Parallel

Title: Parallel (1/1)
Author: Morgan R.
Email: Lshallot@juno.com
Rated: PG
Spoilers: The memory spell one
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously. I used to like Willow
Feedback: Cherished and adored
Summary: Girl time
Note: Parallel lines never meet, I've heard

****

Anya comes over.

Tara was surprised the first time. Anya had come over with pizza and stayed for three hours, talking and laughing with her and never mentioning Willow even once. She asked Tara about her classes and Tara complained about finals. Like you do. (Funny- last semester had been this huge wash of incompletes because her mind was gone and she missed all her tests. It was this horrific blot on her otherwise admirable academic record, and she had thought she would never recover academically or emotionally.

But her professors were lenient, and believed her when she explained in vague terms about an emergency. Maybe they saw the way she still jumped at small noises, the lost look in the way she never knew where to put her hands. It was UC Sunnydale, after all. Neck trauma. Angry god. Tara, we'll work it out. And they did.)

So she and Anya had eaten pizza and it was oddly nice. Odd because- because Willow (hard to think the name, but Tara had suffered before and was getting used to it) had disliked Anya so much, and Tara wouldn't have risked the two of them in the same room without Xander to smooth out the rough patches.

Still, she figured Anya had done it out of obligation, or because Xander had suggested it.

The next week, Anya brought Chinese.

Tara tried to understand. After all, anyone who broke up with a member of the core group was essentially deleted, according to legend. Tara had heard about Cordelia, and all the ugliness surrounding that ending. So when she moved back to campus, she had assumed her fate would be similar, for all the kind words about family that had once been spoken.

But Anya kept coming over. Tara's phone kept ringing.

"I'm closing the store and we're going to the movies." "Anya, you shouldn't close the store to-" "It's my store!"

"So, how did you do on the paper?" "B+." "You don't sound too excited- oh, was all that swearing that you'd fail just college student hysteria? You'd never actually fail, but you still see it looming large like a fog demon?"

"Tara, can I kill Xander?" "No."

She hardly ever mentioned magic, which was an impressive feat for the proprietress of a magic shop. She was shallow and blunt and just slightly off, and so kind amongst all of it that Tara reeled slightly.

So it was that finally, no matter how much she appreciated it, she had to ask.

"Anya? It isn't that I don't love hanging out, and everything, but-"

"Scorned women."

"What?"

Anya turned to face her. "Scorned women. I always saw them at the end. After everything had festered." She shrugged. "I just thought I'd try showing up sooner."

Tara nodded. "Mmm."

A pause.

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't trying to catch me on the rebound, while I'm emotionally vulnerable and everything."

Anya snorted. "You wish. Give me a diamond ring first and then we can talk."

It wasn't until a month later that Tara had the Idea.

****

The girl on the other side of the glass didn't seem to know what to make of them. She picked up the phone. "What, is the world coming to an end? Not much help I can offer."

Anya picked up the visitor's phone. "Nothing as fun as all that. We just came to visit, catch up."

"You don't know me."

"A lot of catching up to do, then," Tara offered.

Faith looked at her hard. "I don't think Willow would like you coming to make friends with me."

Tara shrugged, gesturing in Anya's direction. "I don't think she gets to pick my friends for me."

Anya took the phone back, laughing. "Hey, Faith. Did you know Willow totally *hates* me? All because there were those few times when I tried to kill her and all of her friends. Oh, and she thinks I'm totally disgusting for being so interested in talking about all the sex I'm having. It seems that she has issues with anyone else getting down with dear old Xander."

A grin as Faith got it. "Gosh, what's that like?"

****

finis

****

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