By Ben Varkentine
benvarkentine@earthlink.net
I'd love feedback, and if anyone wants to archive my story anywhere that would be great, too.
This story takes place after the conclusion of Season Five, with one difference: It's my "parallel universe" version in which Buffy lived (she doesn't really appear in the story, but in case you wonder why people are talking about her in present tense). No spoilers unless you don't know what happened to Willow & Tara in "Tough Love" and "The Gift."
It's rated PG 13--there's nothing here you wouldn't see in a good episode of Buffy or one of the Willow & Tara comics. It's about W/T (obviously), and Oz shows up too.
Based on the televison series created (and abandoned) by Joss Whedon.
Summary: Willow is kidnapped and Tara and Oz need to work together to save her.
And now, without any further ado:
Witches Moon
She was gone.
The young witch looked around the room she shared with her partner, and her absence was palpable. It was a bittersweet pain, the kind you gladly endure because it means thinking of someone you love. But there was concern mixing with it too, because it wasn’t like her girl to miss a…"play date.” She smiled to herself. So like her friend to call it that. But now she really was getting worried. She looked around the room for a note. “Gone to play with Giles—keep the home fires burning,” or something like that.
Tara Maclay needed to know where Willow was. In Sunnydale, people didn’t just disappear—well, actually, they did, that was the problem. She didn’t want to hit the panic button right away—Buffy and Xander and all the rest of them were still decompressing after the final battle with Glory. Tara herself was still shaky now that she was in her right mind again. But this was not good.
Stop it, she told herself. You’re behaving like an old wife. She flopped down on the bed, closed her eyes and imagined herself and Will as two old ladies rattling around an even older house. Maybe something up in San Francisco. She could see herself getting heavily into the domestic thing; making much with the teapots. Maybe we can invite Xander for a little arsenic and old lace, she thought with an evil smile. Willow would be shocked. Willow. Where the hell is Willow?
To comfort herself, she started thinking back to all the adventures they’d had together and the ones Willow had told her about that had taken place before they’d met. In all of them, did Willow…directly…have an enemy? Buffy, to be sure, had dozens, and Willow had helped stop enough of them that they might come after her. But wouldn’t they go for the Slayer first? She knew she was making herself crazy, but in a funny way worrying took her mind off worrying. Willow hadn’t even been gone that long. She’d probably come through that door any second with apologies and/or some story about having stopped off at the candle store…and if Tara were lucky, offers to make it up to her. Yeah, that’s what would happen. Any second now. Any second…now! Now!
Willow clearly didn’t know her part in this little scene, because she was missing her cue. Tara wondered idly what had ever happened to Willow’s drama class, she’d been so excited about taking it and a few weeks after she and her friends had that post-apocalypse aversion video night party, she’d let it drop. Somehow Tara had never gotten around to asking her about it.
She was tired but she knew she’d never be able to sleep until Willow was there, or at least she knew where she was. If she got really desperate she could do a locator spell, but if Willow was just running late for completely human, not at all Hellmouthy-related reasons, that would be something the redhead would be smirking about for a week.
“You thought something had happened to me. You luuuuuv me,” she could hear her girlfriend almost singing. “You know how embarrassing it is when one of those teeny tinkerbell lights shows up at a Baskin-Robbins? Xander almost dropped his double-scoop.”
You are being silly, Tara thought. A knock came at the door, and Tara almost bounced off the bed to answer it. “Forget your key…?” she started to ask as she threw the door open. But then she froze, her body tensed. Because the last time she’d seen the person on the other side of that door, he’d tried to tear her throat out.
“Hi, Tara, “ said Oz. "I’ve got something for you.”
He was reaching into his coat. What was…oh my goddess, Tara thought. It was a gun.
She dove behind the bed as quickly as she could, almost as scared as she had ever been in her life (and what kind of life was she leading where her girlfriend’s ex showing up with a gun wasn’t the most frightening thing in her life, she wondered), her mind racing for a spell that would stop Oz without killing him. Tara never liked killing anything, not even spiders, and least of all someone Willow had loved and still cared about. Willow. Oh my goddess, again, had he done something to Willow? Was he here now to finish the job?
With all these thoughts rushing through her head, it took Tara a few moments to realize that Oz wasn’t moving from the doorway. He wasn’t coming after her. He wasn’t firing. She took a chance and raised her eyes over the bed. Oz looked down at her from the door.
“O-o-oz?”
“Hi. I guess you weren’t expecting to see me.”
