.
"Then you can't come in here. I'd advise you to leave now, before I call security and have you thrown out." He spoke calmly, but with authority, and Buffy knew that she wasn't going to win this fight. In this borrowed body, she didn't possess her Slayer strength, and the attendant looked too much like Evander Holyfield for her liking.
"All right, I'll go," she threw up her hands in defeat and left the hotel. The attendant forgot the incident and went back to work.
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A scared Slayer waited alone on a bench in Whetherly Park. She hoped and prayed that her hunch was correct. If not, then--she shuddered at the thought of Willow sleeping in the arms of another.
She couldn't go back home after being ordered out of the Piedmont. Her mother might be able to accept many things, but her daughter in a different body was pushing it to the max. Besides, she didn't want to involve her mother if she absolutely didn't have to.
That left Giles. He had said that he and the Scooby Gang would be handling the slayage while she and Willow were on their honeymoon, which meant that he would probably be patrolling tonight. And since Whetherly Park was a favorite 'fishing hole' for vampires, it made sense that he would be here. She hoped that she hadn't missed him. Or that he wasn't taking the cemetery route that evening. Or that he wasn't at home, making out with her mother.
She shut out that last thought quickly, and returned to her current predicament. She was, to say the least, P.O-ed. Apart from being away from Willow when they were supposed to be together, this was the second time in as many months where someone tried to screw with her identity. "Great," she mused sullenly. "Last month, Ira Rosenberg tried to convince me that I was someone named Sarah. Now, I'm stuck in Tara's body. Sarah, Tara, who'll I be next month? Laura? Mara? Scarlett O'Hara?"
"Well, missy," an unwelcome British accented voice announced, "I've never been very good with names." Buffy held her head in her hands, and moaned silently; Not him, not now!
A leather jacketed punk stepped out from behind a tree, smiling like a shark smelling blood on the water. Which is what he smelled. Blood. The crew-cut vampire nodded toward his intended quarry, saying, "Oh, my name's Spike. Don't bother introducin' yourself to me, I'll just call you," his face contorted into that of a vampire before making the attack, "dinner."
"Back off, Spike!" Buffy shouted. "Right now, you're the last person I want to see, not that you're ever on my Top Ten, even on a good day!" She crouched in a defensive stance, her eyes never wavering from her target.
"Oooh, scary scary," the British vampire taunted his intended prey. "Just who do you think you are, Buffy bleeding Summers?"
"C'mon, Peroxide Boy!" Buffy shouted, hoping that her fear wouldn't be apparent in her voice. "Hey, how's that ho Dru doing these days? Still boffing anything with a pulse? Or without one?"
Spike's hands trembled with rage. Good girl, Buffy, the Slayer thought to herself. Just keep him mad. She knew that as long as she was trapped in Tara's unfamiliar body, she couldn't count on her Slayer strength and healing ability. But her mental battle computer should still be operational. She hoped.
"I was going to make your death nice and painless," Spike growled, then stopped himself. "No, wait a sec...No I wasn't!" The vampire lunged at Buffy, who ducked instinctively, letting Spike fly over her. She timed his leap just right, and as his torso was directly over her, she pushed up, as hard as she could.
Her shoulder protested the strain, and a white hot ball of pain lodged into her back, but she managed to push Spike away from her, and the hapless Brit tumbled tailbone over head into a nearby thorn bush. She had hoped to incapacitate him long enough for her to run, but the sudden pain in her back made running difficult, and her action only made Spike madder.
"Right!" he shouted. "I'm gonna do you messy!" He scrambled to his feet, and stalked toward the frightened Slayer. She tried to run away, but the feet of her borrowed body weren't as agile as her own, and she managed to trip and fall to the ground. Spike advanced, grinning a feral grin. "I love the smell of epinephrine in the morning," he chortled. "The fight-or-flight gland. Adds body to the blood." She struggled to stand up again, but Spike was too close.
All she could think was, Willow, I love you. Take care of our little girl...
******