Azirahael Haha, well we can all rest assured that the wolfiness has nothing to do with it and that Willow has nothing but a yen for curvy, blonde haired, blue eyed witches of the soft-spoken type. Though, puts a whole new spin on “I’m more of a dog person, myself.” Doesn’t it? Also, what is up with your userpic? I feel guilty not knowing who that is for sure and it trips me out whenever I see it. I THINK it’s Amber, but from the corner of my eye it looks like Aly, and when I tilt my screen back it looks like one of my ex’s O_o
BuffyFan4ever That’s the great thing about the KB! Support and interaction with readers not only helps someone’s writing grow, but also how they plan things, etc. Not much has changed, other than more of a time window for stuff. It gave me an excuse for the cute scenes.
JustSkipIt Ha! ‘Werewolfdom’! I like it! Much better word than ‘lycanthropy’, which while fancy sounding, is a real life mental illness, so I’ve always been trying to avoid using that word because I’m weird like that. Thanks for the word and the F/B!
beautiful_love Yes! While Scoobies do well under pressure, giving them time will alleviate most of their fears. Or procrastinate. You can never tell with young people these days.
Vamp_Willz ooh! Love ya too for reading this! *muah!* Thanks for the f/b!
Finey_McFine I am the master of last minute fixes! Tara’s wolfy-self, as well as the title, are based off of a group I was part of years ago called The Pack, where we discussed old mythology from various cultures, real canine behavior, and some of the best horror films of the century to ‘build’ the perfect werewolf. I can’t say she’ll be Twilight-esque, but hopefully you’ll enjoy it when it comes. Also, Willow might be a tad miffed if Tara turns into Taylor Lautner 3 nights a month.
True_Love Fan/reader speculation is the stuff I look forward to the most, and you don’t disappoint! Can’t quite answer all your questions right now, but thanks for the f/b and I hope you continue reading on.
Ariel Thanks for the f/b! The horror I lend to having to deal with similarly creepy shit on a regular basis, the humor because I try to giggle the ghosties away, and I’m sure that’s definitely a Scooby thing, though the heart bit is merely a young girls yearning *sighs dramatically* Gotta say though, I’ve gotten better writing things with a bit more impact thanks to you. And yes. You’ll be thanked in every chapter of everything I write for this fandom forever.
Katharyn Dialogue has always been something I’d struggled with, and continue to even now. Most times, I write the Scoobs the way I’d talk, because hey, we’re all Cali teens, so at least anything that comes out will be legit vernacular and not a total, mondo spew of word vomit.
Quote:
Not sure I like the idea of Tara in a cage - for whatever reason
Somewhere in an alternate universe, go-go dancer Tara is having the time of her life. And might I say, I feel positively giddy with girlish glee because the author of the first Buffy fic I’d ever read has read part of my fic?
Title: Pack
Rating: PG-15, perhaps R later on
Author: faolan228, aka Starr
Disclaimer: Starr owns nothing! Nothing!
Summary: Sometimes, accidents happen. Sometimes, it’s someone else’s fault entirely. Sometimes, we have to go on living with those consequences. Tara, Willow, life, and love in the Sunnydale way of things.
Spoilers: None
Feedback: Yes please
Special thanks: Ariel yet again, for patiently talking me through a block, and also for Wendy, and also Tara’s delicious coffee.
Chapter 4: As Nature IntendedThe Espresso Pump was uncharacteristically slow today, with only two other tables filled and one guy, Ernie, manning the till. “Ernie’s a sweetheart,” Willow had said. “He always makes sure to greet the regulars by name!”
While she waited at the table, Tara brought her hand down to itch at her bandage. It was annoying, really. It wasn’t even the type of itch that could be relieved with a good scratching! Oh no, it was the kind of itch that came with slow healing and, knowing from experience, inevitable scarring.
The advanced healing factor of a werewolf, she had been disappointed to hear, did not apply to the initial wound. It was some odd magic that Willow could not explain either, though the redheaded witch theorized that it probably functioned as an identification marker for werewolves at some time or another.
Oz had been bitten on the hand by a little cousin, and so his scar was small and fairly unnoticeable. Sadly, he had not treated Tara in kind. The wound on her arm didn’t so much resemble a bite as much as it did a scratch. Oz had not chomped on her. He had caught her under the elbow with a fang, and cut her open from elbow to back of wrist as she pulled away.
Willow had fussed over it as she changed the bandages before bed.
Perhaps if the situation had been different, if her day hadn’t been so emotionally and physically draining, and perhaps if Tara was sure what kind of touches could or couldn’t infect Willow with lycanthropy, their night would have been full of incessant lovemaking. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.