“N-no. Not…really. Willow’s not here.”
“I know. At least I was afraid of that. That’s kind of why I’m here.” He showed her the gun. Now that her heart was starting to slow down, Tara could see that it wasn’t a traditional handgun but some kind of modified device.
“This is for tranquilizers,” Oz was saying as he tossed it onto the bed where Tara could reach it. “I’ve been working really hard, but, just in case…I thought you should have this handy. And maybe it’s better if you stay on the other side of the room. Can I come in?”
Tara took the gun and rose, a little embarrassed at her reflexive reaction to Oz’s sudden appearance at their door.
“I didn’t know werewolves needed to wait for an invitation,” she said.
“We don’t. I was just being friendly.”
“Come in,” Tara said.
Oz entered the room fully and shut the door. He leaned against the wall and looked at Tara. Nervously, she sat in the chair and looked back.
“So what’s going on?”
“I think something might have happened to Willow.”
Tara’s heart started to race again.
“What?”
“Have you ever heard of a Witches Moon?”
“No….”
“It’s something I started to hear about…rumors…about people like me. But it’s hard to get confirmation, because, well…when werewolves meet, we don’t talk a lot.”
Tara blushed, feeling the heat on her cheeks.
“Go on.”
“Well, anyway, a Witches Moon is this night that happens only once every three or four years.”
“Like leap year.”
“Right. It’s this night when, if a werewolf finds a powerful enough witch and…”
Neither of them wanted him to finish the sentence.
“W-what happens…a—a-after?”
“Well, if it’s done just right, supposedly….the wolf takes on all the witches powers.”
“A witcherewolf?”
“A werewolf witch.”
Tara could see that Oz was sweating, and she wasn’t sure if it was from fear of what might have happened to Willow, or because he was straining to keep himself from changing.
“B-b-b-but how would anybody know about…I mean, why Willow?”
Oz looked at her, cocking his head in a way so much like a dog that Tara would have giggled under any other circumstances.
“I don’t know. Did Will do anything recently, use more magic than usual, something that might have red-flagged her to someone who knew what to look for?”
“Y-yes.” Tara thought about what Willow and Spike had told her about what Willow had done after Glory sucked her mind away. Willow had tried to play it off. “Nobody messes with my baby,” she’d said. “Ever, ever, ever.” But one night at Buffy’s house Spike had gotten Tara alone and said “Don’t let her kid you. She used powerful, powerful magiks to lash out and hurt the person—or deity, more like—who hurt you. You should be grateful. You should also be worried. I would be.” Tara had to concede (at least to herself) that he had a point.
“I was…hurt,” she said to Oz. “Willow did some things to the person who hurt me. She used darker magic than she ever had before.” Or ever should again, she thought to herself.
“That would be it. Someone’s got her.”
It was too horrible a thought for Tara to contemplate. “We have to go and find her. I’ll do a locator spell.”
She went to get the necessary paraphernalia, trying to ignore the way Oz shied back when she passed. He was breathing heavily.
“Do you want some water, or…”
“A treat?” He smiled mirthlessly. “I’m a werewolf, not a dog.”
“I just thought you might…be thirsty,” she finished, weakly.
“No. But you know what? I think I’m gonna look around outside for her. You know, just in case we’re wrong. How long will the spell take?”
“Not long, once I get it set up.”
“How ‘bout I come back in 15 minutes?”
“Okay.”
Oz turned to leave without another word, looking as relived to be going as Tara was to see him go. It was always going to be hard to see your lover’s ex, but why did this one have to present a mortal danger? In spite of herself, she was impressed, though. He’d controlled himself and even left the room when it looked like he might…
Willow was in trouble. The thought hit her mind like a handful of dust in her nose. Not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry. Gonna find you. Strong like an Amazon, baby. Speaking of strength...she picked up the phone and dialed Buffy’s number. No answer. She tried Mr. Giles. Nothing there, either. She left messages for both of them asking them to call and to tell Willow to do the same if they saw her. She thought about Xander and Anya, but she wasn’t sure what they could do, and Xander made her tense. Who else? Spike? Certainly not. Even if she completely trusted him, which she didn’t, he didn’t have a phone, and she had no wish to be hanging around graveyards looking for him.
The spell was ready. She spoke the words that would bring her to Willow.
Outside, looking everywhere he could for Willow’s familiar flash of red hair, Oz tried to push down the taste of blood that was filling his mouth. Control, he thought. Control. Remember what you’ve learned. Don’t think about her touching…don’t! Clamp it down, clamp it down, clamp it down! Working for the clampdown, the Clash sang in his head. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths.
