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Tara lay sprawled on her stomach across the rumpled bedspread, trying to study for a pop quiz her professor had 'hinted' might be coming up sometime next week. The problem was, she kept turning pages, only to realize a moment later that she had no idea what the last section was about. Giving up, she flopped the oversized Art History book shut with a groan, resting her forehead against the cool, stiff slickness of its cover.

Can't take any more of this. Too mellow. If I get any more mellow, I'm gonna fall asleep.

And that would be…not good.

Sleeping wasn't one of her favorite activities, this week. The actual 'being-asleep' part was usually just fine…but when she awoke the first thing she always did was feel around for the warm, Willow-shaped lump sleeping beside her…only to find that it wasn't there.

Then she would squint at her surroundings, blinking blearily.

Then she would remember why the institutional-white walls of the dorm stared back at her, instead of the soothing beige wallpaper and colorful prints decorating Joyce's old bedroom, the room she and Willow shared…

Used to share.

Every time she opened her eyes, it was like living through that horrible evening all over again…like waking up from a dream without a past, and watching the guilt and horror blossom in those beautiful hazel eyes, just inches from her own…the hot rush of anger and sick stomach-lurch of betrayal, as she gazed through her tears at the woman who had been her lover, and found that she didn't recognize her…feeling the misery pounding behind her eyes as she slowly packed her things, half-wishing and half-terrified that Willow would come in and beg her not to go…the added burden of Dawn's pain, her terror at the prospect of losing yet another surrogate parent…

Tara sighed. Why do I get the feeling I'm fighting a losing battle, here? She had tried so hard not to think about any of it—to just go on living her life, and keep alive the faint hope that Willow might yet see the error of her ways, and reclaim her identity as the woman Tara had fallen in love with. But her brain was being sneaky…if she didn't think about Willow directly, her synapses just ganged up on her, forcibly plying her with a thousand little memories…everything had a Willow-reference. There wasn't an aspect of Tara's life that wasn't permeated with random associations, each one warming her soul and shredding her heart by turns.

She's everywhere…

There was a time when Tara had delighted in the realization that Willow had become her world, but now it was a bittersweet delight that soured on her tongue, as every thought reminded her afresh that what she thought they'd had was dead and cold…though she still wouldn't have traded a single one of those thoughts away for the price of the world itself, because they were all she had left…

Thonk-thonk-thonk.

The unmistakable sound of knuckles resounding hollowly against wood startled Tara out of her brooding. She blinked momentarily at the clock—still too early for Casey to be coming by for homework help—then recovered herself, slithering off the bed and padding softly over to the door. She peered through the peephole, more out of habit than anything else…

…and froze. Oh, goddess…

Shoulder-length red hair over a fuzzy turquoise sweater…shuffling awkwardly in place…back to the door…hands pulled up into sleeves…madly twisting the thick weave like she could wring blood from the wool…

Willow…

Tara stood stock-still for a long moment, taking in the sight…and petrified with indecision. Part of her was dying to fling open the door and throw herself into the other girl's arms. Another part, slightly larger, recognized immediately what a terrible idea that was…and wanted to do it, anyway. The remaining parts were still debating the issue, and not all of them had ventured their opinions yet.

Her mind swimming with confusion and a roiling maelstrom of emotions, she backed slowly away from the door as though it were a wild creature tensing to strike, never tearing her eyes from the shrinking peephole. The bright splotch of auburn hair still visible through its distorting lens seemed to grow, expanding to fill her whole field of view…until Willow, hovering uncertainly out in the hallway, shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other, and the glow of her hair vanished from Tara's line of sight.

It felt like waking up from an enchantment…like realizing that the floral sprig pinned to your sweater is actually a spell, keeping you in its thrall all unaware.

I can't do this…I can't face her! It's too fresh, I can't… Oh, goddess…it hurts…!

She stumbled backward, clumsy in her sudden need to put as much space as possible between herself and the suddenly-threatening wall of wood that hid from her view the one person in the world she most loved and most feared. In her haste, however, she bumped into a stack of books piled atop her overflowing desk. The pile teetered for a moment, then fell, taking a decorative tin of assorted magic crystals with it on its way to the floor.

Willow's head snapped up at the sudden clattering sound from behind the door. She took a tentative step.

"Tara?" Her voice was shaky, and cracked dryly on the syllables.

Behind the door, all was silence.

Willow took a baby-step nearer. "Tara, are you there?"

There was a small, barely-audible scuffle, like a swift, frantic shuffling of papers, before a hollow quiet once again descended.

Willow closed her eyes against the ache in her heart. "Tara, please, I…" She felt the tears welling up, closing off her voice, and hated herself for that weakness. Crying was another easy out, a desperate plea for pity that she didn't deserve.

Swallowing back the ache that swelled in her throat, Willow took a deep breath and let it out in a huff of determination. She doesn't want to see me? That's fine. I deserve that. But she still needs to hear me out. I deserve that, too.

