@MochaVamp- ^.^ Thank-you; glad you found it creepy. Thanks for commenting and enjoy this next update!
@Zampsa1975- Here's hopin'! Thanks for commenting and enjoy this next update! ^.^
@ashcrash71590- Well, we can pray, can't we? xD Thanks for commenting and enjoy this next update! ^.^
@Taralover- I know :( She always gets the rough breaks- at least with me. xD Though Willow is definitely not a rough break. Thanks for commenting and enjoy this next update! ^.^
@AmberGoddess- You're just dying to know, aren't you? xD That makes me pretty darn happy. Thanks for commenting and enjoy this next update!
@Morrigan- At the moment, Tara's not really willing to admit anything. I love how violent we fans are when it comes to any attacker towards Wil or Tara. xD Thanks for commenting, and enjoy this next update! ^.^
*****
TITLE: The Cross
AUTHOR: lilcheesenip
RATING: 14A (Is that a rating? xD) for swearing, and generally just darker topics like suicide, drugs, etc.
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I don't own any of the characters. Wish I did, but Joss Whedon does. >.>
SUMMARY: When Willow Rosenberg came out to her friends, she expected their full support-or at least some of it. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that they would turn their backs on her, leaving her to navigate the hallways of hell in high school friendless. Now alone, and depressed, Willow struggles to make it through life day-by-day until she agrees to show her language arts teacher's niece around school, and her life changes drastically.
Tara is beautiful, and kind, but that is hardly shown. Traumatized by the loss of her mother, which she witnessed and could not stop, she refuses to let down the walls she has built around herself. Willow tries to break through them only to discover she has similar walls around herself. Can two damaged hearts meet, and finally find peace again?
SPOILERS: None that I can think of. It's all AU, so no monsters, or anything. ^.^ May steal dialogue hear and there.
FEEDBACK: Absolutely! I live for it. ^.^
Author's Note: When I was struggling to write on this update, I decided to make a vid about this fanfic. It's a trailer-ey type thing, and I'm kinda proud of it. ^.^ You can find it
here
PART 10
--------------------------------
“Wil! Wil!
Willllloooowwww! Yoo hoo! Hey! Wait up! Not you; I don’t know you, thank-you very much.”
Willow stopped in her tracks when she realized that there was someone half-screaming at her. She glanced over her shoulder, only to find Anya running across the street. Two cars screeched to a halt to avoid hitting her, and one of the drivers gave her the finger; she rudely returned the gesture, and continued on her trek.
“So, Wil.” Anya doubled over when she reached her, fighting to catch her breath. “Haven’t got that hearing aid yet?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Willow demanded.
Anya straightened, looking a little surprised- and hurt- by the redhead’s sudden anger. “...Talking to my friend?”
Seizing the oblivious blonde by the arm, Willow dragged her away from the main sidewalk and around the side of the building where most students who craved a cigarette escaped the building, and out of the public’s eye.
“Do you really have nothing but empty space up there?” Willow asked sharply as soon as they were safely hidden.
Anya visibly winced, pulling her arm free from Willow. “Ouch. That one actually kinda hurt.”
Willow gritted her teeth, and shook her head in frustration. “What the hell are you thinking? People are going to
see you!”
Anya was bewildered. “Don’t they usually?”
“Anya!”
“Sorry, sorry. What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“My panties are not-! You know what, I’m not even going to have this conversation with you. My point is people are going to see you with
me- Buffy and Xander, specifically.”
Anya snorted. “Who cares what Buffy thinks? She’s been bitchy to me since you guys fought, anyways. She’s turning into Cordelia; it’s like she’s permanently PMS-ing.”
Willow almost grinned, before she realized that the comment was about her former best friend- who she really didn’t hate- and that Anya was trying to change the subject. “What about Xander, then? I know you care what he thinks.”
“He’s expendable.”
Willow narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying,” She said accusingly.
Anya sighed, and folded her arms, suddenly uncomfortable. “Okay, fine, I do care. But he’s my boyfriend, which means he’s gotta know who my best friends are. You and Tara are included in that category.”
“You’ve only known Tara for a month!”
“So have you,” Anya shot back, refusing to be beaten, “but that didn’t stop you from falling in love with her.”
Willow blushed, and looked down at her hands. Anya spoke the truth; in the month since Tara had come to live in Sunnydale, Willow had found herself falling hard and fast for the blonde.
Anya, seeming to realize how close they were to fighting, sighed, and decided to be the pacifist for once.
