WILLOW AND TARA SAVE VALENTINE’S DAY
Author: Chris Cook
Email: alia@netspace.net.auRating: PG
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy.
As dawn broke over the town of Sunnydale, in one particular house among many in the suburbs, the sunlight, filtered pink by its passage through the bedroom’s curtains, bathed a bed containing what was by all appearances a happy couple: a petite blonde, slumbering with the hint of a mischievous smile, and a dark-haired man with an arm around her as she nestled against his side, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder. Outside the house, the newspaper recently deposited on the garden path gave the date as February 14th; in the bedroom, a profusion of pink and glittery cards on the man’s bedside table, addressed to variations of ‘my Angel’, indicated that his partner was very enamoured of the occasion, while the more reserved single card on hers suggested that
he felt less affection for what he, perhaps, saw as an arbitrary event - but the handmade bracelet inscribed ‘Buffy’ accompanying it (not to mention the quite thoroughly dishevelled state of the bed and both its occupants) indicated that his affection for
her was undiminished.
There was also, among other odds and ends decorating the room, a lovely old antique lamp, decorated in intricate patterns of jade and gold and polished to a lustrous finish; it seemed a touch out of keeping with the more modern decor in general, and especially the ethernet cable stuck in its top, but the reason will shortly become clear.
Drawn slowly, and somewhat begrudgingly, to wakefulness by the dawn light falling over the end of the bed, the blonde muttered indistinctly, stretched, blinked sleepily, then grinned widely and pushed herself the last few inches towards her companion’s face to bestow a quite shameless kiss on his sleeping lips, during the course of which - the kiss not being brief - he woke up, realised what was going on, and joined in with élan, and it was with considerable reluctance that they eventually parted when their phones bleeped.
“Thought I turned that to silent,” Buffy grumbled, rolling onto her back and reaching for it. “Whoever’s bothering me at this hour had better... what the heck?”
“My phone says I owe it money,” Angel muttered, frowning impressively.
“Mine too! What’s ‘Valentine Pay’? $5.99 for, what’s that supposed to mean, ‘vigorous kiss upon waking?’”
“I didn’t install this thing.”
“Me neither, hang on, lemme... argh!” Buffy exclaimed. “Can’t delete it either!”
“It’s debited straight out of our account,” Angel said.
“Okay I’m calling the stupid bank and somebody is gonna get their ass handed to- wait, how did it know we were kissing?”
“...uh. Hm. Good point.”
The pair looked at each other in confusion, then Buffy checked the curtains to be sure they were closed, peered through the bedroom door to be sure nobody was lurking in the hall outside, and quickly pecked Angel on the cheek. Both their phones bleeped again.
“$1.15, brief kiss,” Buffy read in annoyance.
“I got billed 75 cents for ‘receiving kiss’,” Angel added.
“This is crazy!”
“Going to be expensive too, the day I had planned.”
“I- really?” Buffy interrupted herself, suddenly intrigued. “So... no wait, we have to sort this out, if anyone’s getting paid for me kissing you it should be me!”
“Not really wanting it to be a financial thing, but I agree in spirit.”
Buffy frowned in thought, then sighed and shrugged.
“Can’t think of any sensible explanation,” she admitted. “I guess that makes this genie time.”
Following a brief pause to get dressed, the couple approached the ornate lamp, which Buffy retrieved the cable from and tapped on the side. It rocked slightly on its own, then ejected a cloud of blue smoke, which swirled around the ceiling, swooped back down to the floor, and coalesced into the form of a young woman in an Arabian Night-style jewelled vest and gauzy pants.
“Hi Mistress!” she said brightly. “What’s up? Hi Angel.”
“Hi Willow.”
“Hey Wills, sorry to drag you off the net, but we’ve got an issue.”
“No biggie, happy to help. What needs doing?” Her legs turned back into a cloud, propelling her across the room to the bed. “Make the bedsheets?” she wondered, then picked up an extremely skimpy g-string that had wound up on the floor. “Laundry?” She swooshed back over to Buffy and Angel. “Put the bedsheets in the laundry? Things get all liquid-y last night?”
“Gimme that,” Buffy said, snatching her underwear back and blushing. “Kissing, Wills.”
“I thought you two knew how to do that?” Willow asked, looking confused.
“
No, I mean yes,” Buffy shook her head, “no, listen-”
“This is happening,” Angel said, taking hold of Buffy’s shoulders to turn her around and give her a brief but heartfelt kiss, while Willow observed curiously. Both took a moment to catch their breaths, then held out their phones, displaying matching notifications.
“Huh,” the genie said, drifting forward slightly, tilting her head to look at the phones from all angles, and leaning closer to sniff them, while Buffy and Angel waited patiently.
“Yep, that’s mystical alright,” she decided. “Lemme check the scrolls.” In an instant she dissolved entirely back into her cloud form, and swirled back into her lamp, leaving Buffy massaging her temples.
“‘Liquid-y’,” she muttered to herself.
“At least we know she doesn’t peek,” Angel pointed out. “Or she wouldn’t have to ask.”
“There is that,” Buffy admitted grudgingly.
“Found something!” Willow’s voice emerged from the lamp, followed quickly by Willow herself, now in a Sherlock Holmes costume.
“Alright,” she said, holding up an armful of ancient scrolls. “First few results were actually how-to guides, since I just told the bookshelf ‘kissing not working properly’ and let it search itself, they’re not relevant, although if you guys want to have a look later they’re available, I’ve made a note in the card file.” She tossed most of the scrolls over her shoulder, where they flew of their own accord back into her lamp, while Buffy and Angel waited patiently.
