Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me; they belong to Joss Whedon and his crew.
Rating: PG
Timeline: After "The Killer In Me".
Summery: Little ficlet in which Kennedy thinks about her relationship with Willow.
A/N: This would be my first time writing Kennedy, but my beta didn't cry when she read it, so it's all good! I hope.
Thanks to Rebecca for the beta. hugs
If I died, would you cry?
That's a dumb question. Of course you'd cry, because you're Willow. You're sweet and soft and you'd cry for a day or so and you'd ask yourself once or twice wonder if I could have loved her but then it'd be over. You'd move on, more battles to fight, more strategies to plan, no time to waste on a could-have-been love. You wouldn't speak about me in a reverent tone of voice or fall to your knees, crying hysterically, begging me to come back.
Is it horrible that I wish you would? Is it bad that I imagine my own funeral, with Buffy wishing she'd been nicer to me, the other Potentials mourning their fallen sister, and you sobbing uncontrollably?
Can you blame me for imagining this? Jesus, who in this place hasn't thought of their own funeral? This house is soaked in death. Look, that's the room where the Bringers attacked us. There's the room where Chloe killed herself. Don't take Willow into that room, Dawn whispered to me one day, that's where Tara was shot.
I know that whatever I do, I can't replace her. There's no point torturing myself with it. I'm the fun girlfriend, always have been. I don't do forever. Especially now that I'm in this house where death and apocalypse are part of every day vocab. Even if I were your forever, I wouldn't know how to be.
But still. I wish, sometimes. People don't know that, but I do. And sometimes I wish you would call me your always.
That can't be though, so I'll have to make due with drinks at the Bronze, kissing on the living room couch, slightly awkward conversations in which we try to find some similarities. I'll learn how to hold onto every smile you give me and how not to listen when you whisper a dead girl's name in your sleep.
Because right now, you're kind of all I have. And what I'm getting from you? I think it's all you have to give.