Well here I am about to bear myself to public scrutiny for the first time with a (long promised) cycle of stories. Part 1 today, part 2 immediatly below it as they are designed to be read together - then it is a question of redrafting the stories so it may slow down a little and stop altogether where I have a new story to insert in the cycle. I hope the formatting makes it through ok into this post as unfortunately I cannot provide a website link. Enjoy, feedback appreciated either by e-mail or by reply to this post. Thanks finally to Vanessa (Kittyko) both for beta-ing this and part 2 and for that wonderful pic that is in it's own thread.
Incidentally what is the preferred format here, add new parts to this thread or start a new one?
Edited again to add that any beta reader offers for later "episodes" now that you have seen the style and content would be welcome. I'm looking to churn the existing stories out pretty quickly. E-mail about beta please. Thanks K.
And edited again to try and remove some confusion I had let slip in there, thanks Warduke. K.
Here goes nothing:
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Title: The Beginnings Cycle – I Know (Currently Part 1 though this may change if the whim to write an earlier episode takes me.)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Absolutely, just keep it constructive – katharynrosser@hotmail.com
Summary: Prior to the Wicca meeting in the Season 4 episode “Hush” where Willow meets Tara. This story is a counterpart to “Come Home” which describes Tara’s state of mind – this one deals with Willow’s. The two stories may be read in either order – though both should be before “Campus Wicca’s.” Simply put this is my version of just how Willow was feeling at the point in her life immediately prior to meeting Tara. I try to remain faithful to these “starting” versions of Willow and Tara throughout the Beginnings Cycle, and hope to demonstrate the change in the two women – I will stress however that these are simply my interpretations of these two – based on a possibly faulty memory of the episodes involved. The narrative does tend to jump around a bit. This is deliberate. That is how thoughts work (mine at least) and this is almost entirely set within Willow’s thoughts.
Spoiler Warning: Limited Spoilers for anything up to “Hush” but if you haven’t; got that far then you don’t know who Willow and Tara are anyway!
Disclaimer: This may shock you but I don’t own any aspect of BTVS, or the characters herein. All rights reside with the copyright and trademark owners, writers and producers of the show.
Rating: PG13
Couples: None, but getting there – that’s the point!
Notes: I have taken a slight liberty with the Willow/Spike encounter earlier in this season. It does not all appear on camera so I have added to the content of their conversation in Willow’s room. I have also taken the liberty of making this the first time at Wicca Group that Willow has spoken to Tara properly – even if only briefly.
And yes there is a mini-credit for Placebo here. These two stories do use the titles of two of their songs – though I was not consciously aware of it at the time of writing. I would particularly recommend, “I Know” to anyone writing W/T stories who is not aware of it. Angst galore… you will find this to be a theme of the cycle.
Thanks To: The usual suspects (i.e. the cast, producers etc) but more personally to Vanessa, the kitties at the Kitten Board and most of all to L - she's my always.
The Beginnings Cycle
I Know
By
Katharyn Rosser
‘I know.’ Two words that Willow was heartily sick of hearing. ‘I know it’s hard.’ ‘I know you miss him.’ ‘I know Oz’ll be back. When he’s ready.’ What with ‘I know’ and ‘You just have to…’ and various ‘get on with your life’ metaphors she was getting a belly full of understanding words and not a lot of real understanding.
The sharp jagged edge of Oz’s leaving had, she could finally admit to herself, dissipated and allowed her to function as a vaguely normal human being…who had had her heart ripped out of her chest. But that’s what Werewolves did wasn’t it? Who was I, she thought, to think I could tame the beast – either the wolf or the man? Goddess knew maybe Faith had even been right about that species… There see what he had done to her. She was agreeing with Faith.
The fact that she appeared to be back to normal belied the fact that there was a huge hole in her life that nothing could seem to fill – because all the fillings seemed to be being slowly sucked out, one goop at a time. Like Giles ate his jelly donuts. I’m a half-emptied fried dough confectionary. Was that a step up from being a little teapot short and stout? She asked the question of herself thinking of the nursery rhyme her parents had delighted in her performing for their friends and relatives. Mind wandering…. focus she told herself as she crossed the quadrangle. Scarred for life by a nursery rhyme though…
That the others would have their own lives was a given. Buffy had Riley, he seemed nice enough - and properly warned of what she would do to him and on behalf of wronged women everywhere if he hurt Buffy. He seemed to understand that too. Xander seemed to be ‘happy’ with Anya. Now that was a problem – but it was his problem at least. Not hers. I have enough right now. A vengeance demon, even an ex-one, probably not the best choice for a partner, but they seemed to get on and she wasn’t likely to go and start sniffing werewolves on him. And of course he wasn’t at the college. He had a job, well from time to time, and that meant he wasn’t always around like he used to be – which was fine and dandy. Except he wasn’t there when he had always used to be. But really she wasn’t caring about him and Anya. Not that way. Even when she had been with …Oz…Xander being with Cordelia had driven her wild with jealousy. It shouldn’t have…maybe it was my minds way of telling me that the werewolf wasn’t right for me? Maybe, maybe not. But Anya only annoyed her, and she was only concerned she would hurt Xander…as a vengeance demon could…rather than being bothered by their being together. There, that was true and a big step forward. Yay me. Somehow it didn’t help.
No, what bothered Willow about Xander and the rest of her friends was that they seemed to have overdosed on her emotions about Oz leaving. They actually seemed to be wishing that she would get over it – but not for her sake. I wish I could get over it. But I can’t, she thought. And it would nice to have some real support – not just platitudes. Where was I for Buffy during the whole Angel good, bad thing? I was right there, she thought. O.K. so a few times I was with Xander in advocating putting him down like a rabid dog, but I was there and caring. Caring girl. And Parker. Poop-head…the first of them. I was there when Parker used her and she had to get over it. And through everything else in her life in the last few years.
But the worst thing was the other people she had come to regard as friends. Devon, the rest of the Dingo’s, nearly all of Oz’s other friends – and she had thought friends of hers too. She had seen them a few times, but they had not even warned her when Oz had sent for his stuff – just let her go in and find out it was all gone. They had not said a word before…or that they were sorry after either for concealing that truth – or even that she had been hurt by their friend.
