One of Sunnydale's Twelve Cemeteries, February 2003 (A Couple of Hours Later/Tuesday Fandom Time)

[brat_inslayage]

The sun still shone brightly in a clear sky in this town, impending apocalypse notwithstanding. The grass was still green, a bird still trilled a carefree melody in a nearby tree, a breeze still fluttered her collar lightly.

That didn't make this any easier to do. Actually, it had the opposite effect.

The cemetery-- a specific one of Sunnydale's dozen-- looked different by daylight; that wasn't a surprise. The trippy part was that this midday walk, more than any monster she'd ever fought in Fandom or any horrific sight she'd ever seen including the carnage in Agio, made her want to turn and run. Vampires and demons she could handle; she was sure of that now. This was something completely different. No running, though. She wasn't going to end up like Annabelle, running right toward the thing that terrified her so much, and maybe this wasn't a Turok-Han but Kennedy had never done regret so metaphorically it was pretty much the same.

Kennedy made her way through the older part of the cemetery toward the newer plots; around an ornate obelisk and over a crushed floral wreath, scanning the headstones until she spotted what she'd come for and walked toward it with more uncertainty in every line of her bearing than she'd ever displayed in her life.

She stood silent for several long moments and stared at the simply cut red stone, too keenly aware of the sound of her own breathing and the feel of the grass beneath her feet as she read the few words and numbers over and over again until she could believe they were real.

It had been a hell of a past couple of months. Constance's horrific death, completely losing contact with Fandom, meeting Buffy, getting used to increasingly sardine-like living conditions, the Turok-Han, Anya...

And this was what turned everything upside down, what made Kennedy wonder if the one thing she'd trained her whole life for and wanted more than anything was even worth it in the end.

Tara Maclay, Oct. 16, 1980 – May 7, 2002.

“Hey, you,” she said quietly in the old familiar greeting, hands crammed into her pockets as she stood at an awkward distance. How did you do this? She didn't know. She wasn't used to caring if she didn't know. "Can we talk?"

No answer, of course. And that just felt so wrong.

She didn't cry, damn it, she didn't-- but here she was, rubbing fiercely at her eyes with one clenched fist and trying to remember how to breathe. “So, um. Been a while, huh? I know you don't know me, but I know you... different you, but that's kind of confusing and... just so bases are covered I'm Kennedy."

How did you even introduce yourself to the tombstone of your best friend and first love, anyway?

"I am so... I don't even... This so wasn't in the manual and I hate this,” she blurted out, all her characteristic composure falling to pieces. "This wasn't supposed to be the deal, y'know; we were supposed to be stuck with each other for a long time. It's crazy, right? Everything's going to hell, and here I am in the middle of it like I always wanted, and I can help make a difference but now you're gone, and..."

The roar of a car engine interrupted her one-sided conversation momentarily, and Kennedy paused to look up at the loaded-down Volvo station wagon pulling away down the street. Probably leaving town, one more family getting the hell off the Hellmouth.

"Actually, I'm sort of here on a mission. I came to talk to you about Willow. She's special. You knew that. You always knew, about people. And she's-- God, this sounds so wrong, but she needs someone. Not to take your place, 'cause that's crazy talk. Just someone who's gonna be there and just... believe in her. Buffy and the others, they're great, but I see the way they get sometimes. All worried looks at each other when she needs to use the magics. That's not gonna do her any good, and it sure as hell isn't going to help us. And I can do that. I can believe in her. Like I believed in you. Believe. I still do.”

Kennedy dropped into the grass with a strained chuckle, her back against the side of the headstone, careful not to jar the small stones laid atop it. “God. This really, really sucks, Tara. I know this is kind of crazy, but I need to know you're okay with this. I've never worried about that before in my life, but it's her. And it's you. Show me something. A sign, anything.” She closed her eyes and let her fingers trail in the grass. “And there's something I never thought I'd say. I was never into that mystical stuff like you. Give me something to hit, I can do that. This? I'm totally out of my league here. I don't even know what to look for.”

Things she never admitted to anyone, with the one exception of the girl who couldn't hear her. Not any more. Tara had told her once that her aura was strong; she wondered what it looked like now, and hated the realization that she wouldn't get that answer.

