One day, I said to myself, "Self, why don't I write a fic and start releasing it when I reach 150 posts?" So, I wrote part of a fic and sent it to a beta, a good friend of mine. My beta has given me a lot of good feedback. I'm intending to edit according to any further feedback. Chapters are short and hopefully, sweet.
Wicked
Notes: Timewise, we’re starting in the present day, in Boston.
Spoilers: BtVS up to S3, other main arcs and characters for all seasons also included. Tara, for all intents and purposes, is very different here.
Chapter 1: WILLOW ROSENBERG
Tara Maclay stared at the storage space that the two flight walk up to her apartment had become. Meandering boxes, all marked on at least three sides with the words “WILLOW ROSENBERG,” dared her to trip on them as she began her ascent. Tara sighed and began the hike upstairs after kicking off her snow covered boots.
Four days ago, when her landlord had told her a new person was moving in, Tara had been delighted. Apparently, tired of having a menagerie of MIT students in and out at crazy hours, the landlord was renting the apartment below Tara’s to a young professional from California.
Pulling her keys from her pocket, Tara smoothly inserted her house key and swung the door open with her right arm. And nearly walked into her landlord and a tall pile of boxes.
“Hey Tara. Good to see you.” Dan smiled.
“Uh, hi.” Tara shuffled back and forth.
Tara and her landlord stood in silence for a few awkward seconds. Tara broke the silence decisively.
“Boxes. Why?” Tara finally said, gesturing with her left hand.
“Uh, well, Willow won’t get in for another hour, and, so I just thought you wouldn’t mind having some of these boxes in here for just a small while.” Dan waved his arms to the sides. “After all, this is a huge apartment.”
“”Well, I, I guess, it would be . . . “ Tara trailed off, looking down at the scrubs she was still wearing.
On Fridays, Tara usually worked all day at catching up on any mistakes she made during the week, studying hard on things she had forgotten the week before and focusing on the next round of rotation duties. Actually, that was pretty much every day of the week. Having rotations and a possible shot at a residency at Massachusetts General Hospital meant a lot of sacrifice.
“These will all be gone in an hour or so, I promise.” Dan pleaded.
“Sure, sure,” Tara offered. “I’m just gonna make some dinner.”
Tara stomped off to the kitchen. Once there, she pulled out some chicken and potatoes, and set the oven to 350 F. She switched the radio on to an oldies station and hummed along for a good thirty minutes. The chicken breast was covered with a little marinade before being placed next to a foil-wrapped potato in a little pan. Satisfied that the oven was hot enough, Tara put the little pan in the oven and set the timer for 40 minutes. Switching the radio off, Tara headed back to the foyer to see if Dan had taken the boxes away yet.
Some of the boxes were already gone by the time she reached her front door, which was, to her chagrin, wide open. Tara stood with her back to her open front door, marveling at how neat her apartment looked without boxes barricading her front door.
“Hi! You must be Tara.”
Tara turned around slowly, expecting a tall, straight, Jewish man in his 40s. And ended up staring at a lithe, green-eyed redhead in her 20s, who was, by all accounts, staring right back at her.
) and I'm finding her to be very likable. Now we'll just have to get to know Willow, too. 
(that was my not-so-subtle way of saying I'd like another update, please 
