Ch 2
Willow's head was pounding. Blurry green eyes opened and scanned the room, squinting at the faint morning light seeping through the gap in the curtains. With a groan, she laid her arm across her eyes, trying to come to terms with the fact that she was now awake. There was no hesitation of thought, none of that wonderful amnesia that sometimes hovers in the liminal state between sleep and wakefulness. The truth was stark and immediately present- Tara was gone. Her love had packed a box and walked out on her last night, leaving a sobbing Willow tucked into herself on the bathroom floor. Willow winced as she relived it all, her chest tightening as an imaginary fist clutched her breath away.
After the gang had all returned from the Magic Box, and to their own identities, Willow had headed straight for the bathroom. She hadn't even tried to talk to Tara on the way back, not after seeing the stricken look on Tara's face. Her beautiful blue eyes were so pained with heartbreak, with betrayal, again; and Willow knew there was nothing she could say.
She had felt like a ghost walking home, keeping a good distance behind the rest of the group. The way they all looked at her, they were so disappointed. They didn't understand. Why didn't any of them understand? She had had to make things right, she had screwed up by bringing Buffy back, by erasing the fight she had with Tara, so it was up to her to fix it. Things were going so wrong, after she had tried so hard. It was her mess and she was making things better. She had to fix them.
And now it was worse. Because Xander had stepped on the crystal, breaking the spell. Ok, she had thought, so the spell hadn't gone right and they would all have probably been vampire food before too long. But, tears flooded her eyes, Tara had still wanted me then, when we didn't know each other. And now, now that she did know her, Tara had left. Yes, Willow knew she had screwed up, but no one had complained when she was kicking vampire ass left and right when Buffy had been gone. Much. Besides, who else could have, would have, taken up that mantle? Only Willow, and Spike when he was around, stood a chance of keeping this town together.
Willow hadn't brought Buffy back because she couldn't handle the slaying, even if that was the excuse she gave to everyone. In truth, she liked being the big gun; she was good at being the big gun. It was stressful for sure, but she was truly confident in herself, for the first time in her life. It was just others who couldn't handle what sweet little dog geyser Willow Rosenberg had become. Did they want to keep her like that, meek and insecure and dependent on them? She couldn't, wouldn't, go there again.
No, it wasn't that at all. She simply missed her best friend. And if she had known? If she had known that Buffy was in heaven and at peace? In her deepest confessions, Willow might admit she still may have brought Buffy back.
Pushing the covers aside, Willow forced her body off the bed. With leaden feet she walked down the stairs, so slowly time wavered, and she continued toward the kitchen for some coffee. Her usually active mind was paused in an echoing numbness. Just get through the day, she urged herself.
As soon as there was enough coffee to pour, she reached out and took the pot from its burner, habitually knowing the flow from the machine would pause. She stood, frozen, fingers curled around the handle, her eyes glazed into a lost stare.
The sound of a startled voice brought her back to the present. Turning she watched Dawn rush across the room and flip the switch on the coffee maker. "What happened?" Dawn stood away from the pool of hot brown liquid now spreading across the kitchen tile. "Willow, are you ok?"
With a blink, Willow realized she had let the coffee brew out of the top of the maker, unable to go anywhere but up as the water kept pouring into the basket. "I, um, I guess I spaced out there for a minute." Willow continued as she waved her hand over the mess, brown evaporating into the air, "You know me and my brain, always ticking. Well, I guess my heart is ticking, which is a good thing, you know, because the ticking means, yay, I'm alive." The babble was forced, and both parties knew it.
Dawn watched in growing horror as the soaked coffee filter floated across the kitchen, and a magically opened cabinet revealed the trashcan where the filter was dropped. She looked back at Willow who was now sipping at her coffee as she continued her babble.
"Why do they say the brain's ticking when it's really transmitting electrochemical signals? I guess that's not as catchy or easy to say." Willow ended in a small grin that was not reflected in her eyes.
"I would have helped you clean that up," Dawn stated, a look of concern shifting across her features.
The sigh was frustration and disappointment, the tone colder "Are you going to start in on me too?"
"What? No, I just-"The teen stepped back twice, putting distance between them.
"You just think I am overusing the magic, right?" Willow fired without hesitation, defensive anger driving her.
Dawn's voice was direct but soft, "Are you?"
"Why don't you ask Tara?" The words flew out, bitter and hurtful, and both girls stared in shock. The fact that she had said them made Willow sick. Tears immediately flooded her eyes as she turned to leave. She pushed against the swinging kitchen door and realized that she had never hated herself more than at this moment.
"Do you care that she's gone?" It wasn't an accusation. It was an honest question and it hit Willow all the harder for it, freezing her movement. A moment went by as each woman's breath caught in trepidation. Then, Willow faced Dawn, her features still. She said no words, but the sorrow revealed in her eyes was so deep, it could never have been communicated. Willow quickly shadowed the truth in her gaze before tearing it away from Dawn and disappeared up the stairs. Dawn wrapped her arm around herself as she heard the bedroom door close.
