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So this is Christmas...

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Ficlet(s)

Summary: My contribution to the ficforall challenge. Pairings #210: Kendra/Edward, #645: Buffy/Captain Kirk, #915: Joyce Summers/Magneto, and #540: Tara McClay/Death (Sandman).

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Multiple Pairings > Ficlet Collections - FFAWaterfallFR1343,278073,72910 Dec 0431 Dec 05Yes

The Sound of Her Wings

A/N: This has been almost done for ages… I finally got the time to finish it. Yay me! Oh – and since the stories seem to be losing their Christmas-y theme, does anyone have ideas for a better overall title?
Disclaimer: BtVS and all its characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The Sandman and all its characters belong to Neal Gaiman and Vertigo.
Pairing: #540 – Tara McClay/Death (Sandman)
Setting: During the beginning of “Villains” from Season 6
Rating: FR13
Summary: Death comes for everyone… and now it’s Tara’s turn to meet her.


The Sound of Her Wings
by Waterfall


It hurt, but only for a moment. There was a weird sensation of falling, but at the same time she stayed upright. Willow cried out, grabbing her and cradling her as they sank to the floor. But she remained standing.
“Tara! Baby!” Willow wailed.
“Willow?”
Hesitantly, she stepped closer.
“Oh god, oh no. Please, please, come on....”
“Sweetie?”
The bundle on the floor shook with sobs, and she reached out, stroking Willow’s read, silky hair.

Tara was an intelligent person. However, she also had a talent for self-delusion, and now the two were warring within her.
My hand went right through her head!
No… it’s just a trick of the light…
I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m…
It’s a dream! Can’t be real. A dream!
She’s crying.

“Oh… oh, Willow! Please don’t cry!”
She fell to her knees. Couldn’t feel the floor. Couldn’t feel anything except sadness, and even that was starting to fade.

“She can’t hear you, you know.”
The voice was female, and far too cheerful, considering the situation. Anger flared up for a moment, and she glared at the girl who had spoken, and who was now sitting their bed.
“It’s… it’s n-not funny.”
“Of course not,” the girl answered, her voice more serious now. “Dying is never – well, almost never – funny.”
She got up and walked towards the three of them sitting on the floor: Tara, Willow, and Tara’s… body. The whole situation was completely absurd, made more so by the black-haired, black-clothed, ankh-bearing girl who had suddenly appeared in their bedroom.
“Who are you, anyway?” Tara asked, suddenly suspicious. “What are you doing here?”
The girl smiled; sadly, kindly. The type of smile one rarely experienced in life.
“You know who I am.”
Yes, Tara nodded. She’d always known.

Looking at Willow, still cradling her body, she felt the sadness still in her. Willow was yelling now, calling out for something, someone. The atmosphere in the room grew heavier.
“I don’t want to leave her,” Tara whispered.
“You have to,” the girl said, her words determined, commanding, final. “Come on now, we have to leave before he gets here.”
She raised her head, confused, scared.
“He? What is she doing?”
“Come on now.”
She grabbed the girl’s outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet. She didn’t want to let go. Didn’t want to be alone.
“She’ll destroy herself.” Tara clung to the hand, watched Willow cling to her body while tears were pouring down her face. The sounds were heartbreaking; sobbing, moaning, shouting, crying. “She can’t make it alone.”
Something was coming; she could feel it filling the air. Something wrong, something frightening.
The girl put an arm around her shoulders.
“She won’t be alone.”

A gentle hug turned her away from the scene on the floor. Away from her grieving girlfriend and towards a door she was certain hadn’t been there earlier. Words of power were filling the air, choking her.
“She’ll be alright?” Tara asked, wanting, needing to know. “It’ll all… be alright?”
The girl smiled, reminding her of someone she knew. A brown-haired girl that was not a girl... she couldn’t remember her name but that didn’t really matter.
Nothing seemed important anymore.
Just her question.
“Promise. That it’ll be alright. Promise me.”
“I promise.”

She opened the door, and the world was filled with the sound of wings.

The End

You have reached the end of "So this is Christmas...". This story is complete.

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