My main concern is characterisation. Tara is much as she was in the show, but Willow is very different. I hope that I’ve managed to make them recognisable, and in the case of Willow, that where there are differences, you can see why she is that way, or at least see that there is a reason that can be explained later. But really I’d be grateful for all advice and suggestions. If you read something and you’re first reaction is “that was lame,” “Why would she do that?” or you have to reread something several times before you get what’s happening, please let me know.
Title: Wolf Time – Part 1
Author: chronic
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Disclaimer: You know the drill – I own nothing, Joss Whedon owns everything, I am making zero profit from this.
Rating: PG 13, some mild swearing and violence, probably nothing worse than you’d see on the show.
Setting: An alternate universe, sometime in season 4. Tara is studying at UC Sunnydale, but Willow did not grow up in Sunnydale. Other differences will become apparent pretty soon…
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The desert was silent, except for the wind, and the sun beat down on dead earth and the empty highway. Then there was a noise, too quiet to identify, and an observer, had anyone been out here, would have seen a cloud of dust in the distance. The sound grew louder, like distant thunder, or an animal roaring, before finally becoming clear as the sound of several powerful engines, pushed to their limits, and the dust cloud resolved in to five motorcycles, their shapes indistinct as they sped down the highway.
Willow glanced at the speedometer; she was going well over the limit, but there wasn’t much chance of meeting anyone out here. She looked over at her fellow riders, then pressed even harder on the accelerator. The bike shot forward, and a rise in pitch in the engine sounds behind told her that at least some of her companions had accepted her challenge. Even as she thought this she saw three more bikes coming level with her. Jinking across the road, she tried to block then from passing, but as she did the fourth bike slipped past her. “Ooh, you sneaky minx…” she muttered, but smiled; she liked a challenge.
Accelerating hard she caught up with her opponent, the others left behind. The other bike slewed across the road, trying to keep Willow back, but with expert timing she pulled forward, coming side by side with the other rider. In the distance, Willow could see a road sign, she looked across at her opponent who nodded; that would be their finish line. Both riders leaned forward over the handle bars and pushed their machines to their very limits. The asphalt below and what few landmarks there were in the desert were passing in a blur as the two bikes jostled for position, each trying to edge ahead. The sign was racing closer, closer, and Willow spotted it as her opponent made a tiny mistake. Instantly, Willow took advantage of it, swerving round the other bike and pulling in front, just as they sped past the road sign.
“Yes!” cried Willow, though she knew no one would hear it. She slowed the bike to a legal velocity; signs meant a town was nearby, and that meant a greater chance of meeting cops or other traffic. She turned as her opponent drew level with her, and touched its helmet in a victory salute.
The other bikes were catching up with them now, all moving at what, after the race, seemed a very slow speed. More signs went past, and then they saw the odd building out in the desert. The van carrying the biker’s belongings finally caught up with them, having been left far behind by the speeding machines, and at long last the convoy reached it destination. Willow read out the last sign as they passed it. “Welcome to Sunnydale.”
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Tara sat at the back of the class room, idly doodling on her pad as the teacher droned on. Not even noon, but already she felt like the day had been going on too long. She looked around the room; at least she was awake, several other students were asleep, or almost there, falling asleep then jerking awake as their heads fell forward. Some were clearly wearing the clothes they wore to last night’s party. Tara had listened - she hadn’t had much choice - to the music as it pounded through the dorm until early morning. She hadn’t been invited to the party.
She had lain in her bed, unable to sleep though the noise, staring up through the window at the bright full moon, wondering if there was a particular reason why everyone in the dorm – everyone in the university it sounded like - was partying except for her. It wasn’t like she was unpopular, she knew plenty of people to say hi to, she just wasn’t that close to anyone here. And she knew what they’d say if she asked them why no one had invited her – “Oh, we didn’t think it was the sort of thing you’d like.” And that would be half the truth – the unspoken comment would be “when we were inviting people, nobody thought of you.”
Tara sighed. But she had to admit, being thought of as “the quiet one” was a considerable step up from being picked on, as she had been in high school. And if she was honest, she was partly responsible; she couldn’t blame people for not immediately thinking “hey, lets invite Tara, she’s a party queen!” So she wasn’t much of a socialite. Talking to people she didn’t know well, or had little in common with, was something of an ordeal for Tara. She would start to blush, and then that damn stammer would start…
She looked up as she realised the teacher had stopped droning, and started yelling. He’d finally noticed one of the sleeping students, an unshaven young man in last night’s clothes, and was berating him for daring to fall asleep in such an important lecture. Tara had to smile at that, this lecture was hardly as important as the man made out, they’d already covered much of this material. The other sleepers had been woken by the noise, and now attempted to look studious, relieved that they hadn’t been caught out.
Ironically, Tara now found herself yawning. That was what really annoyed her; the music had kept her up too, she was experiencing the downside, but she hadn’t had the fun of the party to make it worthwhile. She shook herself awake, it wouldn’t do to be the next one caught sleeping in class.