"That's okay—I understand. I mean, you don't have to see me if you don't want to. I…I get that." she turned away from the door and began pacing the small space of hallway outside the door, moving in small, random squiggles as though she needed the additional forward momentum to get the words out. "But…well, there's some stuff you need to know, so…I'm just gonna tell you, and then I'll go, and you won't have to deal with me anymore, for…well…ever. Which is part of the stuff. Which I came to tell you. Which is why I'm standing here…talking to your door."

Willow was starting to get flustered. All the things she'd planned to say were slipping away even as she reached to remember them, like darting silver minnows spilled from a bucket into the ocean, slipping beneath the vastness of the waves, never to be seen again.

Her pacing increased in intensity as she rambled on with growing desperation. "See, there was this guy, this morning in the Magic Box, and he was normal, but then he wasn't, and his voice was all big and his shirt started glowing, and he said all this stuff, and we were all like, 'whoa, no way!' And then later when I was talking to Dawn, she said I should tell you about it, because you deserve to know what's coming just as much as the rest of us, and also because if we've only got one more day to live I want more than anything to tell you how sorry I am for everything I did because with all of it I was so sure I was doing the right thing that I just didn't see anything else and I'm not making a single bit of sense here, am I?"

Within the dimness of the room Tara crouched silently by her desk, one hand half-raised to pick up a book, listening to Willow's voice as it rose and fell out in the hallway. Most of what she said wasn't making much sense, but that was the very reason for the small, soft smile that curved Tara's lips. The girl pacing outside her door sounded very much like the Willow she remembered…the one she'd fallen in love with. She almost stopped hearing the words…just listening to the cadence, the timbre…letting the music that was Willow flow over her, even as the redhead's tone became increasingly shrill.

The flustered Wicca tried starting over, more slowly. "The Elemental guy explained everything much better…he said it's like we're those metal boots, y'know? Only, not the kind you actually wear! I mean like the Monopoly one, and tomorrow we're all gonna roll the dice just like always, except it's gonna come up snake eyes, or double-sixes or something, because we're not gonna get to pass Go anymore, because the Powers are just gonna poof us back to being them, only we'll still be us, because we're really just them to start with…so it's this whole big thing with the world ending and all, only I guess it's okay this time because it's supposed to happen this way except the Powers can't really mean for it to happen this way because I can't believe they could send me to heaven if you were still mad at me because it wouldn't really be heaven if you weren't there with me, so…gahhh!"

With a groan of frustration, Willow gave up out of sheer exhaustion, leaning one shoulder bonelessly against the doorjamb. She closed her eyes and cocked her head sideways to rest her temple against the lumpy carvings of the cool wood grain.

Tara slowly rose from the floor, moving toward the door with slow, tentative steps as Willow began to speak again.

"I didn't know what to do," she admitted. Her voice was low and tired, as if she were exerting all her strength merely to stay on her feet. "I'm not a grown-up. I'm not big and strong. I'm just…all I've ever known how to be is a scared, selfish little girl, hiding under the covers so the monsters won't get me. But there were monsters in the bed with me, too…and they…changed me."

Gradually, Willow turned her back to the door, leaning heavily against it. As her quiet monologue went on, she slowly slid down the wooden surface to the carpet, her legs pulled up in front of her.

On the other side of the barrier, Tara followed her to the floor, one hand resting lightly against the thick wood grain as though she could reach through it to stroke the red-gold hair.

"I remember when vampires first came into the school. Cordelia and I found the…the bodies. In a classroom. It was a Saturday…" She twitched her head to one side, trying to dispel the unwanted memory. "That was the first time the world almost ended." Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "The first time Buffy…died." She unconsciously wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if trying to protect herself from her own past. "I remember I told her afterwards, walking into that room…it was like stepping into another world. A dark, horrible place, where evil things cause pain just for fun. It wasn't the world I thought I lived in."

She swallowed hard. "And then…Angelus, and…and Miss Calendar died, and suddenly there was this thing I could do…a way I could help make the world ours again. Make it right, and clean again…" Tears sparkled silently on her face, each droplet mourning a youthful innocence lost beyond recall. "But it wasn't right. It was just me, being afraid…letting some of the monsters crawl under the covers with me so they could fight off the ones still outside, and I could just hide. The more I did, the more there was to do, and still, nothing was perfect." She let out a sad little sigh. "And I'm so tired, Tara…"

A single tear slipped past Tara's eyelashes to trace a trail of moonlight and ashes down her cheek.

There was a long, weary silence on both sides of the door, broken by only the faintest echoes of two people breathing. It was several moments before Willow's voice once again eased into the stillness.

"The guy who came into the shop today was a Herald from the Powers." She took a deep breath, then haltingly went on. "They sent him to warn the Slayer that the world is ending."

"Tomorrow."

There was a small noise from within the room, and Willow was swamped with a fresh wave of guilt, for having to be the bearer of the stunning news, and for hurting Tara…yet again.

"I…I know. It's…hard to believe it. But we think it's true. And I thought that…that you'd want to know. That you deserved to know." She struggled to squeeze the words from her croaky, tear-ravaged voice. I have to get through this, she reminded herself. There won't be another chance.

