Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon. Any references are taken directly from Season Eight in graphic novel form (go buy it, people!).
A/N: This is dedicated to Haleine, who insisted I watch all seven seasons of Buffy. My revenge was buying her her first graphic novel. Now she cannot escape the art and colours and fun! What follows is a drabble from the Buffy-verse set sometime after the panel where Willow tells Buffy that Kennedy died. It seems that I can't escape the madness of Season Eight either. Complete and drabble-y.
Willow chewed her lower lip for a moment. "But not died died. Not like … ." But she couldn't bring herself to say the name. Tara. No, it was too hard to even think the name, let alone to breathe it into the open where it could find a kind of life.
She watched as Buffy's face softened. The unspoken name hung between them like some tentative spectre. Willow waved her hand a little, shrugging off the sense that she had somehow dishonoured Tara by not saying her name. Willow knew she'd have nightmares later -- perhaps even tonight while lying alone -- of the time the First had come to her in Tara's form. How the First had tried to trick her into thinking Tara no longer loved her, no longer cared.
Buffy broke the silence. "How are things with you and the tongue ring, I mean, Kennedy?"
A forced smile spread across Willow's face. "They're good. We're taking it slow." She didn't want to say more, but she felt that holding back was exactly what had caused her so much damage in the past. The Council of Sisters had warned Willow against keeping things locked away.
"Slow? What's that mean after you've already, you know, done the ring-y thing-y?" Buffy teased, a small smile spreading across her face.
And then something gave way inside Willow. She reached out and touched Buffy's shoulder. Sighing a little, she closed her eyes and said, "After you killed Angel …" She paused a moment to allow Buffy the wince that inevitably followed. Willow knew the feeling. She regretted every kill she'd made too. Even Warren. Some days she regretted killing him the most because it never brought Tara back. Nor did it ever stop the slow motion image in her mind: "Your shirt."
"Afterwards, there was emptiness inside, right? Like a wide expansive pain that you didn't know how to end or replace?"
Buffy nodded.
Willow pressed on, "I still have that pain. I carry it with me every day. It's there in the mornings when I wake up. It's there throughout the day when I'm trying to meditate or simply live. More importantly, it's there when I close my eyes and sleep."
"It'll never really heal, Wil." Buffy didn't look up. Willow sensed more than just pain radiating from her best friend. "Even when he came back, when Angel and I were standing closer than we are now, there was something irrevocably lost. Broken. I thought Riley would help. Then Spike. Now I'm alone, and I still can't seem to shake that feeling."
"Yeah, I know. So, I feel like there's no reason to pretend with Kennedy. What we have together is just physical attraction." Willow allowed herself a slight tingle at the thought of what waited for her at home. "Did you ever feel that even that is not enough?"
"One word: Spike," Buffy shrugged. "Right now I've got giant Dawn to keep in milk and cookies, Slayer-ettes to train, and Giles insists that I learn how to make, and I quote, 'a proper cup of English tea'."
"Keeps your hands busy," Willow responded, knowing full well that Buffy had never forgiven herself for letting Angel lose his soul the first time. "What about your mind?"
"You know as well as I do that the Slayer is better served by being alone."
Willow smirked a little. "But you've never been alone, Buffy. Giles, Xander, and I have always been there for you."
"That's not what I mean." Buffy quickly added, "But I still appreciate all of you."
"Can I ask your opinion on something?"
"Shoot."
"You're the Chosen One," Willow started, looking past Buffy's shoulder into the dark hallway trying to focus her thoughts. "Okay, so you're not the One anymore, but you know what I'm saying. Before, it was just you who were destined to be the protector. Anyway, you know this better than I do. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that you understand fate better than anyone I know."
Standing up straight, Buffy said, "Yep, one girl in all the world to defeat the forces of darkness. Good thing I brought over a few thousand of my friends in case that whole destiny thing didn't work out."
They laughed a little. Willow tried to imagine how things would've turned out had Buffy not been killed the first time by the Master. Kendra and Faith would never have been called. Buffy wouldn't have seen the effects of other Slayers in the world.
Willow became serious again. "I guess what I'm trying to get at is that your destiny as the Slayer reminds me of love."
Buffy gave her a puzzled look. "Slaying reminds you of love?"
"Not the actual act of slaying, no." Willow shook her head. "Destiny and love are intertwined. I know that you and Angel were destined to be together. He's as much yours as you are his, even now after all that you've been through together."
Willow knew that she was pushing Buffy to remember painful events. She felt that it was a necessary evil to prove a point, or to get an answer.
"What I'm trying to find out," Willow said, stopping again to gather her thoughts. "I want to know if my destiny was to love Oz for a time. Love him so fiercely that I had to lose him. Lose him so that I'd be forced into Tara's" -- there, she'd finally said her name -- "arms. She and I were destined to be together. We were supposed to be forever.
"Then Destiny followed course and Tara was stolen from me. I'm certain that Destiny wants me to spend what remains of my life … alone."
Willow knew that words were powerful components of magicks. Words were dangerous when said aloud and given that power. She half-heartedly believed that she'd never find love again, yet she wanted Buffy to confirm or deny her suspicions. Kennedy wasn't love, and she'd known that for months. She'd rationalized that even if Oz came back, even if he wanted her, even if she wanted him, she could never love him. Not like she'd loved Tara.
A shadow passed over Buffy's face for a moment. Willow watched it turn her friend's smile into horror, then sadness, then resignation.
"Willow," she whispered. "I don't believe we'll ever find love like that again. How many great loves should one person be given in a lifetime? I think the answer is: only one. More than that cheapens the experience. We've both used up our quota. Now, all we have are the memories and the pain of what we once had. … what could've been had things turned out differently."
The impact hit Willow squarely where her heart had once vigorously beaten. If she didn't know better, she might have thought she heard someone laughing in the background.
The end.