'Wow,' Tara said, 'Cows.'
Willow rested her head on the taller girl's shoulder and gazed down over the huge field. 'It's not really what I was expecting. It's kinda back to nature with guitars and all.'
Tara smiled and ruffled Willow's hair. 'I think the cows will be elsewhere. It would be cruel to subject them to us. I think Willow music is strictly for human consumption.'
'And demons. We have a very large demon following you know. Our music's horny.'
Her hands caressed Tara's hips sensuously. She could feel her lover's underwear through the thin peasant skirt. Getting back to nature seemed a fine idea. 'Wouldn't you say?'
'Oh yeah...' Tara wriggled under Willow's teasing touch, 'That's because our singer's such a bad girl.'
Tara turned to kiss her gorgeous witch-girl.
'Afternoon, ladies!'
Xander had appeared from the steps at the back of the vast stage area, hand-in-hand with a pretty dark-haired girl with huge brown eyes and a warm smile. Willow and Tara stepped apart guiltily. Xander was continually telling them off for overt displays of public affection.
'Guys!' Willow said happily. 'We weren't expecting you till tomorrow.'
'Meeting cancelled. Flew early.'
'Meeting cancelled?' Tara said, concerned.
Xander shrugged. 'Some old guy had a heart attack. We rescheduled. No big.'
Tara frowned 'Xander, that's really callous. Who was it?'
'Ahhh...Rob Stone.'
'The guy who wanted me and Willow to be in Penthouse together?'
'That's our guy.'
'Okay. No big.' She gave Xander a big Tara grin and he instantly forgave her any sins, past present or future.
Willow, meantime, was exchanging big hugs with Xander's girlfriend. 'Hey! Emma! I was so scared you wouldn't show!'
'You think I'd miss playing the Glastonbury Festival?' she threw a 'playing guitar to the gods' shape. 'Why wouldn't I show?'
Willow frowned 'Cos then I'd have to sing and play guitar, and I wouldn't be allowed to make mistakes, and you know how I make mistakes, and you're always there to cover them up. And what if something awful happened to you and Xander, it's a long way from Sunnydale to England, and then we'd have to play these gigs without a lead guitarist or a manager and ....I guess I'm a little nervous...'
'You'll be fine.' Emma assured her. 'In five days time we'll be up here playing to 10,000 people, and every last one of them will have lost their heart to Willow.'
Willow sat on the tour bus gazing out of the window as mile after mile of English countryside rolled past as they wound their way towards London. Tara and Emma sat at the back of the bus, eating sandwiches and discussing the mechanics of a new song. Xander and Chris, Willow's drummer, were braying noisily upfront, destroying an army of zombies in the latest Resident Evil game on the Playstation. She watched as another bunch of computerised nasties were violently dispatched. Her life used to be like that. Her real life. Until she met a beautiful girl called Tara and found a way out. It had been fun, of course. And then something more important comes along and you jump on it and hold on. It started in the first semester after Adam. Tara arrived at the off-campus house she was sharing with Willow and two other girls with two large musician's flight cases.
'Idea.' She announced breathlessly to Willow. A cello and a beautiful Rickenbacker 330 semi-acoustic guitar.
'You said you played. I thought maybe we could write some songs. It'll be fun.'
Willow gawped up at her. 'Where did you get this?'
'It's my dad's. It's been in the attic for about 20 years.'
'It's gorgeous...y'know I'm not very good.'
'Oh, that doesn't matter. I know chords and stuff. I can help you with that.'
And two months later they were playing The Bronze. So many scenes from Willow's life had been played out in this hallowed venue that she fairly trembled standing on the hallowed stage staring down at the audience of friends and strangers alike. They played for about twenty minutes, supporting a college friend's band. Willow's guitar jangled softly over Tara's swooping cello strokes and Willow's slowly emerging voice found its way around the wistful melodies and tales of meeting your bad side on a dusky evening and loving your guitar. Afterwards Willow was fairly spring-loaded with excitement.
'That was amazing! I didn't faint!'
She grabbed a surprised Tara and hugged her tightly. 'You were fantastic. Thank you so much for making me do it!'
Releasing her, she mouthed 'I love you.'
Tara smiled and returned the gesture.
Buffy appeared, fairly bursting with pride. 'My God, Will! You guys were so cool!
Can I be your groupie?'
Amidst the general hubbub of congratulations from Xander and Anya, Giles and even a grudging Spike, who had dragged himself out of his crypt especially for the event, Willow heard her name spoken by an unfamiliar voice.
'Hey Will.'
'Chris! How are you?'
'Pretty bored since the band split.'
Willow frowned. 'I guess that was kinda my fault. Sorry.'
'Oh, don't worry. I couldn't have handled Dev for much longer anyway. So do you need a drummer?'
'Really?'
'Really. I thought you were terrific. Except you need a drummer. And here I am, looking for a band.'
And then there were three.
The arrival of erstwhile Dingo Chris on drums made them into a band. He seemed to have acquired a lot of the Dingo's gear, introducing Tara to the bass and Willow to the joys of distortion. The old songs like 'Guitar, Girl, Love' and 'Dieing to Meet You' were soon joined by fast and furious numbers like 'Xander's Hat', 'Blue Penguin Pop' and the epic 'Dead Man's Party'.
'We need a name.' Chris announced after rehearsal one day.
'Willow.' Tara said.
'Ah...ummm.' Willow said, non-comitally.
'The band should be called Willow.' Tara emphasised. There ensued a short argument, which Willow lost.