“This,” Willow went on, unfurling the remaining scroll, “seems more like it. Voila!”
Buffy quickly skimmed over the flowery prose covering the scroll, looking for salient points.
“Kissing fairy?”
“Yup,” Willow nodded. “She’s your gal to figure out the hows and whys. Presumably, I mean. It stands to reason. I’m just guessing, but good a place to start as any, right?”
“You’ve never met this ‘kissing fairy’?” Angel wondered.
“Oh, no,” Willow said with a shake of her head. “No that’d be like... see, if you imagine genies are, metaphorically, the auto mechanics of the mystical world, someone like the kissing fairy, she’s the director of NASA, or something along those lines. If you get what I mean? Not in the same social circles at all. But this most certainly falls within her area of expertise, so do you wanna go see her?”
“I... guess?” Buffy hazarded.
“Okay, grab the handles,” Willow smiled, as her lamp grew a pair of handles behind her. “This won’t take a moment, just got to find out where I put the steering wheel in there - hold on tight!” The couple both got a grip on a handle each, while Willow became a cloud again and vanished back into the lamp, which began to give off waves of ghostly energy amid a building chorus of chimes.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Angel said with a wry grin. Buffy glanced at him and chuckled.
“Not what I had in mind,” she replied, as the lamp lifted off the shelf, causing the pair of them to float along with it, and the room began to spin dizzyingly around them. “But hey, anyone can go see a movie. This’ll be fun, probably.”
Some distance away, in a place only found on maps where parallel lines intersect, the two humans and the genie’s lamp spun into being and lowered themselves gently to the ground.
“Here we are!” Willow exclaimed, appearing with a broad grin, as Buffy and Angel staggered and held onto each other until the dizziness passed. “The kissing fairy’s realm... wow.”
“Ugh, glad we didn’t have breakfast,” Buffy muttered, rubbing her eyes, then - taking a deep breath and standing up straight - giving a quiet gasp as she, too, took in the landscape around them.
“Wow it is,” Angel agreed.
They stood on a sandbar, a little way out from a beach with sand so white it seemed to shimmer as it arched around in a great crescent bay of crystal clear water. Beyond the sands a seemingly endless garden grew in an organic patchwork of verdant lawns, rainbow flowers, wide-branched oaks casting gentle shadows across streams and miniature lakes, and here and there jewelled bridges and paths, and little pagoda-like shrines and gazebos nestling among the greenery, picked out by paper lanterns. The landscape was lit with the soft glow of afternoon-becoming-evening, with the rosy tinge of sunset, but there was no sun nor clouds in the sky above, only an endless sea of stars, so dense it seemed that there was no space between them, only a blanket of galaxies.
“So this is... this is mystical NASA?” Buffy wondered after a moment’s stunned silence.
“Uh... metaphorically,” Willow replied. “Not, rockets and stuff, but, this is where kisses are designed, so... obviously it’s going to be something pretty special, extremely special, and beautiful, right?”
“Kisses are
designed?” Angel asked.
“I mean I don’t know the exact details of
how, but yeah,” Willow nodded.
“So how do we find this kissing fairy?” Buffy asked.
“Maybe she finds us,” Angel said, pointing to the beach, where a rosy glow had emerged from the woods and was wafting across the bay towards them. As it drew closer they saw it was composed of rose petals, each one translucent and glittering like crystal, veering and swooping through their air like a flight of birds, circling the newcomers in a vaguely curious fashion, then moving back over the water, where they swirled closer together and resolved into a human form, a gentle-looking woman with shimmering blue eyes, pale lilac hair that shone with silver highlights, and iridescent wings, clad in a clinging dress that seemed made of the same rose petals. Giant lily pads rose from beneath the water to meet her feet as she walked slowly towards them, and behind her as well, slowly forming a path to the shore.
“Wow again,” Willow whispered.
“Uh-huh,” Angel agreed, then noticed Buffy - who had herself had a little bit of trouble dragging her gaze away from their apparent host - shoot him a sharp look.
“Um. By which I mean, someone who designs
your kisses, obviously she’s something special?” he ventured.
“Good answer,” she chuckled, giving him a gentle elbow to the side.
“Welcome,” the woman said, giving a warm, slightly nervous smile. Buffy and Angel smiled back, then looked at Willow, who seemed to be in a trance.
“Oh? Um, h-hi!” she said at last, noticing everyone looking at her. “Hi I’m, I’m Willow, um, these are Buffy and Angel, they’re with me, they’re my mortals. Uh in the sense, actually kind of the other way around, they’re mortals, I’m their genie. Buffy’s genie, in fact, Angel’s her boyfriend, so I’m kind of his genie by proxy, I guess...”
“Willow, genie,” the woman nodded. “Buffy, person with genie, Angel, boyfriend of Buffy... got it.”
“She babbles,” Buffy said.
“I do,” Willow admitted sheepishly.
“I-I didn’t mind,” the woman said. “I’m Tara.”
“Tara...” Willow repeated.
“Come,” Tara said, gesturing to the lily pad path to the beach. “What brings you here?”
“Uh, I did,” Willow grinned, ending up beside Tara, with Buffy and Angel close behind. “Obviously, them being mortals, the mystic moving-and-shaking is my department - moving, in this instance, no shaking required-”
“Plenty of spinning if you’re holding onto the outside though,” Buffy interjected wryly, holding up Willow’s lamp which she was carrying.
“Sorry,” Willow blushed. “It does that. But, right, the
reason we’re here - something screwy’s going on with Valentine’s Day.”
