Title: Snow
Rating: PG
Distribution: This site. All others ask first
Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to BTVS. This is for my own amusement and I make no money from it.
Summary: AU. What if Willow really had gone to magical rehab?
I remember the snow. The powdery white stuff that sprinkled down one Christmas to keep Angel from killing himself. I'd never seen snow before, except on TV and that doesn't count. Strange, in all the spells I'd tried, I've never touched the weather. Never made the rain stop or the snow start again. It just seemed wrong somehow, like I was messing with things that were beyond me. Which is very ironic considering all the wrongs things I have done. Messing with life and death, tampering with memories, killing the innocent. An innocent. That fawn wasn't human but it certainly didn't deserve the death I brought it.
There's lots of snow here. I love it so much because I have all these happy memories attached to it. Like that Christmas. Once Oz and I had gotten over the shock of snow in Sunnydale, we'd run outside to throw snowballs at each other. Then we headed for Buffy's house, to find her and Faith building a snowman with Mrs. Summers and Dawn. Xander showed up a little while later. We spent most of the day outside, playing and having fun. Every so often we'd go inside to warm up and drink hot chocolate. We actually forgot to exchange presents until around 4 o'clock. Angel came by with Buffy's gift, which reminded us about it. For that one day, all the evilness of the world was gone, pushed to the back of our minds. There were no demons or vamps to deal with, no reminders of the bad kissage Xander and I had indulged in. There was only happiness, friendship, and togetherness.
I'm going to be home for Christmas. I'm going to leave the snow behind and go back to 80 degree Sunnydale. I have to make this journey as part of my process. I have to make amends to everyone that I hurt before I left. I have to explain why I left. No one knows where I am. Only Oz knows and he promised to keep it to himself.
Did you know that other witches have gotten addicted to magic the way I am? It's fairly common, especially among non-famtrad witches like me. Hereditary witches like Tara generally have someone there to teach them about their power. How to control it and use it wisely. All the things that I didn't know then, but know now. Oz told me about this place in rural Maine, a sort of rehab for the supernatural. The 12 steps for magic addicts. He had gone there when he was searching for his wolf cure. They couldn't help him but they have helped me. I've been here for almost two months now and I haven't used magic at all. I can't. It's like being an alcoholic or a drug addict. You have to stay off it forever. One slip and you can be right back on that downward spiral. Amy could really benefit from a trip here. When I left Sunnydale, she was worse off than I was.
My flight is tomorrow and I'm scared. What is everyone going to say to me? Will they even speak to me? I disappeared three days after the car wreck without so much as a note. They have no idea where I am or if I'm okay. What if they don't care? I wouldn't blame any of them for being relieved that I was gone. I did horrible things, hurting the people that I care about just so I could feel special. I still haven't figured out why I thought I needed magic. I mean I figured it out in my head but not in my heart. I got into magic so I could help with the slaying. Good intentions, path to hell and all of that. I didn't realize until it was too late and I was too far gone, that I was a help. I always was. I made things easier by just being there as a support person. I kept Xander and Buffy from flunking out completely. My computer skills got us out of more than one tight spot. I was always an important part of the group and I was so blind I couldn't see it. But I see it now.
That was the longest and the shortest plane trip of my life. And it's only my second time on a plane. The trip to Maine was my first. That one seemed to last forever, mainly because I was still de-toxing at the time. Now, as the plane touches down in Los Angeles, it seems as though time flew and crawled by all at once. I pick up my carry-on bag and head for the exit. I hope I can rent a car. It's two days before Christmas and everyone is traveling. I just know that I have to get to Sunnydale. I have to explain and begin to make amends for my behavior. I'll walk the entire way if I have too.
It's warm out here. I forgot that December in California is warm. I got so use to the snow and cold of Maine that the 80-degree temperature is a shock to my system. The crowds are pushing and flowing around me as I headed towards the baggage claim. All of a sudden, I'm grabbed from behind. Familiar arms encircle me and I hear a babble of voices all around.
"You're home!" My oldest friend in the world is picking me up and spinning me around as everyone else crowds close, trying to make contact with me. The cast on Dawn's arm is gone and the cut on her forehead is healed. Buffy cut her hair shorter and Anya is back to being redhead. She was blond when I left. That reminds me. I look around for another blond head, not expecting her but praying that she's here. I have to see her; even it's only to confirm that I've lost her for good.
"We were so worried."
"We missed you."
"Are you okay?"
"Did you bring presents?"
All the voices around me blend into a mish-mash of familiarity and love that washes over me like a ray sunlight. And then one cuts through all the rest.
"I love you." She's here. She's here and she's real and she's hugging me for all I'm worth. "I'm so proud of you." I relax into her embrace, drinking in the familiar scent. It's all I can do to keep from crying. I see the tears sliding down her face and let mine flow as well. We stand there, crying and laughing and hugging for what seems like an eternity. When she finally lets me go, I step back to look at her. And out of the corner of my eye I notice something in the window. Little white flakes that fall softly from the sky and that are beginning to pile up on the ground. It's snowing in Southern California for the second time in three years. A white Christmas. A Christmas of hope and healing and family. I've been wondering if I was strong enough to put my life back together and now I know. I can.