The first gig proper, at The Bronze, was heaving. Willow stepped up onto the stage at 9.00 pm and plugged her guitar into her amp and began to play. A gently picked melody melting into a leisurely strum. She began to sing:
Leave a candle by her doorstep
With a snapshot of her face
Turn around and take a deep breath
On the first weekend of May
Keep a hairstrand in your pocket
And don't rely on any friend
Brew some catalina coffee
With the letters of her name
As Willow eased into the chorus, Tara and Chris appeared onstage, taking up their instruments
White magic for lovers
When all you love has gone away
White magic for lovers
When you hold on to your faith
The bass and drums plunged in, propelling the song forward, lifting the listening throng.
Turn your tears back into water
And leave the bottle by her door
With a message undercover
Saying to the one you love
Happy glances between Willow and Tara,
White magic for lovers
When all you love has gone away
White magic for lovers
When you hold on to your faith
And the crowd went wild.
'This next song is about a friend of mine,' she announced, 'I hope she likes it. Think I might send her a tape.'
They went straight at it, Go-gos meets The Ramones.
When Cordelia walks into the room
Everyone falls down onto their knees
They're prayin' offering all their pleas
Please God make it me
Queen C, please God make it me
Queen C, please God make it me
But Cordy, she's got other plans
The chorus was pure dumb pop and had The Bronze singing along in seconds.
How come we're the dumb ones
When we're the fun ones
We're the young ones
How come Queen C,
with your dream team
Always so mean
How come me and X and B
The Magnificent three
Always have to set you free!
Cordy, she's got other plans!
Cordy, she's got other plans!
The chant got the place in raptures. Willow could see Buffy almost doubled up in laughter while Xander was lost in the catchy refrain. Willow ended the song with a razored lead guitar break on one string. She leant back from the mike for a second to take a breath, then leaned back in again.
'That was Cordy's Song, if you didn't get it. This next one is called...Blue Penguin Pop!'
The next day the buzz was on. Willow had officially taken The Dingoes crown as THE Sunnydale band. Willow became extremely popular with the male students of UC Sunnydale, and with a good number of the female ones as well. Demon activity was at an all time low. Willow and Tara became even more involved with each other. Times were good again after such a foul year.
It was around the time that Emma joined the band that things began to mushroom. Willow had been looking for someone to take on lead guitar duties so she could devote more conviction to her singing. Emma was a student in one of Tara's classes. She offered her services and an audition was duly arranged. She reminded Willow of the singer in Elastica, which was good, and she was a superb guitarist, which was better. By this time Xander had also been taken aboard in an unstated marketing and publicity position. Within a month he had secured the band favourable recording and publishing deals and involved himself in a mutally head-over-heels relationship with Emma. Xander's hour had arrived. Finishing with Anya had been tricky. She was, of course, devastated, her reliance on Xander almost total. Buffy and Tara had found her, inconsolable, at the Bronze one night. They didn't see her for a long while after that.
Things happened quickly for Willow, as they sometimes do for the lucky few. The single was picked up on college radio, the record company bought out by a major which re-released and remarketed the single, Xander's Hat. Suddenly Sunnydale's finest had a nationwide hit on their hands. Willow, Tara and Emma all continued to attend lectures, then Blue Penguin Pop went top 5, and everuone wanted to be their friend. Many who knew their leanings suspected Willow and Tara were using witchy methods to gain sucess, but in fact they were barely practicing at all, too busy were they trying to juggle college work, the band, and the occasional spot of vampire slaying.
Just prior to the release of the album, the girls took part in a photoshoot for Rolling Stone. Tara and Willow, in cherry-red lipstick and smudged black eyeliner were draped in a langourous embrace, their heads against each other, while Emma reclined on a nearby couch, clutching one of Buffy's crossbows. The shots were were intended by Willow to mock the perception that the only reason for the sucess of the band was their stoking of young boy's sexual fantasies. Emma, in contrast, was playing up to the cartoony images of songs from the album such as Hellmouth's Kitchen and Sting Me. The shots caused instant furore, leading to accusation of titillation, deviancy and speculation that Emma was about to leave the band. Chris and Emma found the whole affair hilarious, Willow less so. Tara allowed her girlfriend to vent spleen, placated her in her usual gentle way, then went to see Xander about keeping Willow at bay during discussions on marketing.
Six manic months followed of touring, writing and partying, climaxing with an appearance at England's legendary Glastonbury Festival. Willow didn't know how Xander had pulled it off, and she didn't ask. He was meetings man, and she'd never seen him so happy. After Glastonbury, two glorious months off. Time for magic and old friends and probably a little violence here and there.
When she woke, they were stationary. She watched fuzzily as Chris appeared from the service station and clambered back aboard the bus. He waved a copy of Melody Maker in front of them. 'Here it is!'
'Read it, interview with famous people!' Xander cried.
Chris shuffled around in the magazine until he found the right page.
'Willow are exactly what you expect from their beguiling music: charming, sweet, funny, frustrating and confusing. Co-founders Willow Rosenberg (vocals, guitar) and the singularly named Tara (bass, cello) burst into fits of giggles when I suggest we do the interview in the pub. Apparently this reminds them of 'a very good English friend of ours'.
For the record: Willow (the person) is a real cutie; a tiny, red-haired ball of energy and enthusiasm; Tara is a rather beautiful blonde, but her awkward manner and obvious shyness indicate that she doesn't realise this fact. The two are also a couple, which has made them a cause celebre Stateside.
'I announced fairly early on that we were together,' Willow says, 'not because we were trying to draw attention to ourselves, but because I wanted to get it out of the way. Tara and I fell in love at college and then we started writing together. It's not a big deal. After that interview everyone started jumping up and down defending us, and I'm like, "no-one is giving us a hard time, honest!"'
