Plan B (Buffy/Tara, PG-13)
May. 21st, 2010 07:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carlyinromeTITLE: Plan B
RATING: PG-13
FANDOM: BtVS
PAIRING: Buffy/Tara
SPOILERS: “The Wish”
SUMMARY: Her default plan, as always, was violence. Buffy opted for Plan B.
PROMPT: For the
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femslash_minis Round 32, in response to slartibartfest, who requested Buffy/Tara with vampire Willow, backup plans, and magic, without soft Tara or fluff. I don’t do fluff or soft, so that worked out well. She showed up for training and the first thing out of Merrick’s mouth was, You’re leaving. He’d been saying that a lot lately, and Buffy suspected it had nothing to do with her recent choice of venues for a demon dismemberment. It was magically necessary, and the fate of the world trumped his damn coffee table. It just did.
She was surprised by the airline ticket, though; she had no idea that he had become so unnerved by her that he felt it necessary to put most of a continent between them. Usually, he just sent her across town on some mundane errand. There had never been travel arrangements before.
Buffy considered packing, then rationalized that you couldn’t really check a bag full of weapons. Normally she wouldn’t mind raising a few eyebrows, but the delay would just be a big waste of time in which she was not killing California’s master vampire, so fuck that. She wasn’t Miss Congeniality, perhaps, but never let it be said that she wasn’t goal-oriented.
And so Buffy boarded the plane with nothing, save herself.
She was surprised by the airline ticket, though; she had no idea that he had become so unnerved by her that he felt it necessary to put most of a continent between them. Usually, he just sent her across town on some mundane errand. There had never been travel arrangements before.
Buffy considered packing, then rationalized that you couldn’t really check a bag full of weapons. Normally she wouldn’t mind raising a few eyebrows, but the delay would just be a big waste of time in which she was not killing California’s master vampire, so fuck that. She wasn’t Miss Congeniality, perhaps, but never let it be said that she wasn’t goal-oriented.
And so Buffy boarded the plane with nothing, save herself.
***
There was only one other person who got off at Sunnydale’s shack-in-a-field airport and stayed off. Buffy followed the girl, straight blonde hair and long patterned skirt and earth friendly footwear. Buffy tailed her awhile, then, past the luggage carousel, grabbed hold of the girl’s wrist, her fingers pressing gently against her pulse point, her heartbeat throbbing against Buffy’s flesh.
The girl turned, blue eyes wide with surprise, her soft, full mouth parted.
“I-I—” the girl said.
“You’re from here?” Buffy asked. “You know this place?”
“I-I, um,” the girl said. “I’m not f-f-from here, but I-I go to school. Here. I-I know it, I guess.”
“Do you know Rupert Giles? I need to see Rupert Giles.”
“I . . . no,” the girl said. Buffy was prepared to walk away when she added, “B-but I know how to use a ph-phone book.”
The girl turned, blue eyes wide with surprise, her soft, full mouth parted.
“I-I—” the girl said.
“You’re from here?” Buffy asked. “You know this place?”
“I-I, um,” the girl said. “I’m not f-f-from here, but I-I go to school. Here. I-I know it, I guess.”
“Do you know Rupert Giles? I need to see Rupert Giles.”
“I . . . no,” the girl said. Buffy was prepared to walk away when she added, “B-but I know how to use a ph-phone book.”
***
The girl’s name was Tara. She found Buffy a phone book, and then found her Rupert Giles’ name and address. She even started pawing through her purse for a pen and a piece of paper to write it down, but then Buffy simply tore the pertinent page out of the book, and stomped away.
Then realized she still didn’t know where she was going, and stopped and waited for Tara to catch up.
Then realized she still didn’t know where she was going, and stopped and waited for Tara to catch up.
***
Outside, the sky was grey, darkening. The streets were empty.
“Really hopping city you got here,” Buffy said.
“N-not after dark.”
Buffy studied the girl’s face.
“Curfew?” she asked.
Tara met her eyes. “Pest problem.”
There were bars lining the windows of all the shops they passed. Buffy peeked past them to view the local fashions: it was one grey dress after another. And a lot of running shoes.
“I can see that,” Buffy said. She glanced over Tara’s small shoulders, her thin arms. The delicate silver pendants dangling from her ears, bumping against her slender neck. “You’re out late.”