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Willow stared at the T shirt hanging on the rail. It was bright yellow, with a cartoon kitten on the front. Large letters beneath the picture spelled out KITTEN, just in case anyone was unclear. It was silly and childish, and Willow wanted it. She couldn’t help it, for some reason cute, cartoon kittens called out to her soul.
She couldn’t have it of course, the others would make fun of her constantly. She looked down at her current ensemble; heavy black boots, black jeans, a tight black cropped top and black leather jacket. So, variations on a theme of black… If she was honest with herself, it really wasn’t her, but like any self-respecting biker chick, she had an image to maintain. She wandered out of the clothes section and roamed the aisles, looking for the others. It didn’t take long – her friends were kinda hard to miss…
“Hey Will” called Theo. Tall and well built, his head was shaved and he wore a full length leather duster and sunglasses. He bore more than a passing resemblance to Morpheus in The Matrix, a fact the others often teased him about mercilessly. He was pushing a shopping cart piled high with food and other supplies. Next to him walked David, an absolute giant of a man. Well over six foot and broad shouldered, he was made even taller by his hair, spiked up in an impressive Mohawk, dyed bright blue. He wore a leather jacket with many hanging chains, spikes, studs and other decorations, the pair were attracting a lot of stares as they walked down the aisle.
“Hey guys” Willow said as she joined them. She eyed the crammed cart. “We nearly finished?”
“Pretty much” David replied. Willow had to tilt her head back to look up at him – she’d once joked that he was more like Goliath than David, but the reference seemed to go over his head. Or possibly he just didn’t find it funny, with David it was hard to tell. The three of them pushed the cart towards the check-outs, Willow looking tiny between the two large men.
“That was some impressive riding this morning” said Theo. “I don’t think She-who-must-be-obeyed was too happy you beat her.”
“I’m sure I didn’t dent her pride too much” Willow said, with a small smile. She usually kept a tight reign on her competitive streak – she remembered a few occasions when she was young where only coming second best in class had lead to tears. But sometimes the urge to show off was too strong - particularly when it was at the expense of the gang’s unofficial, but undisputed, alpha female. And besides, she’d still been buzzing from the excitement of the night before.
Now they were passing through an aisle of magazines and newspapers. Willow scanned the science journals, scooped a few up and placed the in the cart, along with a local newspaper. As she did she noticed Theo eyeing the top shelf magazines. “Don’t be disgusting” she said, playfully punching him in the chest. Theo sighed and rolled his eyes, but abandoned his attempt to slide one of the magazines into the cart.
They had reached the front of the store and the check-outs. The trio slowly pushed the cart past the lines of waiting customers, toward the exit. “Did you check the security?” she asked David.
“One guard, middle aged, unarmed” he replied. “Always the same in these small towns.”
As always when they did this, Willow felt a sense of shame welling up inside her. In her old life she’d never stolen a thing. The very thought of it would unroll in her mind into a drama, complete with interrogation scene and lie-detector test, ending with the police taking her home to her parents, her mother saying “oh Willow, we’re so disappointed.” But that life had ended, and her parents had kicked her out of the house when she needed them most. C’est la vie, as the French said. Or did they? Americans said it, and so, she assumed, did the English, so maybe the French used an English phrase? Or maybe another language, Spanish maybe… She pushed the shame out of her mind and focussed on the task at hand.
She turned to face David. “This time, no punching” she said.
“But what if he…” he began.
“I mean it” Willow interrupted, looking him in the eye – no mean feat as her head only came up to his chest. She pointed at her face. “Look, the resolve face…”
“Ok ok, I get it” David said. “Look out, here he comes.”
The security guard had noticed that they had bypassed the check-outs, and was coming over. David walked towards him, saying “excuse me…” As soon as he stood in front of the guard the others started to run, pushing the cart as fast as they could.
“Hey!” the guard yelled, trying to run after them, but David simply stepped in front of him. The guard tried to run round him, but the giant sidestepped, blocking him again. The guard looked around the huge man and, seeing that the cart was now out of the store, realised that his next duty was to apprehend this man. He looked up into the face looking down at him, and realised that wasn’t going to happen. “Um, what happens now?” he asked nervously. David simply smiled down at him, then turned and ran.
Outside the store he found Theo and Willow hurriedly emptying the cart in to the back of a van. “Hurry!” Willow called as she climbed in, and the van’s engine started up. David jumped in and pulled the doors shut just as the van pulled away.
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Tara sighed, put down her notepad and leaned back against the tree. Normally being in the woods had a calming effect on her, and improved her concentration, but not today. She’d come here with the intention of starting her latest paper, but her attention kept wandering, and her notepad was covered mainly in doodles.
She looked up at the late afternoon sun filtering through the branches. Near the town, the woods had been spoiled; full of discarded drinks cans, junk food wrappers and other discarded objects she tried not to notice. But once you got further in, away from the regularly travelled paths, it was really quite beautiful, one of her favourite places in Sunnydale. It reminded her of home. Thoughts of the home she’d left rose unbidden in her mind. She remembered magic lessons with her mother. Magic, her family’s gift and curse.