“I wish... no, you know what? I don't know. I mean, I know what I want. Who I want. Nothing's ever stopped me from getting what I want before, except the whole Slayer gig, but now I'm stopping myself." She drew her knees up to her chest and exhaled slowly. "She still misses you. She'd be crazy not to, so I'm okay with that. I don't want her to stop, 'cause hell, I do too. You're not the kind of girl someone ever really stops loving, y'know," she added, turning to trace her finger over the grooves in the stone that made up Tara's name.

It wasn't the same thing, she got that; her Tara-- not that she'd been Kennedy's Tara for a long time now-- was still alive and well. Kennedy had never had to deal with the trauma of watching Tara die in front of her, and as selfish a thought as it was she was glad; she didn't even want to think about that. Thinking about Willow having to go through it was horrible and heartbreaking and complicated enough. But still-- damn, she missed that girl. Always had, and in a way that made this easier. No, "easier" wasn't the right word, but it sort of meant there was no room to lay blame. Not on Willow, anyway.

Another pause, another slow breath, and she went on. "I know what she did, after you... after he killed you. And it's not like I could lie to you, basically ever, so I have to say I'm a little sorry I couldn't put the beatdown on him myself for it. It wasn't right. You taught me that. And part of me feels like it's wrong to kind of be okay with that, when I know you'd never have stood for it, but it was you. Besides, everything isn't so black and white-- if I learned anything about that whole deal with Raven that'd be it-- and I can help her, too. I know I can. It'd kill me if I didn't try."

God, that was so overdramatic. Kennedy fell silent and looked up into the sky, too clear, too blue, too goddamn gorgeous to be a part of this conversation. Nothing appeared; nothing changed. If she'd been hoping for a sign she wasn't going to find it there.

"You know what I see, when I look at her? Someone who doesn't realize how amazing she can be, and I just want to help show her that. I want to be there for her when she's not so sure, and tell her how proud I am of her when she does something that rocks. Stand up for her when I have to. Get her to smile. I haven't wanted to do that so much for anyone since I met you. And you'd be okay with that, right?" She laid her hand in the grass at the foot of the stone, palm flat against the ground, and said firmly, "The last thing I want is for her to forget you. I need you to know that. I need someone to know that, because Dawn and the others, they sure as hell don't believe me, but I think you would, 'cause you-- not this you, but anyway-- knew me better than anyone. You get that, right? I kind of have to believe you do."

God. She was having a conversation with her dead ex-girlfriend's grave. If Kennedy hadn't graduated from Fandom High this would be way more bizarre than she could handle, and as it was it still hurt her brain-- and heart-- in about five dozen ways.

She closed her eyes again and leaned her head against the side of the headstone, fingers trailing idly back and forth in the grass over the grave as she tried to compose herself.

"Guess my point is-- I want to be with her. I know you told me once that you wanted me to be happy and live my life. But we didn't know it was gonna get this complicated then, so I... kinda wanted to ask you, first. I mean, not to assume, but..."

She knew she wouldn't be getting an answer, and laughed shakily-- not just at how absurd this whole situation was, but at how she was practically waiting for permission to go after something she wanted.

"You were always such a good influence on me, you know that? I can totally see the look on your face now 'cause I'm actually asking. But I might be on my own on this one."