“Okay, look. I don’t hate you or Tara. And I miss you. And I like Tara a lot- not like you, but as a friend. She’s the same kind of special as you. And we’ve gotta stick together. We have to help her. She needs help, soon, and we’re the only ones willing to give it.” Anya slung an arm around the redhead’s shoulder, and directed her around the building and towards the front door, ignoring the stares they received. “And that, my friend, is what the hell I’m thinking.”
Willow shifted uncomfortably at all the attention. Then she lifted her head, and grinned at the blonde, rolling her eyes. “That’s the closest I’ve ever heard to a motivational speech from you. Buffy’s rubbing off on you.”
“I know.” Anya feigned horror. “It’s horrible.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes. The stares didn’t bother Willow anymore; they were just two best friends, doing what best friends did. She even glared at a few people until they looked away.
As they were climbing the stairs, Anya said: “You know what I’m thinking?”
Willow glanced at her, amused. “No. It’s scary to consider, actually.”
“Shut up.” Anya dropped her arm, then bumped her shoulder playfully against the redhead’s. “What I was thinking was a movie night, this coming Wednesday, since we have Thursday and Friday off for that teacher’s convention thing. You, me, your house, and all the romantic comedies we can find. You in?”
Willow smiled at her. “You don’t want to spend the break with Xander?”
“I see him every night.” Anya flapped a limp hand dismissively. “‘Sides, I could use a Girls Night, and I’m really sick of all the old movies Buffy’s been forcing me to watch.”
Willow looked down as they entered the school, focusing solely on the tile that made up the school floor and trying to push back the sudden hurt. No matter how much Buffy hated her, she’d never expected her to replace her in the old-movie-sleepover routine. It hurt a lot more than she considered healthy.
Anya tilted her head to the side, studying the suddenly quiet redhead. “Willow? What’d I say? If you want to invite Tara, too, you can. You know I’m all for having her around. Wil?”
Willow looked up again, and forced a smile. “Nah. She’s probably sick of us clinging to her. It’ll just be the two of us. A Girl’s Night. Sounds like a plan.”
Anya was quiet for a moment as they lingered in the entry, unsure if she should voice her next question. She decided to anyways. “You gonna ask your Mom?”
“She won’t care.” Willow scuffed a shoe across the tile. “Anyways, you’d better get going. Buffy and Xander will be looking for you.”
Anya reached out a hand uncertainly; Willow stepped back out of her reach.
“Willow...”
“Really.” Willow faked another smile. “Call me tonight and let me know, okay? I’ll check the weather and see if it’ll be warm enough to go for a swim.”
The development in plans distracted Anya from her earlier concerns. She brightened, and grinned. “Always the computer nerd. Sounds good to me. I’ll talk to you tonight, then?”
“Tonight.”
Anya offered Willow a parting smile, which Willow hastened to return. Then, with a wave, turned, and headed down the hall towards her locker. Willow watched her go, then, hugging her L.A. textbook and notebook to her chest, took the opposite direction that would lead her to her locker.
[center]***[/center]
“Got plans for lunch, Tara?”
Tara looked up from her notebook, in which she had painstakingly been copying the last two sentences of the Social notes. She glanced down at her notebook, then sighed internally. Screw the date of Treaty 7. She allowed her trembling fingers to slowly relax enough that she could drop her pencil, careful not to disrupt the still-healing wounds of her cut hands.
“I p-p-planned to eat l-lunch with my Aunt.” Tara allowed herself to half-smile up at Willow; Willow stared back, fascinated by Tara’s crooked smile, completely missing Tara’s reply.
“W-Willow?”
“Oh. Me. My name. Yes?” Willow blushed, and cursed her stupidity. “I-I mean, if you’re not completely committed to your Aunt, Anya and I are having lunch in the Bush House. You’re welcome to join us.”
Tara flexed her stinging fingers are she considered that, making a mental note to re-bandage and disinfect her hands when she got home. Then she looked up at Willow, waiting with a hopeful expression, and nodded.
“S-s-sounds like a p-plan.”
“Yay!” Willow jumped up from where she was perched on the end of Tara’s desk, and was about to break into a little happy-dance before she realized what she was doing, and composed herself. “Wow. This is definitely why I don’t do wild.”
Tara looked at her questioningly.
“Wild on me equals spaz,” Willow explained matter-of-factly. “It’s like a spaz on spaz-enhancing steroids.”
Tara chuckled, a surprised sound. Willow delighted in being the one to bring it out of her. With a smile, she helped Tara gather her books. When she handed them to the blonde, their fingers brushed, and Willow just barely kept herself from curling her fingers around Tara’s. As soon as she recognized the impulse, she pulled her hand back.