The moon shone through the windows like a mocking, grinning grimace.
He was very, very hungry.
Tara’s forehead wrinkled as she frowned. Something was wrong. All the spell would tell her was that Willow was somewhere in the woods. It should have led them directly to each other. But something was masking her, hiding Willow from Tara. She couldn’t have that. She tried every chant she knew but nothing happened except that she was getting more tired and worried.
Oz was in the doorway again.
“Any luck?”
“Kind of. I know she’s in the woods, but I can’t tell where.”
“I can find her.”
She looked at him and he lightly sniffed the air.
“Oh…r-right.”
“You coming?”
“Of course.”
She got up and strode towards the door without a second thought or look back.
“Tara…you’d better take the gun.”
She picked it up and for an awkward moment wasn’t sure where she would carry it. Then an idea struck her and she grabbed a shoulder bag, dropping the gun into it. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed a first aid kit, too. It Willow were hurt (don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it) she needed to be ready. She pulled on a long blue coat as protection against the night air.
“Okay, let’s go.”
The werewolf and the witch headed out into the night, searching for the woman they both loved. Neither of them spoke. The silence was more than Tara could bear, especially since she wasn’t sure if they weren’t talking because Oz needed to concentrate, or so neither one of them would bring up that big, mostly unspoken, common interest they shared. Oz was leading her through the woods, stopping occasionally to get his bearings and sniff the air. For Tara’s part she was keeping herself as attuned as she could, her senses searching everywhere for some sign of Willow.
Willow? Baby, can you hear me?
She knew that if Willow sensed her nearby she’d be broadcasting as far as she could, especially if she needed help. So every so often she would quiet her mind and send out a tentative feeler, a mental hand looking for Willow’s to hold. But so far, it had been met with stony silence.
She never even considered letting herself think about what that could mean.
In another part of the woods:
He was very, very old, and his fur was a matted and dirty-dark gray. His ears were keen even though there was a piece missing from one of them (she had been worth it though, the way she screamed when he caught her and sighed as her human life left her when he sank his jaws over her face. The red blood had almost matched that ridiculous cape she was wearing.)
There are stories we are all told, and there are stories only some of us are told. And then there are stories that no more than three living creatures are ever supposed to know at one time. It’s safer that way for the creatures such stories are told about. They are very protective of their secrets, and the three people who know these stories at any given time also know that if they reveal them, their lives are simply forfeit in the bloodiest and most painful way possible. They talk anyway, gossip being what it is, but the smart ones know how to stay subtle.
Here was one of those creatures. None but the Gentlemen failed to shudder and pull their coats closer when he walked past. He’d even seen the oldest of vampires show a flicker of fear in his eyes the one time he’d met one face to face. He’d shown the proper respect, but he didn’t like vampires. Cold things who only wanted to make their victims colder. He wanted the heat of the chase, the warmth of rich blood on his lips. He smiled. Soon he would have it. And so much more. And this powerful little witch who didn’t even know how much power she had yet, who didn’t even know what had happened to her or was going to happen to her, would be his ticket. This was going to be the single most delicious feast he had ever had. He could already see the tearing of her flesh, hear the cracking of her bones. And when he was finished he would be able to eat anyone he wanted to. In one gulp. And he wanted to eat a lot of people.
His name was never spoken nowadays, those of the people who wanted to address him called him Sire. And no one else had any reason to address him because if they were close enough to see, they were close enough to die. And he wasn’t about to come when they called, so they had no reason to know his name. But soon, when all was finished, everyone would know his name and wish, just for a moment, that they could be his.
The heap on the forest floor was stirring. He looked down with cold interest. He could hold her down with one paw if he so chose. But he decided to let her awake. If nothing else, this should be amusing. The human's eyes were still closed but it’s lips parted revealing those pathetic things that humans called teeth. He would show the world his teeth soon enough, and then they would know. It was making sounds now. He didn’t know what they meant, didn’t care, and didn’t care that he didn’t know or care. He soon realized that the little human wasn’t coming to, she was just babbling in the way they sometimes did, whether they were awake or asleep.
“Tear…rah? I will always find you…”
Earlier that day:
Willow Rosenberg was feeling good. Her morning classes had gone well, she had the rest of the day to do whatever she wanted and there weren’t any apocalypse things scheduled for at least a few months.