Willow	Xander had told Willow where Kennedy had gone. Willow had been tempted to let somebody else go after her since conversations with Kennedy tended to end up awkward even when incredibly significant grave-sites weren't involved. But given the location, Willow didn't really feel comfortable sending someone else in her place. So there they were. By Tara's grave. "Okay, beyond awkward," Willow said, since it worked as a greeting as well as a statement of truth.
Kennedy	Kennedy's grand plan hadn't extended so far as to anticipate this, which was about typical of most of her grand plans. The oh crap, so busted look on her face said that she agreed: this was way beyond awkward. More specifically, beyond awkward for one of their conversations, since here she was acting all familiar without any apparent context and that went right back to the 'oh crap' thing. "Hey," was the incredibly eloquent thing she chose to say. Oh god, how much of that had Willow heard? Unconsciously she sat up, stopped leaning against the side of the headstone. "I, um... hi. Didn't think I'd run into you here." Of all the times to accidentally blurt out what sounded like a cheesy pickup line...
Willow	"Safe to say the feeling is mutual," Willow replied.
Kennedy	"Oh god, you have no idea," Kennedy mumbled, then looked mildly horrified when she realized she'd said it out loud. "This isn't as weird as it seems l--" There was no way she was selling that, was there? "Guess it kinda is, huh."
Willow	"Lots of questions come to mind," Willow said. "But if I had to narrow it down to a word or even a letter I feel safe in saying it would be 'why?'"
Kennedy	"Why am I here?" She'd been going over possible ways to explain this in her head for days and hadn't come up with any good options yet. So winging it was go. Great. Yay, irony; she'd always used to rely on Tara to handle the delicate conversations. "You know how I told you I met different versions of you and Xander once? Well..." She poked at a blade of grass. "Guess I needed to-- sort of-- talk to someone who knew me really, really well."
Willow	Willow felt a rush of possessiveness. "You didn't know Tara! Nobody did! Not like me!"
Kennedy	Yeah, Kennedy should have known this wouldn't go well. "Not like you," she answered, and it was a struggle to keep her voice steady when she really wanted to argue the point. "Didn't say that. To tell the truth I'm not sure I ever really got her all that well. Wish I did, but..." And there was something she'd never admitted before. "I can see how you would, though."
Willow	Well that made Willow feel less jealous. It didn't make any of this make sense though. "So you came here to talk to the gravesite of someone you don't know?" Willow asked.
Kennedy	"Technically, yes?" Kennedy said slowly. "She's not the same one I knew, I don't think anyway, but..." She sighed. "I didn't know. Until a couple of weeks ago, I had no idea."
Willow	"Maybe we should start this conversation from someplace more like the top and not the end or the middle or anywhere close to the land of what the heckville?" Willow suggested.
Kennedy	You'd think that would have been obvious, but noooooo. See above re: off her game. "Sure, make sense, why don't you," Kennedy tried to joke. "Maybe I should have stopped to ask for directions... you sure you want to know?"
Willow	"I want for all this First Evil and beneath-devouring to go away so I can spend a few days with nothing more urgent than the question of whether I want my Ben & Jerry's in Chunky Monkey or Chubby Hubby form," Willow said. "But we'll go with you talking and me knowing."
Kennedy	Kennedy couldn't explain why, but she filed away the ice cream question for future reference. "I knew her," she said, deciding to go for the simple and straightforward answer instead of talking herself into a deeper hole. "Different one, granted, but, um... we were together. For most of the two years I was there."
Willow	"You did? You were?" Willow tried to imagine it. "Was... I not there?"
Kennedy	If it was hard to imagine, Kennedy wouldn't blame her. "Not at school with us? The you who went there graduated before our time. Only met her at Homecoming, once." She made a face. "Fandom does fun things with confusing timelines. One of my friends was there at the same time as her great-grandson and... yeah."
Willow	Willow grew up on a Hellmouth. Not like she could judge. "Is that Tara - is she - " Willow couldn't add the word "dead." Instead she glanced at Tara's gravestone.
Kennedy	Kennedy was relieved she hadn't added that last word, to tell the truth, but she was also panicking a little; this might be the conversation Xander had said wouldn't go down well. But like she'd told him, what was she going to do, lie? "Unless time suddenly speeded up a lot over there?" She shook her head slowly. "She hasn't even met you yet."
Willow	"So alive, but sad," Willow concluded. Never let it be said that Willow had fully let go of some of her delusions.
Kennedy	Okay, Kennedy couldn't help giving her a little bit of a strange look there, except it faded into a worried one. "I hope not. I really hate the thought of her not being happy."
