Lamplight is on hiatus. [*Duh, it's kinda obvious to anyone who breathes air.*]
I have full intention of completing the fic ... it has an outline already. However I need to find the time to properly focus on it, to give it the attention it deserves. Hopefully when I start posting again, there won't be substantial gaps between updates.
Having said this, and since I promised
Auburn that I’d post a chapter if she updates
Spark to a Flame, here is a small offering.
This one’s for you, Gemma.
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Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (
hiddenwatson@gmail.com)
Distribution: Please let me know me first
Rating: R
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialog belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Thanks: Car, for taking the time in between ice chipping and recovering from posting the monumental Coming Back update, for giving this one a quick once over.
Part 7¾
Tara lugged the heavy suitcase up the final few steps toward the station concourse, struggling also with the backpack on her shoulders that was threatening to fall off. Her back ached, her hands were calloused and she had a tremendous headache.
I left Aunt Marie’s with a backpack and a shoe-box of treasured belongings, how could I have amassed so much junk in so little time?
She checked her ticket again, making sure she had the correct details. The platform location still puzzled her somewhat, but she was too tired emotionally and physically to give it more than a cursory thought.
It was too early, the sun was barely peeking out from underneath the dark horizon. The commuter exodus hadn’t begun yet; apart from pigeons and the homeless folks sleeping on newspaper beds, she almost had the station to herself.
The train was already on the platform when she finally arrived. The signage was clearer than she expected, given the oddness. Again, she shrugged it off, she had more on her mind – such as how to lift the suitcase onto the train. She looked around but couldn’t see any staff whatsoever.
She was startled as a group of noisy teenagers suddenly appeared at her side. They were laughing and pushing their baggage carts at top speed, only acknowledging Tara’s presence as they swerved to avoid hitting her.
“Sorry, miss,” a boy in a mess of red hair apologized before running to catch up with the other children, all of whom had red hair too. Except one boy with dark hair.
Where did they come from?
By the time she hauled her baggage into her compartment she was exhausted and more than a little pissed off. Not surprisingly the compartment was empty; she closed the door gratefully and hoped that she would have it all to herself. She gazed out of the dirty window in the direction of the person she was running away from, and she had to try very hard not to cry uncontrollably.
I didn’t even say good-bye, I’m sorry.
All her life, she didn’t fit in. Farmed off to live with her Aunt when her mother died, she’d grown up fast in that dank apartment, learning to be unobtrusive and docile. Her Aunt brought her up, yet she was not her relative.
No one explicitly said it, but she knew she wasn’t like the other kids at school, not just because of her second hand clothes or ability to fade into the background. It was as if she was invisible. Sometimes she felt invisible, especially when she had summoned up enough courage to speak up, yet none of the other kids would even acknowledge her contribution.
She couldn’t put her finger on the exact moment, but by the time she was eleven she knew she was not a typical child. She discovered that she had an uncanny way of somehow knowing the thoughts or emotions of the people around her. She also carried the overwhelming feeling of constantly searching for someone … it seemed to be her life’s purpose. She knew, without knowing why she knew, that once she found this person, she would never know despondency and rejection ever again.
It was this thought that enabled her to shrug off the taunts throughout school. Children were relentless and unforgiving toward those who don’t fit in and Tara’s fate was no different.
Then in the darkness of her life came Willow. From that first day at senior high when the redhead greeted her enthusiastically, to the days and months and years when they were each other’s confidante, Willow was the spark that banished her loneliness and insecurity.
It would have been so easy. To naturally progress into a relationship. The kiss at Prom, and the subsequent discussions proved that there was an attraction. At times, it was more than just an attraction; it was as if every second she had with Willow was filled with a breath-taking intensity that enveloped and overwhelmed her. There was a time when she could no more imagine life without Willow than without food or air.
I want to tell you so much. But I can’t.
With a heavy heart she took out a well-thumbed letter from her pocket. It was on heavy paper and in a female hand. Aunt Hallie had written to her, on her 18th birthday, and she had read it so many times she could memorize it clearly.
[blockquote]
My Dear Tara,
Reaching eighteen is an important date for any young person. For you, it means that you come into your legacy.
From the moment I saw you I knew you were your mother’s daughter. You have her eyes and also her power. The women in our family are special, Tara, I am sure you would have had feelings and premonitions that can only be described as ‘not in the mainstream.’ The specialness manifests in disparate forms, which is why I cannot tell you what exactly you should be expecting from your legacy.
You will need to take the ring I gave you when I last visited and seek out the advice of one of the wise sisters. When the time comes, take the train ticket enclosed and follow the instructions there. As for when the right time is, again I cannot tell you, but rest assured you will know.
One last point. You must tell no one about this, until you have been told that you may. The legacy is sacred, you must guard it well. Furthermore you must tell no one when you embark on your journey, not where you are going, not the purpose. It is imperative.
My apologies that I have given you news that will come as a shock to you. Our family’s legacy is a powerful thing, you will know the reason for the secrecy and obscurity when you learn more.
Until then, I remain
Your most loving aunt,
Halfrek
[/blockquote]
The grey concrete of the inner city gradually faded to the greens and browns of the countryside. No one came into her compartment, not even the conductor to check her ticket. With the sway of the train and the steady hum of the engine, soon she was asleep.
She was woken up by an announcement that they were reaching their destination soon. She stretched her stiff limbs and shook her head to clear her mind. In under 20 minutes she was disembarking, again trying to lower her suitcase from the train to the ground without breaking it.
She saw the noisy children a short distance ahead of her and wondered why she didn’t come across them on the train. Since there was nowhere else to go, she followed in their direction and found herself at a bus stop. Without a word the bus driver loaded her baggage into the bus and motioned for her to get in.
the children pushed against each other in their haste to exit the bus. Tara took her time but when she stepped out and saw the scene in front of her, she couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. It was nothing she had seen before.
The children had again disappeared. That was when she spotted a stern, middle-aged lady in a black dress and flowing black robes. Her lips were pursed in a tight line and her hands firmly clasped in front of her. There was a welcoming twinkle in her eyes though as she allowed Tara to come up to her.
“You must be Tara Maclay. I’m Minerva McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts.”
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