Tara had been raised knowing there was evil inside her, as her mother had. Her father had tried to suppress all magic, anything that might stir the demons in them, but her mother had taught her in secret. Little things, small spells, enough to ground her, to teach Tara to control her gift. That’s what her mother always called it, her “gift”. Everyone else called it her curse. Tara had always believed in the demon inside her, until one bright afternoon. Her mother had been in the last stages of her illness, rarely leaving her bed, and Tara had been at her side.
Her mother had told her a story. She had been raised by her father, Tara’s grandfather, after her own mother died when she was very young. The magic had been strong in her, and one day when she was six, she’d been thinking how much she wanted a cookie, if only the jar they were in weren’t out of her reach. In a second, the jar was in her hand. At that moment her father had come in and scolded her for taking a cookie without asking, and for climbing up dangerously to get them. Tara’s mother had argued, saying that she hadn’t climbed. Her father told her not to lie – how else could she have got the jar down, so she showed him, levitating the jar back to its place.
Her father had been speechless, and sent her to her room. Later that day he came to her, and told her of the family secret. She had power, she could do things, because she was evil, a demon, like all the women of her family. It was important not to use her powers, as they only made the demon stronger. Her own mother had indulged her curse, and that was why she had been taken from them. Tara’s mother had believed him all her life, together they had told her husband, and later they had sat down with Tara and explained it to her.
Then Tara’s grandfather passed away, and her mother had gone through his things. There had been a wealth of knowledge in his house – old diaries, family histories, heirlooms that had been in the family for generations. And in all of this, she had found not one reference to magic, or the curse, or even of the control her male ancestors must have had over their wives and daughters, as her own husband had over her. Not one occult artefact, nothing to suggest her female relatives had been anything other than normal.
Had they been careful to hide every trace, every mention of the curse? Or had her father lied to her, that day when she was six? Tara’s mother didn’t know, the thought that her father and husband had deceived her was too much to contemplate, so she pushed it down, made herself forget, until now. But she had begun to investigate her power, finding other practitioners, and suppliers of magical items. She had obtained a magic book, and began teaching herself, and later Tara, to control her abilities. That’s when she had started thinking of her “curse” as a gift.
Tara had been speechless, like her mother unwilling to believe she had been lied to. Not long after that her mother had passed away, and one evening Tara and her father had been going through her things. Her father had come across the magic book, which they had been so careful to keep hidden from him all these years, and flown in to a rage. He had accused Tara’s mother of indulging her demon, and so bringing on her own illness. Tara had finally lost her temper, the years of repression and her mother’s death fuelling her anger. She had accused him of inventing the family curse, as a way of controlling them, and in the end, he had admitted the truth.
When his new wife told him about her powers, he had believed her, and been afraid of her, even considering a divorce. But his father in law had come to him and explained that there was no curse, no family secret – he had invented it the day he saw his daughter float a jar across the room, fearing what she might do if her power was unchecked.
Tara had packed her bags that night. Her father had begged her to stay, telling her that he had kept up the deception for her own good. There may be no demon, but the magic was evil, and he wanted to keep her a “good girl”. Tara had walked out without looking back. Staying with friends of the family at first, she had then enrolled at UC Sunnydale, and now, half a continent away she finally felt free of his influence.
She shook herself, trying to dispel the unpleasant memories, and as she did so her eyes fell on her bag, or rather what was inside it. The thing her mind kept drifting to as she tried to write her paper. She pulled it out; her mothers magic book. Before she left, she and her mother had only studied the early chapters – small easy spells, enough to give her a feel for her talent. But now she felt ready for more. She knew the magic was stronger in her than it had been in her mother, and she longed to fulfil her potential. She opened the book, and started to read.
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Willow leafed idly though the magazine. The article was quite interesting, all about the latest super computers, but her concentration kept wandering. Still, that was hardly surprising on a day like today. She tossed the magazine onto the small coffee table and sprawled in the ancient armchair, looking around a room that clearly hadn’t been cleaned since the seventies. Ok, their money had been running out when they arrived in town, but she did wonder why they always seemed to stay in the crappiest motel they could find. Just once she’d like to sleep in a bed that hadn’t had a hundred people in it before.
She looked across at David and Theo, drinking cans of beer and watching some sports game on the ancient TV, occasionally thumping the machine when the picture wobbled. She envied their ability to be calm, on days like today she was always a little hyper, buzzing with energy and anticipation.
She looked up as the door opened and Raven came in. Tall and slender, Raven’s black hair was cropped short and she sported several piercings in her ears, nose and lip. She wore black leather pants and a brief black top that showed off her many tattoos. In public she affected a painfully cool air, but with the gang she was more herself. She grinned at them all. “I found a cool bar in town” she told them.
Willow smiled to herself – Raven always found the bars and clubs in any town.
“There’s only one club in town” Raven continued, “and it sounds pretty lame, but I found this bar downtown called Willy’s Place. Some freaky people in there.” She helped herself to a beer from the crate on the floor, then flung herself in to another of the ancient, dusty armchairs.