Tara steeled her jaw. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah,” Buffy said, her mouth twisting into a grin, her eyes traveling over the willowy length of Tara’s body. “All ninety pounds of you.”
“Incendiare,” Tara said. Orange flames slithered out from her palm, snaking around her fingers. Buffy’s eyes caught on the slow, sensual movement of the fire Tara had conjured, her tiny private dancer.
Tara met Buffy’s eyes. Then she closed her hand, and the flames extinguished completely, without smoke or any sort of fuss. Just there one moment, and then gone. But no less beautiful for its transience.
“Really hopping city you got here,” Buffy said.
“N-not after dark.”
Buffy studied the girl’s face.
“Curfew?” she asked.
Tara met her eyes. “Pest problem.”
There were bars lining the windows of all the shops they passed. Buffy peeked past them to view the local fashions: it was one grey dress after another. And a lot of running shoes.
“I can see that,” Buffy said. She glanced over Tara’s small shoulders, her thin arms. The delicate silver pendants dangling from her ears, bumping against her slender neck. “You’re out late.”
Tara steeled her jaw. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah,” Buffy said, her mouth twisting into a grin, her eyes traveling over the willowy length of Tara’s body. “All ninety pounds of you.”
“Incendiare,” Tara said. Orange flames slithered out from her palm, snaking around her fingers. Buffy’s eyes caught on the slow, sensual movement of the fire Tara had conjured, her tiny private dancer.
Tara met Buffy’s eyes. Then she closed her hand, and the flames extinguished completely, without smoke or any sort of fuss. Just there one moment, and then gone. But no less beautiful for its transience.
***
Buffy felt the vampire in her gut before it showed itself. She pulled her stake from her jeans and shepherded Tara behind her.
Miles of black leather, moon pale skin. Dark eyes behind errant strands of red hair. Its lips curled when it saw the stake in Buffy’s hand. Its eyes left the weapon, though, and raked over Buffy’s body, over Tara’s.
“Ooh, pretty,” it purred. “Hello, pretty Slayer. I wonder how you taste.”
“Incendiare!”
Buffy ducked just in time to avoid being charbroiled by Tara’s spell. Unfortunately, the vampire had reflexes just as fast; only the brick wall behind it received any damage.
The vampire laughed. “Missed me.”
Buffy glared at the witch. Tara shrugged. “I was trying to help.”
“I don’t need help,” Buffy said. “Let’s move to Plan B.”
“Th-there’s a Plan B?”
Plan B started with a flying kick to the vampire’s face, and ended with Buffy tearing down the alley after it as it ran away.
They hit a dead end and the vampire turned, smiled a wily, slow smile.
“Bye, pretty Slayer,” the vampire said.
Two quick bounds, and it was in the air, on the roof, and far gone. Buffy drove both fists into the brick façade so hard that rubble rained down around her. Not fair. Slayers should have all the powers vampires had, or else it wasn’t fair.
Buffy turned on her heel, turned to find the exit and chase down that weaselly, skanky vampire and turn it into Dustbuster fodder.
A light touch on her hand stopped her.
“D-don’t,” Tara said. “You—you have to go see M—Mr. Giles, and—well, there’s so many vampires, you’ll never—it’ll be hard to find that one.”
Buffy glared at her. Tara’s face softened.
“It’s okay. J-just let it go.”
Buffy pulled her hand away from the girl, and started out down the alley. Then a tug; she was caught fast. She wheeled on Tara; the girl had her wrist in her hand.
Buffy considered her options. Her default plan, as always, was violence. But Tara was helping her, had helped her, and might continue to help her. She was the only person she knew in Sunnydale, save the Watcher she was going to see, and it was helpful to have assets. Then there was that other thing.
Buffy opted for Plan B.
Buffy pressed Tara against the wall. Her soft flesh, her sweet smell. Taste. Buffy had to know her taste. Her hands on the girl’s shoulders, pinning her to the brick, and Buffy pressed her lips to Tara’s sweet soft mouth, dipped her tongue inside to taste. She tasted like amber beads of honeysuckle on a warm, sticky summer day, like fresh spring and new dew, and Buffy was reminded of another girl, another life, a long time ago. Summer blonde hair and short pink skirts, lollipops and pompons. Getting tipsy on pilfered wine coolers during sleepovers, cotton candy lip gloss. Bonfires on the beach, the cool sand beneath her toes, the innocent near-nudity of a wet bathing suit.
