Author name - EndoraVolk
Email Address - mirror_strangers@hotmail.com
Rating - NC-17 just in case things get rough
Disclaimer - I don’t own the 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' characters, they belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Feedback- of course, I'd like some feedback.
Summary- This fic is about the beginning of Willow and Tara's relationship seen from Tara's point of view. You could say it begins in 'Hush' and then goes on. It's mostly about things that happened "offscreen".
Notes- I'd like to thank my various muses for the inspiration. AND that I'll also continue my other fic ('Aftermath').
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Preface
There’s not much to say about my first year in college. I got myself an individual room, and that’s how my life went in general that year: peacefully alone, not sharing a thing about myself with no one. I was decently satisfied and terrified at the same time. God knows I had never seen so many people in all my life; the campus shook with activity; hundreds of flyers were thrust at your face, the halls and classrooms were packed… I had been five minutes in that place and I was already dizzy and scared to death, dying to leave, to run away. As fast as I could, I found my room and locked myself inside; I couldn’t run away, there was no other place to go. So I tried to accept my own decision, living as discreetly as possible, trying to dodge around the crowds, ignoring every party, making myself inconspicuous and chameleonic with the walls. If I had known an invisibility spell I think I would’ve used it. Which leads me to the only extracurricular activity I ever signed up to: the Wicca Group. I was hoping to improve my skills; I had some books, I had some ingredients, all locked up inside a trunk in my bedroom, but I wasn’t able to do most of the spells. However, this Wicca Group wasn’t a discovery, not exactly. It would’ve been marvelous to find people that understood the part of my life which I hid to the rest, but they just were a bunch of neo-hippies that wanted a pentacle tattoo but didn’t have the guts to do it. A bunch of girls that talked about “bake-sales” and “mother-earth” in the same sentence. They had no idea…
I was the first to believe that the second year was going to be the same. And so it started; my room, my classes, my frustrating Wicca Group, my frustrated magic attempts. But then, one bright sunny day at Sunnydale…
Chapter 1: New girl
They were talking about bake-sales. Again. We were all sitting in the lounge, forming a circle. I just sat on the floor, bowing my head and keeping my mouth shut. Were my cheeks still flushed? I swore to myself that I was never going to speak up to these girls again. The sensation of having all of them staring at me as if a piece of furniture had suddenly learnt to talk was unbearable. I was feeling so angry, so frustrated and embarrassed that I felt ready to burst. But then, suddenly, one of them interrupted the rest and spoke up.
She had to be new. I actually rose my head because of the sound of an unfamiliar voice. She was perched up in her seat, looking around at all of us and smiling with irony. Her hair was red, she was wearing a pink sweater and asking about magic spells, about when were we going to start doing them. They all laughed, of course. Some of them shrieked “magic!”, as if it was the most absurd of words. I didn’t. I had tried to ask that same question, after a year of baking and lighting candles absurdly. And she, the new girl, after her first or second day, had already done so.
For a moment, we locked eyes. Or, more precisely, she caught me staring at her, but I didn’t look down or anything. This girl knew things.
When the meeting finished everyone scattered, including the new girl. I was hoping to have some small talk with her, maybe comment on the shallowness of this so-called Wicca Group, but she left rather quickly. I slung my book-bag on my shoulder and shuffled after her, not quite believing myself. Me, Tara, following someone and having an urgent need to talk to her? For once, I didn’t even mind the endless strands of people that crowded the corridors. I didn’t care if my arm brushed someone or if someone bumped into me; I was too busy jumping to see over people’s heads.
There she was! In one of my jumps I glimpsed some of that red hair and dashed after it. I was getting near and I didn’t really know what to say. I practiced a “hi” in my mind, changing it’s tone several times until I was satisfied. Alright, I had my greeting, but would I find my voice or would it betray me? But then I saw that her hands were moving. She was talking to someone. I stopped short, aborting my pursuit. It was a skinny blonde, who was effortlessly answering back to the redhead. <
So I turned around and left, going back to the main hall, where people’s activity was at its fullest. I found myself suddenly wanting to know this girl’s name. Pushing my way, I got to the bulleting board and looked for the list of the Wicca Group. Chess Union? No. Football Squadron? No. Lesbian Alliance? No… Wicca Group! The only name on the list that wasn’t familiar was, of course, the last one. The newest member. Willow Rosenberg. Willow… nice name. Maybe I could talk to her in the next meeting.
He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
(Friedrich Nietzsche)
at: 8/31/04 7:06 am
. Love sam xx 
Hannah 
at: 9/2/04 4:28 am