Willow glanced out of the window at the reddening, evening light. “Do any of you know where the others are?” She asked. “Its getting late.” At that moment she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside, followed by a few blasts on a car horn.
“Speak of the devils” Theo said, getting to his feet. They each stood and picked up a rucksack or other bag, then trooped out of the dingy room.
Outside they walked past their motorcycles to where the van stood waiting, its engine still running. “C’mon, get in” a female voice called from the passenger seat. They quickly piled in to the back and slammed the doors.
“So, where are we going tonight?” Willow asked, lurching as the van pulled away and wishing once again that they’d fit some proper seats in the back.
“Oh, its perfect” the driver told her. “Out in the woods, miles from town. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”
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Tara glanced at her watch, then looked around her with a start. She’d completely lost track of time, she’d been so immersed in the book. The red light in the west told her the sun was only minutes from setting, and darkness would fall quickly here amongst the trees. She quickly packed away her things and hurried back towards town.
Thirty minutes later she was having trouble seeing where she was going. The sun was long gone, and the moon had risen, shining in a sky rapidly fading from blue to black. She cursed under her breath for not keeping a track of time, then she had an idea. She pulled the magic book from her bag and opened it, but it was too dark to read. Switching on the night light on her wristwatch, its feeble glow was barely enough to illuminate the page while she found what she needed. Reading from the book she called “Lux Ferre, light my way.”
At first nothing happened, then she noticed the light playing on the open book. At first she thought it was the watch light, but soon she realised that the glow emanated from the pages themselves. It grew brighter and brighter, then in a flash it leapt from the page and condensed into a glowing sphere, hanging about six feet from the ground, directly above her head. Smiling at the success of her spell, Tara repacked the bag and continued on her way. The light followed her, always staying directly above her, and lighting up a circle around her several metres across.
Suddenly she emerged into a small clearing, and the light reflected off something metallic. Moving closer, Tara saw that it was a parked vehicle, a van of some kind. She peered in through the windscreen, but no lights were on and it seemed empty. She then moved to the back and peered through the windows in the rear doors – no one home. It was only then that she realised it really shouldn’t have been there. There were no roads this far into the forest, only muddy tracks barely wide enough for a car to fit through. Yet here it was. The driver was either an expert, very lucky, or very reckless, or possibly a mixture of all three. Well, there was no help here, so Tara continued on, following the path the van must have used.
She’d been hurrying along for another five minutes when she heard the first howl. It was truly night now, and the sound echoed around the dark wood. It didn’t sound very far away. Then came an answering howl, and that one sounded even closed. Tara increased her pace, glancing fearfully about her. She’d lived in Sunnydale long enough, and knew enough about the underworld, to know there were all sorts of strange creatures around here.
Suddenly she stopped, had she seen something move? Or had it been the shadows moving as her light flickered across the trees? Standing still, the shadows no longer danced, and she peered between the trees. Was that something there, moving slowly towards her?
A twig snapped behind her. Tara stopped breathing.
Too scared to turn, she strained her hearing. Was that harsh breathing behind her, or the wind in the trees? In front of her, the shadow she’d been watching stepped out of the trees and on to the path. It stood just beyond the circle of light, a blacker shape against the dark.
A low, rumbling growl came from the shape in front. A second came from behind her. Tara dashed sideways, off the path and into the trees. She ran as fast as she could, terror lending strength to her legs, dodging around trees and not caring about the branches that whipped across her as she ran through them. She could hear the two creatures behind her, easily matching her pace.
She narrowly missed running in to another tree, the light only reaching a few metres ahead of her and swaying wildly as its source matched her movements. She plunged though a tangle of branches, and almost ran straight into another of the creatures, the light shining off its teeth as it lunged at her, roaring.
Screaming, Tara through herself back, hearing the crack as its teeth met around the space where her head had just been. Picking herself up she ran, hearing it behind her as it joined her other pursuers.
She darted though the forest, changing her direction at random to try and throw them off but knowing they were far to close for that to work. Her legs ached, and a stitch burned in her side. She heard more howls from in front of her, and knew she had no hope. She stopped, turning to face the beasts, and pressed her back against a tree. She watched them, tears running down her cheeks as they entered the circle of light.
They walked on all fours, and were covered in fur. Each had a tail and a long, canine head, though they were bigger than any dog Tara had ever seen. The light glinted off claws and teeth.
She reached up and placed her hand against the light sphere, taking control of it, then she hurled it at the creatures. They darted away from it, and stayed further back in the shadows as it returned to her hand. She brandished it threateningly, but they soon started edging forward. She threw it again, but this time they barely moved, seeming to realise the light couldn’t really hurt them.
The creatures fanned out, and with a rustling in the undergrowth, three more emerged. The six beasts moved in an arc, cutting off any possible escape route, even if Tara had any energy left to run. Despairing, she slumped down the tree and sat on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as they approached, slow, silent and deadly.
Suddenly one of the beasts broke formation and ran ahead of the others. Tara braced herself for its impact, but instead it turned and faced its pack mates. Roaring, it seemed to challenge them. Some of the creatures roared back, but the lone beast reared up on its hind legs and roared again. Standing between Tara and the beasts, it seemed to be protecting her, or claiming her as its own.