She’d once asked Giles why it was that evil always seemed to take a few months off in the summer. He’d immediately begun cleaning his glasses like he’d never cleaned them before, stammering something about how some things were better left unsaid, scooped up his guitar and began playing a late-period Hall & Oates song. It was a transparent attempt to distract her, but she rarely found Giles sexier than when he was stammering or singing, so she went along with it, and she and Tara had swayed and danced together.
Tara. Best of all, her baby was home, safe, and in her right mind. The two had been making up for a lot of lost time together, and the thought of another session in their warm bed had been occupying the rear rooms of her brain all morning.
“Don’t forget,” she’d said, kissing Tara goodbye that morning, “We have a play-date tonight.”
“I won’t forget,” said Tara. “Just don’t be late or I might have to start without you."
Willow had immediately begun calculating just how late she should be to walk in on the most delightful scene imaginable. She smiled just to think of it. Glancing at her watch, she saw that her girlfriend would still be in classes now, and was trying to decide what to do to kill the hours until they could meet. She had just about decided to drop by the Magic Shop and see if Xander was up for anything when a scruffy stranger approached her.
“Excuse me, lady,” he said. His voice was rough and raw, as if he hadn’t used it in so long it had grown dusty. “I haven’t had a bite in days.”
Willow could hear Anya’s voice in her ear. That means you’re supposed to bite him, Willow. That’s the correct humorous response. Oh dear. She really had spent one too many nights at their apartment playing charades. But it was just too good to resist, especially when Tara had to act out Yurtle the Turtle.
She favored the stranger with a smile. “I’m sorry, I have nothing on me."
He just stared at her for a moment, and Willow felt guilty. Suddenly she heard herself saying "If you want to come with me downtown I can get you a sandwich with my ATM card." A ‘which from a witch, she thought.
“That’s very kind of you,” said the stranger. “I will walk with you, if you don’t mind.”
Willow started heading downtown, thinking how proud Tara would be of her for helping this man. She must be sure to ask for a reward.
They were passing by the entrance to the woods.
“I’m Willow,” she said. The stranger was silent for a long time and then said,
“Mike. Mike Gray Dog.”
“Native American?”
“I was. A long time ago.”
“Willow Rosenberg. Jewish. Well, I was. I guess I still am, but, oh hey, you don’t want to hear all about me, do you?”
She hadn’t run on like that in ages but there was something about this stranger that was suddenly making her nervous. She was glad it was broad daylight, she was a witch, and heading to a place where there were lots of people she knew.
She was glad of it even as she suddenly felt his hands on her body, pulling up her shirt in the back.
“Hey! Hands off, buster! What do you think you’re…”
But then his rough, dirty fingers with long nails had found a pressure point known only to the oldest of the people at the base of her spine, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she lost consciousness.
The man who had called himself Mike Gray Dog hoisted her body over his shoulder and ran double-time deep into the woods to wait for night to fall.
Tara and Oz:
Tara did not have a good feeling in the pit of her stomach. Oz was leading them into darker and darker parts of the forest, and he didn’t her want to cast more than the dimmest light by magic, lest it attract the attention of whoever had kidnapped Willow. But Tara had pointed out that if they couldn’t see at all, they’d be crashing around so much anyone and anything would know they were coming. So she’d created a small flame, but kept it covered with her hand most of the time because what Oz said had scared the hell out of her.
“It’s pretty neat, the way you do that,” he said, suddenly.
“T-th-thank you.”
“I’ll bet you’ve taught Willow a lot.”
“Well...you know…”
“Bad choice of words.”
“No. I mean…you...I never…”
“Just forget it, okay? There are a lot of things we just shouldn’t talk about, and some things we shouldn’t even get close to.”
“O-okay.”
They trudged on in further silence for a while.
“How is she?”
“Happy."
“That’s good. And you’re happy too?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Everybody’s happy.”
“I mean…not now, obviously, but in general, yeah, we’re pretty happy. How have you been?”
It sounded so stupid and trivial the moment it came out of her mouth that Tara wished she could force it back, but it was too late.
Oz stopped and looked at her. “The woman I love is in love with somebody else, she may be in mortal danger, and oh yeah, I’m a werewolf.”
Tara couldn’t help herself. “So you’ve had better days.”
Oz had to smile. “I’ve had better decades.”
Just then a woodland mouse went running in the opposite direction from the one in which they were walking, and he was struck by a sudden desire to grab it and eat it. He hoped it didn’t show.