“Screwy?” Tara wondered.
“Yup,” Willow nodded. “I’m no expert, but it looks kind of like something mystic’s kind of latched on the kissing - the concept of kissing - and is making people pay for it. Pay in the monetary sense, not the dire-consequences ‘you will pay for this!’ sense, that is.”
“Pay?” Tara said, stopping in her shock.
“Afraid so,” Willow replied, wincing at the expression of hurt on Tara’s features. “But that’s, that’s why we’re here, to figure out what’s going on and put a stop to it. Because kisses should be free, right?”
“R-right,” Tara agreed, taking a steadying breath. “I-I didn’t know, nothing’s... The library is the same as it’s always been.”
“You’ve got a library here?” Angel asked.
“This is my library,” Tara explained, waving an arm to encompass their surroundings as they reached the end of the lily pads and walked onto the sandy shore.
“No kidding?” Buffy said. “Not the stuffy bookshelves you’d expect.”
“Here,” Tara said, crouching down and picking up a seashell. As she held it up, it glittered and transformed in her hand into an old book, bound in rich leather, with golden clasps at the corners of the covers, gold edging on the pages, and lavish hand-painted lettering on every leaf as she opened it and flipped through it.
“A quiet moment,” she said softly, reading. “Secluded, not alone, but unnoticed by others, for just a time. A private moment in a public place. A soap bubble of personal space, and both have the same idea, in the same instant. Leaning close, trying not to giggle, feeling like mischievous children, and... lost in each other’s lips, forgetting the world for seconds... and breathless after, blushing and grinning as they realise their quick, secret moment went on longer than they imagined.” She slowly closed the book, which became a shell again as she gently placed it back on the sand.
“...huh,” Buffy said at last, swallowing. “So, the... the whole beach...?”
“The whole
realm,” Willow breathed. “This is all kisses, isn’t it? All of it.”
“That’s right,” Tara smiled at her. “Every... grain of sand, blade of grass, leaf, stone.” She gazed around her world, glowing with contentment. “Water, sky... the scent of candles carried on the breeze.”
“Every time people kiss...?” Angel asked.
“I don’t create love,” Tara explained. “That comes from the heart, nowhere else. But every kiss, offered and received in the spirit of love, is crafted here. Gifts for lovers to give one another.”
“That must keep you busy,” Buffy said, wide-eyed.
“I like that it does,” Tara said with a smile. “I-I... feel very strongly, about my work.”
“It’s all so beautiful,” Willow whispered, gazing around as they reached the grass, with the gardens stretching out up the hillside before them.
“Thank you,” Tara beamed. “B-but, this affliction, in the mortal realm...?”
“Right, yes,” Willow nodded. “Anything we can do to help, with you all the way. Uh, Buffy, would you and Angel... y’know, demonstrate?”
“Any recommendations?” Buffy asked Tara impishly, getting a chuckle from her despite her worry.
“Allow me,” she offered, raising a hand. With her fingertip she drew a sign in the air, a symbol that seemed to grow on its own, becoming more and more complex even as she added only a few simple strokes, then closed her hands around what was suddenly a book. When she opened the covers again the book became a butterfly, which fluttered away from her palms, between Buffy and Angel, and as they followed its flight they ended up looking at one another, smiled together, and leaned close for a quick, mostly chaste kiss. Willow, quite accustomed to the couple’s displays of affection, glanced sidelong at Tara, and caught her breath at the expression of mingled pride and joy on her face. A face which once again fell, as Buffy and Angel produced their phones, displaying matching bills for their kiss.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Thank you for, for showing me...” She swallowed, and took a quick breath. “I never meant for my work t-to put anyone in debt-”
“No, hey, not your fault,” Buffy insisted.
“If it helps sort it out, honestly we don’t mind,” Angel added. Tara took another breath and nodded.
“Thank you,” she said, with a trembling smile. “I’m sorry, I... um, overreacted, b-but seeing my kisses... that’s not how it should be.”
“We won’t let this go on,” Willow promised. “We’ll fix this, okay?” Tara gazed at her for a long moment, then her smile firmed, and she nodded.
“Okay,” she agreed. “A-alright. We should... see which realms this is affecting. I’ll just... this will only take a moment.”
Willow, Buffy and Angel watched as she turned and held out a hand, touching what a moment before had been empty space but was now a full-length mirror in a beautifully carved frame laid with gold. Tara’s fingertips touched those of her reflection in the glass, then the two hands reached forward, closing around one another, and Tara held her reflection’s hand as the other Tara stepped through the mirror frame and onto the grass.
“Oh-kay,” Buffy said in wonder. “How, how many of you are there?”
“Just one,” both Taras said in unison, before the original continued: “This is how I can understand my art.” Before the trio’s amazed eyes she turned back to her reflection, cupped her face, and kissed herself, slowly and deeply.
“I bet that keeps the long Saturday afternoons from getting dull,” Buffy murmured. Angel chuckled in agreement, then glanced at Willow, who was motionless, staring as the reflection Tara stepped back into the mirror and became, once again, simply a reflection. Buffy followed his glance, and sniggered.
“Earth to Wills?” she said, waving a hand in front of the genie’s face. “Or I guess technically, wherever we are to Wills, does this still count as ‘Earth’?”
“Wha? I-I mean, yes, sorry, yes? What did you say?”
“Nothing,” Buffy grinned. Meanwhile Tara had produced a phone from some hidden pocket in her dress, and was frowning at it.
“Nothing,” she said thoughtfully. “So it’s a mortal issue then.”
“The kissing fairy has a phone?” Angel asked.
