"Rage"
Character: Willow
Time Frame: During "Villains"
I do not own Will or Buffy or any of that stuff. Joss Whedon does. So
there.
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The spell worked. Willow's shirt, splattered with Tara's blood, drew itself a map of Sunnydale, and pointed out Warren's hiding place. In the forest. The forest she and Xander fled into after raising Buffy. She thought about that for a brief second, before the rage came back to her. The rage and the hate and the vengeance. All directed at one stupid little man. And now she would find him.
The rage made her think at a dizzying pace. It pushed her, and fueled her on. It was the rage that kept her from stopping, and falling to the ground and crying. It was what she should have done, in the wake of what happened. but instead she let the rage take her. It took her to a place the Willow before never ever wanted to be. But that didn't matter now. Tara was dead. Willow was dead too, for that matter, she thought. Again the rage overtook the moment of reflection she had, and she moved towards the door.
Willow stopped at the dresser. She stared past the things on it, her clothes, the pictures of her friends, into the mirror. She regarded her reflection, and the rage subsided again for a moment. In the back of her mind her voice told her track down Warren now, but her reflection made her freeze up. It was strange. She saw her hair, falling to just abover her shoulder, black as night. She saw her eyes, ink-like. Fathomless. Bottomless. She saw her face, pale and showing the faint purple vains in her cheeks and forehead. She saw her clothes, all black. Before, she had very little black clothing. The jacket she had only worn once before, when she met Tara infront of the Magic Box. Willow took all this in, her full appearnce, and did not flinch. Did not regret. Willow liked her appearence.
There was still regret. But it stayed in the back of her mind, and was becoming increasingly silent the more the rage filled her. Like a child's voice in a growing crowd, being drowned out. But, for now, it was still there, telling her to think rationally, telling her she had gone way to far over the edge, telling to think about the consequences. But there were no consequences for her now, really, because consequences come after. And there was no "after" for her right now. Only the rage. The rage telling her she spent too much time at the mirror, Warren wouldn't stay in one place forever, after all. Which was true, and so she moved to the door again. She would wait till she was outside, then teleport to Warren's location. She wanted to make sure Buffy or Dawn hadn't returned home yet. Things would go smoother if they didn't interfere, anyways.
The rage fueled. It moved her. It wouldn't stop untill he was dead, and it may not stop after that either, she though. But that was okay. There would be more people to take her hatred out on. Jonathon and the other geek. Maybe she would find them afterwards. But later. First things first.
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` ```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` ` Okay. Feedback greatly appreciated. This is my first fanfic, so be kind. And I probably spelled some stuff wrong, my WordPad doesn't have a spell check for some reason, even though it's a new model. Meh.
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The spell worked. Willow's shirt, splattered with Tara's blood, drew itself a map of Sunnydale, and pointed out Warren's hiding place. In the forest. The forest she and Xander fled into after raising Buffy. She thought about that for a brief second, before the rage came back to her. The rage and the hate and the vengeance. All directed at one stupid little man. And now she would find him.
The rage made her think at a dizzying pace. It pushed her, and fueled her on. It was the rage that kept her from stopping, and falling to the ground and crying. It was what she should have done, in the wake of what happened. but instead she let the rage take her. It took her to a place the Willow before never ever wanted to be. But that didn't matter now. Tara was dead. Willow was dead too, for that matter, she thought. Again the rage overtook the moment of reflection she had, and she moved towards the door.
Willow stopped at the dresser. She stared past the things on it, her clothes, the pictures of her friends, into the mirror. She regarded her reflection, and the rage subsided again for a moment. In the back of her mind her voice told her track down Warren now, but her reflection made her freeze up. It was strange. She saw her hair, falling to just abover her shoulder, black as night. She saw her eyes, ink-like. Fathomless. Bottomless. She saw her face, pale and showing the faint purple vains in her cheeks and forehead. She saw her clothes, all black. Before, she had very little black clothing. The jacket she had only worn once before, when she met Tara infront of the Magic Box. Willow took all this in, her full appearnce, and did not flinch. Did not regret. Willow liked her appearence.
There was still regret. But it stayed in the back of her mind, and was becoming increasingly silent the more the rage filled her. Like a child's voice in a growing crowd, being drowned out. But, for now, it was still there, telling her to think rationally, telling her she had gone way to far over the edge, telling to think about the consequences. But there were no consequences for her now, really, because consequences come after. And there was no "after" for her right now. Only the rage. The rage telling her she spent too much time at the mirror, Warren wouldn't stay in one place forever, after all. Which was true, and so she moved to the door again. She would wait till she was outside, then teleport to Warren's location. She wanted to make sure Buffy or Dawn hadn't returned home yet. Things would go smoother if they didn't interfere, anyways.
The rage fueled. It moved her. It wouldn't stop untill he was dead, and it may not stop after that either, she though. But that was okay. There would be more people to take her hatred out on. Jonathon and the other geek. Maybe she would find them afterwards. But later. First things first.
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` ```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` ` Okay. Feedback greatly appreciated. This is my first fanfic, so be kind. And I probably spelled some stuff wrong, my WordPad doesn't have a spell check for some reason, even though it's a new model. Meh.