“He sure seemed to be in a hurry.”
“Yeah. Tara…you’ve got the gun handy, right?”
Tara felt in the bag. “Yeah…why?”
“Just checking. There's a “clip” of about four tranquilizers in there. Any one of them should be enough to take me down if I…if anything happens. But don’t be afraid to use more if you have to.”
“I won’t. Does it hurt?”
“Being tranqued? I never remember. I just wake up from a deep sleep kinda groggy, like when you take a sleeping pill.”
“No, I meant—“
“The change? It's excruciating. And it’s glorious. And I want it to happen right now more than almost anything in the world.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“You know what is.”
There didn’t seem to be anything to say after that, so they walked in silence again for a while.
“Do you know who has Willow, Oz?”
“I have…not even an idea. A fear.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because it terrifies…but mostly because I’m a werewolf and you’re not. Aren’t there things you can only tell other witches?”
“Not that many.”
“Well, this is one of the few. Legends that werewolves don’t even speak about amongst themselves except in the quietest of whispers.”
“That bad, huh?” She was trying to keep her voice light, but Oz was really scaring her.
“Let me put it this way. If werewolves had a king…”
“The Alpha-Wolf?”
“The Alpha and the Omega-Wolf.”
They had just stepped into a thicket which was pitch-black apart from the light of Tara’s flame.
“And he’s here,” Oz said.
“What?” said Tara.
“He’s here. I can feel him. I think all of us can. I think even the dogs and field mice can.”
Her hand was on the gun in her bag and she was watching Oz very, very closely.
“And you think he has Willow.”
“Yes.”
“And if he’s already as powerful as you say he is…if he…if this Witches Moon thing is true…”
“Not even Buffy might be able to stop him.”
In another part of the woods:
Willow was cold and frightened. She’d finally regained consciousness only to find she was leaning against a tree with her arms in the air and secured by old rope ( at least she hoped it was rope…yuk) to an above branch. Her mouth was gagged, but her mind cast about desperately for someone to come and help her.
A figure dropped from above but stayed in the shadows.
“You can try all the magic you want, witch,” it said. “It’ll do you very little good.” Then the speaker stepped into the moonlight and Willow almost wet her pants.
She was five years old and her harried mother had plopped her and Xander down in front of the TV, put in the tape of Disny's Make Mine Music and said “Here, watch this. And be good. Mommy has to work.” So they’d watched it and liked the section about Casey at the bat, and Xander made her laugh when he tried to talk like the crazy guy who was telling the story. She’d squealed with delight. And then the next section started and they were introducing all the characters, and she liked the cat Ivan and the boy Peter and she was realizing that the man telling this story had the same voice as Winnie the Pooh, when suddenly he was saying “And there was also…a wolf.” And Willow’s peals of childish laughter had turned to screams of fright.
He frothed at the mouth, this wolf, his lips smacking together in a way that she knew meant he’d be happy to eat her or any other little children who crossed his path. His eyes were wild, yellow-red things that seemed to fix on her with pure hatred and malevolence. His coat was the darkest black she had ever seen and he seemed to have more teeth than there were trees in the forest.
The creature she was looking at now...was worse. It stood upright, like a man, but there was more ferocity in its presence than she had ever encountered. His lower legs were like tree trunks and his front claws were longer and sharper than anything in any nightmare she’d ever had. She was embarrassed and ashamed to find herself trembling.
“You’re right to be afraid, young one.” It said. She recognized the voice--it was Mike Gray Dog. He was a...
That was when it hit her—he could speak! In wolf form, this…werewolf? No, she knew a little something about werewolves—dated one for almost two years straight, thank you—and they weren’t like this. Oz had never been like this. When he was all wolf-y he was an animal without any of the cool intelligence that had attracted her to him in the first place. Even that bitch Veruca who’d—okay, concentrate. Focus on the big scary in front of you. He was bigger and darker than Oz had ever been as a wolf. And he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how terrified she was. And he liked it.
Willow was at once desperately missing Tara and glad that she wasn’t there to see this thing. And what he was going to do to her.
Tara and Oz:
Their heads both turned within a fraction of the other.
“She’s near.”
“I know.”
They crept forward as silently as they could, Tara concentrating overtime to keep their illumination controlled. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks.
“Wait,” she whispered.
“What?”
“What are we gonna do when we get there?”
“You rescue Willow and I’ll fight…whatever this thing is.”