They certainly have a connection that's obvious to anyone who spends any time with them. Rather sweetly, they hold hands under the table throughout the interview and when they frequently exchange glances, it as though something distinct has passed between them.
When I point this out to Tara she says, completely straight-faced, 'Oh yeah, we're witches. Didn't you know?'
Willow's first record, the punk-pop fizzy 'Xander's Hat', took teen America by storm and garnered a top 20 hit for the girls. The Xander of the title is Xander Harris, the band's manager and Willow's childhood friend. He assures me that he doesn't own a hat, nor will he ever.
'It's actually about Xander's head,' Willow elucidates, 'and how things that are in it should stay there.'
The single, however, did nothing to prepare the world for the phenomenal album that followed; 'Sunnydale Soup', a collection of frantic guitar anthems and elegaic vignettes with lashings of cello, all paying Willow's skewed tribute to their home town of Sunnydale, California. A kind of aural equivalent to Altman's 'Shortcuts', Rosenberg is a story teller par excellance, but is Sunnydale really fit to bursting with vampires and demons as detailed on 'Cordy's Song' and 'Dead Man's Party' among others?
'Absolutely.' Tara says quietly. 'They tend to accumulate around us though. So don't worry about it if you ever go there.'
'Cordelia is a girl I was at high school with.' Willow explains. 'We're kinda cool now, but she used to torment me. She was the most popular girl in school and I was a spaz. But she was always getting captured by these monsters. Every week. And me and Xander were, like, "Hey Cordy, we've got to rescue you again!" We weren't fierce or anything, but our friend was, so we were kinda cool by default.'
Tara nods and smiles. 'Our friend is like a professional demon killer. It's her job. The hours aren't so good and the money sucks...'
They do a three-way spooky exchanged glance and burst out laughing. Still, I don't think I'll be going to Sunnydale soon. Is it true that Willow and Xander were once more than just good friends?
'I was in love with him for so many years!' Willow says excitedly, 'Then when he decided he liked me, I was with another guy and he was with another girl and chaos!
Bad idea. Did you know he's maaadly in love with Emma?'
Where are the other members of Willow?
'Chris is like, frenziedly record shopping in the West End. Emma is being musicianly somewhere. They don't like the interviews. But we do love them, don't we?'
'We do.' Tara confirms.
'Like a slightly awkward child who doesn't understand difficult math.' Xander finishes.
'There you go. Xander's hat. See what I mean?'
Wonderful Willow. Don't leave home without them.'
They looked around at each other, nodding appreciatively. 'You gotta love us.' Willow said. She nudged Tara with her elbow. 'He liked you. Beautiful blonde Tara, 20, likes children, animals and practicing the dark arts.'
Tara flushed.Xander mocked. 'Willow you're just sooo cute. We could tie a bow round your neck and call you Fluffy.'
'Bug guy.'
'So, so old.'
'Ooh,' Emma interrupted, 'It says here, "US Cello-Punk foursome Willow are playing the main stage on Saturday." We're a scene!'
'Cello-Punk? Haven't heard that one before.'
'So, are we going to do Take Me to Bed tonight?' Chris enquired.
'Cello-techno?' Tara suggested.
'With no cello. I think a new song or two are called for. Tara has to try out her new toy.'
'Steady on, this is a family show.'
'Shut up Xander.'
The warmup show at London's Borderline club off Charing Cross Road was sold out and the sweat was fairly dripping off the walls of the small venue. It reminded all of them of the Bronze.
'Hi, I'm Willow.' She said shyly into the mike. Big cheer. 'This is Tara and Emma,' another big response, 'and that guy at the back is Chris.' Pause. 'Who the hell are you?'
Eruption of noise.
Willow grinned engagingly. 'Do you like POP?'
Straight into the killer single, all crashing high-hat and serrated guitar riffs.
Have you found the same secret
Will you sell your soul to cover up
Are you protecting somebody
Are you stealing my Blue Penguin Pop?
Sell it black market
Down a wire straight to the spot
Want to stop a vampire guy?
Then play Blue Penguin Pop
You think that I'm crazy
You think that my band ain't worth a lot
But I know that you dig me
I dream the dream of Penguin Pop
You think that I'm lazy
You think that my tears weren't worth a jot
Now I'm drivin you crazy
'Cos you know that I'm in love with pop
It's addictive, unrestrictive, controls your life, it's ecstasy
Panic's done, we're one to one
listen to us we'll set you free
I've been wearing the emperor's suit
It fits me like a glove
You believe what you want to believe
Now you think that you're in love
With (Emma)
Me (Tara)
Blue Penguin Pop means nothing at all ooh,
Blue Penguin Pop means nothing at all ooh,
Just how gullible are you, ooh?
Just how stupid are you, ooh?
I made the whole thing up
'Emma and Tara on backing oohs!'
Tara had already taken off her bass and stepped behind her new synthesiser, which began pumping out an eery sub-bass pulse. Willow began singing very softly. The effect was very Julee Cruise like, very Twin Peaks. .
We went to a club on Oceana Drive
It's the only place in town
I don't feel lost there
At home I felt like I might drown
We didn't stay long though
You saw that everything was bad
We walked in silence
Confused, apologetic, terrified and sad
Take me to bed, make everything good, you know it will
Shut everything out, we need nothing now, except each other
So take me to bed now, and make me cry out
My love for you...
