"I thought I should come by at least once," Willow spoke softly to the
little white gravestone that marked where her love lay. "I just couldn't
come before and e-even now I . . ."
She wiped her cheeks at a loss for words. Underneath the sadness, the rage and anger still kindled. It flared briefly, the wind beginning to gust and swirl around her. But after a moment she pushed it down and the wind died out.
"For the first time in my life I wasn't stuck on the sidelines," she sighed, bending down to pick a few stray weeds. "Everything made sense finally. There is a reason behind all of the suffering and the pain whether we choose to see it or not.
"I think you knew all along that I couldn't give the Magicks up forever. But I wasn't ready for them. There's so much I need to learn though. The power has always been there, I just have never known quite what to do with them."
Willow got up and brushed her skirt off. For an instant she thought . . . she shook her head, wishful thinking. "They won't understand at first why I have to go, but they will. Keep an eye on them for me."
She began to make her way out of the cemetery, then stopped.
"Willow." It was no more than the whisper of a breeze, but it sounded like . . .
"Tara?" Willow turned, hopeful. Just to the right of Tara's headstone, fainter than a fading rainbow—she blinked; there was nothing there.
Willow looked around one last time, "Bored now." And with that she turned and made her way out of Sunnydale.
She wiped her cheeks at a loss for words. Underneath the sadness, the rage and anger still kindled. It flared briefly, the wind beginning to gust and swirl around her. But after a moment she pushed it down and the wind died out.
"For the first time in my life I wasn't stuck on the sidelines," she sighed, bending down to pick a few stray weeds. "Everything made sense finally. There is a reason behind all of the suffering and the pain whether we choose to see it or not.
"I think you knew all along that I couldn't give the Magicks up forever. But I wasn't ready for them. There's so much I need to learn though. The power has always been there, I just have never known quite what to do with them."
Willow got up and brushed her skirt off. For an instant she thought . . . she shook her head, wishful thinking. "They won't understand at first why I have to go, but they will. Keep an eye on them for me."
She began to make her way out of the cemetery, then stopped.
"Willow." It was no more than the whisper of a breeze, but it sounded like . . .
"Tara?" Willow turned, hopeful. Just to the right of Tara's headstone, fainter than a fading rainbow—she blinked; there was nothing there.
Willow looked around one last time, "Bored now." And with that she turned and made her way out of Sunnydale.