“Oz, if he’s as bad as you say he is…he’ll kill you.” Oz looked at her and didn’t say anything. “That’s unacceptable,” Tara said.
“If it comes to that, it won’t be...Besides, if you don’t rescue her I’ll tear your throat out.”
“I guess I have no choice.”
“No.”
“O-o-Oz?”
“No, I won’t be careful. Careful in a werewolf fight gets you dead.”
“I was just going to say…t-thank you. I know this is hard for you.”
“Where the redhead goes, so goes my nation.”
Tara would have smiled at that but the oppressive tension of the situation was getting too much for her.
“Just remember that I’m not doing it for you,” Oz said.
“I know.”
“I still don’t like the fact that—“
“I know that too. We should be getting on.”
Tara was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and hoped that by refocusing Oz’s attention on what they were trying to do she could get him to drop the subject. He seemed to accept that and they pressed forward for a while when he suddenly asked,
“How did you meet Willow?”
Startled, and giving him long sideways glances the whole time, Tara told him about the college’s Wicca group and how she and Willow had both been disappointed to find so little Wicca in it. Then she told him about the Gentlemen and the way they had been thrown together to escape from them. She left out certain details, of course. She didn’t think Oz really needed to hear about the spark that had traveled between them the moment they clasped hands, and the way their magic was stronger together. Especially in his current state of mind. He didn’t look good at all. Dark shadows seemed to have appeared as if from nowhere under his eyes, which were darting around nervously, skittish, almost like a spider. Tara reminded herself again that Willow trusted Oz almost as much as she trusted her. But at the same time, she reached into the bag and reassuringly stroked the handle of the tranq pistol with her thumb.
“I’ve been trying to think of a spell,” she said. “Something that could help you fight—“
“Nothing will help me as much as knowing that you’ve gotten Willow to a safe place.”
“That is my first priority too,” Tara said, and was surprised at how arch it sounded. “But there ought to be a way—“
“Let’s just…deal with that when we come to it,” Oz interrupted, and Tara heard the weariness in his voice.
“Willow will really appreciate this, you know.”
“Yeah. I’m sure she’ll show me all kinds of gratitude.”
Tara didn’t know what to do with the bitterness she heard in his voice. It broke her heart because she, of all people, knew what it was like to love Willow Rosenberg. She thought for a moment about how horrible it would have been if she had come to herself again after being so lost in her own brain only to find that Willow now loved someone else. Would my voice have sounded like that? That was why she could never hate Oz. Even though he was Willow’s ex, even though he’d hurt her badly…even though he’d tried to kill Tara herself. They had a kinship that went beyond any of that—they each had pieces of Willow’s heart. Tara liked to think she had the biggest piece, but she knew Oz would always have a little bit that she couldn’t touch, and she was okay with that. Mostly. And Xander had some too, but she didn’t even want to get into—
They had stepped out of the darkest part of the forest into an open field that was lit by electric moonlight. The wind blew cold against Tara’s body and she shuddered. The field was huge and vast, but on the other side of it Tara could just make out a figure outlined against a tree. It was mostly in shadow, but she could see a shock of red hair at the top that was as familiar to her as home. It was home. Almost before her mind had completed the thought, Tara’s legs began pumping, rushing to Willow’s side as quickly as she could.
Willow!
She couldn’t see her eyes. She wanted to see her eyes. She was going to get there and everything was going to be okay and she’d never—
TARA! STOP!
The words almost screamed in Tara’s mind and she obeyed them instinctively, stopping right in the middle of the field. Now she could see Willow’s face and was horrified to see that she was gagged, but elated that she was clearly still alive.
What’s going on, baby?
We’re not alone.
Tara looked around with a start…and suddenly realized that Oz was nowhere in sight. She turned around in a circle, looking in all directions for him, but all she could see was Willow.
Where…
And then she saw them.
Willow:
Willow Rosenberg was terrified almost out of her wits, but her heart had leapt to see Tara. Now if only she could warn her. The creature was out there, watching them, she knew it, and she had to find a way of helping Tara stop him. She saw her girlfriend turning around in the field, knowing she was looking for something but not sure what, and suddenly stopping.
Willow’s wide eyes followed Tara’s gaze to the edge of the field, at the entrance to the forest.