There was more roaring, then, slowly and one by one, the other creatures turned and slunk off into the forest. Confused and shaking with terror, Tara pushed herself to her feet as the beast that had saved her turned and padded towards her.
It stopped mere feet away, and looked up at her. Up close, Tara could see that this beast was different than the others. They had had grey or black fur, but this one had an auburn coat, with red streaks showing up under the bright light. It stared into her eyes, and she stared back.
They stayed like this for several minutes, and Tara began to feel that she could sense, not the creature’s thoughts, but its feelings. Most were pure animal, hunger, the thrill of the hunt, the joy of the kill, but beneath them was something else, a longing, a desperate need, and it was focussed on her. And as she stood there, she began to feel the same need in herself, focussing on the beast. Somehow, there was a connection between them…
Faster than Tara could follow, the beast reared up and charged toward her. She felt a sudden pain in her arm and she fell backwards, hitting the tree before falling to the floor. The light sphere disappeared, her control of the spell destroyed by the shock, and the wood was once more in pitch darkness. She waited for the beast to leap on her, to finish its hunt, but the blow never came. Instead she heard it pad away into the night.
She grabbed her arm and felt warm wetness there, as well as pain. “Oh God” she murmured, clutching her arm to her chest. She could feel blood soaking through her top, and a wave of dizziness passed over her as the reality of her situation hit her. “Oh no you don’t” she said out loud, forcing herself to fight the dizziness. She managed to sit up, then she struggled out of her jacket, moaning as she was forced to move her injured arm. She wrapped the jacket tightly around the arm, then, clutching it to her chest, she struggled to rise. More pain and dizziness but she fought it, managing to get to her feet. Now, where was the town? In her flight from the beasts, she’d gotten completely lost.
Leaning against a tree for support and closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. The pain and the fear she could lose too much blood before finding help made if difficult, but somehow she managed to open her senses to the natural rhythms around her. She could feel the life force around her, in the trees, the smaller plants, the many animals and insects – not much use in the middle of the forest. She narrowed her focus, concentrating only on intelligent life. There! The large concentration she felt could only be Sunnydale.
Opening her eyes, she pushed herself away from the tree and staggered in the direction the town lay. She knew she lacked the strength to cast the light spell again, so she blundered through the dark, her good arm waving in front of her. It made little difference if her eyes were open or shut, so she closed them again. She lost all track of time as she walked, stumbled and slid through the woods, until finally she heard human voices.
She opened her eyes as she emerged from the woods. Nearby, some teenage boys had built a fire, and were drinking beer they were clearly too young to have bought legally. She wondered why they were out here so late, then realised that it probably wasn’t that late at all. She felt like she had been walking for days. They were staring at her warily, probably wondering if she was going to tell them off, or threaten to tell their parents what she had seen. Instead she staggered towards them, before falling to her knees, then slumping to the ground. She heard the boy’s panicked voices, one of them announcing he would call an ambulance, before she finally succumbed to the darkness.
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The couple walked through the forest, hand in hand, enjoying the early morning air and the sound of the dawn chorus. They emerged into a clearing, and were met with the sight of four large, hairy creatures, lying curled up on the ground. Their chests rose and fell regularly, and growling snores issued from their open mouths. The couple walked between the sleeping monsters, unafraid, and sat on a fallen tree trunk.
The two of them watched as one creature with distinctive auburn fur started to stretch and growl in its sleep. It began to change, fur receding back beneath its skin, spine cracking as the body altered shape, paws becoming hands. The bestial snout pulled back, flattening, ears lost their points, and where once a monster had been, there now lay a naked, attractive, red-headed young woman.
Groaning, Willow Rosenberg woke up.
“Morning sleepy head” the woman on the tree trunk called cheerfully.
“Morning Veruca, Oz” Willow said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She sat up. The couple on the trunk had several bags with them, and Oz now tossed one to her. “Thanks” she said, opening it and taking out a set of clothes. She quickly dressed as around her, the other wolves returned to human form and woke up. Veruca passed each one their bag, and the pack quickly dressed. There was no embarrassment between them – shyness tended to fade quickly when living on the road with people, especially if you had a tendency to wake up together naked in a strange place three nights a month.
Willow, fully clothed now, sat on the tree trunk. “How come you two always wake up earlier than the rest of us?”
Veruca shook her head, while behind her, Oz just shrugged. “No idea” she said. “But you should think yourself lucky, you always get your clothes bought to you. We’re the ones who have to find the van, naked.”
Willow smirked at that. She may not be shy with her pack mates, but the thought of having to roam a strange place, naked, with the ever present possibility of meeting someone else, still filled her with horror. She looked around the wood, it was certainly a nicer place to wake up in than the open desert, where they had spent the previous two nights. She took a bottle of water from her bag and drank a mouthful.
“So Will, you were a feisty one last night” Veruca said, smirking at Willow.
“What do you mean?” Willow asked. Like most of the pack, she remembered virtually nothing of her time spent in wolf form. Veruca had explained that it was like that for everyone at first, but over time they would begin to remember more and more. She had been a werewolf for over ten years, and often remembered large chunks of wolf-nights.
