Chapter Text
Willow doesn’t go straight back to her dorm after talking with Tara. She tells herself she’s just taking a walk to clear her head, but somehow, her feet keep leading her in circles around campus, her thoughts just as restless. The sun is already low, casting long shadows across the walkways, the air crisp, but not unpleasantly so.
She can’t stop thinking about what Tara said.
No, you are.
It wasn’t even the words themselves. It was how she said it: soft, like she really meant it, like she wasn’t just being polite or trying to make Willow feel better. And the way she looked at her afterward, all hesitant and sincere, like she was waiting to see how Willow would react.
And Willow just… smiled. Like a total dork.
She groans, scrubbing a hand over her face. It’s not that she’s never gotten a compliment before, but something about the way Tara said it sticks in her mind, looping over and over like a song she can’t shake. Maybe it’s because people don’t usually see her like that. Special. She’s always been the smart one, the reliable one, but powerful? No one ever says that. Not even Buffy or Xander, and they’ve seen Willow do some pretty impressive magic by now.
So why does it matter so much that Tara sees her that way?
Willow doesn’t have an answer, and it’s starting to bother her.
With a deep breath, she turns toward Stevenson Hall, forcing herself to think about something else. Like homework. Or patrol. Or anything that isn’t the way Tara’s eyes looked in the light or the little nervous smile she gave.
Back in her room, Buffy isn’t there. Probably off with Riley, which means Willow has the space to herself. Normally, she’d enjoy the quiet—maybe put on some music, curl up with a book—but she feels restless, jittery in a way she can’t quite explain.
Without really thinking about it, she reaches for her notebook and flips past her class notes to a blank page. Her mind is still buzzing with thoughts about the Gentlemen. She thinks of Tara, and how she refused to let go of her as they tried to get away, even though Willow was clearly slowing her down. She hobbled along, her ankle throbbing painfully, too tender to let her put any real weight on it. It didn’t matter how much she slowed down, Tara was always behind her, pushing her forward, making sure she was between Willow and those shambling things the Gentlemen were accompanied by.
Willow didn’t realise that’s what Tara was doing at the time, but thinking about it now, the thought of Tara trying to protect her makes her smile. She’s glad Tara ran into her, however literally. That moment in the laundry room still sends a thrill down her spine when she pictures Tara’s hand interlocking with hers, raw power surging through Willow like nothing she’s felt before.
She starts sketching out symbols, tracing them idly with her pen, but her brain keeps skipping ahead. It wasn’t just the spell that worked. It was them. The way their magic clicked, like something slotting into place, like Tara knew exactly how to follow Willow’s lead without her even having to say anything. It’s weirdly exhilarating, but also a little unnerving.
She hesitates, then flips to another page and scrawls Tara’s name at the top. Underneath, she starts making notes: What kind of magic does she know? How much has she practiced? Can she teach me anything new? But then she catches herself and frowns, tapping her pen against the paper. This isn’t research. This isn’t like when she was trying to figure out if Oz was a werewolf or if Miss Calendar was hiding something. Tara isn’t a puzzle to solve.
She’s just… Tara.
Willow chews her lip. She could write a note, maybe, ask if Tara wants to meet up tomorrow to talk magic stuff. That wouldn’t be weird, right? Totally normal to want to learn more. Tara knows things. Willow likes knowing things. It makes sense.
Before she can overthink it, she tears the page out and jots down a quick message. She pauses, then adds a little doodle of a star next to her name, just because. It makes the note look friendlier. Less like a homework assignment.
By the time she gets to Tara’s dorm, the halls are quiet, most people already winding down for the night. She hesitates outside the door, suddenly feeling ridiculous. What if Tara’s asleep? What if she reads too much into the note? What if—
The door opens before she can talk herself out of it. Tara blinks at her, looking surprised but not unhappy to see her. She’s in an oversized sweater, sleeves pulled over her hands, hair loose around her shoulders.
“Oh,” she says softly. “H-hi.”
Willow swallows. “Hey! Uh, sorry to just, you know, show up, but I had this thought and I figured I’d write it down, but then I was like, why not just give it to you in person, because, you know, efficiency! And walking. And, uh.” She stops herself, cheeks heating. “Anyway. Here.”
She thrusts the note forward, and Tara hesitates before taking it, her fingers brushing Willow’s. It’s nothing, just an accidental touch, but it sends a weird little jolt up Willow’s arm.
Tara glances at the note, reading quickly, then looks back up. “Y-you want to try another spell?”
“If you’re up for it! I mean, no pressure. I just thought… y’know, since it went well before, and we both do magic, and magic is, like, a thing we both have in common, and…” Willow trails off, realizing she’s rambling. “But if you’re busy, or tired, or just not feeling the whole ‘let’s do more magic’ thing, that’s totally okay too.”
Tara is quiet for a second, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I-I’d like that.”
Willow grins. “Yeah?”
Tara nods, a small smile curving her lips. “Yeah.”
Something about the way she says it makes Willow’s stomach flip, just a little. She ignores it.
Tara steps back slightly, like she’s considering inviting Willow in, but then hesitates, glancing down the hallway. “M-maybe tomorrow?”
“Oh! Right, yeah, tomorrow is good. Totally good. I should, um. Go. Let you sleep.” Willow takes a step back, rocking on her heels. “So, uh, goodnight!”
“Goodnight, Willow.”
As Willow turns to leave, she risks one last glance over her shoulder. Tara is still standing in the doorway, still watching her, eyes soft and thoughtful.
Willow doesn’t know why that makes her heart beat faster, but she’s pretty sure she’s going to be thinking about it for the rest of the night.