Rating: PG
Distribution: This site. All others ask first
Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to BTVS. This is for my own amusement and I make no money from it.
Summary: AU. What if Willow really had gone to magical rehab?
I remember the snow. The powdery white stuff that sprinkled down one Christmas to keep Angel from killing himself. I'd never seen snow before, except on TV and that doesn't count. Strange, in all the spells I'd tried, I've never touched the weather. Never made the rain stop or the snow start again. It just seemed wrong somehow, like I was messing with things that were beyond me. Which is very ironic considering all the wrongs things I have done. Messing with life and death, tampering with memories, killing the innocent. An innocent. That fawn wasn't human but it certainly didn't deserve the death I brought it.
There's lots of snow here. I love it so much because I have all these happy memories attached to it. Like that Christmas. Once Oz and I had gotten over the shock of snow in Sunnydale, we'd run outside to throw snowballs at each other. Then we headed for Buffy's house, to find her and Faith building a snowman with Mrs. Summers and Dawn. Xander showed up a little while later. We spent most of the day outside, playing and having fun. Every so often we'd go inside to warm up and drink hot chocolate. We actually forgot to exchange presents until around 4 o'clock. Angel came by with Buffy's gift, which reminded us about it. For that one day, all the evilness of the world was gone, pushed to the back of our minds. There were no demons or vamps to deal with, no reminders of the bad kissage Xander and I had indulged in. There was only happiness, friendship, and togetherness.
I'm going to be home for Christmas. I'm going to leave the snow behind and go back to 80 degree Sunnydale. I have to make this journey as part of my process. I have to make amends to everyone that I hurt before I left. I have to explain why I left. No one knows where I am. Only Oz knows and he promised to keep it to himself.
Did you know that other witches have gotten addicted to magic the way I am? It's fairly common, especially among non-famtrad witches like me. Hereditary witches like Tara generally have someone there to teach them about their power. How to control it and use it wisely. All the things that I didn't know then, but know now. Oz told me about this place in rural Maine, a sort of rehab for the supernatural. The 12 steps for magic addicts. He had gone there when he was searching for his wolf cure. They couldn't help him but they have helped me. I've been here for almost two months now and I haven't used magic at all. I can't. It's like being an alcoholic or a drug addict. You have to stay off it forever. One slip and you can be right back on that downward spiral. Amy could really benefit from a trip here. When I left Sunnydale, she was worse off than I was.
My flight is tomorrow and I'm scared. What is everyone going to say to me? Will they even speak to me? I disappeared three days after the car wreck without so much as a note. They have no idea where I am or if I'm okay. What if they don't care? I wouldn't blame any of them for being relieved that I was gone. I did horrible things, hurting the people that I care about just so I could feel special. I still haven't figured out why I thought I needed magic. I mean I figured it out in my head but not in my heart. I got into magic so I could help with the slaying. Good intentions, path to hell and all of that. I didn't realize until it was too late and I was too far gone, that I was a help. I always was. I made things easier by just being there as a support person. I kept Xander and Buffy from flunking out completely. My computer skills got us out of more than one tight spot. I was always an important part of the group and I was so blind I couldn't see it. But I see it now.
That was the longest and the shortest plane trip of my life. And it's only my second time on a plane. The trip to Maine was my first. That one seemed to last forever, mainly because I was still de-toxing at the time. Now, as the plane touches down in Los Angeles, it seems as though time flew and crawled by all at once. I pick up my carry-on bag and head for the exit. I hope I can rent a car. It's two days before Christmas and everyone is traveling. I just know that I have to get to Sunnydale. I have to explain and begin to make amends for my behavior. I'll walk the entire way if I have too.
It's warm out here. I forgot that December in California is warm. I got so use to the snow and cold of Maine that the 80-degree temperature is a shock to my system. The crowds are pushing and flowing around me as I headed towards the baggage claim. All of a sudden, I'm grabbed from behind. Familiar arms encircle me and I hear a babble of voices all around.
"You're home!" My oldest friend in the world is picking me up and spinning me around as everyone else crowds close, trying to make contact with me. The cast on Dawn's arm is gone and the cut on her forehead is healed. Buffy cut her hair shorter and Anya is back to being redhead. She was blond when I left. That reminds me. I look around for another blond head, not expecting her but praying that she's here. I have to see her; even it's only to confirm that I've lost her for good.
"We were so worried."
"We missed you."
"Are you okay?"
"Did you bring presents?"
All the voices around me blend into a mish-mash of familiarity and love that washes over me like a ray sunlight. And then one cuts through all the rest.
"I love you." She's here. She's here and she's real and she's hugging me for all I'm worth. "I'm so proud of you." I relax into her embrace, drinking in the familiar scent. It's all I can do to keep from crying. I see the tears sliding down her face and let mine flow as well. We stand there, crying and laughing and hugging for what seems like an eternity. When she finally lets me go, I step back to look at her. And out of the corner of my eye I notice something in the window. Little white flakes that fall softly from the sky and that are beginning to pile up on the ground. It's snowing in Southern California for the second time in three years. A white Christmas. A Christmas of hope and healing and family. I've been wondering if I was strong enough to put my life back together and now I know. I can.