Sure they were pleasant enough if she saw them around – but if they said a word beyond “Hey Willow” it was a shock and their slick escapes from her questions about hearing from Oz were almost assuming legendary status. Anyone would think this had all been her fault. She hadn’t been the one to go sniffing…. and worse…around other werewolves, or as far as they had to know women. She was the victim here. And yet I am made to feel guilty.
And, she admitted to herself, I do feel guilty. Lingering Xander guilt? Maybe, but that was so out of her system now - look not even bothered by a vengeance demon he was… dating was a word that didn’t touch what he was doing. And it didn’t bother her – except in as much as she loathed Anya with a fiery passion. But it wasn’t anything more than an intense dislike of her as a person.
They probably thought she was like a stalker though – that she had driven him off, AND broken up one of the better native Sunnydale bands. She had hung around for hours, alone in his room after he left, kinda weird behaviour she had to admit – but part of the grieving process that she needed to go through. And the taciturn lead guitarist wouldn’t have told them what was really going on anyway. He couldn’t even tell her. Infact he had lied to her when she asked what was wrong he had lied to her. After all they had been through, after the whole Xander thing he couldn’t speak to her – of all people about what he was feeling. He couldn’t tell me the truth – a truth that I had suspected but just thought I was being paranoid…. nothing wrong with paranoia. Paranoia seemed a healthy thing right about now. After all this was Sunnydale. End of the World Town for the last three years running and looking strong for the title this year too. Paranoia and cynicism were just what you needed round here. Where they really were out to get you. In a nasty bitey way.
I wasn’t good enough for Oz. No that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t a question of being good enough…it was of existing in his world. I didn’t. I just didn’t. I couldn’t tell the difference between an amplifier and Elvis. She didn’t exist in his world in any sense apart from the romantic and even then… Maybe it was inevitable then…what had happened. But it didn’t make it all right… and the how.
And Percy! She’d got him through high-school and into that college scholarship… Well OK his basketball had got him the scholarship, but she’d enabled him to play at high school with her tutoring and he sat there with his girl and called her a nerd. Dismissed her as a nerd. Hello ungrateful boy…change of image, change of hair, more friends, dating a guitarist…. well…
O.K new image, new hair…fewer friends actually and not dating anymore. But still, where was the gratitude? And not just from him. Through it all, though her grief, the pain. Through the platitudes of her friends – they had still expected her to perform for them. To be ‘Net-girl’, ‘Spell girl’ and anything else required that did not involve actual slayage. Where was the passage in the slayer handbook that said there will be “One girl in all the world who’ll have a few friends to fight evil with her and they never get compassionate leave because the world is going to end - again?” I’m pretty sure there isn’t one she concluded – though Giles was still refusing to let anyone see his copy.
It was harder for them she guessed than those not in the know about what Sunnydale really was. There were demons, vampires and beasties. The world did threaten to end on a regular basis. There often wasn’t time for the best friend stuff to happen and they had been Oz’s friends too. That couldn’t make it easy on them either – that he might just turn up one day and be their friend again – she had dreamed of that, but now she wasn’t so sure. And where was the best friend stuff? Ok so Xander had a job – but Anya was the real problem. No even that wasn’t true. Much as she would love to blame Anya she had to admit another truth. It’s me who’s avoiding him a lot of the time to avoid talking about stuff in front of the Anya. She couldn’t deal with the ‘girls’ literal minded, insensitive and vengeance demon tainted attitude. Not more than she had to.
And Buffy. How often had she been there for Buffy throughout all her troubles? Slayer she might be, super girl – but emotionally she had been through the mangle and I was right there for her – several times. She didn’t always want to talk, or for me to be there. But I was. Now though…Buffy was playing with her new boyfriend or out hunting Spike when I needed her. And she didn’t even slay Spike! The door didn’t seem to be swinging both ways – and then they wonder why I’m still messed up – why they still have to be saying stuff like ‘I know…’
Heck, the longest conversation I’ve had with anyone recently was with Spike. The electronically tamed vampire had become a sort of soul mate in pain…though for other reasons, and it wasn’t the first time that had happened either. OK so, if he could, he’d bite me in a heartbeat but that said something in itself. At least he had cared enough – amongst dealing with his “impotency” to listen, even offering, in the few seconds before he remembered his own problems, to rip Oz’s lungs out for her. After he had killed her of course. It was the only practical thing that anyone had offered to do for her. But perhaps that was missing the point. No one could do anything for her…other than be there. And they aren’t.
It was sweet in Spike’s own twisted way – not that she wanted Oz’s lungs ripped out. She wanted him to come back with his lungs inside his chest where they should be. She liked his lungs there they were kind of necessary to the whole breathing part. To let them deal with it and either get back where they were or finish it properly – without the uncertainty – he would need lungs. She didn’t know whether she actually wanted to be back with him, in the cuddly boy-friendy way though. If he could do that to her, then leave her like that then maybe it was too late for them – but it needed to be finished properly. But on the other hand he was…. Oz with his lungs.
Actually she didn’t know a lot. She went to classes and absorbed knowledge like a sponge. That had always been a gift to pick up on stuff whilst not giving it 100%, but she was not really interested. Too many other things going on in her mind. Wondering where Oz was. When he would let her know. If he was even OK. Wondering when it might just stop hurting – just a little more. She helped the gang make Sunnydale safe for those too stupid to notice what was going on around them – though a little ignorance seemed like a blissful alternative right now. Ignorance, paranoia and cynicism – what a wish list that was. And so much easier to fulfil than the alternatives.
And so here she was again. Wicca Group. Kind of a lame name – though coven or something similar might not have gone down too well with the college authorities even here in Sunnydale. She’d come to the orientation, it seemed so long ago now – before everything had fallen to pieces. Before Oz had left. Before there had always been something going on in her life. Stopping her from coming here, trying to better her powers with other Wicca. And of course that whole burnt at the stake experience may have caused a little hesitancy. And now there was nothing to stop her so she had made it to the last couple of meetings.