“We found some dinner, but you didn’t want to share” Veruca told her. “Drove us all away with our tails between her legs.” She seemed amused by the whole thing.
Willow tried to think what “dinner” could have been, according to some tourist brochures she’d read, there were still some deer in these parts. “I ate a whole deer?” she asked, rubbing her stomach. “That’s gonna go straight to my thighs.”
“A deer?” Veruca said. “No, it was some cute blonde thing.”
“Blonde?” Willow repeated, aghast. “Blonde as in…” her voice cracked “…human?”
“Well yeah” Veruca said. “Its her own fault, shouldn’t have been out here after dark…”
“Veruca” Oz cut her off, his voice quiet but firm.
“A person, I, I killed a person?” Willow said, her voice shaking. She got up from the trunk and started backing away.
“Hey, relax” Veruca said. “We do the best we can, coming out into the wilderness like this. If someone gets in our way, its their problem.”
Willow face crumpled, the tears flowing freely. She turned and ran in to the forest.
Veruca rolled her eyes. “Drama queen” she sighed. She turned to find the rest of the pack staring at her disapprovingly. “What?” she asked.
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Willow ran through the forest, ducking branches and dodging around trees. Tears blurred her vision, and it was only a matter of time before she inevitably tripped. Her foot caught in the undergrowth and she fell. She stayed on her hands and knees, crying bitterly. I killed someone, I killed a girl, oh god oh god, I killed her and I ate her… as she realized the import of that thought, her stomach heaved and she threw up on the forest floor.
Staring at the vomit in front of her, Willow’s eyes searched for something incriminating –a piece of bone, or clothing. There was none, but she knew how fiendishly efficient a werewolf’s digestion system was. It would make short work of such things.
Willow staggered away from the vomit and collapsed, leaning against a tree. The thought hammered around her brain – she had killed someone, someone was dead because of her. Desperately, she tried to dredge up some memory from last night, but it was useless. She remembered the thrill of sensing prey, or, more-than-prey, a strange feeling she didn’t understand. She remembered the thrill of the chase, and a sense of triumph, nothing more. It was difficult for a human brain to process werewolf thoughts, especially when they were little more than half remembered feelings.
Veruca frequently said that human rules didn’t apply to werewolves, how could they? In wolf form they were all instinct, with no self control whatsoever, so clearly they weren’t responsible for anything they did. Willow, Oz and the others had argued that while what they did as wolves wasn’t their responsibility, what they did before hand was. That was why, when the wolf time came, they made sure they were out of town, somewhere where no one went.
But last night, someone had been here. And now she was dead. Chest heaving, Willow cried desperately.
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Tara gingerly pulled on her jacket, wincing as the material pressed against her bandaged arm. She yawned – it had been a long night.
After she’d blacked out, the boys had been relieved to find she was still breathing. They’d even put her in the recovery position – they’d learned some basic first aid in school only a few weeks previously. One of them had gone down to the road to wait for the ambulance, and led the paramedics up to where Tara lay.
She’d come round in hospital. The doctor had told her that once her wound was cleaned, it turned out to be not so serious at all. The cut was long, but not deep, not even requiring stitches. She had lost some blood though, during her run through the forest, that and the shock of the injury were probably the cause of her faint. Then there had been two police officers who wanted to know what had happened to her. She told them she was bitten by a wild animal and could see they were sceptical, but she didn’t blame them, she was confused herself.
She’d seen the beast’s jaw, its long teeth and powerful muscles. One bite should have torn her arm off. Yet it had only cut her. It must have barely closed its mouth, its sharp teeth enough to do the damage. Still, the marks in her arm were clearly made by teeth, so the officers accepted her story. Tara knew enough about Sunnydale to predict that her statement would be filed away with a whole pile of other unexplained cases.
She’d stayed in hospital over night for observation, and been discharged in the morning. Doctor’s orders were plenty of rest, and some hearty meals. Tara was on her way to fulfil that second requirement at the campus refectory. As she walked across the campus grounds, she planned her day. Breakfast, then to the library, then home for some light studying and plenty of rest. She knew it was in her nature to work herself hard, but she took the doctor’s instructions seriously. She entered the refectory and made her way to the counter. She ordered a much larger breakfast than she’d usually have, then went and sat down at one of the empty tables.
She made a mental note to go into town later, she wanted to get a thank you card for the boys who had found her in the woods. Then she’d see what she felt up to in the evening – the Wicca group was meeting tonight. Her plans made, Tara started her breakfast.
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Willow walked down Main Street lost in thought, barely aware of the people she walked past and occasionally bumped into. When she’d finally stopped crying, she’d gone back to the clearing where she’d woken and found a note pinned to the fallen tree trunk. The others had assumed she wanted to be alone, and had driven back to the motel without her. Heading back herself, she had found the long walk helped clear her head, at least a little. By the time she’d made it back into town, the overwhelming guilt had faded enough for her to think rationally again. What was it her mother used to say? “No use crying over spilt milk.” No use crying over spilt blood. The girl from last night was dead, and nothing Willow could do would change that. All she could do was try and make sure it never happened again.