Instead, Willow had spooned up against her in that way that was so uniquely Willow. Her legs wrapped around Tara’s own, chin resting between breast and shoulder, head angled for optimum snuggles while at the same time glaring balefully out the window and whatever nasties crept beyond it.
‘
Mine.’Tara never felt safer.
Woken by the rising sun peeking through the window, Tara had crept from under Willow’s embrace and slid to the floor, ready to start her morning meditation. As a natural witch, Tara had a deep connection with earth and nature. Whereas Willow(and most Sunnydale witches, now that she thought about it) cast spells of the flashy nature and summoning things from the ether, Tara was of a softer sort. Prayers and enchantment for safety, charms for protection, things like that. Even the ‘smokescreen’ spell she had used against Jonathan’s monster was an act of merely condensing the air around her into a fog.
It was only a manner of channeling that earth energy and bending in the direction you wanted it to. Before meeting Willow, her morning meditation and energy channeling was her favorite part of the day. She’d delighted in the feel of being reenergized, as well as the sensations that washed through her. The tickling of a blade of grass, the coolness of morning dew, the trickling of a stream, shade under a tree, a cool breeze, the moon illuminating the dangers of the night, and the warm sun as it glinted off of the red-gold hair of her lover all told Tara of the gifts Mother Earth provided her with, gifts she utilized more and more now.
Crossing her legs, her eyes fluttered shut and she let her own energy meet that of the earth’s.
Tall, brambly grass, itchy and abrasive but providing good cover. Shaking but wide awake and energized by last night’s rain. The roar of a nearby river, the difference between life-giver and death-bringer just a slip of paw. The hollowed out underside of a large, dead tree. The howling wind as it whipped around her. The sun, its oppressive heat bearing down. The moon, it’s silvery light casting aglow The Mate’s pale face…Tara’s eyes snapped open with a gasp, and she stumbled backwards and tried to stand at the same time, crashing into her dresser and waking Willow, who shot up with a flailing of limbs and a snort.
“Whu-whazza..Tara?” Alert now, she rose to steady her girlfriend. “Baby, are you okay?”
“Y-yeah,” she drew in a shuddering breath. Rather than a cool, tingling, energizing feeling, she felt as if she had chugged a bottle of ice water on an empty stomach. Not at all unpleasant, yet at the same time not pleasant at all. “Yeah. Just…just meditating.” She tensed her body in an attempt to still her shaking, and more or less succeeded. She pulled Willow into a kiss, both as a comfort and as a way to distract her.
“Mmmmkay,” the redhead smiled, returning the kiss eagerly. “How’re you feeling?”
“W-well,”
“Argh!” The redhead slapped her own forehead. “That was a stupid question, sorry! You got nommed on by a
werewolf and I’m asking how’re you’re doing? Geeze, Willow! Insensitive mu-”
Tara silenced her with an index finger pressed to her lips. “Shh.” She pulled her hand back. “N-not to bad, all things considered.” She smiled shyly. “I slept really well, though.”
Willow’s lips quirked up. “I slept really well too. Just consider me your Willow-pillow!” She paused. “Well, since I was on top of you,
you’d be the pillow,” her eyes flickered down to Tara’s breasts and back up again. “I’m your Willow blankie!”
Tara laughed, a good feeling after the past 24 hours. “Well how about this, my Willow b-blankie: we freshen up, and then head for the Espresso Pump?”
“For caffeine-y goodness and baked goods?” Tara nodded, and Willow’s eyes lit up. “Breakfast date! Whoo-hoo!”
A deep pounding and a muffled voice came from the other side of the wall. “Congrats on finally getting a booty-call, Tara, now tell her to shut up! Its Saturday morning and some of us are trying to sleep!”
More pounding and muffled agreements filled the air as various occupants of Wiesman Hall’s third floor offered their congratulations or opinions.
Tara look mortified, but Willow tilted her head. “They seem more friendly than folks back over at Stevenson.”
Tara rolled her eyes good naturedly. “S-shut up, Wendy!”
Willow’s jaw dropped, and giggling, she and Tara threw clothes on and rushed out.
And that led her to now, here at the relatively empty Espresso Pump waiting for Willow to come back with their order. Tara focused on her fresh bandage, fiddling with the edges.
A shadow fell over the table as a figure invaded Tara’s personal space, the young witch tensing as she felt the sudden surge of power behind her.
“Hey baby,” a returning Willow said cheerily. “I got my usual mocha for me, and a half-hot-chocolate-half-Brazilian-with-a-shot-of-hazelnut for you and oh! Hey Buffy!”
“Okay,” the wide eyed Slayer said. “Who cut up my best friend’s honey and do you need me to go all Slayer on them?”