Nothing to stop her at all. Perhaps I should have found the time for my own development before. Why did I let this slip, let myself sit on that plateau? Why did I worry about what Oz would think? If he would mind me attending? He used to go off to LA without telling me and I worried about two hours here on campus…
She arrived at the area set-aside for the group and found that she at last recognised most of those that were there. It had taken a while to get their names down – especially as they had all made more meetings than her. Knew each other already. And it showed. They were in little clusters chatting, whispering. Making their plans and having of the gossip. And here I am outside. What a shock. But there was another outsider. The young woman with the long blonde hair, Lara was it? She was also alone and as seeing Willow there looking round made for her…as if on a mission. The smile the greeted her as the other eventually stood in front of her was perhaps the most genuine she had ever seen and filled with relief. She didn’t like being the outsider either then. Fine they would start their own little group. Though Willow didn’t have any plans. Or any gossip. But they could look like they could. Gods that smile was infectious. She knew that the blonde woman meant it too. Too many people used smiles like they used the words ‘Sorry,’ ‘I know’ and ‘You just have to.’ When they had nothing else to say. But this woman had no reason to be so false – she doesn’t even know me. Willow smiled back as best she could.
‘B-B-Blessings’ the other said. ‘I’m Tara.’
‘I know’ Willow replied. ‘Well actually I kind of thought your name was Lara…but I had three quarters right. I’m Willow - Willow Rosenberg. I saw you at the last couple of meetings…I was kind of a latecomer; I’d been sort of… busy. Till recently.’
Tara just nodded, looking as if she was thinking of something to say. Willow supposed that she was nervous of that stammer letting her down. She knew that Tara hadn’t spoken up much in the meetings she had been to – hence getting the name wrong. It was good to have that excuse, getting names wrong was one of her Mother’s failings and she didn’t want to start down that road.
‘It’s not what I imagined,’ Willow continued. Hiding her disappointment was difficult. Looking around and listening in meetings it had become clear very quickly that most of the women here were sheep. They came here for Wicca it was all talk – all talk led by a few dominant personalities. Of which Tara was not one and she had not felt confident enough in her first couple of meetings to speak up either. And there wasn’t a hint of a spell book. Not a hint of anything that was really mystical – except big drippy candles sometimes. And barely a flicker of power.
As she was called over by Carol whom she knew had started up the group and seemed to regard it as hers to command she was directed to a chair for the first time no less. Usually she had been made to occupy the new members seat – commonly known as the floor. Been seated there, midway between the two dominant personalities was, she supposed a kind of test. The question is which way do I jump? And she wasn’t really sure that she wanted or needed to jump anywhere so disappointing had this group been. She realised that she had walked away from Tara without another word. She called me and I ran over like a dog. Leaving Tara. Who was banished to her traditional spot on the floor once more – inevitably as there were no chairs left. She didn’t think it was anything personal against Tara on Carol’s part. She just thought that Carol didn’t care or notice the blonde woman. I didn’t much either. And now she regretted not holding them up a little – to hear what else Tara might have had to say. She had snapped into obedient Willow mode when Carol had summoned her. There was far too much of that in her life already…. assumptions that she would do stuff for people. She considered giving up her chair and either joining Tara on the floor or giving her the chair, but didn’t…
‘I Kn-know’ she heard that other woman say quietly as she passed behind her – though what she was referring to she didn’t – know that is.
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Title: The Beginnings Cycle – Come Home (Currently Part 2 though that may change should I decide to write a earlier story.)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Absolutely – just keep it constructive – katharynrosser@hotmail.com
Summary: Prior to the Wicca Meeting in the Season 4 Episode “Hush.” I asked myself where was Tara before? Who was she? What was she looking for? These are just a few of my answers establishing Tara’s feelings and state of mind as used within the rest of my Willow/Tara stories – since it is their development which I am most interested in. This story runs in parallel with the Willow story “I Know” and interlink at the end. They can be read in either order.
Spoiler Warning: Limited Spoilers for anything up to “Hush” but if you haven’t; got that far then you don’t know who Willow and Tara are anyway! There are also references to material that is not formally known about Tara until Season 5’s “Family.”
Disclaimer: This may shock you but I don’t own any aspect of BTVS, or the characters herein. All rights reside with the copyright and trademark owners, writers and producers of the show.
Rating: PG13
Couples: None, but getting there – that’s the point!
Notes: Please bear in mind that though I have tried to stick to cannon I have taken some liberties (as in “I Know”) to formulate the starting points for Willow and Tara’s journey together.
As a running theme through the first half (or more) or this cycle is a fear within Tara about her “demon” part as revealed to be false in Season 5 “Family.” I have chosen to make this a strong theme that is in her mind constantly at this point. This is not canon – but given the circumstances I don’t think it is stretching the character too far. Further I have chosen to interpret an ambiguous line in “Tough Love” which refers to either brothers or brother’s as the former. Tara thus, in this version, has younger brothers as well as Donny (who we have seen.)
And yes there is a mini-credit for Placebo here in the title of this story and “I Know.” These two stories do use the titles of two of their songs – though I was not consciously aware of it at the time of writing.
Thanks To: The usual suspects (i.e. the cast, producers etc) but more personally to Vanessa, the kitties at the Kitten Board and most of all to L - she's my always.
The Beginnings Cycle
Come Home
By Katharyn Rosser
‘You know you can always come home don’t you Tara? To your kin?’ It was not the first time Tara had heard that of course. After months of trying to persuade her not to leave home her family had not been about to give up on her just because she had finally gone. They had been saying the same things to her since the first time she had called them – the night she had arrived here in Sunnydale. And they had tempted her many times.
But he had let her go. Her father had let her go and the other’s might not like it but they could not argue with that decision, she was after all his daughter. She knew though that he had not wanted her to go, that he loved her, but he also feared what she would become…and when…and without the family to help her at that time what she might do… And that was why, eventually, she would have to go back. But when?