There, shining out in the darkness of the night, were two sets of red eyes. Oh my Goddess. Tara and I aren’t the only ones who aren’t alone. She could see Tara’s lips moving but couldn’t hear what she was saying, and strained to make it out. Note to self—find a spell that gives you super hearing. As Tara spoke, she could see her reaching into her shoulder bag slowly. Then suddenly, the creature who had taken Willow and taunted her, made her feel more lost and alone than she had ever felt was rushing at Tara. Fully revealed in the moonlight and contrasted against her pale frame he was huger, and darker, than Willow had even realized.
TARA! RUN! Her mind cried out in pain and terror. Tara was pulling something out of her bag and it was some kind of gun, she fired it at the big, bad wolf and he wasn’t stopping and she fired again and he still didn’t stop and ohmygoddesstararunbabypleaseiforgiveyouifyoucan’tsavemejustgetout she fired again, and again, and then the wolf was leaping into the air, claws bared, mouth opening and closing in lip-smacking anticipation…
Willow’s eyes filled with tears, and she passed out.
Tara:
Tara wanted to shiver at the cold red eyes she saw shining out at her from the darkness. They seemed to stab into her like ice picks. She could see that they were wolves.
“Oz…?”
The bigger of the two shadows stepped forward and she knew it wasn’t Oz. This creature seemed to regard her with a combination of distaste and amusement. And then, to her surprise, it spoke.
“Thank you, brother,” it said. “One strong witch on a witches moon is reason enough for celebration. Two strong witches…well, that’s the sort of thing you write home about.”
The other, smaller wolf shuffled into view and seemed unable to meet Tara’s eye. Oz.
“You set me up,” she said to the creature with a coolness she did not altogether feel. “You used Oz to lure me into a trap so you could get me and Willow together.”
If such a thing were possible, the wolf smiled. “You and the other little witch are stronger together than you would ever be apart. Individually, you wouldn’t make a mouthful. Together…you’re a meal.”
“Did Oz know?”
“That disgusting human part of him had no idea. He still thinks he was doing if for love,” the wolf rasped contemptuously. “But the wolf part of him…that was mine all along. Just as you will now—be mine!” he roared.
He was racing towards her and Tara fumbled in her bag for the pistol and pulled it free. She fired once, twice, again, and again and he wasn’t even slowing down and Tara wanted to shut her eyes or at least look away so she could see Willow one last time but she couldn’t look away and then—
Baby, she thought. We’ll be together, always.
The shadow of the wolf was falling on her.
Something flashed by the corner of her eye and hit the wolf with an impact so hard and loud that Tara felt it even though it didn’t touch her. Then they were on the ground and Tara saw that it was another animal, tearing at the big beast with it’s fangs and claws, scrabbling desperately at it’s fur, trying to make up for it’s smaller size by being quick and vicious.
No. Not another animal.
Oz.
He was fighting this huge thing with everything he had. Tara lost sight of where he was or what he was doing in the terrible ferocity of the battle in front of her. Fur was flying and blood was flowing freely.
She stumbled away as quickly as she could towards Willow, pulling the gag from her mouth and letting down her arms as she collapsed into her embrace. Willow was unconscious but still breathing—Goddess be praised—and Tara gave her a light peck on the cheek as she held her in her arms. She gently placed her on the forest floor, trying to ignore the snarls and yelps she heard just a few yards away from her. Finally turning back to the sparring werewolves, she saw that it was not going well for Oz.
The thing, the Alpha-Wolf, was swatting and roaring at him with a savagery that would wake Tara up in the middle of the night for years afterwards. Oz was avoiding as many of the blows as he could but each time one connected... She had to help him. Suddenly, her mind saw with clarity the spell she needed to cast this demon out of their lives. Her eyes focused and her brow furrowed as she spoke the word…
“Takoray…”
It echoed on the wind for a moment and Tara felt the power surging through her. The big wolf turned towards her as if he knew what she was doing. She knew the waves of her spell would reach him soon and then everything would be—
A sharp pain drove into her head like the worst migraine she had ever had. She felt warm liquid on her upper lip and raised a finger to see that her nose was bleeding. Worst of all, the monster seemed to have shrugged off the effects of her magic like a soft sea spray.
I do not have the power, she thought. I need Willow.
Turning to her girlfriend’s motionless form, she began trying to shake her awake.
“Willow! Willow! Wake up! I need you! We have to help Oz! Wake up!”
Nothing. Hating herself, she began slapping Willow’s face, lightly at first, then as hard as she dared.
“Willow! Willow, baby, please! We have to do this! Then you can rest, I promise! We’ll all—“
Willow’s eyelids were flickering. Then her lovely eyelashes fluttered open and her eyeballs fixed on her.
