When Tara was shot, all the life got sucked out of Willow. From that moment on, she felt like the mossy walls to a vast, dark, empty cave. However, as she returned to her dorm room, joy, like cave formations, rocked in and out of her internal space.

Not joy. Power. Defying Giles, squirming her way to Silas, made Willow feel like she could do anything. Like, she could get whatever she wanted.

Willow's upturned and slanted smile nuzzled her pillow as she curled into her bed. She closed her eyelids and welcomed the blackness, until her imagination brought a familiar face front and center.

Giles.

Willow jumped out of bed. "I... I should... I should pack. Yes. Should do the packing thing. Then I could leave... at a moment's notice.. before... before..."

Willow cowered into her cupped hands as she whispered, "...before Giles gets in my way."

Willow growled into her palms, grazed her flesh with her front teeth. She wanted to bite herself, eat herself alive. She wanted to be eaten alive - to not exist any more. She was just starting to enjoy life again, until she was reminded that life was constrained in the prison of Willow. That to enjoy life, she must sense it through the wicked monster that schemes plans behind her friend's backs.

On Will's slate-gray wall was one coat hook. Hung on it was a long, flowy dress with a built in corset.

It was the dress Tara wore that time they were stuck in a musical.

Willow moved towards it. She wrapped her fingers around the orange skirt as she nuzzled into the material. The dress was still stained with Tara's sweet, candy smell.

Before Will knew what was happening, hot tears rolled streams down her cheekbones.

Her bottom lip quivered as she grappled with the dress, bringing it closer to her.

She was a fool. She was a fool to believe power was anything close to joy.

True joy was singing and dancing with the love of her life. True joy was looking into Tara's icy blue eyes, curved smile and feeling only hope for the future. In one action, one ear-splitting gone shot, true joy had evaporated. And everything else? That was meaningless.

If Tara knew what Willow had been up to...

...she would be so disappointed. She would say that Willow was not dealing with her recovery. That perhaps Willow wasn't abusing magic, but she was still putting her indulgences first.

Willow dug her nails into the soft, pudge on her shoulders. "Maybe not... though? Maybe she wouldn't be disgusted with me?"

Willow was taught techniques at the Coven that were intended to help her see past her dark self. The idea was that everyone had an inner moral compass within, Willow needed tools to find hers.

All Willow had to do was sit lotus style, with one leg crossed over the other, with her hands resting on top of her knees. She sat straight up, as if her spine was a stack of coins, and closed her eyes.

"All mighty Athena, Goddess of Justice. Please guide my meditation, and show me the light."

Willow was overcome with a slipping sensation, as if she was slowly falling off a cliff. She stopped breathing as she gripped her knees a bit tighter until the vertigo passed and she found herself tousled in black velvet sheets.

There was nothing to see except the crinkles of material and the bell-ring of laughter.

In imagination, Willow turned her head towards the noise and found Tara, sitting crosslegged on top of a purple pillow. She was staring at Will.

Then she waved, eagerly quickly, so her peach-hued hand blurred, and for a moment, Willow forgot that her vision was fantasy.

She limply waved back, her throat closing in. All she could muster was a whisper, "Tara. I... I'm sorry -"

"No," Tara interrupted, "That's not why you called me. Not to apologize."

Willow raised an eyebrow. "Athena?"

Tara nodded. "Yes. I am here to be your guide. I am here to answer your question."

Willow's gut felt as if it had been dropped to her knees. For a moment, she really believed she would get the chance to apologize to Tara for putting her in danger. But, it seemed that moment would never come.

As Willow sighed her shoulders slumped forward. "Yeah... I have a question... I have a lot of questions..."

"I can only answer one. We can on meditate on one thing at a time."

Willow nibbled on the squishy insides of her lips. "Am I bad if I don't go to Sunnydale?"

Tara reached out and rubbed Willow's knuckles and chills went up Willow's arm. "You are never bad, Willow, and you are never good. You need to confront Giles and own up to your actions, however, the truth is, the only person who knows what is best for your recovery is you."

"Oh. Well then..." Willow stared down at Tara's hands. Her nails were long and natural and her index finger freckled. They looked just like the hands Willow used to hold. "Silas. I think I need to go to Silas and learn how to be respected as my own person. I just - I can't be a sidekick again. In Sunnydale I'm demoted, and I need to see what I can be without the Slayer around. Is that - is that an evil thing?"

Tara shook her head. "There is truth in what Giles was saying, that you need Sunnydale. Sunnydale needs you too, he missed that, however, it can wait for a few months."

Before Willow could respond to that information, she was jerked out of her trance by harsh knocking.

Willow turned around, towards the noise. There she found Giles, peering into the room, looking seriously pissed off.

The silence that filled the room was so tangible, it was like noise. Each breath and movement echoed in the small space. Outside, birds sang and witches chattered, yet it sounded more like static than anything else.

Willow didn't know what to say. She should have expected that Giles would come find her, yet she was too busy first scheming and then debating the moral value of such schemes, that she didn't really plan out this confrontation.

Giles wasn't speaking either. He had entered the room, closed the door, and leaned back on it with his arms crossed. He stared at her with pursed lips and harrowing eyes, looking as angry as he was when Willow brought Buffy back from the dead.

Eventually, Giles was the first to break the silence with a long, howling exhale. "It's fine. You're an adult, so it's fine. Do whatever you want. What's there to say?"

"Didn't mean to do this behind your back again. It wasn't like last time, it wasn't so thought out. I just found a way, and said yes. I mean... if I appologize, does it matter?"

Giles shrugged. "You should know, the Council will not be as forgiving if you go, as you say, all veiny and homicidal again."

"I'm not - I don't want to hurt anyone." Willow rubbed her arms, felt the curved imprints of where her nails dug in. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"You did." Giles combed his dark-gray hair with his hands. "I'm sorry I pushed Sunnydale on you so hard."

"I just - I just need space. From you, the Coven, Sunnydale, everyone. I need... I need space to figure out what it means to be Willow. I can't - I just can't think when I'm around everyone else. I become like playdoh, bending to everyone else's preferred version of me. I become... powerless."

"I know. The truth is, Sunnydale isn't going anywhere. You can always go back after your retreat in Silas."

Willow raised her head so she was facing Giles head-on. He was lightly smiling.

"I don't know if you need my approval or not... but well, the truth is, having an inside person on campus will help me solve this Carmilla case. Plus, you always been far more independent than I have given you credit, I think you know what you need more than I do." Giles pulled out two white, rectangular pieces of paper out of his back pocket. "Well, you better start packing. You don't want to miss your flight to Silas."