Not that any of them had mentioned it. They knew that she was aware of what she was and when it would come to her. She had known since she was old enough to listen…and remember – and how could you forget that anyway? Until then though there was no crisis decision to be made, but she doubted that they would let her return to Sunnydale so easily after the summer vacation. Summer…ha…I might not make it though this semester. Not because of her studies. Those were proceeding solidly, not spectacularly but solidly and she was enjoying the subjects – well most of them. But…
College was not what Tara had believed it was going to be. No, that was not fair to this place at all. She had not made it what she needed it to be – wanted it to be. She had spent so many unhappy, almost friendless years at high-school, ignored and taunted in almost equal measure – more so when she finally believed that she had found a measure of happiness there – but that too had gone bad. College was supposed to have been different. And it was. But not enough.
When she had arrived here in Sunnydale a few things were immediately obvious. Clearly the town was a very different place to where she had grown up. Compared to what she had always called a town this was a metropolis and that in itself took some getting used to. From one bus stop town to docks, bus depot and airport. From one diner to Starbucks, Mr Happy Burger and loads of other places to eat as well as more sophisticated eateries far out of her modest price range. From a place where magical energy had to be coaxed and persuaded to work for you to a area where it whispered to you all the time, encouraging you to use it to do things that had always been forbidden. From taking care of her family to fending for herself.
And from having no friends at home to having no friends in a completely different, strange and unfamiliar place.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. In her dreams college had been the fresh start she had needed for a decade. She had attended junior high and high school with the same people. They may have been drawn from a much larger geographical area than would be the case here in Sunnydale, but the behaviour of children, adolescents and teenagers at school remained the same – would be the same anywhere she guessed. And once they had decided that they didn’t like someone – or didn’t care enough to have an opinion – then there was no changing that.
So college was supposed to be where she could start again. Make friends, unsullied by their opinions of her family reputation, her flirtation with magic and the judgements about her dress, her physical form and her timid demeanour that had always haunted her school days.
To that end she had even requested to share a room, just to meet someone new and perhaps ‘use’ them – in the nicest possible way - to make further friends. Instead she got stuck with a single room – administrative error – but it was nice to have a single at the same price as sharing. But ultimately it had meant that aside from the first day here, when many of her neighbours had congregated a lot together in the common areas or each others rooms trying, like her, to make friends that she had been left alone. Unsure how to socialise – how to tell jokes that others found funny, or even get a sentence out with new people, she was left alone. It was like an audition. They had given her a chance – a fair chance she had to admit, and found her a little ‘strange’ and ‘mouse-like.’ She had heard them say as much. So now they were pleasant to her, they invited her to communal dorm events, knowing she likely would not go and if she did would keep herself out of the way. They were pleasant enough in passing and occasionally gave and received favours but friends….no. And the students in her classes were no different.
Everyone here was so nice, had to be as everyone was…initially at least…in the same boat. But once people had found their place in the scheme of things, got involved with friends, classmates or in societies and sports...The student handbook should tell you that. If you are still on the outside at a pre-determined point in those first weeks – a point that no one seemed to be able to identify but existed anyway - then you will likely remain an outsider for good.
And so that had led her to consider the various societies. The problem was she was not sporty. Never had been. Riding was her forte in sporting terms and that was kind of tricky without her horse – or somewhere to stable it even if she had been able to bring Beany. Beyond that there was not much sport in Tara Maclay – or desire to get involved. The academic societies were ok, discussing her subjects over fruit punch, chips and dips – but it was inevitably the same people who inhabited the classes so nothing changed there. Then she asked herself what societies were there for stuff I am already into. Really there were just two choices and one of those she was in no way interested in attending – not that she was very active in that area anyway. Even the word inactive would have overstated her case in that sense. Non-starter maybe. The other was the campus Wicca Group.
When she had read about it on one of their flyers it sounded cool. A whole group of like minded young women practising Wicca. The only other person she had known who was a Wicca had been her mother – who had taught her all she now knew. Her father had stood for that, mainly though his love for her mother and his tolerance for her “undesirable” activities as Beth’s father, Tara’s uncle, had put it. But when she, her mother, had… gone…that all changed. She had been forced to hide the few books that her mother had passed to her. He had known of course that she had continued with Wicca, but he had tried to clamp down on it, to dissuade his only daughter from that path. But eventually he had just let go. As the argument between her father and older brother Donny had gone, she had to get it out of her system. Wicca group was certainly achieving that. Dad would have been proud of the total lack of actual Wicca and magic involved.
That the flyers had not mentioned a single spell, incantation or anything actually anything mystical had been understandable – afterall there would have been some objections from the faculty – even here in a magical place like Sunnydale. But on reaching that meeting it seemed that she had made a mistake.
The first meeting had, reasonably enough, been organisational, taking names, addresses, making badges so everyone knew who everyone was. And it was useful, she guessed, to have a leader at a time like that someone who would take charge and get something done….or a group of them.
By the third meeting though it was clear that they had no clue what they were actually talking about. Blessed-be and herbal PMS remedies – bought in the local chemists – did not a Wicca make. Empowerment seemed to be their stated interest – despite the fact that they did nothing even about that. Tara though knew she had kept quiet far too long. She had not challenged the assumption, of those three leading women, of what the group should be – or could be – and they had made it their own. Now the rest of the members seemed to think it was their own aim too, their own idea. That was the trick to leading any group. To make the group feel that it was all their own idea. But Tara had sat quietly by – because being in the group got her out, allowed her to feel that their was more to college than studying and who knows maybe one day someone would actually suggest doing a spell – though she thought that idea would go down like the proverbial lead balloon. Here they were in a place so loaded with magical energy that the least magically adept person in the world could carry off a heavy-duty spell with the right ingredients and words – and we sit and worry about fund-raising.
And so here was her older brother trying to persuade her to come home whilst she tried to persuade herself to stay. What was there here for her? Learning. Certainly. The chance of a better life. Maybe. But what would either of those get her? In less than a year she was going to have to go home anyway. Her life would, like her mother’s, be at the Maclay home. It had to be. There was no other way. What do I have to know for that? Other than what I already do. How to cook, clean, and one day become a wife for whoever would actually take an unattractive young woman who was part demon. She actually hoped that no one would ever want her as a wife, that she could stay at home with her family when she had to – but she had a fair guess that someone would. Despite it all the Maclay women were wanted by the other local families who knew of their traits – to an extent the demon’s magic could be harnessed for positive uses and we will always stay home. Of course any husband would have to join the Maclay family as she had to stay in the specially adapted house. We have no other choice. I have no other choice. She could feel the weight of generations of her female ancestors pushing her back home. No, that was not it. That was what she was supposed to feel. What she actually felt was the force of her family to go home. She thought that her female ancestors, whose fate she would share within the year, were what gave her the strength to resist the pressure. To make something else of herself…whilst she could.