Tara busied herself with slipping her books into her bag. “Th-thanks,” She murmured shyly.
“No problem.” Like always, when Willow was nervous, she babbled. “We’d better hurry. Anya’s probably wondering where the hell we ran off to, and thinking we’re doing each other behind the bleachers or something- Eep!” Willow clapped a hand over her mouth, and went bright red.
Tara couldn’t help but be amused at Willow’s slip, even though the fantasy both appealed to her and frightened her.
“T-to Anya, then.”
Willow nodded, lips pressed together, and darted towards the door before she could say anything else incredibly embarrassing. Tara followed her with another quiet laugh.
[center]***[/center]
Anya was indeed waiting impatiently in the shelter of the bushes when the two girls entered, but she refrained herself from making an embarrassing comment, for their sakes, instead choosing to launch into an animated explanation to Willow, who dazedly tried to keep up.
“-And I talked to my Mom, and she told me I could stay both nights, if I wanted. So could we extend it to a double sleepover? Then Friday I can go see Xander, and all will be well in the world. I was thinking Romantic Comedies the first night, and action/horror the next. Do you think that’ll be okay?”
Willow took a moment to let all that sink in. She glanced at Tara out of the corner of her eye, only to see her quietly absorbed in unwrapping her sandwich, chivalrously allowing them to talk between the two of them. Remembering Anya’s invitation to allow Tara to come, she turned towards the blonde.
“Tara, Anya and I are planning a major movie marathon Wednesday and Thursday night. Do you want to come?”
“But, Willow, I thought you said-”
Willow elbowed Anya in the ribs to shut her up, then turned back to Tara.
Tara smiled at them both, and shook her head. “I a-appreciate the offer, but I-I have plans.”
“Plans?” Willow echoed, disappointed, and, though she was unwilling to admit it, a little jealous that someone who wasn’t her or Anya was more important.
“I p-promised my Aunt w-w-we’d have a movie night, s-since she doesn’t have to g-go to the conference.” Tara smiled wryly.
“Oh.” Willow perked up at that. “Okay. Maybe next time.”
Anya and Willow mostly talked over lunch, discussing possible movie choices, while Tara was silent, eating her food and allowing the two friends to plan. Halfway through lunch, her cell phone vibrated to alert her to a text message. Knowing it could only be one person- though her heart jumped slightly at the thought of her terrorizing caller moving onto the idea of harassing her through text since she had allowed the last call to go to her voice message- she pulled it out, and flipped it open. Sure enough, the message was from her Aunt. She opened it, and scanned it quickly.
Just told i have to go to conference. Have to cancel our plans. Really srry, Tare. Talk to you after school.
Dismayed at the idea of spending three days alone in the house, Tara took her time replying, fighting the sudden fear coiling in the pit of her stomach and blocking her throat.
No problem. I’ll be fine. By the way, for an L.A. teacher, you have terrible texting grammar.
She snapped her phone shut, and looked up. Anya and Willow were watching her curiously.
“J-just my Aunt,” Tara said. Her phone vibrated again, and she checked the message.
Smartass.
She smiled at that, then slipped her phone back into her pocket without replying. Willow and Anya, accepting her explanation, had returned to their early dispute about the value of the
Saw movies- Anya loved the excessive blood and gore while Willow deemed it unnecessary violence that entertained 'freaks like her'- so Tara went on quietly eating her lunch, struggling against the despair threatening to overtake her.
[center]***[/center]
Anya showed up at four o’clock sharp on Wednesday evening, just as she’d promised, hauling a backpack and a suitcase with her. Willow allowed her to step into the house, then pointed at the suitcase with her chin.
“What’s with the suitcase?”
Anya’s eyes gleamed. “I found so many awesome movies that I needed a separate bag to carry them in.”
Willow rolled her eyes.
The two girls were in the middle of preparations an hour and a half later, already eaten and changed into pyjamas, and were sorting through the movies when the doorbell rang. Willow tipped the last of the third bag of popcorn she had made into the popcorn bowl, and frowned.
“Who’s that?” She wondered aloud.
Anya, torn between
The Truth About Love and
No Reservations, didn’t look up. “How the hell’m I supposed to know? S’your house.”
Willow flicked a dishcloth lying conveniently nearby at her- Anya just ducked, avoiding it easily- and headed for the door. She unlocked it, and opened it, only to find Tara standing on the doorstep with a backpack on her shoulder and an apologetic smile on her face.
“H-hi,” She said, almost sheepishly, “H-have room for o-o-one more?”