“A kiss emoji is still a kiss,” she said, with slight embarrassment.
“So what do you think?” Willow asked her.
“We may need some help,” Tara said thoughtfully, as her phone evaporated into a cloud of love-heart-shaped soap bubbles, which in turn became three envelopes closed with wax seals, which fluttered away on the breeze. Tara glanced at Willow, and gave a tentative smile.
“Would you like to come?” she asked.
“Come?”
“On a trip,” Tara explained, ducking her head to conceal her blush. “Um, i-if you want. We all can - your Buffy and Angel, too.”
“Another lamp trip?” Buffy asked with a sigh.
“You’re uh, you can, if you’d like,” Willow said to Tara in a rush, “if it’d be convenient, and you being mystical so it’d work, you can be on the inside if you’d like, of me, my lamp, that is, my vessel, you inside my- hey so, that trip huh, how’s it going to work?”
“I’ve got an idea,” Tara offered, gulping, as behind them Angel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from sniggering. The fairy turned back towards the beach, and pointed to a wooden pier extending from the beach towards a sailing boat, its polished wood hull and golden decorations gleaming in the sunset light as the wind ruffled its patterned sails.
“Where’d that come from?” Buffy wondered as they walked back towards the beach.
“It was always here,” Tara said. “I don’t really travel a lot, when I’m not using it it’s imaginary.”
“Well that beats having to find a place to park. Where are we headed?”
“Rome.”
“H-hi,” Tara announced herself, reclining on the prow of her boat, beside where Willow had taken up residence. Buffy and Angel were leaning on the rail near the stern, taking in the view of the mystical ocean, talking quietly to one another, and occasionally adding to their bill.
“Hi! On course, and stuff?” the genie asked.
“I’m pretty sure.” Tara gave a slanting grin. “So, my boat has a figurehead now...?” Willow, who had transformed her lower half into a wooden extension of the prow and was stuck to the underside of the bowsprit, giggled, puffed into a cloud, and reformed in her usual shape next to Tara.
“Just fitting in,” she said. “Kind of a genie thing. Buffy’s actually really low-maintenance, as mortals go, but you know, good to keep in practice.” She chuckled, and leant closer. “Confession, actually I was just kind of amusing myself. But let’s call it a professional skill.”
“I c-can’t imagine anywhere you wouldn’t be, um, welcome,” Tara said softly.
“Aw. Uh, thanks,” Willow smiled.
“So i-is this her wish?” Tara asked. “Fix the kissing problem?”
“Oh, no,” Willow shook her head. “No actually... kind of embarrassing... there’s no wish in play, at present. I’m between wishes.”
“But Buffy’s your mortal?”
“Yeah technically. She’s
got a wish, in the sense that she’s entitled to ask one, but she hasn’t yet, and... Okay so what happened,” Willow explained, rolling over and settling beside Tara on the cushions that hadn’t been there a moment ago, but now seemed like they had been all along, “she found me - my lamp, that is - washed up on a beach, which is really pretty standard, it’s either that or stuck in a dusty old tomb and I’d rather not. I mean I don’t have the complexion for tanning,” she grinned, as her attire briefly rearrange itself into a bikini, before reverting to its default Arabian-esque look, “but hey, can’t actually get burned anyway, so I’d rather be in the sun that shut away somewhere. Sorry, I got off track.”
“I don’t mind,” Tara ventured. “I, I like your voice.”
“Heh, thanks,” Willow blushed. “So um. Right, beach, and... so she finds me, standard procedure for the modern age - rub the lamp because it happens in movies, get all surprised when it actually works anyway - and we, you know, we got to talking. Mainly me talking, what with, as aforementioned, I babble. Initially it’s me explaining about the rules, how the wish works - and there’s only one, not three, whatever literary sources might think - but we ended up just... talking, you know? And making a wish got put on the backburner for a while, and the while became a longer while, and well, I guess you could say she adopted me. I help out around the house but there’s no wish completion involved.” She looked out to sea, then back at Tara, nervously. “Full disclosure, I kind of like it - not being in the whole wishing business for a while.”
“Oh? H-how come?”
“Honestly? It makes for good fairy tales, but... I mean there’s a lot of catches built into the wishes - by design - so a lot of the time it’s not so much helping out as being a disappointment. People don’t always think before they wish, and there’s not a lot of leeway, I have to go to work anyway. Obviously there’s the ‘wish for a million wishes’ thing, which it seems like nobody ever realises they’re
not the first person to think of that so it’s been taken care of, and... I suppose, okay, it’s a grabby move, but a lot of the time I don’t feel like I can really blame them, you’re wandering along minding your own business and nothing special’s happening, then suddenly - boom - the offer of mystical rewards out of nowhere, I get how people can jump at the opportunity, you know? But it’s disappointing to get summoned and then just have to be, nope, wrong wish, you get nothing, bye.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “And then there’s the
actual greedy ones.”
“Wh-what happens then?” Tara asked hesitantly.
“The wish... you get what you offer, in a way. I try to explain that to people but sometimes it’s just, I was this this and this, influence and power and...” The genie sighed. “Same kind of deal, the wish knows when someone’s trying to take advantage of it, and it doesn’t work. Only when it’s malevolence, not carelessness, I don’t get to just sorry-bye, I have to... you know, give them what they
think they want, but it turns around and bites them. I get it,” she added, lifting her chin. “There’s a reason for, for how it works, it’s not just random. And honestly, looking back over the millennia, I, I guess what I do - the way the system works - it’s for the best, I wouldn’t change it, not just because...”
