She's Leaving Home

She was holding the last box. The last box that she would have to move out of the room before it stopped being her and Willow's room. The corridors behind her were buzzing with activity, people milling, saying their goodbyes, hugging and crying. She would be among them if she knew anyone who wasn't a Scooby.

But she didn't.

They'd all been helping them move. She and Giles had assumed Matriarchal and Patriarchal roles respectively. Willow had managed to rope her into helping with cute little looks and pleas. She'd been helping carry lighter boxes down.

And now she was holding the last box.

She remembered the strings of fairy lights that had illuminated the small room. The collection of magical objects sitting on the desk. Lazy Sundays curled up in bed with Willow, listening to music and snuggling together, blissfully unaware of the world around them.

In its way, this cosy place had become home. Far more so than her old house.

The bright sunlight stung her eyes as it poured down over the house she was leaving. She held her one suitcase tightly in her hand as the other snaked woodenly around her fathers waist in a hug. He stepped back and she instinctively lowered her head, letting her hair drape over her face.

"Tara, you know you'll be coming back soon" he said, aiming his usual cold glare at her. If she could have lowered her head more she would have.

"Y-y-yes sir" she managed to stutter out.

"And, if I were to have my way, you wouldn't be going at all. It's to much of a risk, putting you out there" he continued. She didn't reply this time. "However, it's what your mother would have wanted" he sighed.

She glared at him, hidden from behind her hair. Why would he care what her mother would have wanted? Their marriage had always been a shambles held together by fear. But, even as she thought this, she noticed a flicker in his eyes, of something. Affection? Sadness? A smidge of love?

She didn't know. And she found it hard to care. Attempting to break through the hard outer shell of her father had been a fruitless endeavour, as she'd learned long ago.

She wished she could tell him, tell him that she didn't respect him, didn't like him, hated him. But instead her head remained bowed and her voice compliant.

She wished.

"I know s-sir"

She felt a pair of warm, comforting arms curl around her shoulders and squeeze her like they'd never let go. And frankly, she believed they wouldn't.

"I can't believe we're leaving. I mean, I know I've only lived here for a year and you lived here for two, but it feels... homey" Willow said from behind her

"I know, I'll be sad to leave it" Tara said sadly. "But then again, it's hardly home without my Willow tree" she added, grinning. Willow kissed her on the cheek, before moving the kiss to her ear.

"Do you think they'll mind if we use the bed one last time?" Willow said. Tara shook her head.

"We can't. It's immoral... It's... It's... Stop doing that. Hands in... Ohh" Tara snapped out of her momentary lust and stepped away from Willow, glaring playfully. "No. What if Xander came up to find us. Or Anya. Or Giles!" That stopped Willow, who had been walking forward, swaying her hips and smiling seductively. She made a disgusted face.

"Fair point"

The bus rumbled along the seemingly never ending highway towards goddess knew what. Tara had taken up a seat near the back and was leaning against the side of the bus, legs sprawled out over the other seat. She'd never really been far from her humble abode, even during her 'rebellious' phase. They'd never really had enough money to go on holidays, and she'd been surprised when she'd found out her inheritance from her mother would cover her going to any number of colleges, and that her father would let her go.

She'd chosen Sunnydale because of one image, a group of girls sat, holing hands around what she'd recognized as an Amethyst summoning carving (Made distinct by its intricate section of carvings under the ridges)

She hadn't done much to actually practise magic, unfortunately. But she'd studied a lot. Maybe meeting up with some actual Wicca would lead to her being able to do some magic. She'd spent many an evening lying in bed, staring at the poster of magical rocks her and her mother had made one rainy afternoon when she was ten and hoping one day she would get to really do magic. On an every day sort of scale.

She smiled at the thought of the rain, so rare this far south, pattering on the windows, like a thousand hands rapping politely to be let in. She'd tried once, opening a window to let the rain in. Her father had decided the destruction of one of her favourite teddy bears was enough punishment.

She was dragged from her revere by a black man in what looked to be his late twenties, turning from the seat in front of her. He and the small group in the seats around him had obviously been having some kind of friendly argument.

She'd never really had friends to have a friendly argument with, so she wasn't sure how to react to being dragged in to one.

"Hey, um, Blondie. You're going to Sunnydale College, right?" he asked jovially, in what sounded to her ears to be a light English accent.

"Ummmm" she instantly ducked her head "Yes" she managed to spit out, surprisingly without stuttering.

"Well, doesn't the high rate of early drop-outs scare you a little?" he asked.

"H-H-High?" she asked, a little worried. They hadn't mentioned that in the brochure, though why would they?

"Yeah. One of the highest in the country, up there with Cleveland" he said, grinning at her.

"Well, um, a l-little I guess" she said. He turned to the rest of the group.

"See. Sane people agree, a high drop-out rate is baaaaaaaad"

She grinned behind them, for what felt like the first time in years.

She looked over the room one last time, and couldn't help but smile. Not bittersweetly, for losing the past, but fully, with anticipation and joy, for the future.

"Bye bye"