But what else was there to stay for. Nothing at all really. For the first time she actually realised that. She had told herself again and again that she would make it through the year. Maybe ask her father if she could return the first semester of next year...until…her birthday. But what was the point? Freedom? Maybe so, but how free was she. She had an inevitable destiny and that was not going to go away. She wasn’t free at all.
‘Yes Donny, I know that. I know that I can come home.’ she finally replied to her brother. And the possibility was not a million miles from the forefront of her mind as she said goodbye and put the phone down, pulled on her shoes and headed out to Wicca Group – another meeting about bake sales and funding – so said the agenda. Despite her desire for more…well magic in a Wicca group she was good at baking…another skill her mother had taught her – one her family had approved of. Her brothers had always loved her cakes…and her Dad…well he didn’t like to admit it now she was gone but he liked them too though the facilities in the little kitchenette that served the students on her floor weren’t up to much.
She reflected back on that conversation as she headed for the meeting. They really wanted her to come home and right now she wasn’t sure that there was anything to stay for. She was just costing her family money for an education that she would never have the chance to complete. And everyone knew it. Was that fair? No it was selfish. And she did miss them, especially her younger brothers. And would they get a chance to go to college? Maybe…if she went home sooner rather than later…saved the money for their educations. For people who could actually use it and get away from the Maclay home which wouldn’t be a happy place…because now she would always know what was on the outside. At least her mother hadn’t had to suffer that. Knowing what the life outside could be like if she hadn’t been…afflicted with evil.
At the door to her destination building she remembered she was on greeting duty, which seemed to amuse some of the other “wicca” - as she could often not get a word out before any new members breezed past her. ‘Blessing’ she was supposed to say. When she could get the word out flawlessly. Not that any actual blessing was ever done round here…except verbally as some sort kind of wicca-trendy greeting.
Everyone that had arrived so far though had been here for the previous meetings. Truth be told the membership seemed to have peaked. She hadn’t welcomed a new member for some weeks now. Most of them fitted into Carol and Anne’s definition of just what a Wicca should be in the 21st Century…that meant distinctly no magic or even discussing it. Empowerment and bake sales and the like were all. Mainly bake sales. Not very empowering to Tara’s way of thinking especially as the funds raised never turned into more than T-shirt’s with a logo and “Blessed Be” printed on them, dances and other “empowering” ideas. The others were like her – well o.k. not so bad as her – those that just went along with it and let the clique of “in-wicca” rule the roost. For all their words though where was the empowerment? If the majority of members had been truly empowered we wouldn’t be such sheep. She had to admit to the we…because she was no better than anyone else in that regard.
It was then that she noticed the hesitant young red-haired woman that was hovering at the edge of the little cluster groups as if assessing who might welcome her into a group without thinking she was intruding. Well that was her sort of her job – as official meeter and greeter, though she had noticed the strikingly red haired woman at a couple of the more recent meetings. She had stayed pretty quiet. Nervous perhaps. Tara could relate to that. Who knows if I get to her first she might not turn into another bitchy pseudo-Wiccan. She regretted that thought as soon as it had entered her head. She was in no position to argue – thoroughly cowed by Carol and Anne she had never spoken up when others had suggested spells in the first few meetings. Those people had drifted away and just left her as magic’s not very eloquent defender. Though if she were any judge the red-head was not going to fit in with Carol and Anne’s unofficial ‘in-crowd’ dress code. The magic shop must be doing a roaring trade in “genuine” amulets and necklaces and bracelets. They didn’t have a clue of course what the substances they hung round their necks and wrists were actually for…or even if they were Wiccan. Maybe there was hope for the red haired young woman.
She had been told what to say though she suspected it was deliberately aimed at her nervous stammer. Starting her off with ‘blessings.’ Tara was not so good with B’s when she was nervous and with people she was new to she was always nervous. But this wasn’t a new member – not really. But what else can I say? Hi just didn’t seem to be right. Not here.
She went over towards the young woman and smiled encouragingly. Her target seemed as nervous as she was and, sensitive to these things, Tara got a vibe of something else. This young woman was deeply unhappy and searching for something but still she received a small smile in return. Oh well, it sure isn’t me. Just get the welcome out of the way and see if you can actually talk to her. Strike up a conversation. And if you can’t let her go and be with someone who could.
‘B-B-Blessings’ She finally said. ‘I’m Tara.’ She ignored the rest of the speech, unwilling to play that game of difficult b’s for someone’s amusement.
‘I know’ the other said. ‘Well actually I kind of thought your name was Lara…but I had three quarters right. I’m Willow - Willow Rosenberg. I saw you at the last couple of meetings…I was kind of a latecomer, I’d been sort of… busy. Till recently.’
Tara nodded. When Willow had said those words it became a little clearer just what it was that was wrong with her. Something had happened. Something that had freed her up for this…sham. Something that had affected her so much that coming here seemed like a good idea. Even knowing what it was like. A comfort even. And Tara knew exactly what that was like.
‘It’s not what I imagined,’ Willow continued as if reading her mind. And before Tara could reply Willow was turning. Summoned by Carol to a chair no less. Tara had yet to graduate from the floor. Oh well, she thought. Someone is favoured and as usual it isn’t me. That Willow would end up just like the others. Another one bites the proverbial dust.
‘I Kn-know’ replied Tara quietly as she moved around behind the woman who had introduced herself as Willow and took her place on the floor to complete the circle.
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She's my always
Thankyou for your comments kitties, much appreciated - could a moderator do me a huge favour and change the title of the thread to get rid of the "Part One and Two" bit as I am going to be posting new parts in this thread? Hate to impose but....