Willow	"I don't like it either!" Willow said. "I'm not some kind of - of happy in sadness person! Well, depending on the person I suppose. There's a few people who deserve to at least be annoyed for the bulk of their days, if not downright miserable. But Tara wasn't one of them."
Kennedy	"She's the last person ever who deserves that," Kennedy added fiercely; she was still having trouble with the past tense thing. Except she was curious, now. "Was she, when you met her? Kind of... not so happy?"
Willow	"Shy," Willow said. "Not so used to the talking or the standing up for herself."
Kennedy	"With that thing she did where she'd sort of hide behind her hair," Kennedy remembered with a faint, wistful smile. "Yeah. It always made me want to get her to smile more."
Willow	"Yeah," Willow agreed, momentarily lost in the memory. "Usually with smoochies."
Kennedy	"Best way, right?" Kennedy couldn't help grinning herself, at that. "...this is one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had in my life, which might be saying something."
Willow	"Not just you," Willow said. "Definitely not a conversation I was expecting to have today. Or ever."
Kennedy	Kennedy poked at a blade of grass. "I'm sorry we're having it," she admitted. "Not 'cause-- I mean, yay for having things in common, even if that's not a cliché I thought I was going to live, but..." She poked at the grass again. "Yeah."
Willow	"Any particular reason we're having it today?" Willow asked.
Kennedy	Kennedy opened her mouth to answer and then realized she didn't really have a good answer. "'cause..." She shrugged, giving Willow an oops, busted look. "I've been trying to get my head around this whole situation for a while now? Plus I sort of didn't expect you to track me down here."
Willow	"Well, you did kinda run off," Willow pointed out. "While there is evil both big and loomy."
Kennedy	"Totally busted," Kennedy conceded, ducking her head for a second. "How come you didn't send Buffy to track me down instead, considering the big loomy evil?"
Willow	"Oh sure, 'cause Buffy's days are made of free time," Willow said. That was her story and she was sticking to it.
Kennedy	Kennedy raised one eyebrow. "Hey. You're not exactly Miss Nothing-to-Do either."
Willow	"...this is quieter?" Willow offered. It sounded good in theory.
Kennedy	Just to imply that she doubted that story, Kennedy kept the raised-eyebrow thing going for a second or two longer, then relented. "Also, I was more likely to listen to you." As usually tended to be the case anyway. She glanced around reluctantly. "Guess we shouldn't stay too long, huh." See above re: loomy evil.
Willow	"I'd feel my comfort grow as our time here got small," Willow agreed.
Kennedy	Kennedy glanced at the headstone and hesitated, then nodded silently and got to her feet. "Can't have you all uncomfortable," she said lightly. Well. Relatively, anyway, since she was well aware of how awkward any conversation they had could be. "Been out here a while anyway... I can be good with heading back."
Willow	"I'd say we have more attractive places to visit," Willow said, "but this is Sunnydale so in an odd way this is one of the better looking locations."
Kennedy	"I kinda like it here," Kennedy admitted. It was a pretty spot for... well. If you had to choose where... there was no cheerful way to end that thought. "Bummer about the looming-danger thing." She lifted a hand and patted the stone once, feeling a little bit dumb about it. "Thanks for listening," she said quietly.
Willow	"You're w - " Willow started to say, then caught herself. "Did you mean me or Tara? Because wow extra awkward if I take credit for something she did. On a whole bunch of levels, actually."
Kennedy	"I did mean her, but there's room to appreciate you listening too," Kennedy told her. "I had no idea how you were gonna take this, and I'm not gonna lie, I was worried you wouldn't want to talk to me again afterward."
Willow	"I'm not saying that there isn't still some awkward or that I didn't feel weirdness and/or jealousy," Willow said. "But I do understand wanting to talk to her."
Kennedy	"Right there with you, on both the weirdness and jealousy counts." Kennedy didn't think there was any point in not being honest, not right now. ...it was entirely possible she was misunderstanding the jealousy. In her defense, it was a very confusing day. "Kinda thought you would understand that, though," she added with a hesitant smile.

As they headed out, Kennedy snuck a last quick look over her shoulder. Nope, still no sign. But maybe that was okay.

[[here there be tl;dr and woe and oh god i am sorry. nfi/nfb/ooc-okay, i still feel like apologizing for this, the usual drill. look, i'm not gonna lie, i've had the first part of this written up in drafts for like two years already. preplayed with the incomparable willbedone, and completely off-script, yes, but part of my remix of btvs 7x13, "the killer in me." also this song is, i swear to god, freakishly perfect for this.]]

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[nookiepowered]

[YOU ARE EVENTUALLY GOING TO MAKE ME SOB AREN'T YOU. KEEPING IN MIND THAT I CANNOT READ THE TRANSCRIPT OF THAT SCENE (TM) WITHOUT SOBBING.]

[chief-cheerio.livejournal.com]

[I did not read this at work because I suspected it would make me cry. Dammit, I was right. I love you anyhow.]