The taste, this feeling, the biggest feeling Buffy had felt in a long time. Buffy’s head swam; she felt drugged, drunk.
“Did you put a spell on me?” she mumbled, so close her lips butterfly brushed Tara’s.
Tara arched against the wall, arched against Buffy.
“I was about to ask you,” she said.
Miles of black leather, moon pale skin. Dark eyes behind errant strands of red hair. Its lips curled when it saw the stake in Buffy’s hand. Its eyes left the weapon, though, and raked over Buffy’s body, over Tara’s.
“Ooh, pretty,” it purred. “Hello, pretty Slayer. I wonder how you taste.”
“Incendiare!”
Buffy ducked just in time to avoid being charbroiled by Tara’s spell. Unfortunately, the vampire had reflexes just as fast; only the brick wall behind it received any damage.
The vampire laughed. “Missed me.”
Buffy glared at the witch. Tara shrugged. “I was trying to help.”
“I don’t need help,” Buffy said. “Let’s move to Plan B.”
“Th-there’s a Plan B?”
Plan B started with a flying kick to the vampire’s face, and ended with Buffy tearing down the alley after it as it ran away.
They hit a dead end and the vampire turned, smiled a wily, slow smile.
“Bye, pretty Slayer,” the vampire said.
Two quick bounds, and it was in the air, on the roof, and far gone. Buffy drove both fists into the brick façade so hard that rubble rained down around her. Not fair. Slayers should have all the powers vampires had, or else it wasn’t fair.
Buffy turned on her heel, turned to find the exit and chase down that weaselly, skanky vampire and turn it into Dustbuster fodder.
A light touch on her hand stopped her.
“D-don’t,” Tara said. “You—you have to go see M—Mr. Giles, and—well, there’s so many vampires, you’ll never—it’ll be hard to find that one.”
Buffy glared at her. Tara’s face softened.
“It’s okay. J-just let it go.”
Buffy pulled her hand away from the girl, and started out down the alley. Then a tug; she was caught fast. She wheeled on Tara; the girl had her wrist in her hand.
Buffy considered her options. Her default plan, as always, was violence. But Tara was helping her, had helped her, and might continue to help her. She was the only person she knew in Sunnydale, save the Watcher she was going to see, and it was helpful to have assets. Then there was that other thing.
Buffy opted for Plan B.
Buffy pressed Tara against the wall. Her soft flesh, her sweet smell. Taste. Buffy had to know her taste. Her hands on the girl’s shoulders, pinning her to the brick, and Buffy pressed her lips to Tara’s sweet soft mouth, dipped her tongue inside to taste. She tasted like amber beads of honeysuckle on a warm, sticky summer day, like fresh spring and new dew, and Buffy was reminded of another girl, another life, a long time ago. Summer blonde hair and short pink skirts, lollipops and pompons. Getting tipsy on pilfered wine coolers during sleepovers, cotton candy lip gloss. Bonfires on the beach, the cool sand beneath her toes, the innocent near-nudity of a wet bathing suit.
The taste, this feeling, the biggest feeling Buffy had felt in a long time. Buffy’s head swam; she felt drugged, drunk.
“Did you put a spell on me?” she mumbled, so close her lips butterfly brushed Tara’s.
Tara arched against the wall, arched against Buffy.
“I was about to ask you,” she said.
***
They walked back out into the ink dark night, the strangely still streets. Buffy ran her tongue along the ridges and curves of her mouth, trying to take in every last bit of Tara’s taste. Tara fussed about smoothing her skirt, and then took Buffy’s hand, and Buffy let her.
“You have a place here?”
Tara looked at her, a long look. “I th-thought you had s-somewhere to be.”
Buffy shrugged. Some things were just more important than saving the world. They just were.
"Plan B" has been nominated at The SunnyD Awards! She's up for Best Episode Rewrite and Best Unconventional Pairing. Yay!
“You have a place here?”
Tara looked at her, a long look. “I th-thought you had s-somewhere to be.”
Buffy shrugged. Some things were just more important than saving the world. They just were.
"Plan B" has been nominated at The SunnyD Awards! She's up for Best Episode Rewrite and Best Unconventional Pairing. Yay!