I am very aware that this and part 4 are the weaker parts of this cycle (currently 28 completed or well underway though not all redrafted for posting) - which is not to say that they are bad (IMHO!) they just resist all attempts to tweak them and improve them...but stick with me and I am more than happy with 5,6 especially and the later ones.
Tara’s thoughts in this story – as this a comparative piece - are shown with the paragraphs preceded by a (T) for clarity as the italics should now be working but if not the (T) is left in place - I will know for next time.
Edited, Italics should now be added. Thanks Tommo.
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Title: The Beginnings Cycle – Campus Wiccas (Currently Part 3 though this may change if the whim to write an earlier episode takes me.)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Absolutely, just keep it constructive – katharynrosser@hotmail.com
Summary: Set during the season 4 episode “Hush” and within the events of that episode – specifically the Wicca Group meeting. Though it is not necessary I recommend reading parts 1 and 2 of this cycle before this third one. The stories ‘Come Home’ and ‘I Know’ reflect the individual feelings of Tara and Willow prior to this meeting. This story deals in a comparative way to their reactions to the meeting as it occurs. Aspects of this are taken from the transcript to that episode available at http://www.psyche.kn-bremen.de/ - though unfortunately the transcribers have not appended their name to the file so full credit cannot be given. Where aspects of the transcript were unclear (such as reference to lemon bundt – I don’t know what a bundt is…buns?) I have amended the wording in my version.
Spoiler Warning: Limited Spoilers for anything up to and including “Hush” but if you haven’t got that far then you don’t know who Willow and Tara are anyway! Reference also to some facts learnt in later episodes given the ongoing theme of Tara’s belief in her “demon”heritage.
Disclaimer: This may shock you but I don’t own any aspect of BTVS, or the characters herein. All rights reside with the copyright and trademark owners, writers and producers of the show. Nor am I making any profit out of this story or others in the cycle.
Rating: PG13
Couples: None, but getting there – that’s the point!
Notes: Please bear in mind that I have altered slightly the actual canon content of this episode. In particular what takes about a minute or two on screen has become the whole basis of this story and I am conscious that the decisions reached within this time frame seem a little over the top. I have taken the liberty of naming some of the Wicca in the group who otherwise were simply identified as Wicca 1 etc in the transcript. There is no indication that our two heroines had even really noticed each other at this point so don’t expect swooning. Yet – we’ll get to that in later stories.
Thanks To: The usual suspects (i.e. the cast, producers etc) but more personally to the kitties at the Kitten Board and most of all to L – she’s my always.
The Beginnings Cycle
Campus Wicca’s
By
Katharyn Rosser
Drawn into the circle of the assembled Wicca Willow, presumably to be checked out by the powers that be…namely Carol and Anne, was finally given a chair to sit on. That was the first time that had happened. They could never secure enough seats for the group and it always same to be the same people who were sat on the floor. Today only the blonde haired young woman who had greeted her and another were similarly stuck with a posterior touching the hard floor. She had considered going and sitting with Tara, or giving her the chair. Partly to annoy Carol who had directed her to it and partly because she thought that Tara deserved a little consideration of some kind. She did seem the most genuine person here. Herself included. But Tara made the sacrifice anyway. Willow strongly suspected that these “Wicca” didn’t have much clue what a real Wiccan sacrifice would involve. It could get messy and flamey. But these ladies didn’t seem to be into flamey and messy. There was barely an inkling of power from most of those in the room – though conditions for assessing that may not have been so great given that other students were milling around the circle conducting their own business. But you didn’t need a quiet, private room if you weren’t actually doing anything.
The orientation meeting had all been names on lists and cookies. Which was all fine but then it wasn’t exactly Wicca. And when she had turned up to previous meetings it had definitely been benefit of the doubt time. Carol had impressed her only with her total lack of understanding of what Wicca actually was. A big not impressed from those wastes of time. Carol seemed obsessed with fund raising and welcomed the opportunity of having a new member to help with that. Putting the group flyers up all over campus – flyers that didn’t even have a mystical symbol on them – let alone mention spells or anything other than empowerment and more fund raising. Now empowerment was fine and good, but Willow was banking on the other members of the group being drawn here for the same reason she had been. And if they weren’t then…well she’d have to do something about that.
Carol definitely had a presence though. Unfortunately it was of the same kind of presence that Cordelia had been so adept at…I am the centre of the universe all hail me, all bow to me. Though without the natural talent – or charm – of Cordy. Which was saying a lot. ‘We come together, daughters of Gaia, sisters to the moon we walk with the darkness the wolf at our side through the waterfall of power to the blackest heart of eternity.’ Carol intoned.
Ok, not too bad Willow thought. Not a lot of feeling behind those traditional words but they were traditional and suggested that some reading had being going on. Score one for Carol. The balance column wasn’t looking quite so bad…but oh dear…
‘I think we should have a bake sale.’ Carol finished.
A bake sale? Willow’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. This is how she opens her meeting every time. Posters, t-shirts. Now a bake sale. What happened to the ‘darkness the wolf at our side’ does the wolf like cookies? I guess the wolf might like cookies – after all they are scavengers and it is at our side…cookies might make a wolf hang around like a dog. Is that how the Wicca of old had attracted a wolf when they needed one for a borrowing? With small confectionaries? No…probably not. Infact she was pretty certain it hadn’t worked that way.
(T) Tara, looking at the young woman she had just been talking to and was immediately aware of the feelings of the redhead. That took no talent though. There was no trick to it. It was written all over her expressive face. Tara had never really looked at her before. Usually she looked at the floor and her shoes. Which were at least familiar and safe. But no one else seemed to have noticed though as they pressed ahead with their discussion. No one else was even looking at Willow Rosenberg – newest member, might not show again…don’t waste effort on her. It was an unspoken consensus. But they had made sure she took a chair. They were measuring her up. If they had looked though they couldn’t have missed the grimace of disgust that flickered over that face before she managed to get it under control. This Willow was perhaps what she had been looking for when she had first come to this group so many weeks ago – and never found. Someone who actually was interested in Wicca. Real Wicca. Certainly it was obvious that she wasn’t impressed so far. Tara could vaguely remember seeing her months before, when she thought hard about it, at the group orientation. But she had only recently started to attend regularly. What had brought her back now? Willow had suggested that she had been occupied before. And wasn’t now. For her sake though she hoped it was not a desire for practising Wicca. No chance of that here. But maybe a new viewpoint could get something going. Or not.