“It’s a difficult duty?” Tara prompted.
“Yeah,” Willow nodded. “But what with all that, living on Buffy’s shelf, getting to relax and muck around on the internet because
technically she’s still ‘thinking about what her wish will be’, it’s kind of like a holiday, you know? I like it. Even if sometimes... eh, hrm.”
“Sometimes what?”
“I wonder if I’m, like... avoiding what I
should be doing. My duty as a genie. Like, all the people who’ve tried to take advantage of the power and ended up coming off worse for it,
they deserved it, but I get to find a loophole and take a holiday if I want?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being on the receiving end o-of generosity,” Tara offered.
“Yeah,” Willow shrugged, then looked at Tara, and smiled. “Thanks. I guess I know, it’s not a bad thing to take some me-time - everyone needs to - but... it’s nice to be told it. Thank you.”
“Any time.”
“Funny thing,” Buffy observed, gazing at the metropolis of towering columns, wide paved roads packed with pre-industrial traffic, and gigantic statues as far as the eye could see, as Tara’s boat sailed up the Tiber. “Rome looks kind of, exactly like I imagined it. You know how you get a mental image of a place, and it’s different when you actually see it for yourself? It’s weird that that’s
not happening.”
“It
is exactly as you imagine it,” Tara said, keeping one hand on the wheel to avoid the various triremes packed with legionaries drifting about the river. “This is the Rome that exists in the world’s imagination.”
“The
entire world?” Angel asked.
“Uh-huh. D-don’t worry, I’ve done this kind of sailing before, visiting friends. You just need to keep a steady hand on the wheel to keep from drifting into daydreams.” She delicately licked her finger, held it up in the air, and turned the wheel to steer the boat towards a nearby jetty. “Third Century AD, or near enough.”
“Looks like your postal service was on point,” Willow said, pointing to a man in clerical robes waiting by the shore, who gathered up an armful of scrolls and made his way out onto the jetty as he spotted them.
“Lots o-of people kiss love letters before they send them,” Tara said with a shy grin. “I spent some time with the postal fairy to get an idea of how it all worked to help.”
“There’s a postal fairy?” Buffy asked.
“S-she’s rebranding herself as the delivery drone fairy,” Tara explained. “Fred’s very enthusiastic about new technologies. Hello!”
“Ave!” the waiting man called, as the boat slowed alongside the jetty, and Angel lent him a hand to get on board, along with the shopping basket he was carrying. “Breakfast as requested.”
“Thank you so much, and thank you for making the time to help us,” Tara smiled.
“Think nothing of it, any opportunity to get out and about. Being a skull in a holy reliquary is decidedly monotonous.”
“This is Buffy, and Angel - mortals - and this,” Tara continued, turning her smile on Willow, where it seemed to linger, “is Willow, she’s a genie. Everyone, these are Saint Valentine of Rome.”
“Hi,” Buffy said, accepting the forearm-clasp she was accustomed to from many sword and sandal films set in the period. “Um,
these are...?”
“There may have been more than one of me, dear lady,” Saint Valentine said, as he in turn clasped hands with Angel, Willow, and Tara. “Of course, the historical Saint Valentine - any and/or all of them, as the case may be - would be able to clear the matter up, but they’d be in no position to offer advice on a commemorative day whose attachment to love only occurred centuries later.”
“Fair point,” Angel admitted, as Tara returned to the wheel and started turning the boat around.
“So I was just curious,” Willow said, sitting cross-legged next to Tara as the group enjoyed their breakfast in the boat’s single cabin, “that kiss, the one you crafted earlier for them? Which was amazing, by the way, just about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you,” Tara said softly.
“But until today I never actually knew
how that was done, so, are they all like that? You draw them and then they’re books and the books turn into butterflies? I’m just curious. I’m not bothering you am I? I mean, making you talk about work, and all that.”
“You’re not bothering me,” Tara smiled. “There are actually a lot of ways of designing kisses - as many as you can imagine, I suppose. Some I write, in poetry, or storytelling, or sometimes just in the shape of calligraphy, not the words themselves. Some are sculptures or paintings, patterns in the clouds, the wash of waves breaking on the shore. Sometimes I sing them into being, or mix them like perfumes. Some, I... uh, there are l-lots of ways,” she cut herself off, remembering they weren’t alone.
“So you can do pretty much anything?” Buffy asked. Tara blushed and grinned.
“It’s just, it’s p-part of who I am,” she said shyly.
“Well on behalf of the world, it’s very much appreciated,” Angel said.
“Thanks. It’s very rewarding to... to be a part of love,” Tara said, glancing down at her hands in her lap. “I’m grateful that I can - in that way. Helping others.”
“That you can?” Willow asked, her attention caught by a slight tremble in Tara’s voice. Tara nodded, then gave her a reassuring smile, and held out her hand. Willow reached for it automatically, then blinked in surprise as Tara’s hand passed straight through hers.
“Contributing to people’s love for one another is a delicate b-balance,” the fairy explained. “What I create becomes part of their love, but
I can’t - I shouldn’t. Love is between lovers, when people connect with each other - that connection is between
them, a space that’s, that’s intimate, that’s shared and sacred.” She looked at the concern in Willow’s eyes, and offered a smile. “Being the way I am means I can offer the gifts I do, without intruding in that private space. It’s for the best.”
“But, but you can’t... I mean...” Willow hesitated, covertly glancing around at the less-than-private setting.
“My art is very fulfilling,” Tara said. “Creating what I do, it... m-makes for a happy life. Really.”