The keyboard picked up pace drastically, the bass warping into a huge, 4/4 techno throb. Emma's guitar chimed and echoed weirdly. The crowd went wild, elated by this new direction. Chris' drums kicked in over the metronomic electronic beat. The song locked into a powerful repeating groove. Willow launched into an impassioned rant over the wall of sound.
So yeah, this for you, you know who you are, are you feeling better?
Wanna dance, sorry you can't, you're gone and better forgotten.
Five by five, at least enough to stay alive have you found somebody to love
While you crawl on the floor, desperate and crazy I'm crazy happy and my honey says to me, 'Take me to bed, show me your soul, and my conscience is clear, I give her everything that's mine to give and in return she gives me herself. And I was afraid of you?
The music shifted back a gear once more.
You took me to bed, made everything good, I knew it would
You shut out the world we needed nothing except each other
Made me cry, and I love you.
The crowd are dumbfounded.
'You like that one?' Willow asks cheekily. 'It's sooo new we're not gonna do it at Glastonbury. So I hope you had your tape recorders on!'
'So are you guys going to tent it then?'
Willow looked down at Tara's sleeping sleeping head, nestled cosily in her lap. 'This one will sleep anywhere as long as she can use me as a comfy cushion. I think we gotta. I mean it's Woodstock, man!'
'Woodstock was a swamp.' Chris reminded her.
'Okay, you stay in your nice comfortable hotel, we'll wave hello to the pioneer spirit!'
The band and their small entourage were nestled in the plush lounge of their hotel, following the success of their London gig. Tara was curled up on a lounger with a still excitable Willow. She had given up on enticing Will to bed hours earlier and submitted to dark and mysterious Tara dreams instead. Occasionally she stirred and tried to get a firmer grip on Willow, but mostly she just looked fetchingly dishevelled. Xander and Emma were somewhat recklessly playing catchball across the lounge with a baseball. Some of the crew were at the bar drinking, and Chris had just appeared with a fresh bottle of Becks for everyone.
'Can I borrow her tonight Will?' Chris asked, indicating the sleeping girl, 'Go on, you promised.'
Willow cuddled Tara protectively. 'No. You get your own. Drummer boy.'
'But she's so cute, all asleep and vulnerable. Makes me want to protect her.'
'First time I've heard it called that.' Xander sniggered.
'You know she didn't tell me?' Chris asked, 'I asked Tara out about five times and she was too shy to tell me. Then the inevitable happens and I walk in on them making out. My jaw nearly broke, it hit the floor so hard. I was half way home before I realised I'd just walked away from two really cute girls necking.'
'God, you men are so dumb sometimes! I mean, surely you must have picked it up before then?'
'Come on Will, you were Oz's girl for two years!'
'Hey Chris?' Xander piped up, dropping the baseball, 'what's with the groupie no-show tonight?'
'Honestly, I'm meant to be in a meaningful threesome with Will and Tara. One morning they'll wake up and realise that it's the way forward.'
'Hang onto that dream,' Xander said. 'I'll join you there later.'
'What is it about guys?' Emma asked, 'Let's raise a hypothetical question, and you have to be totally honest. You come home and find me in bed with another girl. Do you get pissed 'cos I've betrayed you, or is your first reaction to get into the action?'
'Okay, let's add another variable. Who's the other girl?'
'Since she's out of it, and I know you have dreams about her, let's say it's Tara.'
'You have dreams about Tara?' Willow said in surprise, 'Where am I?'
'That brings a whole new question into the mix.' Xander pointed out. 'If it's Tara, do I get pissed at Emma, do I join them, or do I run to my bestest bud Willow and tell her that both our lovers are playing away from home with each other?'
'Well?'
'I'm going to have to say, possibly yes, possibly no.'
'I give you: Xander Harris, the man with all the answers.'
The first watery grey light of dawn crept through the bay windows of the hotel. Tara slept soundly still. Chris, Emma and the rest of the crew had staggered off to bed a while back. Willow and Xander remained, holding half drunken bottles of beer, now gone flat.
'Are we doing the right thing, Xander?' Willow asked through a wide yawn.
'You mean we should hit th hay?'
'No. This. All of it. I mean it's pretty crazy, isn't it? Shouldn't we be at home fighting the forces of nastiness?'
'We did that Will. We were there. But it was never the same after High School. Be honest, it was a big drag and we all came close to getting aced. Remember what Buffy said when we were all trying to kill each other?'
'What?'
'I guess I'm starting to understand why there's no ancient prophecy about a Chosen One . . and her friends.'
'That was different. She was pissed at us.'
'True, but I think she always knew that we wouldn't be around forever. Cordelia, Oz, Angel...now us. She's got a new gang now. And they're better than us.'
Willow tutted. 'Riley and his merry men? Duh.'
'You actually miss it, don't you?'
'I do. And I'm scared that Buffy will...you know. And we won't be there.'
'Ahhh...she's indestructible.'
'I think if it were just me I'd go back. I miss her. But I don't want Tara getting dragged into it all. If she got hurt I couldn't bear it. It was bad enough with Oz.'
'Go to bed, Will.'
'Yeah, bed. Can you give me a hand?'
Willow, Tara and Chris decided to pitch up at the festival on friday night and make the most of things. Xander and Emma were still in London, having a romantic night on the town. The long queues to get in failed to weather their enthusiasm and once they had pitched their tents in the backstage artists enclosure, and indulged in a fruitless bit of star spotting, they set of for a wander round the site. And so they strolled, long and late on Friday night at the Glastonbury Festival. It really is impossible to describe Glastonbury. Unless you've been you can never begin to understand its sheer magnitude. It is the ultimate adult theme park, the theme being excess of all the best things in life. Willow was drunk just on the atmosphere and the hordes of like-minded souls thronging the streets of market stalls and food and drink vendors. An unidentifiable band were going through the motions on the main stage, and they stopped to watch for a while. The giant pyramid was alive with musicians, lighting rigs and huge sound systems, almost unrecognisable as the same structure they had been allowed to inspect earlier in the week.