‘I don’t know’ Anne replied to Carol’s suggestion. Anne was someone she knew a little from her classes. The pair of them – she and Carol - could have been Cordettes – might have been if Cordelia had come to UC Sunnydale and put out an all call for vacuous empowered young women to hang out with. And taken a dive in the style standards she had set. Neither of them was as strong willed and self-obsessed as Cordelia had been but they tried hard… It was always important to try. But a group was about more than the leaders. It was the whole that mattered. Or it should have been.
Ah maybe even Anne could talk some sense though, Willow thought. She had been a little more impressed by Anne at recent meetings. She actually seem to have some feeling about what Wicca could be as if she had read the “Idiots Guide to Wicca and Witchcraft.” And she seemed to have an ongoing competition with Carol - though they did close ranks against the others when they had to. Go on argue with her…
Carol pressed ahead. ‘You guys like a bake sale right? I mean we need money for the dance recital and you know I do an empowering lemon bun.’
Dance recital, empowering lemon bun? What was empowering about a lemon bun? She supposed if you overcooked it you could throw it at your oppressors and that might do some damage but empowering? Time was when real Wicca would dance as part of a ritual – not that Willow had ever done that. Dancing was something for special occasions only. Very, very, special occasions. Actually just marriages and proms. That was it for dancing. Chanting and intoning was far safer and less prone to being observed in a public performance sort of way. Let alone the stories of witches dancing naked…in the fields or woods. Spiders, frogs if you were near a pond anyway, nudity, public performance….all in one package… uhh, she couldn’t envisage any spell being that desperate that she could even consider that.
(T) Mmmn lemon buns. Tara had to admit that the last bake sale, right after the beginning of the first semester had produced some nice cakes. Say this for Carol – well she would never actually say it but… - she might not have a magical bone in her body but she can make lemon buns. In fact she was kind of looking forward to her purchases already. And she’d sold a lot to her dorm-mates too. She’d been number two in sales. Which was great. Getting that, brief, recognition from the others. They hadn’t found her a chair though. Though if she had said something, spoken up?
And here comes Anne again, Willow was satisfied to notice – sticking up for cause of Wicca against the scourge of lemons – seeing that the other was about to argue with Carol. Down with lemons. Yay wicca!
‘The most important thing is the Gaian newsletter we need to get the message of blessing out to the sisters.’ Anne pointed out to the group and continued. ‘Also who left their scented candles dripping all over my women power shrine?’
Aaaah! Willow cried out silently to herself. Newsletter? That just capped it all. There was no hope for this bunch of wannabe’s. None at all. She’d arrived here doubting it strongly. Last chance saloon. But what else did she have to do. Not a darn thing. Not at all. Kinda made you wish for the end of the world. Again. Something to do that wasn’t here. Not unless…I can inspire them. Inspiration.
Oh dear.
(T) She’s going to speak up, Tara realised. She’s actually going to challenge Carol and Anne. Of course the newest member didn’t know any better – it had been tried before, though Tara herself had never plucked up enough courage to make much of an attempt. In fact her attempts had actually been more of a cautiously raised hand, a nervous stammer and backing off at a rate of knots. Nope silence was best. Otherwise, if you were lucky you might get a withering glance for threatening an interruption. If you were less fortunate you might be asked to explain your idea…be opened up to ridicule by the group. And if you were truly unlucky then you would be savaged by the devastating put downs of Carol and Anne themselves as they led the group in a ritual destruction of your self-belief. Tara had been there many times – though never here in this group. Her self-confidence had fallen long ago in junior high. There had been none left for UC Sunnydale Wicca Group. None that she wanted to risk for this lot anyway.
Inspiration. Now how do you do that again? Inspiration was not big on Willow’s list of attributes. Getting inspired sure – great at that. I could be inspired for my country. I could even be inspired in international competition. But actually doing the inspiring? Perspiring was much, much easier. Big no-no to inspiration – or…well, she admitted to herself, I did teach and tutor quite a lot. A lot of that is inspiration – not just knowing your subject. Heck, I taught nearly a full semester of Computer Science and I even got Xander to graduate with maths and the sciences on his diploma – maybe I can do this. The flash of insight inspired her…see it is working already. Wow, I can be inspiration girl. A new string to my proverbial bow.
‘Well, this is good. I mean, this is all fun ya know, but there's also other stuff that we might show an interest in, as a wicca group,’ Willow suggested. There that was positive, just expanding our horizons. Not changing them or dumping the bake sales – after all they would have to be able to pay for the ingredients if they did start to try some actual magic. Ingredients weren’t cheap after all. It was shocking just how expensive a newt’s eye could be per unit. And I bet they factory farm them. Hundreds of newts lined up…growing up and then having their eyes plucked out for my magic. Eeeew. Focus Willow, she told herself. Inspire.
(T) Inwardly Tara smiled, she wanted to cheer. Instead she hugged her knee’s to her chest. After all one way or another this was not going to be pretty that was a challenge if ever I heard one, she thought. It’s about time someone had the strength to try that. Someone else. Someone who was not me. Which Willow definitely wasn’t. She didn’t know the other woman but they were clearly chalk and cheese. Willow seemed so determined, so strong and purposeful – Tara didn’t think she could ever be that way. And there was the physical contrast too.
Carol looked at Willow, hesitated as if the idea of anything else – whatever it was – had never occurred to her. Horizons were there. Why would they ever need expanding? That was what a horizon was. Something far off. And the idea that a newbie could have anything to suggest that they had not already considered? Rubbish. ‘Like what?’ if this newcomer wanted a debate she was game – and if the idea had any merit then the group would soon regard it as hers anyway.
Willow plunged ahead. ‘Well, There's the wacky notion of spells, you know conjuring, transmutation.’