“I-I’m... that’s, good,” Willow replied, almost in a whisper. She managed a smile, which grew wider and less forced as Tara shared it. “That is good,” she went on, “that you’re, you’re not left out - I mean, all the happiness you create, I... I get what you mean, I do. Every kiss in the entire world is that much more special, and it’s all you.”
“They’d b-be special anyway,” Tara said, with a slanting grin. “But I do my part. And lots of things in life are special.” She glanced at Willow, and raised her eyebrows slightly, questioning. “‘Loved ones’ doesn’t only mean kissing.”
“I... agreed,” Willow nodded.
“So where are we now?” Buffy asked, peering ahead of the boat to the island they were approaching.
“Ynys Llanddwyn,” Tara said, blowing a kiss of sparkling bubbles through the air towards the shore, where they helpfully transformed into a pier.
“And up there,” she pointed to a small cottage nestled amid a grove of trees a little way from the shore, “Dwynwen, the Welsh patron saint of lovers. Uh, Willow, would you like to come, and the rest wait here? She’s technically a hermit, so... I’m sure she’ll help, w-we just need to be, um, tactful about approaching her...”
“How is someone ‘technically’ a hermit?” Angel wondered, as Tara disembarked, and Willow transformed her lower body back into a cloud to swoop down and hover alongside her as she walked up the pier.
“Saints tend to accumulate patronages,” Valentine shrugged. “I look after beekeepers, you know. It’s just a matter of juggling all the job requirements.”
Up the hill Tara knocked politely on the cottage’s door, and waited as bustling footsteps sounded approached within.
“What kind of animal and what symptoms?” the woman who opened the door asked, slightly breathless from hurrying.
“Sorry what?” Willow blurted.
“We’re here about love,” Tara said.
“Oh?” The woman looked from one to the other of them, then smiled widely. “Of course you are, hard to miss. So you’re looking to adopt? There’s a lovely magic kitten looking for a home.”
“Um, n-no,” Tara explained. “I’m the kissing fairy, this is Willow, a genie. Something’s gone wrong with kissing and w-we’re trying to figure it out.”
“Oh I see! Well then. Alright, one moment.” She turned around and called back into the cottage, which sounded rather noisier and busier on the inside than its small size would have suggested, what with various barks and meows and moos and the flapping of wings. “I’m just popping out for a bit, back in no time! Mind the Galapagos tortoise doesn’t try to escape again! Sorry,” she added, turning back to Willow and Tara, and shutting the door behind her as she stepped out onto the front porch.
“You’ve got a tortoise?” Willow asked.
“Just for a while,” Dwynwen nodded. “Patron saint of sick animals, you see. He’ll be right as rain in no time. So what’s this about kissing?”
“We’ve got Saint Valentine aboard,” Tara said, pointing ahead to her boat as they started down towards the shore. “A-and one more expert to collect. We’ll explain along the way.”
“Hey Willow,” Angel said, joining Willow leaning against the side rail, while Tara busied herself keeping Valentine and Dwynwen from arguing about where true love was supposed to appear on a calendar. Beneath them forests were speeding by, steadily giving way to farmland, courtesy of Tara having transformed the boat’s sail into a hot air balloon.
“Hi...” she said vaguely, still staring at Tara.
“Sorry if this is awkward,” he said sheepishly. “But I’m not sure if you noticed, your outfit’s getting kind of...”
“Huh?” Willow glanced down at herself, and jumped as she realised her attire had been steadily edging towards the more transparent side of gauzy, the normally quite conventional waistline of her pants was dipping further and further on her hips, and her vest seemed to have acquired cleavage-enhancing underwire.
“It does that,” the genie said quickly, blushing and waving a hand over herself to return her clothes to their usual state. “You know, for no reason, and not at all connected to anything I’m thinking. Could happen to anyone whose clothes are basically just a psychic projection.”
“Uh-huh,” Angel nodded. “Once this is done though, you could visit her? Do you need one of us to come with you for it to be allowed in the genie rules, or can you go by yourself? Because we could work something out.”
“I couldn’t ask that of you,” Willow protested, albeit half-heartedly. “Getting dragged all around the ethersphere just so I can travel-”
“The spinning lamp thing isn’t
that bad,” Angel admitted. “And it’s a few seconds, then, I don’t know, me and Buff picnic on the beach or something while you and she wander...”
“She probably has to deal with this all the time,” Willow sighed. “I mean, she’s the
kissing fairy. And it’s not like anything could, y’know, happen, with the intangibility, it’d just be me hanging around her like a lovesick puppy. Who wants that in their life?”
“You know,” Angel said, putting a steadying hand on her shoulder, “I thought the same for a while, with Buffy. She’s amazing, and me... I guess I’ve got good hair, but I’ve got a few years on her, she’s all sunshine and activity and I like wearing black, and peace and quiet... And so on.”
“You make her so happy,” Willow pointed out.
“Yeah,” Angel smiled. “Had to believe it first, though - that I
could. And it wasn’t easy adjusting to each other, we both worked at it. Still do when needed.” He looked over at the bow, where Buffy was looking down at the English countryside. “Not just because she’s beautiful - which she is - but, you know. I feel something, from her, for her, that... it’s not the kind of thing you can turn away from.”
“I’m partial to any explanation that puts me close to her,” Willow admitted, gazing at Tara. “I just wish... heh, me wishing.”
“Genies are allowed to wish,” Angel said.