'This is just....amazing.' Tara said, looking around the huge field at the people, the lights, the sea of tents almost as far as the eye could sea. 'Mmm. The mystical energy....can you feel it Willow?'
Willow squeezed her hand. 'I can feel it.'
'Well,' Chris observed, 'I did see King Arthur pass by just now.'
'Non-believer!'
'Woah. I believe. I've seen you guys at work, remember?'
'Spinning your drumsticks is a party trick, mister. Must I resort to quoting The Spice Girls in order to convince you of the dangers of messing with girl power?'
'You should check out the Green Fields, I hear all sorts of weird and wonderfuls are going on there.'
Tara tried to make sense of her map. 'That's a way off, I think. This place makes Lolapalooza look like Xander's backyard.'
'Who is this band?' Willow asked. 'They kinda suck.'
Chris looked up at the giant video screen. 'Judging by the headware, I'd say it was Jamiroquai.'
'Oh yeah. I hate them.'
'All across the site people are looking at their programmes and going "Oh shit, Willow are playing tomorrow, I kinda hate them."'
Willow took her woolly hat off and him with it. 'I knew we shouldn't have any boys in the band. I think we should just hang backstage at Lilith Fair and steal someone's girl drummer.'
'Yeah, but I own the ball, if you kick me out I won't let you play anymore.'
'You've been spending way too much time with Xander.'
'Oh yeah,' Willow sighed. 'I can live with this. Camping's fun.'
Tara lifted her head from Willow's neck, where she had been placing slow, soft kisses. 'You think?'
'Don't you?'
'Mmmm, s'cosy.' Tara turned her attention back to Willow's neck.
'Oh, that's nice...'
'Willow?'
'You stopped. Why you stopped?'
'I was just thinking. It's been a year. Me and you.'
'A wonderful year.'
Willow touched the other girl's hip lightly and felt her tremble. Willow's touch had done that since the first time. How many times had they lain together in that year, she wondered? The first time they made love, in Tara's room in the near dark, she had been so afraid. The love between them seemed the only good thing in her life at that time, and yet she was confused. The things Tara said to her, as she worked sweet magic on Willow with her tongue and her touch, had ended all her doubts. She came, sobbing Tara's name and holding on to her like a scared child. She cried afterwards and so did Tara, terrified that she had done something wrong. Willow kissed the tears away, then kissed her breasts and her sweet pussy and everything was wonderful from then on. And Tara still trembled in anticipation when Willow touched her, when she sensed that her girlfriend wanted to make love. For her part, Willow always saw Tara's eyes cloud over with desire when she wanted her. They came together and kissed, gently. There was time enough for raw sex. With increased intimacy, their urgency occasionally flourished like a roman candle. Chances were they would wreck the tent, if they were not careful. Tonight was for sweet loving and reflection. Willow disappeared beneath the double sleeping bag and began lavishing attention on Tara's smooth breasts. The blonde girl sighed her appreciation. After a while the tousled redhead reappeared. 'Tara?'
'Huh?'
'You wouldn't ever hurt me, would you?'
Tara opened her eyes. Willow felt her body tense. She looked down at the round face and mess of red hair. 'I w-wouldn't..' she looked confused. Willow hadn't heard her stutter for months.
'I mean, like Oz did.'
'No. I would never..' Tara sounded upset now.
Willow began to stroke her intimately. Tara's eyes opened wide and she breathed in sharply.
'I love you more, Tara. More than Oz'
Willow looked into Tara's dark, soulful eyes and rubbed herself along the other girl's long legs. She felt incredibly turned on now. Tara was almost shaking and Willow's hand was drenched from her.
'I'd still love you as much even if you didn't make me come.' Willow whispered somewhat wickedly.
She kissed Tara's forehead and then her lips. 'Make me come.'
Tara moaned and took Willow in her arms and kissed her on the lips and on her tiny nipples.
'White magic for lovers...' she whispered. Then she spread her lover's thighs and went diving for pearls.
Willow woke at 7.00am, primarily because of the heat beating down on the thin canvas of the tent. Tara's face was against hers and Willow was suffused with a warm glow of contentment. They had enjoyed wonderful, intimate sex and then had strolled among the campfires chatting to anonymous festival goers. Finally they happened across a group of young students who turned out to be massive Willow fans. Willow even managed to get hold of an acoustic guitar and play off-the-cuff versions of 'Guitar, Girl, Love' and 'Sting Me' with everyone using tent-pegs as a stand in for wooden stakes.
Morning now, though.. Xander and Emma soon. Business again.
'
Willow woke at 7.00am, primarily because of the heat beating down on the thin canvas of the tent. Tara's face was against hers and Willow was suffused with a warm glow of contentment. They had enjoyed wonderful, intimate sex and then had strolled among the campfires chatting to anonymous festival goers. Finally they happened across a group of young students who turned out to be massive Willow fans. Willow even managed to get hold of an acoustic guitar and play off-the-cuff versions of 'Guitar, Girl, Love' and 'Sting Me' with everyone using tent-pegs as a stand in for wooden stakes.
