A.N. : This just kinda came to me today...hope you like it. Character death Oz/Willow, a little Tara/Willow. Post Chosen.
Disclaimer: Don't own it, just love to write for it
Of course she died. That's what Slayers did. They died. They fought. They screwed. They died. Rinse, Lather, Repeat. She should have known that she wasn't it for her. She was a band aid on a bullet wound. A Tara shaped bullet wound. She reached for the bottle of liquor on the other side of the table, spilling it with a exclamation of "Damn!" The brown liquid pooled at her feet, making sloshing noises and she hastily backed up the chair. "Made a mess." she mumbled, "Always making messes."
She held Tara when she died, rocking back and forth and pleading to any merciful being that would listen to please,PLEASE bring her back. She still felt warm in her arms, warm and loving and soft...just as she had been in her bed, in her life. She remembered how that body felt pressed into her, conforming as if she was made to cling to Willow. The same body that was still in her arms. She could feel nothing but the flood of sorrow, a searing pain as she sobbed. She was broken...so broken. And then...she wasn't. She was powerful and furious. Absolute in her rage.
She bent to retrieve the injured object, frowning at the contents below her. "Was gonna drink that." she whined, slamming the bottle down. She let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head slightly. "Better not waste the rest." she moved to take her chair again, slipping in the offensive liquid, crashing down to the floor with a deafening thud. She giggled, a sound of madness in the otherwise silent house. "The bigger they are..." she broke off, memories flooding her mind. "The harder they fall."
She'd held Kennedy when she died to. She had no words to comfort the girl who lay dying in her arms. She smoothed back her hair, lying to her, telling her she was going to make it even as blood soaked into her jeans. The girls viscera slid in her fingers felt like noodles, like soft, gooey noodles. She told her she loved her, even though she didn't. She didn't cry when she passed, she just pulled the ax from her stomach, closing her eyes a final time. She hadn't loved Kennedy, but she had made things easier.
Willow lay that way for awhile, pulling her knees to her chest as she dry heaved. She was shaking, unable to catch her breathe as she remembered the stench of death that clung to the young Slayer. She might have been able to love her if she hadn't have met Tara. But she did, and her heart had no room for the brunette. "I'm sorry."she muttered into the wood floor, coughing up bits of bile and saliva. "So sorry."
Buffy had stayed the night, pressing her friend to talk. Willow didn't have words for what she was feeling, so she lied. Said she was fine, she was getting over it. In reality the loss had stifled her. Not because Kennedy had meant so much to her, but because she had lost so much. She had lost herself. When Buffy hugged her goodbye, promising to come back soon, Willow had smiled. She had gotten so good at fooling everyone. "I love you." Buffy had said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I know. I love you too." she had echoed back. That was all she was now...an echo.
She pushed off the floor, head spinning, throat raw. And yet, no tears had fallen. She had been unable to cry a single tear since Kennedy's death, unable to express the grief she felt. So she drank. She refused to fall back into the addiction of magic, so she drank. Not enough to alert her friends to her despair, just enough to keep her numb. She glanced at the almost empty contents of the bottle on the table and added as an afterthought. "Well most times anyway."
Xander was not as easy to fend off as the others. He knew her better, knew what made her tick. Could tell that she was dead inside. He tried to tell her he knew how it felt, knew how it was to lose the love of your life. Willow wanted to tell him that she wasn't the love of her life. That she couldn't even muster tears for her dead girlfriend...but she didn't. She just smiled wearily at him, taking his hand in hers. She told him that the visit had helped, that they would do this again soon. She promised she would call...she didn't.
She had just changed into her pajamas when a knock sounded at the door. She jumped slightly, finished throwing her hair into a ponytail as she crossed into the living room. Maybe whoever it was would give up and go away. She waited a minute...the knock came again. "Fine." she grumbled, wrenching the door open. She let out a soft gasp as she took in the visitor at the door. His mouth quirked up in a half smile as he said. "Hey." "How?" she questioned, eyes taking in every feature that was so specifically his. "Xander tracked me down. Said you needed help." "Xander?" she replied dazed. "Yeah." she placed one hand on his arm, flexing her fingers into the flesh. "Oz." she breathed. "Yeah it's me." he smiled widely. "Oz." she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. "Willow." he replied, taking her in his arms. She broke then, sobs racking her body, collapsing in a heap on the floor. "It's okay Will. Everything is going to be okay." For the first time since Tara, held in the arms of the man she loved..she felt that maybe they would be.