(T) Oh no, thought Tara, she had to say Wacky. Wacky was sarcasm, and that was not going to go over very well. Willow had just lost her chair she was sure. Infact it was, looking at Carol and Anne – and the expectant faces of the rest of the group – going over like the proverbial lead balloon. The newcomer was either going to win the day or far more likely get ridiculed and never come back again. The group as a whole were sheep or maybe like a pack of animals – and Tara no less than the others – and would follow strength. If Willow won this round then they would be conjuring next week. If she lost, business as usual. Maybe though if some other’s stuck up for her…But sticking up for Wacky? That was a big commitment on the strength of just first impressions of this Willow. Kind of burning my own bridges. But maybe some bridges needed to be burnt.
It was Anne who replied. ‘Oh yeah, then we could all get on our broomsticks and fly around on our broomsticks.’ She cracked up and the rest of the group followed her into a fit of giggles – some genuine, others deliberate put-downs to the challenger and some forced as if trying to fit in. Willow supposed though that the awkward construction of the put-down had been a result of Anne being genuinely surprised at the suggestion. It really had never occurred to her. And that was perhaps the problem. But Willow really didn’t care that much. If she had cared enough – been willing to fight then she might invest the time to let people think about it. But…
Willow could also see the way the wind was blowing. Infact it was a wind tunnel. All one way. She was far too late to alter the dynamics of this group – not that it appeared any great loss. Sure she was disappointed but she wasn’t going to be coming back anyway. The fight had been taken out of her during the last weeks and fighting for this lost cause wasn’t what she needed right now. To come back would be to get involved in the only ritual these “girls” would ever likely get into…ritual mockery. And that wasn’t what she was about. What she wanted. Infact only one member of the group wasn’t joining in with the laughter. She could take the laughter, the mocking because she really had nothing invested in this lot. She really didn’t care. It was their loss. But perhaps someone else did… care that is.
(T) Tara too could judge what was happening. Time to stand up for someone else Tara, even if you won’t stand up for yourself. It was just a matter of experience. She had never stood up for herself…and she’d never had anyone else to stand up for. Her last real friend…well a topic best left out of my thoughts of whilst trying to pluck up courage as it wasn’t a plucky sort of thought.
‘You know certain stereotypes are not very empowering’ Carol reverted to her empowerment speeches for justification – that and the apparent laws of reality as she understood them. Boy was she in the wrong town. Eventually, Willow was sure, they were bound to be confronted with the reality of the Hellmouth…but Willow wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.
Closed minded-
(T) -petty children.
At last Tara summoned up the courage to speak up, though her first words were drowned… ‘I think that-’ Anne spoke straight over the top of her.
Anne recommenced the put-down of Willow. ‘One person's energy can suck the power from an entire circle. No offence’ Wonderful, thought Willow, put down by an empowerment mantra – that’s a first. She hadn’t missed that Tara girl speaking up though. Willow looked pointedly, and interested, across at Tara to direct Anne’s attention to the fact that she had stopped another member speaking up. Not very empowering was the unspoken subtext.
(T) That they had intended to cause offence was not in doubt to Tara. Carol and Anne already wanted Willow out. Willow though forced them to listen to her with a simple look in her direction. And as Tara continued and they finally noticed they turned their attention to the quieter woman. Course that just built up the pressure…a sense of expectancy that her thoughts were going to be profound.
Tara continued… ‘Well, maybe we could uh-’
Anne interrupted her again and addressed Tara. ‘Yeah, Tara. Guys. Quiet.’ She held hand up for quiet ‘Do you have a suggestion?’
Oh Bravo. It was, Willow realised, the tactics of a seasoned professional. Anne had re-interrupted Tara, making a point with Willow who had forced her to acknowledge her in the first place. And now Tara was now forced to address the whole group. If she was about to stand up for Willow, against the “group” meaning Carol and Anne then she would have really go for it. Willow actually hoped that the other woman would have the sense to back down. This fight was lost anyway. She wasn’t coming back so it wasn’t worth it at all. No sense in spoiling this, whatever it was or could have been, for anyone else. She looked at Tara, gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. No. If Tara saw that gesture she had no idea but it didn’t matter she wasn’t coming back here anyway.
(T) Sorry Willow. I don’t know you but I can’t go back to being an object of ridicule not even by this load of frauds. But this was the end for Tara Maclay in Wicca Group. I don’t need friends like this. They weren’t even friends anyway. Had a single one of them ever visited her, talked to her outside of the group – or even in it? They had talked at her – but never with her. Course that left her without any “friends” or even many acquaintances outside of her classes. Looks like I might be going home after all.
Tara lowered her head, shut up and let the group proceed.
Anne continued satisfied that she and Carol had won that skirmish and also that, from the look of the new girl that there would be no further battle and definitely not a war. ‘Ok, let's talk about the theme for the bacchanal.’
Willow, not caring about the bacchanal, or anything else these women did, but not willing to stand up and leave – giving them the satisfaction of a public victory and, making herself look petty into the bargain simply looked towards her would-be supporter, who was sitting looking at her own feet.
(T) Tara could swear that she felt the appraising look from the red-haired, obviously genuine Wicca, and looked up, met her gaze and tried to look apologetic. How genuine she was Tara couldn’t tell. There was too much negative energy flowing through the group right now to even attempt to read the power in Willow. She might just be an amateur making poultices…but that was a heck of a lot better than bake sales and lemon buns – even ones as tasty as Carol’s.
Tara looked up, and looked distressed. Willow gave her a little smile of thanks and prepared to slip out at the first opportunity after the circle was broken. She gave the group no more of her time…even in her thoughts. Her thoughts were elsewhere. And her supporter occasionally featured in them. Someone, maybe, to try some magic with. Maybe.
(T) It was in that smile that Tara found her solution. This group was, as she had already decided, not what she needed. Maybe this Willow was - for if she was genuinely interested in real-Wicca then she might be interested in doing that with me was all Tara could think. She could check the members list for her hall and then a directory for the room. She could go round sometime and suggest it. They might even find that they could become friends. That would be a reason to stay her in Sunnydale. A friend.
Wow.
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She's my always
at: 6/23/02 11:30:15 pm