Morning now, though.. Xander and Emma soon. Business again
Willow lay flat on her back and enjoyed the feeling of the sun beating down upon her, an apparently unusual pleasure during an English summer. She had fully intended to spend the day running around like a headless chicken, but it seemed that there was no panicking to be done today. Everything was taken care of, all they had to do was walk onstage at their allotted time, and play. Xander had appeared at 10AM with the glad tidings that the BBC wanted Willow and Emma to do a special appearance during their coverage of the festival. Since they weren't required until midnight they decided to forgo the requested 'Blue Penguin Pop' in favour of the rather melancholy 'Downtime', a song about a boy who would rather be bitten by his dead girlfriend than lose her forever. Willow would later inform Joolz Holland that the song was a 'tragi-comedy'. Since they needed Tara to play cello, the two girls went off to try and find a quiet spot to rehearse. Xander and Chris were drafted into a backstage game of soccer with members of Radiohead's crew, leaving Willow alone to sunbathe outside her tent. She wasn't a born sun-worshipper, but Giles had assured her that an English heatwave was a rare and special thing.
'Hey.'
Willow opened her eyes. It was a hail she hadn't heard for far too long, from someone who seemed like a distant memory. Oz.
'Omigod!' she stuttered. She leaped up and stared at him, sure that it couldn't really be...but it was. Oz, a wry smile on his face, his hair bleached blond, the same jacket she had seen him wear....when?
Willow gave in to her natural urge and threw her arms around him, hugging him close, her eyes filling with the tears of every emotion she had ever felt.
'Will,' he said at last, 'I've missed you so much.'
'And I've missed you!' she sobbed. 'Oz, I can't believe you're here. Why are you here?'
'Same reason as you.' He mimed playing a guitar.
'You're playing. Of course you are!'
She took his hand and pulled him down onto the grass with her. 'Who are you playing with?'
He shrugged. 'An English band. I've been over here for nearly a year. We're playing the New Band tent tomorrow. Nothing like your scale. Love the record, by the way.'
'You've heard it?'
'You honestly think I wouldn't have?'
'What do you think?'
'Well, you could've written more songs about me.'
'I did, Oz. They're just too painful to make into records.'
'Yeah. I've kind of been there. It's a great record, Will. Wish I could have played on it.'
The sadness was seeping back in. 'If you hadn't have left...'
'I'm looking forward to watching you guys.' he cut her off.
Willow fell silent for a while. 'What's been happening with you Oz?' she said eventually.
He smiled. 'I'm glad you're here, Will. There's something pretty big I need to tell you. Something which means we can stop hiding from each other.'
Willow gazed at him sadly. 'Oz...'
'It's okay.' he insisted. 'I know you and Tara are still together. Nice Rolling Stone cover.'
Willow flushed.
'After I left the last time I pretty much lost it. Went a little crazy. I couldn't bear how badly I'd fucked everything up. I ended up in LA and I went to see Angel. I heard what he did for Faith.'
'How was it?'
'Good. He got me to talk. I mean really talk. He's very fond of you, so I guess he could empathise. But at the end he got me to see that there was a world outside Willow. He made me think about Veruca. I didn't want to ever have to think of her again, but he kept on at me. He told me to think about what she was at heart, what you are and what I am. I didn't get it for a while, then it hit. Veruca was evil. Not as a wolf, but as a person. There really was no difference between our wolf sides, but there was as humans. She was just a serious bitch.'
Willow nodded solemnly. This, she knew.
'So I got to wondering if there were more like me. Why did I never sense any other wolves, Will? I mean, the vamps are everywhere.'
'I guess I never really thought about it.'
He shook his head sadly. 'There's a sickness. A killer. The wolves are nearly extinct. The only ones left are the carriers. They can pass it on to family members who then become carriers themselves. Veruca must have been bitten by a member of her own family, like I was with Jordy.'
Willow shook her head in wonder. 'How did you find this out?'
'Wesley. He knew about it. The Watchers Council knew. He never told anyone because he was afraid we'd all panic. But he also knew of a surviving bloodline in England.'
'So you came here to find them?'
He nodded. 'Wes knew they were in the south of England. So I sold the van and got myself a plane ticket.'
He paused, considering the next part of the story.
'So what happened?'
'Well, I found her. The last survivor. She was holed up in a farmhouse in the Oxfordshire countryside. She was sick with the plague. She was bitten by her half-brother before they hunted him down. She's been on her own for a while, chaining himself in the cellar during wolf-times. Then she got sick. She was pretty far gone when I found her. I thought she would die, but with someone to take care of her she started to get stronger. I think just knowing that she wasn't alone...'
Willow smiled, though she felt just a touch of regret. She could see where this was going.
'You love her, don't you?' she said gently.
'I do. She's kind of part of me now. I'm teaching her how to control the wolf. It's hard.
'What's her name?'
'Eleanor.'
'Is she with you?'
He shook his head. 'She wouldn't be able to cope with all the people. Not yet. And she knew that I wouldn't be able to resist seeing you.'
'She knows about us?'
'No secrets. But she is kind of young, and she's scared of being alone again. Her family are all gone. And you being this big rock star and all.'
Willow considered that, and shook her head. 'It's the craziest thing, isn't it?'
'The craziest thing...is that I'm not in love with you any more.'
She took his hands in hers and squeezed. 'I'm happy for you, Oz.'