The pack had met other werewolves in their travels, as well as other supernatural creatures and people who knew of such things. And they had heard all sorts of gossip and rumours. One of the more interesting had been that werewolves could only be killed by silver or fire, anything else and they would regenerate. None of the pack were sure if that was true, even Veruca who had been one the longest, and none of them were keen to test it either.
Another story was that it was possible for a werewolf to increase the control they had over the wolf, to remember more of the wolf times, and even to resist the change altogether. Veruca had flatly refused to believe the last claim, and had pointed out that the longer you were a wolf, the more you could remember, and the more aware of yourself in wolf form you became. But though she didn’t say it, Willow had noticed that those who had been wolves a long time, and in theory had more control, were less likely to use it. Indeed, rather than let the human mind control the wolf, they seemed to let the wolf mind influence the human. Some of the older werewolves she had met had been almost feral, barely recognizable as human.
That was Willow’s fear – that the wolf would start to affect her all the time. What would happen when all the pack became like that? Would they cease to care about the damage they did? Would they stop going to deserted places on wolf nights, choosing to change and hunt wherever they were, no matter how many people were nearby? It was something they never talked about, but Willow knew that before they met her, Veruca had made little attempt to keep people safe from her on the nights around the full moon. Indeed, it was only because of Oz that she had agreed to their plan of going out of town on wolf nights in the first place.
Willow had asked those who talked about control for more details, but none of them knew much. She knew that magic of some kind was involved, as was meditation and other rituals, but her research had unearthed little else. Today, Willow was determined to find out more. She needed a connection to the internet, and any other sources of information she could find.
She walked up and down Main Street, hoping to find and internet café, but without success. She had similar luck looking for a public library, but then she finally found something useful; a sign pointing the way to “UC Sunnydale.”
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Tara stood in an aisle off the main library area, scanning the shelves for the book she needed. Finally her eyes lighted on it, on the bottom shelf, and she knelt to retrieve it. Suddenly she turned as something caught her eye. A leg was coming in through the window at the end of the aisle. She stared as the leg’s owner sat on the window sill, then swung her other leg over, and pulled herself in. A red-headed young woman, dressed in black with a leather jacket. She walked away from the window, then started as she saw Tara.
“Oh, um, uh, hi” she said.
“H-hi” Tara said. The two of them stared at each other.
“So, um, are you breaking in?” Tara asked, and immediately blushed, tilting her head forward to hide behind her hair. Urgh, how stupid did that sound?
“No, no” the girl said hurriedly. She turned and looked back at the window. “Well, I guess I am. I just wanted to use the computers, but the security guard on the door wouldn’t let me in without a student ID. I’m not a book thief or anything.” She grinned. Tara smiled back, it was hard not to, the girl had the kind of smile that lit up the room.
They stared at each other some more.
“Y-you left you ID at home today?” Tara asked.
“Uh, sure” the woman said. A guilty look crossed her face. “Well, no actually. I don’t have one, I’m not a student. I just needed to use a computer, and I couldn’t find anywhere in town.”
“Yeah, this place is kinda behind the times” Tara said, smiling. She struggled to think of something to say. “So, um, the computers are that way” she said, pointing.
“Oh, uh, thanks” the woman said. “So, I’ll, let you get on with, with your, whatever you were doing.” She waved at Tara and moved past her, out into the main library area and over to the computers.
Tara watched her go, and suddenly wondered if she’d done the right thing. After all, she only had the woman’s word she wasn’t up to no good, and even if she wasn’t, the library was only for student’s use. Still, she’d sensed that the girl didn’t mean any harm, and Tara had learned to pay attention to her feelings. Besides, someone that beautiful had to be trustworthy. She smiled to herself as she admitted that that thought lacked some logic. Maybe the whole biker chick look didn’t entirely suit her, but the tight pants certainly did… blushing, Tara turned back to her book.
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Willow walked over to the rows of computers and took a seat. She looked back to where the blonde girl had been, but she must have gone back into the aisle. Talking to her, Willow had suddenly become very aware that she’d slept in a forest last night, and hadn’t had a chance for a shower since. And she’d caught her climbing in the window! What must she have thought?
She booted up the computer, and frowned as it asked for a user ID and password. She sighed, she should have thought of this sooner, these were public machines, of course you’d need an account. Still, it may have been some time since she put those skills to use, but she’d been quite the hacker in her old life… and five minutes later she was in. “Oh yeah, I’ve still got it” she said under her breath.
After several hours of fruitless searching, she was feeling less pleased with herself. She’d sifted though hundreds of sites claiming to have the “truth” about werewolves, only to find they were pure fiction. She had found a few that looked genuine, but they had little more than the vague hints she already knew. One interesting site had mentioned a monastery, said to offer sanctuary to “those who sought to overcome the predator within,” unfortunately it was in Tibet. Oh yeah, I’ll go there for my next vacation. Somehow Willow doubted the monks had an email address.
