It had been a good day.
Not the kind of super-amazing day that felt like big, twirly fireballs of excitement shooting straight through you, making your insides all jiggly and leaving you breathless when you finally tumble into bed at the end of it. No, this was the really, really good kind—the one where you have the luxury of sitting around on a warm patch of grass in the brilliant sunshine doing nothing much, with people you really love to be with, and you're suffused with a warm feeling of utter perfection that's whispering to you, these are the moments that life is all about, because the Powers That Be are smiling down on you and all is right with the world…
Willow took a deep breath of late afternoon air laden with a luscious cornucopia of floral scents, and let it back out on a happy sigh.
She'd hated to leave Buffy and Dawn. The three of them had been sprawled out on the grass of one of the parks near campus, reveling in a sense of utter contentment as they snacked on a bunch of grapes and looked for shapes in the clouds…
But there was something she had to do.
Like the man said, right? "I gotta go see about a girl."
The walk from the park to Tara's dorm room wasn't a very long one, and Willow could already feel a whole flock of butterflies—bats, even—taking up residence in her insides. They were probably the second cousins once removed to the host of chirpy little thought-crickets throwing a party in her head. One of the really wild kind. With multiple kegs. Probably of that wacky Neandertal-beer.
What if she's not even home?
What if she slams the door in my face?
What if she won't listen?
What if she won't believe me?
What if she says she hates me?
What if she doesn't want to spend her last day on earth with me?
What if she's already found somebody else?
The little bugs hopped and squeaked their way down an exhaustingly familiar path—Willow suspected that they might even be wearing a ring-shaped dent in the grey matter of her cerebellum. But just like before, all it took was one quiet voice to silence them all—that of a single cricket in a black top hat and tails, at the very back of her skull.
But…what if you don't go? What if you just sit and watch the world end, and never see her again? What if you never get the chance to tell her all the things you need her to hear?
That last thought kept her resolved whenever the noise got to be too much, and she thought she might turn around and walk away. For the world to end, and lose any chance to look into her soulmate's eyes and tell her how sorry she was…how much she loved her, and missed her…
No! Nope, nope…not gonna think about that. She wasn't going to let it happen that way. Because every time she thought about it, it was like all the oxygen had been sucked out of her lungs, and she had to fight to keep from hyperventilating, all at the same time.
It was just like Tara had said, that morning when Willow's world ended for the first time.
You did it the way you're doing everything. When things get rough, you…you don't even consider the options, you just…you just do a spell. It's not good for you, Willow. And it's not what magic is for.
Sure, she'd been talking about the magicks, but Willow had been doing a lot of thinking over the past week—between the bouts of moping—and she'd realized that even her recent 'spell-o-rama' was just one symptom of a bigger problem.
Been living in this brain for twenty years now, and I just now finally figured me out.
I'm a wimp.
When it occurred to her, she was amazed that she hadn't seen it sooner.
All her life, Willow had been used to things being easy. Her home life may not have been the most affectionate, but she never lacked for anything. Name-brand snacks, plenty of clothes—tastefully picked out by her mother—and her laptop was always equipped with the latest top-of-the-line accessories. She blew through school with perfect grades without much effort. She hadn't had very many friends…but when they were as cool as Xander and Jesse, how many more could you possibly need? Once she discovered the magical arts, she took to them like a blind person discovering colors for the first time, and before long, she was able to excel there, too.
Always so easy.
Then real life happened. Grown-up life—and not like they showed it on television, where nobody ever had to worry about anything but the big stuff, like whether or not their husband was cheating on them with another man, or how much longer it would be before they could afford that beach house in Malibu. No, this was real real life—the kind where all the little things can pile up so high over your head that you think you're going to drown, and you suddenly realize that every single other person in the world has the same deep-down fears as you do, and that sometimes life is gonna suck no matter how good of a person you are, and that love sometimes isn't enough to bring happiness, no matter what the fairy tales say.
Suddenly, nothing was easy anymore.
Except…
Then there was Tara, and she brought with her magicks like Willow had never experienced before. And if that first spell to restore Angel's soul had been like a door opening in her mind, then this new magic was like all the doors and windows exploding outwards, and taking most of the walls with them. It was a tidal wave of love and delight and power and euphoria, and she had been intoxicated
Suddenly, magic could make things easy.
Why bother to do work by hand, when you could snap your fingers and have it done? Why bother to use the keyboard, when it was so much simpler to direct the computer with your mind? Why bother to go out and buy real party decorations to celebrate your best friend's engagement, when you could just poof some into existence? Why bother to work through a fight with your girlfriend, when you could just make her forget all about it?
Now that Willow had had a chance to really stop and think about all the things she'd done…how deep she'd gotten in…it made her feel all nauseous and twitchy, like she needed to take off her skin and give her soul a good scrubbing—with that awful snot-green soap, with all the irritating little pumice bits in it.
God, Tara…how could I have been so…
How could I have done those things?
But when her lover's sweet voice echoed back through her memory, it sounded brittle and hurt.
You're did it the way you're doing everything…
Always the easy way out for Willow. The cheap way. The won't-get-my-hands-dirty way.
The coward's way.
Okay, then—no more of that, missy! Nothing but the straight-and-narrow for Miss Willow Rosenberg from now on!
It was the Cowardly Lion in her that said it would be so much easier to just sit on her butt and wait for the world to end, because then she wouldn't have to face Tara's accusing eyes and say those three syllables…so long and impossibly hard to wring from her tongue, but they were the only possible first step on the path back to where life was simpler, and happy again.
And she couldn't just say "I'm sorry." She had to really, truly feel it, deep down in the dirty black part at the bottom of her soul.
And suddenly, there was the door.
Tara's dorm room door, staring Willow in the face…and it reminded her of nothing so much as one of those wooden flats at a carnival, painted with a scene, but with the people's faces cut out so tourists could take inane snapshots of their kids. The wide-grained wood that met her suddenly petrified gaze was the same. It had substance, tangibility…but no personality. No smiling face, no loving eyes, no inviting lips…
Could I ever be welcome here again? If the world wasn't about to end, that is…
Hey, now—no more of that Cowardly Lion thing!
Willow took a long, deep breath, tasting the musty, recycled air that had witnessed the passage of hundreds of college students before her. Hundreds of people, down through the decades…all perched precariously on the cusp of adulthood, staining the air they breathed with the tale of their sweat, their laughter, their tears. The taste of all their little failures and successes was coppery in Willow's mouth.
Then she let her breath out slowly, gathering her meager willpower,
and raised her hand to rap deliberately on the wooden barrier before her.
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