“Yeah but it doesn’t work,” Willow chuckled wryly. “It’s just, it’s a big leap - thinking that her being all
her, she could still find something with me, and... I want this. I’m afraid it’s going to be difficult. Not being able to... hold her hand, and then, then put my hands on her cheeks, softly, lean closer, feel her lips. Can I... I mean even assuming she wants, can I be around her all the time, and never be able to...? Am I superficial thinking like that, doesn’t she deserve someone who isn’t bothered-”
“You’re overthinking,” Angel interrupted her gently.
“I... yeah, that’s a thing I do,” Willow nodded. She finally tore her gaze away from Tara, and gave Angel a grateful smile. “You’d really ferry my lamp over so I could visit...?”
“We’d be granting a genie’s wish,” Angel grinned. “How many people can say that?”
“This time of day, he should be here,” Tara announced, steering the boat/airship down towards a two-storey building in the middle of bustling Middle Ages London.
“You know him?” Willow asked, coming to her side.
“I’m kind of a literature nerd,” Tara said, grinning shyly. “This isn’t my first visit.”
“Oh!” Buffy jumped. “Globe theatre?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be round?” Willow pointed out.
“Uh, n-no,” Tara shook her head. “I mean, yes, the Globe is round, but no, this is a pub.” She parked the boat in the street, amid the pedestrians and horses and wagons who seemed oblivious to its presence but nonetheless somehow made room for it, and flew over the rail just as the pub’s front door burst open and an unkempt-looking man stumbled through backwards, tripped over his feet, staggered back upright, and held out a hand back towards the door.
“Your company shall be sorely missed, dear friends” he proclaimed. “But time and the jousting tourney wait for no man- oh hello!”
“Hi Geoffrey,” Tara said. “C-could you help us? Valentine’s Day is in a bit of a mess.”
“Bollocks! I’m not having that after I put so much work into it. Am I drunk enough to be seeing things, or did you bring a boat? Do you normally travel by boat? In the street?”
“Normally I take the river,” Tara grinned. “We’re in a hurry.”
“Jolly good.” He clambered up the rope ladder Valentine had lowered from the deck, swayed slightly on reaching the top, then took in the other travellers with varying degrees of curiosity.
“Everyone,” Tara said, fluttering back up on deck as the boat lifted off, “m-may I present Geoffrey Chaucer.”
“I don’t think I’ve been here before,” Willow said, staring ahead at the gleaming harbour city the boat was approaching, while Chaucer and Buffy argued about whether the Knight’s Tale was better in print or film.
“Have you ever met the Capitalism Fairy?” Tara asked.
“This is her realm? I can see that.” Willow shrugged. “Genies don’t really have material wants.”
“We’re friends,” Tara explained. “Sh-she’s a bit... focused, sometimes.”
“Likes her buildings big and tall,” Willow observed as Tara guided the boat alongside a dock and tossed a rope to shore, where it tied itself up.
“It’s a demanding job,” Tara went on, recreating her mobile phone. “I hope whatever happened, we can help.”
“It’ll be okay,” Willow promised. Tara gave her a grateful smile, then dialled a number.
“Hello? What’s... yes, we’re here. The waterfront. Uh, me, a friend, a couple of mortals, Geoffrey, Valentine and Dwynwen. Where are you? Okay hold on, we’ll be there in a minute. Everybody?” she called to the others, closing her phone. “Let’s go.”
Their destination was only a few blocks from the dock, a well-kept park situated among the office towers, where amid the lawn sprinklers and precisely-trimmed lawns and polished stone paths a woman in a tailored suit was looking irritated at being stuck to a lamppost by the lead of a colossal dog looped around her.
“Tara, hi!” she called.
“Anya, what’s going on?”
“First of all, I’m
really sorry,” Anya sighed. “I was taking Profit here for a walk, and I... see the thing is... I got distracted for maybe a few seconds, possibly minutes.”
“Distracted by what?”
“I was having some roadwork done just across the street - you know, keep everything in top shape - so the Manly Construction Worker Fairy was visiting, and one thing led to another-”
“I’m sorry, the
what fairy?” Buffy asked.
“Are they new? Oh right, the mortals,” Anya nodded. “Anyway by the time I got back this little critter,” she glanced at the elephant-sized dog, which was scratching behind its ear and ignoring her, “had gotten off his lead and went running around, you know how dogs are, and while I was wrangling him back and trying to fix all the mess he’d made... well, here we are.”
“Come on,” Tara urged the dog. “Up on your feet. Come on let’s untangle Anya, okay?”
“What’d he do?” Anya asked, as Profit followed Tara’s voice and slowly meandered around the lamppost, slowly unwinding the lead pinning her there.
“People are being charged money for kissing,” Willow said curtly.
“Really? Bad dog! Tara I’m really sorry... thanks.” She stretched as her legs were finally unwound, and grew a pair of gleaming silver wings with miniature jet engines to hover back to the ground.
“I-it’s okay,” Tara said.
“How do we fix it?” Willow asked.
“Well now that Profit’s calmed down - sit! - it’s just a matter of getting rid of the metaphysical paw-prints, I’d guess,” Anya shrugged. “Not really my department, can your dream team figure something out?”
“It should require merely finding something to quash yon canine’s influence,” Chaucer said thoughtfully, beckoning to Dwynwen and Valentine. “My lady, sir, let us confer.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Anya said to Tara, as they watched the Valentine’s experts busily discussing potential plans in their huddle, while Willow had summoned a tourist guide from her lamp and was pointing out features of interest in the city to Buffy and Angel. “I’m... I’m really sorry Tara. I know how upsetting...”
“It was j-just a mistake,” Tara said soothingly. “Not worth feeling miserable over. O-okay?”
“I’d hug you if I could,” Anya said, managing a grin.
