Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or situations.
A/N: I was just bored so I wrote this; not my best work. I guess it's sort of an unofficial sequel to Someday, but it doesn't have to be.
She couldn't get the image out of her brain. The bloody handprint smeared on the screen, the stupid pig dancing. She supposed she should remember the guys; what they looked like with their throats ripped out, but all she can see is the pig. The stupid, fucking, childish image. Because that's all they really were, these big guys who called her names, and shoved Xander into walls; children. Helpless. Like her. She pretended she could help Buffy, but she couldn't help anyone. And now Buffy had gone to save the day, as usual and Willow was as helpful as ever, sitting there crying. At that moment, she vowed that wasn't going to be helpless anymore. As soon as she could find some power, in any form, she would take it. And she would never feel like this again.
**********************************************************
"Your shirt." Tara's last look is one not of pride or contentment or acceptance, but of confusion. Confusion. Tara of all people did not deserve to die confused. No, this is definitely not right. Willow needs to fix it. She can fix it. The rage courses through her, mercifully washing away the grief. She is hardly thinking anymore. All that she is aware of his Tara's body, heavy in her lap, and Osiris refusing to do her bidding; refusing to bring her back. She didn't protect Tara, and she can't save her. She's helpless. No. Not anymore.
A/N: I was just bored so I wrote this; not my best work. I guess it's sort of an unofficial sequel to Someday, but it doesn't have to be.
She couldn't get the image out of her brain. The bloody handprint smeared on the screen, the stupid pig dancing. She supposed she should remember the guys; what they looked like with their throats ripped out, but all she can see is the pig. The stupid, fucking, childish image. Because that's all they really were, these big guys who called her names, and shoved Xander into walls; children. Helpless. Like her. She pretended she could help Buffy, but she couldn't help anyone. And now Buffy had gone to save the day, as usual and Willow was as helpful as ever, sitting there crying. At that moment, she vowed that wasn't going to be helpless anymore. As soon as she could find some power, in any form, she would take it. And she would never feel like this again.
**********************************************************
"Your shirt." Tara's last look is one not of pride or contentment or acceptance, but of confusion. Confusion. Tara of all people did not deserve to die confused. No, this is definitely not right. Willow needs to fix it. She can fix it. The rage courses through her, mercifully washing away the grief. She is hardly thinking anymore. All that she is aware of his Tara's body, heavy in her lap, and Osiris refusing to do her bidding; refusing to bring her back. She didn't protect Tara, and she can't save her. She's helpless. No. Not anymore.