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Harder to Breathe

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Summary: Tara didn’t die, not really. She found out she was a vampire and did the only thing she could, run. Now going by the name Lenore she is contacted by the Winchester brothers who need her help. They head to the new Hellmouth and there she finds Willow.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Tara-Centered
Supernatural > Willow-Centered > Pairing: Other
ChosenfireFR1822,1380102,24027 Mar 0817 Apr 08No

Awaken

Illustration

Title: Harder to Breathe
Author: Chosenfire
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. All recognizable characters and situations belong to their respective owners and I make no profit off of playing with them. Title taken from a Maroon 5 song.
Crossover: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural
Type: Femslash
Rating: FR18
Pairing(s): Willow/Tara (Lenore)
Spoilers: BtVS post season 7, SPN season 2
Summary: Tara didn’t die, not really. She found out she was a vampire and did the only thing she could, run. Now over five years later now going by the name Lenore she is contacted by the Winchester brothers who need her help. They end up on the Cleveland Hellmouth where she runs into Willow.

A/N: I have been watching a lot of season 6 lately and have come to the conclusion that Willow/Tara is one of the best BtVS pairings and one of my favorite. That conclusion lead me to branching out further and writing a femslash story. Enjoy and constructive criticism and reviews are most welcome because this type of fic is very new to me.



Chapter 1 Awaken

She stumbled through the doorway her body weak and chilled. She caught herself as she fell her hands scraping on the ground. Gasping, she pulled her body to the wall leaning her weight on it one of her hands moving to the quickly healing wound on her chest her knuckles scraped and bleeding.

She had never died before.

She hadn’t known that she wouldn’t stay that way.

Tara closed her eyes tightly hearing her father’s words, that she was unnatural, a freak, a demon just like her mother. When Spike’s chip had been triggered by hitting her her heart had filled with hope that those words had all been lies used to control her.

Now she knew it was the truth.

She knew enough to know that humans couldn’t crawl their way out of their own grave without the use of magic and there had been none. She would have felt it.

It was her.

Her mother’s old tales now made sense.

Of vampires that breathed and lived, that walked in the sun and whose hearts beat.

Of vampires born and created but the same, more natural than anything else on this earth.

Of vampires that only experienced the bloodlust after their first death, because before that they were as alive as anyone else, just a little bit more special, sensitive to those around them, powerful.

Every time her mother would start to tell her about them her father would interfere almost as angry as when she had started teaching their daughter about magic.

Tara now knew who she was, what she was. She could feel the need crawling underneath her skin a constant itch that made her burn with a red haze. She could hear it rushing around from the sleeping homeless man down the street, the sweet scent and sound of his blood flowing through his veins.

Pulling herself up Tara stumbled out of the house and in the other direction reaching the outskirts of Sunnydale where one of the more appetizing fast food places had set up shop. It was late or early hours past midnight and the place was almost deserted, about to close. Tara pushed open the door her eyes watering and her breath coming in short gasps as the sound hit her from all around and the need burned.

It was so hard.

“Can I use your phone?” her voice was rough and soft as she struggled to stay in control feeling sharper teeth slide into her mouth that hadn’t been there before. A phone was pushed her way and she ignored the looks she was getting from the two customers, knowing dirt clung to her skin and the dark green dress she had been buried in was torn and filthy.

Her mind blanked as her fingers hovered over the numbers and she knew she couldn’t call Willow or Buffy. She couldn’t face them. Not with what she had become. Not with everything that had happened. Not when she didn’t even know who she was anymore and with Willow being so lost, so far away from her.

She could feel that too.

The dark magic clung in the air and she could feel Willow in the threads the other witches presence as familiar to her as her own. But the threads were broken and tainted by the essence of the Hellmouth. It scared her and it made her ache for her girl.

But Willow was gone and Tara was broken in a different way, she couldn’t go to her. Willow needed help right now and Tara would be a hindrance.

She couldn’t call Buffy either but she wanted to.

Buffy might understand, she had crawled out the same path Tara had, she knew what it was like to feel so different and alone.

But the Slayer had just been starting to get her life in order. Tara had watched as Buffy had healed and she didn’t want to hurt her by bringing back painful memories. Also, a part of her didn’t want her to know, didn’t want any of them to know. A part of her still believed that the second things got harder they would turn from her; that people so bright and powerful could never want or accept her.

Making a decision Tara dialed an almost forgotten number her mother had drilled into her at a young age one hand pressing the receiver to her ear and the other clenched in a fist as she tried to control the hunger that gripped her.

“Hello?” the rough tones of a man answered.

Tara felt her stomach clench “My name is Tara McClay, my mother told me call you if I ever needed help.”

There was a short silence before the man asked urgency in his voice “What happened?”

Tara closed her eyes a bitter smile touching her lips and she told him her voice quivering slightly “I was shot and crawled out of my own grave,” it was insane and it was the truth “can you help me?”

“My name is Eli.” The man informed her softly “Let me know where you are and I can pick you up,” he paused and his voice was insistent “whatever you do don’t feed.”
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