“Tara? What’s—“
“No time! Look!”
She pointed over to the field where the huge shape was battering the smaller one with cruelty and deliberation. He doesn’t just want Oz dead, Tara thought. He wants him to pay for choosing humans over wolves.
Willow looked at the scene and looked at Tara. They joined hands and spoke together.
“TAKORAY………….”
Their voices mingled and became one. It seemed to rise to the moon itself. Even as Willow collapsed against her, Tara saw the horizon fall away behind Oz and the big wolf. The dark creature turned to her, a look of absolute hatred in his eyes. He was getting ready to leap on her when suddenly the wind itself scooped him up and carried him away ass over teakettle like a child in an undertow.
“This isn’t over…witch!” he screamed before the wind carried him out of sight. “There is always another Witches M…”
And then he was gone.
Tara exhaled with mighty exertion. They had done it. Willow was safe. She was safe. Oz was…
Oz was standing over them, still in wolf form, and his eyes were blood red.
Tara thought for a moment about the gun, realized she had left it in the field when she ran to help Willow, and anyway, she remembered, she’d used up the whole clip on the beast. Not that it had done any good. She watched Oz, ready to do whatever she had to to stop him. If she had to.
He padded over to the opposite side of Willow’s motionless form than the one Tara was leaning against, and began nudging her with his snout. It didn’t seem to be hurting her so Tara let him continue, alternately watching him and Willow’s face.
Willow's eyes fluttered open again and met Tara’s.
“I knew you’d come.”
Tara closed her own eyes and thanked the Goddesses one last time for not taking Willow from her. And as Oz lay down next to them, Willow’s half-conscious body snuggled up to it for warmth. Tara wrapped her arms around her, kissing her, talking softy, and occasionally,when she was feeling really brave, reaching out to stroke Oz's fur until they all fell asleep. Oz's labored, animal breathing was surprisingly soothing.
Tara awoke in the sunshine to find Willow still asleep but smiling and Oz gone. She looked around for him until she saw a shivering, pale figure a few feet away in the field, trying to use the tall grass the cover the fact that he was quite nude. Oh, of course. He was bruised and bloody but he was alive.
“Oz…?” she called out. “Here, take my coat.” She sat up, peeled it off and tossed it to him. He put it on without a word, slipping into it from a crouched position. Then he stood and she could see that although it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing you wore to dinner, it would do to cover his boy-parts until he could get a full set of clothes again. He looked over at Willow for a long time, glanced at Tara, and began to walk away.
What Tara did then surprised her.
“Wait,” she said, “Don’t go.”
Oz hesitated but did not turn around.
“She’ll want to see you. When she wakes up. And I…I want you to stay, too. Just for a little while. Just so you can see that she’s really all right. And I want to tell her how you…y-you s-saved my life.”
Oz turned back to her, a little surprise in his eyes. Did he not remember?
“Back at’cha.” He murmured.
They smiled at each other.
Willow was waking up. She saw Tara and their mouths met in a deep and passionate kiss. Her arms were starting to encircle her and she was planning to pull her to the ground when Tara said, a little awkwardly, “Um, baby? We’re not alone.”
Willow’s eyes darted around to see if they were under attack again when suddenly they lit on the boy in the blue coat.
“Oz!”
Her face lit up and she pushed herself to her feet, walked over and embraced him. Tara could see his face over Willow’s shoulder and the way his eyes closed as he held her made her heart go out to him. Goddess knew she could never be sorry Willow and she had met, but she knew what Oz had lost. She hoped he would find it again.
All of a sudden Willow broke away, surprised.
“Hey—you’re naked!”
“It’s a wolf thing.” Oz said.
“You have to understand.” said Tara, as she dusted herself off and gathered up the gun and her bag.
“Understand? I don’t understand anything except that—hey! And he’s wearing your coat!”
“Would you rather I took it off?”
“Spare us,” said Tara, taking Willow’s hand.
“Well, I don’t want to be accused of being a coat thief.”
They began to walk out of the woods. Slowly, in no hurry, enjoying what was looking like a beautiful Sunnydale day.
THE END
Ben
"Any frontal attack on ignorance is bound to fail because the masses are always
ready to defend their most precious possession."
Awww! I really liked that. Tara/Oz situations are tricky and very rare, but I thought you did an excellent job. Great stuff! 
i cant take my eyes of your story while i read it and wow you write really well....and i like it that Oz and Tara come along that well, but they will never be friends but that was okay