"And also…" Deep breath. Just say it, and then go.

"I needed to tell you, that I…I see, now, what you were trying to tell me. I was so blind, and scared…" She sniffled quietly. "What you are to me, is…so much more than just love. You're not just my sunlight…you're every star in the sky—my whole universe. When I thought I…I might lose you…it made me crazy. I didn't think…I just…I was desperate. And wrong. So wrong…"

Tara's face was wet, and she pressed her entire body against the door, drinking in every word that fell from Willow's lips. A terrible flower was blooming in her heart…a tiny seed she hadn't dared to nourish, suddenly bearing fruit where there had been only a desert…and carrying with it, the sweet fragrance of hope…

The tears were threatening to close Willow's throat again, but she swallowed back the ache. "I'm not trying to…I mean, I'm not asking you to forgive me. I don't deserve it." Her voice broke again as she leaned forward to wrap her arms around her knees. "I just needed you to know…I see it now. I see what I was…what I did. And I'm so…so sorry for it…it's like all the lights have gone out, and there's no air…"

Tara's breath hitched in a silent sob. Oh, goddess…help me…

Willow sniffled again into the quiet. "I just…needed you to know that." She sat for a moment, gathering herself, then stood up slowly, her muscles stiff and cramped with tension. "I…" She broke off, at a loss. How do you say good-bye to your universe, on the last day of the world?

Finally, she pressed one palm flat against the door, as though trying to commune with it, and found that her voice was steady again.

"I love you, Tara. To the end of the world and beyond…you'll always be the best and brightest parts of me." She let her fingertips trail down the grain of the wood as she slowly walked away, down the sterile brightness of the hallway.

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Tara sobbed silently against the door. She heard Willow's last, quiet words, and felt her presence gradually fade.

Too much…oh, goddess, it's too much! I can't…not again. I can't let her go…

A sudden flame of desperation flared in her belly. Grabbing the doorknob for leverage, she surged to her feet. A harsh twist of the knob, and the wooden barrier parted before her. Tara half-fell out into the hallway, her legs tangled in the gauzy material of her skirt, then righted herself as she glanced both ways down the corridor. With no one in sight, she took off pell-mell for the stairs.

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Willow wiped the last of the tear tracks from her face as she emerged into the brilliant sunshine. Her heart felt paradoxically lighter and heavier, all at once. She didn't for an instant blame Tara for not wanting to see her…but that didn't stop her from wishing, just once more, to see her. To look into her eyes. Or to hear her sweet voice say—

"You hurt me."

Willow froze, holding her breath. Later, she would swear that her heart stopped.

Very slowly and stiffly, as if too much movement might burst the fragile soap bubble of unreality in which she hung suspended, she turned around.

Tara…

The blonde girl stood several yards back, cloaked in the shadows of the dormitory's covered entryway, her large eyes fixed on Willow's own.

"You r-really hurt me," she repeated quietly. Her voice was thick.

Willow's lower lip trembled for a moment before she spoke. "I know." All she wanted to do was reach out…but her traitorous arms dangled loosely at her sides like limp rags.

"You had a choice," Tara went on, fighting to stay calm. "And you chose the m-m-magicks over me."

To that, there was nothing Willow could say. She bowed her head, crushed beneath the weight of Tara's judgement. She thought she'd cried all the tears in her body, but somehow, a few more stole out from beneath her closed eyelids.

"So why do I still love you?"

Willow shrugged defeatedly…then the words processed, and she froze again, mid-gesture.

Wait…wha…?

Uncertainly, she raised her head, meeting Tara's frank gaze with her own fearful one.

No…she didn't just say…

With a dancer's feline grace, Tara stepped down onto the grass, into the sunlight. The expression on her face was one of tenderness and wonder. "What happened…it happened. It won't go away." She stopped an arm's-length distant. "But it's past, and…memories fade."

It was all the redhead could do to keep from fainting dead away. She looked into her soulmate's eyes, and saw a spark she thought she would never see again.

"People can be forgiven."

Four words. Nothing big or complicated. Just words.

Just worlds.

A slow supernova was blossoming in Willow's chest, foaming up in her brain…a light so brilliant, it scorched her from the inside out…searing away the darkness infesting the corners of her soul, bathing her in a healing radiance. It suffused every muscle, warming away the tension…smoothing the lines from her face, the aches from her body, and the wounds from her heart. A bottomless fountain of love and gratitude welled up in her throat, finally erupting on the throbbing crackle of a sob, straight from the pit of her being.

The lean girl with the big eyes and the brilliant red hair slowly melted to her knees in the grass, her entire body shuddering with heart-wrenching sobs—soul-quakes welling up from the deeps within. Her blonde companion quickly sank down beside her, gathering her narrow, heaving shoulders into an embrace rich with love and soothing comfort. Words came to the blonde girl, dimming her kind eyes as though she were trying to remember a dream, or a memory long forgotten…

Love…give…forgive…

Tara's generous lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. Then she closed her eyes, and only hugged Willow harder…as if the strength of her arms could convey the depth of her love…and forever keep the monsters at bay.

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