Before you start reading the story, I want to thank everyone for taking the time for clicking on the link. This is still a huge work in progress, and it is AU, but this is W/T-centric, meaning that most of the story will be focused more on the two, or one thinking of the other. I do not think any less of the other characters, it's just that my interests lie more in Willow, Tara, and their connection. With that said, I tried my hardest to pinpoint how the other characters (Buffy, Xander, Anya, Dawn, ect.) would react in the situations. I do hope you enjoy the work, and look for more chapters in the future!

She thought for sure she would never make it. She was gone…there was nothing she could do. Osiris claimed that the surely fatal wound was mortally caused, but she didn't see it that way. To her, it was anything but ordinary. Anything but…but normal.

In all truth, if Xander hadn't gone upstairs to check, she might have actually died. It was a stroke of luck, and a damned good one at that.

The bullet had made its unintentional mark, and Tara collapsed to the floor in moments her last words barely fazing her. Who gave a damn about her shirt!? Shaking her over and over, turning her face to look at her, she prayed she could open her eyes. The blood was coming out too quickly—much too quickly. Her breathing was slowing, and she was sure she was dead. Osiris was no help, and so believed the woman had died in her arms.

Something had changed within her then. The old goofy Willow that joked around and rambled was gone…had died along with Tara…or so she thought. Tears stopped flowing, jaw forced to stop quivering, she lay the blonde's body on the floor, sure to find the culprit.

Charging downstairs with a goal in mind, she noticed Xander though didn't speak to him. Dazed and confused at the scene with Buffy he'd just witnessed, he briefly told her of how the paramedics had rushed their Slayer off to the hospital. Only nodding, Willow was on her way to the Magic Box.

'Where did all that blood come from…?' Xander asked to himself, the red standing out against the white shirt. In curiosity, he decided to go into the Summers' home, and rushed up the steps only to find his friend on the floor.

"Tara?!" He called out in alarm, rushing to her side. There was no response…touching her neck with his fore and middle finger, he sighed with relief as he felt a heartbeat. It was slow and weak…but there. Quickly, he called the paramedics, who arrived only five minutes later and carting the Wiccan off. She was in unstable condition when they left, but at least she was alive.

He had to tell Willow.

He'd never seen that look in her eyes before…but they were ones of revenge. He knew that look…just never from her. He wasn't sure where she might be…but ran blind towards the Magic Box.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Willow had done what she needed, leaving a trail of destruction in the store's wake. Walking carefully through the store, he noticed books on the center table…all blank. "She took the text." Anya said matter-of-factly, seeming more annoyed than anything.

"Why would she do that?" The carpenter asked, panting from the situation.

"Well don't you know? She wants revenge."

Tara couldn't remember much. So much was a blur. She remembered things in roughly this order: she heard the glass shatter and then she saw a bright red stain splatter across Willow's shirt. Then she felt cold. "Your shirt?" Then she felt pain. Suddenly, her legs gave out and she fell. She tried raising her arms to catch herself, but those stopped working as well. She tried to groan, to call out Willow's name, tell her she was in pain, but nothing came. Her mind was blank…she couldn't feel her body. Nothing except for that damned pain in her shoulder. Was it her shoulder? Her whole chest was on fire, and she couldn't comprehend why. She tried keeping her eyes open, but they fluttered closed, and she heard Willow…

'Oh god baby…stop crying. I'm okay. I'm here. It's okay, everything's okay.' Everything she wanted to say didn't leave her thoughts, and soon her girl's tortured and mangled cries started to fade around her.

'Am I dying?' She couldn't leave Willow. She wouldn't allow it. She forced herself to fight through the pain, to try to stay awake.

Her eyes couldn't open and she couldn't move, but she forced herself to stay conscious. She felt pain…Goddess, so much pain, and she felt in a twilight phase, sort of drifting in and out of unconsciousness.

She didn't hear Xander arrive, didn't feel her body being lifted. She vaguely remembered the starch scent of a hospital, and the last thing she remembered was wondering if Willow was okay.