Tara strolled in the crazy bazaar of The Green Fields, her mind and spirits buoyant among the many. She loved her life now, full as it was with challenge and adventure. That which was not already full of Willow, of course. Willow had made her strong, built her confidence and determination. Willow had brought out her sexuality, when she feared that no-one ever would. Most of all, when Willow held her she was not afraid. Afraid that they would come and take her back. Make her be one of them, old and bitter and corrupt. Part of the family. She shivered. They had subdued her mother, and her grandmother before her, sucking the sacrilegious words out of their mouths before they even had a chance to form. They had been made to see that family comes first. Tara had not only run, the first ever, but she had fallen in love. Her people mocked love. She would not give Willow up for the sun or the moon. Maybe they would not grow old together, but she would fight for the right to find out. She thought that maybe she was strong enough to stop trying to run and hide. Maybe her family would break her trying to take her back under their wing but they would not have her complete. She knew, as soon as the band began to break through, that any of the protection afforded by the mass of lost and twisted souls in Sunnydale would be lost. They would find her and strongly suggest that she return to take up her education under their watchful eyes.
Tara could no longer bear the ache of her deception to Willow. Was Tara not, after all, just a human girl? She was no demon with any inhuman strengths or powers. The magic she had worked on all her life. She had given so much of her formative life up to it, working for the moment when she had the power to cut it all loose. She wanted no family. Willow had given her more love, support and empowerment than she had received from anyone else in the sixteen years before she ran. The corruption in her genetic makeup, the curse that hundreds of years ago had been granted as a gift to her family by The Oracles, was not her doing. Yet she was determined that it would be undone.
Witchcraft was in her side of the family. She would cast the spell that undid the work of The Powers That Be, the act that her mother and her grandmother had tried and failed. She and Willow would make the spell. Together.
Several days before, in the quiet hours of dawn, she had walked alone in the grey-green beauty of St James park, in the run-up to the Glastonbury weekend. The others were all back in their hotel rooms sleeping off the beer and the drugs that the crew sometimes toyed with. But Tara's time was cool and pale, a world of shadows and solitude. Until the raucaus trill of her cellphone broke everything apart.
She keyed the response automatically. 'Hey?'
There was a click and a pause on the other end of the line, like the call was coming from a very long distance. And she knew, as sure as she knew that she stood on the edge of the edge of a long hot English summer day. They had found her.
'Little girl, little girl,' the voice said, dark and heavy, but unmistakably female, 'It seems just minutes ago that you filled our space with your ugly duck presence. Oh, I forgot. It was just minutes.'
'That was not me.' Tara said, 'That is not me.'
There was a laugh at the other end, dark and sticky. 'Pretty girl now. Good on you. Doesn't change a thing. Oh, but we've seen you with your little lover, heard stories of your wiccan ways. Is it enough, Tara?'
'Are you coming for me?'
'Perhaps. To see you, certainly. At the festival before you play. Go to the Green Fields by midday and we'll find you. We'll talk. See what is to be done. Don't run little girl. You know it will not help your cause.'
'I won't run. I'll never run anymore. I've done that.'
'Why run when you can live forever?'
'I'll g-grow old. I'll die.'
'You think your lover will be at your bedside, Tara? Relationships are so ephemeral, so brief, so fleeting. You'll die alone.'
'Maybe. Maybe that's my choice.'
She snapped the phone shut. She'd had enough. She turned and headed back to the hotel and Willow.
Tara faced the two women at last, in the busy enclave of the Greenpeace tent. She didn't know them, but the family resemblance was undeniable. Blonde hair, dark expressive eyes and perfect white skin. Either one of them could easily have passed for Tara in fifteen years time. The one on the left reached out to touch Tara's hair appreciatively.
'Who would have thought you would turn out so beautiful?' she wondered. 'You were such an ugly child.'
Tara brushed the hand away. It seemed her family had not changed.
'If you are here to take me,' she said darkly, 'I will fight you.'
'You would risk harming these innocents?' the other woman asked, gesturing around her.
'There are many ways to fight a battle.'
Both women laughed. 'Are you threatening us with magic?'
'How old are you?' Tara answered a question with a question.
The women's laughter died. 'When we were born the vampire Angel was yet to be cursed.'
'I'm twenty years old.' Tara stated flatly. 'In fifteen years I'll be what you are. I don't want it. I can stop it!'
'The things we have seen.'
'The stories we could tell.'
'I'll never do that job!' Tara protested. 'And I'll never bear a child. I'm of no use to you. Please, can't you let me be?'
'Yes.'
'We can let you go. Though you can never shake your family ties.'
'What?' Tara looked utterly confused. 'I don't understand?'
'The Oracles are dead. We are released.'
'Dead? The Powers That Be are gone?'
'In the sense that we understand it. On this plane they have been destroyed and replaced.'
'A new order.'
'And we are part of the old. Our services are no longer required. Since you are yet to come of age, you will, as you wish, grow old and die.'
'I don't believe it.'
'That is what we came to tell you. It has taken us a while to come to you. You were far from our priority when the Oracles were destroyed.'
Tara gazed at them in wonder. 'What about you? What happens to you?'
'We are putting our affairs in order. In time we will fade away.'
'What about my mother...?'
'Little girl, you threw away your family when you renounced your responsibilities. Your mother no longer knows who you are.'
Tara lowered her head. 'For that, at least, I am sorry.' When she once again looked up, there was fire in her eyes 'But it should never have been. To be a slave to duty is a choice. Were we ever allowed to choose?'
'You never understood. Is it worth reiterating the doctrine now that it is all done? Go lead your life.'
Tara turned her back on them. 'I have a gig to play.'
'Oz?' Tara looked from Oz to Willow to Xander and back again.
'Hey.' Oz said a little sheepishly.
A flash of anger showed in Tara's eyes. This was all getting crazy. 'A-re you gonna try and eat me again?'