Sighing, she decided to call it a day. She gathered up her bag and headed to the exit. The guard didn’t even look at her as she left, his attention reserved for those coming in.
As she walked across the campus grounds, Willow felt despair seizing her again. The knowledge that she was doing something constructive had helped her deal with her guilt, her failure bought it back again full force. Despondently she headed for the campus exit, barely noticing the students walking past her. Suddenly she saw something out of the corner of her eye, she turned to see she had walked past a large bulletin board, covered in posters and other pieces of paper. Intrigued, she scanned the board to see what had caught her attention, and there it was – A poster headed by the word “MAGICK.”
She quickly read the rest of the poster. It was an advertisement for some sort of Wicca group that met on campus. She hadn’t read much on the subject, but she knew that Wicca had associations with witchcraft and magic – she felt excitement building in her. Perhaps this group could help her, or at least be a guide to where she should be looking. She read the details at the bottom of the poster – there was a meeting tonight, in – she glanced at her watch – a couple of hours. Willow decided she would go. All she needed now was somewhere to hang around in the meantime. There was bound to be a bar or somewhere else she could go nearby.
Briefly she considered trying to find some food – she was becoming painfully aware of the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day. But she knew she wouldn’t have an appetite, no matter how hungry she was.
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Tara made her way across the campus, to the class room the Wicca group used for its evening meetings. Stepping through the door, she found several women standing around chatting, while two other girls put chairs in a circle. “Hi” she said.
“Oh hi Tara, how are you?” one girl replied. Tara was about to reply but the girl continued with her previous conversation. “So anyway, then I said…”
Tara shrugged and made her way through the room, listening to the buzz of idle gossip around her.
“Ok, lets start the meeting” one of the girls by the chairs announced. The group headed to the circle and sat down. “So” the group leader went on “let’s start by giving thanks to Gaia…”
“Um, excuse me, is this the Wicca group?” a voice asked from the doorway. A dozen heads turned to look at the newcomer. Heavy black boots, tight black jeans, a black T shirt and black leather jacket on a petite young woman with red hair – the girl from the library.
Tara heard a chorus of mutterings from around the circle. “Huh, she really likes black doesn’t she” “Urgh, not another goth who wants to summon the devil” “You see, that’s what I meant when I said some stereotypes aren’t very empowering.” She hoped the girl hadn’t heard them, but the flicker in her eyes and expression said she had.
“Sure, grab and seat” the group leader said. The girl joined the circle. The two women either side of her edged away slightly. No one asked her her name, or offered theirs.
And so the meeting began. Girls talked at length about Gaia and spirits and bake sales and candles. Tara began to wonder why she still came to these meetings. Ok, tonight it had been because there was only so much rest she could take before boredom set in, but she could see now that none of these girls had any idea about witchcraft. And added to that, they weren’t very nice people either – their treatment of the girl from the library showed that. And as Tara thought about her, the red headed girl asked the question Tara had been longing to ask herself.
“So, ah, here’s a weird idea, maybe we could try some magic?”
The group stared at her in silence, seeming to confirm their suspicions about her. “Sure” the group leader said. “Then afterwards we can get on our broomsticks and fly around on our broomsticks.” The group laughed. “Look” she went on. “I can see this group isn’t for you. You have a very immature idea of what witchcraft is really about.”
Tara felt her heart break as the girl’s hopeful expression crumpled. “Sorry to take up your time” the girl said, her voice sounding suddenly hoarse. She stood and left the room.
“Really, people like that are just embarrassing themselves…” the group leader began.
“Shut up!” a voice yelled at her. As the group turned to stare at her, stunned expressions on their faces, Tara was shocked to realise it had been hers. She wanted to say more, to them that they were some of the rudest, least pleasant people she’d ever met, that magic was real, that they didn’t have a clue. Her voice stuck in her throat. Instead, she ran from the room.
Outside, she saw the girl walking slowly towards the campus exit. “Hey” she shouted after her.
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Willow turned as someone called after her. Seeing it was one of the wiccans, no doubt coming to mock her further, she made to keep going, but as the woman got closer she realised it was the girl she’d spoken to in the library.
“Look, I’m sorry about the others” the blonde girl said. “They’re just, well, they’re just jerks.” She blushed, seemingly embarrassed at using the mild insult. Willow couldn’t help but find that sweet. She smiled.
“Its ok, you don’t have to apologise for them” she said. “I guess you guys get asked questions like that a lot, I can see how it could get annoying.”
“Questions about magic?” the girl asked. “Not so much. Not much magic in the magic group.” They both smiled at that. “I’ve been going a few months, but I never plucked up the courage to ask. I think if they ever saw a real witch, they’d run away.”
Willow’s ears pricked at that statement. “Are you a real witch?” she asked.
“I am” the girl nodded. “That is, I’m learning.”
Willow looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Look, its silly standing around out here. Do you want to go get a coffee?”
“Um, sure” the girl replied. “I know a good place just round the corner.” Together they set off. After a few minutes, the girl said “by the way, I’m Tara.”
Willow smiled at her. “Willow.”
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