“Same,” Tara smiled. “Anyway, th-this whole thing? I made a new friend today, because of it. So...” Her gaze settled on Willow, and she fell silent, while Anya studied her, then Willow, then her again.
“A genie and a fairy, huh?” she said eventually, when it became clear Tara was too mesmerised to continue the conversation without prompting.
“H-huh?” Tara shook her head and blushed. “Sh-she’s a friend... We only just met today...”
“And yet, have you
seen yourself looking at her?” Anya asked. “Because if you need it made extra-clear, get one of those reflections of yours so you can watch yourself watching her. Although,” she shrugged, “you’d probably just wind up gazing longingly at her twice.”
“I-I can’t,” Tara protested, although her voice sounded less than convinced.
“Because of the intangible thing? Please. Some people can’t do some things, you of all people know that doesn’t have to be the end of it. You can duplicate yourself pretty much at will and she can transform herself into basically anything, you’re not seriously saying you can’t think of
anything you two can do that’ll tickle that special urge?”
“Anya!”
“‘Anya!’” Anya echoed. “But have I at least shocked you into dropping the oh-there’s-nothing-more-than-friendship-here act?”
“I... yes,” Tara sighed, then gave a faint grin. “Consider me suitably shocked.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Chaucer announced. “We propose a solution, gather ‘round.”
“Is it a group hug?” Buffy wondered.
“No, but close,” Chaucer replied. “Simply put, the drive for profit - as represented by Madame Anya’s adorable if preposterously-proportioned pet - knows naught of love, which by its nature is selfless, giving only for the joy of giving, and finding reward in that same act. That the act of bestowing love, in this instance by kissing, currently has a profit motive attached is so inherently unstable a situation as to be vulnerable to the merest nudge.”
“So...” Angel prompted.
“So, dear Tara,” Chaucer said, with a courtly bow, “simply focus your thoughts on the generosity and spiritual fulfilment of love, and all will be made well.”
“Um... th-thanks,” Tara said, venturing a smile. She glanced at Willow, then back at Chaucer. “Any thoughts on how...?”
“A mirror and some privacy?” Anya suggested, smirking. Angel, who had been frowning in thought, leaned over to whisper in Buffy’s ear.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Hey, Wills?”
“Hm?” Willow said, not quite able to look away from Tara, whose gaze was turning back to her as if drawn by gravity.
“I wish you could show her how you feel.”
Willow nodded absently, tilted her head to give Buffy a smile, then inhaled sharply.
“Y-you...” she whispered.
“Yep, the big W-word,” Buffy grinned. Willow let out a trembling breath, then turned slowly to Tara.
“T-tara,” she said, taking a halting step forward. “Can I...?”
Tara stared as Willow held out her hand, wreathed for a moment in gold and blue sparkles, then held her breath and reached out to her. The fairy gave a soft whimper as their fingertips touched, then slowly moved her hand further to grip Willow’s.
“Sweetie...?” she mouthed.
“Do you... do you want?” Willow asked, biting her lip. Tara nodded wordlessly, and gave the gentlest tug on Willow’s hand, drawing her irresistibly closer until they stood face to face, almost nothing between them. Tara let out a shuddering gasp as their bodies touched, closed her eyes as she felt Willow’s breath caress her open lips, then her free hand was on the back of Willow’s neck, Willow’s pressed into the small of her back, and their lips touched - first a tentative, hesitant contact, then again, firmer, again deeper, and then they were kissing with all their hearts, utterly consumed by one another.
“Yowzers,” Anya said, staring. Buffy and Angel, also not quite able to look away, were finally distracted by their phones buzzing in their pockets.
“Problem solved,” Buffy sighed happily. “Hey c’mere, I want to double-check.”
“Seems to be catching,” Anya chuckled, glancing sidelong at the couple as they too kissed. She looked back at Tara, and raised an eyebrow.
“Uh, hey, Tara? Tara.
Tara?”
“Wha?” Tara finally asked, blinking in a daze as her and Willow’s lips parted, and the genie nestled her head on her shoulder.
“You’re shedding petals,” Anya pointed out. Tara looked down at herself, and blushed as she noticed the crystal rose petals comprising her dress were indeed drifting away from her body and fading into nothingness at quite a pace.
“Th-thanks,” she grinned bashfully, as the petals flew back into place. “Um so, did...?”
“Worked like a charm,” Buffy nodded, separating from Angel long enough to hold up her phone. Tara smiled radiantly, then looked back at Willow, cuddled against her.
“How long...” she asked in a whisper.
“For as long as I’ve got love to show you,” the genie smiled. She leaned back slightly to meet Tara’s gaze. “That’s gonna be a pretty long time, I hope.”
“I do too,” Tara whispered. Willow took a shaky breath, then waved a hand at Buffy and Angel.
“Come here you guys,” she said, beckoning them, and dragging them into the hug as soon as they were within arm’s reach.
“Gonna miss you Wills,” Buffy sniffled.
“We’ll visit,” Willow promised. “Like,
all the time.”
“So, hey,” Buffy went on, holding up Willow’s lamp. “I know
you can’t carry this around yourself, what with stupid mystical rules and stuff, so...” She offered the lamp to Tara. “Take good care of her? Will you?” Tara looked from the lamp, to Willow’s smile, then nodded and took it.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, right?” Anya quipped at the trio of historical figures looking on.
“It does seem our legacy is in good hands,” Chaucer agreed.
“Amen to that,” Valentine nodded.
“I can give you a few tips on pet training, if you’d like?” Dwynwen offered.
“Not a bad idea,” Anya admitted.