'No. I guess I never got to apologise to you about that.'
Tara still bristled. 'I didn't bring out the best in you, as I recall. Why are you here ?'
'Tara..' Willow started, concerned.
'Willow, it's okay,' Oz interrupted. 'Tara's got a pretty good reason...reasons to hate me. What happened before...that was all my fault. You know how it is to love Willow. I had my chance and I fucked it up, Tara. You make her happier than I ever did. Nothing I could do is gonna change that, even if I wanted to.'
Tara softened slightly. 'So why are you here?'
'Well I guess I'll be playing some guitar.'
A 5.00pm, two lonely looking figures appeared on the main stage. Willow and Oz peered around themselves in awe as they made their way across the immense area, the huge metal pyramid structure rearing above them. All they were able to see in front of them was an immense plain of people and tents.
Willow took the mike as the recorded music finally jerked and stopped. She was wearing a pink t-shirt with The Powerpuff Girls emblazoned on it.
'Hi, I'm Willow. This is Oz. We used to date.'
This caused an huge surge from the audience.
Will looked around as if noticing the absence of the rest of the band for the first time. 'Oh, they sent us along as a surrogate band, we're going to find out where you fans really stand.'
MASSIVE CHEER
'Can't go wrong with Floyd' Oz whispered in her ear, then disappeared to locate his 12 string.
'This is kind of a special song. I'd like to dedicate it to my girlfriend. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. Love and kitties, babe.'
And Oz began to play the opening chords of 'White Magic for Lovers'.
Willow looked behind her, away from the frantically dancing throngs. Tara, her bass slung low, smiling sweetly for the cameras; Emma, punking it up with her usual aplomb; Oz just behind with his 12 string delighted at the chance to sit in on Willow's triumphant Glastonbury set.
'This is our last song.' Willow announced. 'It's by some good friends of ours and it pretty much sums up how we're feeling. You might know it.'
It starts in the morning
when you're lying next to me
I'm rolling, I'm rolling
I'm rolling so quickly
now I'm not a doctor
and I'm not a lawyer
I get a prescription and set it on fire
blow me a kiss
I'll be happy for the rest of my life
And I'm so happy 'cause you're so happy
I'm so happy 'cause you're so happy
I'm so happy 'cause you're so happy
and I'm so happy 'cause you're so happy
oh - oh - aw
and I'm so happy
And I really shouldn't like it
but I love it
when I say I'm not excited
you're invited
and I think I'm getting older
there's this weight across ma shoulder
its a shame we're the same
such a shame I'm to blame all the time
but early this evening
I wanted to be with you
I got on the blower
the next thing I know you're speaking
now I'm gonna tell you what I've been thinking
and I've got a hunch that you're thinking the same thing
and with some luck
we'll be lying together tonight
oh - oh - ah
oh - oh - ah
and I'm so happy
'Goodnight!
Willow knew something was wrong the moment she ambled offstage. Jubilant congratulations all round. Except from the only quarter that really mattered. Xander. He sat on a flight case, his head in his hands, sweat covering his face. Emma had wrapped her arm gently around his shoulders and appeared to be consoling him.
'Xander, what's wrong?' Willow asked, concerned.
He looked up at her, clearly close to tears. 'Will...Anya's dead.'
'Oh....Xander. I'm so sorry.'
'She killed herself.' He said flatly. 'Giles said she'd been hanging in her apartment for about a month. I did that to her.'
Willow squeezed his hand. 'Anya was never meant to be of this world, Xander. She never came to terms with it. We all have to take responsibility for our own lives. We all have to make our own choices. I guess she realised that.'
'It follows us, Will.'
'What does?'
'Fucking Sunnydale! The death. The horror.'
'I think you're wrong. I think we bring it with us.'
Late that night Willow and Tara sat by their tent, occasionally feeding a small fire and toasting marshmallows. The news about Anya had subdued everyone, but all but Xander and Emma had decided to stay for the rest of the festival.
'Willow?'
'Ahuh?'
'I saw some of my family this morning.'
Willow looked up, surprised. Tara hardly ever volunteered information about her family. They were the great unknown.
'I think I need to tell you. No secrets.'
Willow nodded. 'Like I always said. When you're ready.'
'Six hundred years ago my ancestors were in dept to the Oracles. They were mystics who occasionally had access to the Powers. I think they asked for one too many favours. In order to pay off that dept they agreed that they and every future member of their family would be the human agents of the Powers on Earth. That sounds kind of grand, but really they were little more than messengers. The Powers changed them. At the age of 35 the ageing process was arrested. They effectively became immortal so long as they did not fall victim to disease or violent death. Only one or two children would be born to them every century, with The Oracles genetic enhancements inherited. They changed over the decades became horribly arrogant and cynical or simply went insane. During this century rebellions began. Some pleaded with The Oracles to free them. Others committed suicide or turned to magical practices.'
'Your Grandmother?'
'And my mother. Let's just say these practices were stamped out. So I ran. I wanted nothing to do with it. I hid in Sunnydale because the mass of unchecked psychic energies offered some cover. I put myself through school and worked on the craft. To free myself. Then I met you.'
'You used me?' Willow felt like her world was about to crash around her ears. Again.
'No. Never.' Tara said softly. 'I think I loved you before we even met. Every time we did a spell together I was terrified they would find me and tear us apart. But it's over now. I'm free. We're free.'
'They didn't want you back?'
'You can take the girl out of Sunnydale...They've gone. For good.'
'Wanna go and watch Oz play tomorrow?'
'Wouldn't miss it.'