Author's note: I loved the relationship between Willow and Tara. I also liked the fact that Willow was taken to such a dark place near the end of series six. This story details Willow's thoughts while she is coping with the death of her girl friend, and the dark magic that has damaged her life. As a disclaimer, I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Black Holes.

The sun is setting beyond the horizon, the sky growing steadily darker around me. Thick bands of pink and gold are slowly receeding,, before I become fully aware of where I am. A cold breeze ripples across my face, blowing my hair into my eyes and causing me to look up. Night is setting in alright, and I can already see the moon glinting down with silver reverence from the rapidly darkening sky.

I stand, brushing stray blades of grass from my faded jeans, wiping the residue of tears from my cheeks. I cannot even begin to think how I must look, red faced, dark eyes adorned with deep purple circles of tiredness, and my hair that has remained unkempt and uncared for for days now.

I have been in England for a few weeks, and the black hole of misery hasn't lifted. It hangs over my head like a threatening storm, and every now and again, the terrible truth washes over me, with startling clarity.

Tara.

The wickan women of the coven to which I am a temporary part, are the most beautiful and powerful women that I have ever met. They have magic that is beyond my comprehentian, power so good and so pure, that it puts my own recently acquired dark powers to shame.

Yet they seem to be scared of me. Giles does to. They all seem to be scared of me, as if I will turn them to dust if they so much as give me a funny look. I will not of course, cannot. I won't ever use magic again, can't bring myself to ever let my powers show again. Not after what I have done.

I begin to walk slowly back to the house which has been my home now for a while, the solid and immoveable truth of what I am here for, weighing down upon me, a burden that I cannot hope to lift alone. It is a burden that in a way, I do not want to lift. I deserve this pain, this misery and these dark thoughts. I deserve every bit of it. After what I did in Sunnydale, after killing Tara's killer and almost destroying the world, I deserve to be punished.

"Willow?"

I look up, seeing Giles standing by the door. He is smiling at me, and the knife of guilt twists even further into my guts, only deepening the pain and guilt that I already feel. I cannot bear to look him in the eyes. Why is he being so kind to me? Why is he treating me with compassion, after all that I did to him?

When Giles had brought me to England to spend some time in a magical rehab if you will parden the comparison, I thought he was bringing me to a place of execution. I thought that Giles was going to kil me. But instead, he had spoken kindly, promising to help me.

The house is warm, and as Giles closes the door behind us, I sink into a chair close to the fire, staring into the flames as if wishing to fall right into them.

Memories swim around in my mind, repeating the same terrible dance as they have for weeks. Dawn, pleading with me to stop. Anya, trying to bind me and my magic so that I could do them no more harm. Buffy desperately trying to keep her friends safe. Safe from me, Willow, who was supposed to be their friend.

And I remember Xander, coming to find me, and telling me that despite all that I had done, he still loved me, and always would. I could have killed him to, tried to, wanted to even. Yet he, like Buffy, Dawn, and Anya, had been trying to protect me all along.

"Are you alright?" Giles asks, taking a seat beside me and laying a consoling hand upon my shoulder, forcing me to turn round and face him.

I open my mouth, loyally trying to get the words out, but I can't.. No words can describe what I am going through. Not a single word can possibley tell him of the black hole that is threatening to swallow me whole.

But it seems that Giles doesn't need to be told. He knows. Giles always knows, has always known, right from the start. He knows that Tara's death is still raw in my heart, the pain of it cutting deeper than I care to admit. He knows that there are thoughts crowding my mind that I don't want to feel or examin at the moment.

I miss her so much. Tara had been my light in the dark, the candle that had illuminated my days. She had given me confidence and had believed in me always, even when the belief from others had wained. Tara had been beautiful, my one true love, the only constant feature in a life that had been fraught with confusion. I had let her down many a time, had chosen my addiction to magic over our relationship. Yet still, she had stayed, had refused to leave me behind, had loved me inspite of everything I had done. For that, I am grateful, and profoundly so.

And now, Tara is gone. Dead. Never again will I feel the gentle touch of her hand. Never again will I hear her voice as she laughs at my foolish behaviour, or when she sings her heart out about anything and everything that she feels or thinks. Tara will never light up my life again. Never again can she give me advice. Never again can she help.

"Listen Willow," Giles says gently, hand still resting upon my shoulder, "I know how you're feeling. But Tara wouldn't want you to sit her worrying about your powers. You have this powerful magic inside you now, and you are responsible for it. Tara would want you to take this chance Willow. She would have wanted you to begin your life again, and try to make this better."

His words strike painful chords in my heart and I desperately try not to listen. But I cannot shut the words out. He is right of course. I do have to honour Tara's death. She died and she would never come back again. The black hole that is her passing is still looming over me like dark magic itself, but I have to do something.

I sit by the fire, long after Giles has departed. I again find myself staring into it, watching as the red and orange flames dance in the grate. I ponder this problem. I do have to try and make things better. I have caused a lot of damage, and I do not know whether Buffy and the others will ever forgive me. I do not know whether I will ever be wanted back in Sunnydale again, but I have to try. I have to climb out of this hole, and find some light again.

I stand once more, preparing to go to bed. I am tired, oh so tired. I rub my eyes, feeling an ache beginning in my head. I make my way slowly from the room, closing the door behind me. I vow to carry on with my studies, to ensure that what happened in Sunnydale never happens again. I cannot jeperdise my life and those of my friends any more than I already have. I have to try and keep my powers under control, and fix the damage that I have done.

I have to make amends.