Anywhere but Here

A/N: I don't own Buffy... surprised?

I didn't talk after Giles and Anya found Xander and me in the desert. I didn't make eye contact with any of them. I didn't listen to the words they said. I sat huddled on the ground trying to make myself small. Giles took my shoulders and helped me to my feet. I suppose they'd made some kind of agreement as to what to do with me. They didn't even consult me. It was my life they were dealing with, they probably though I didn't deserve it. I know I didn't.

Giles took my hand and led me back to Sunnydale, back to the hotel he was staying in. It must have been a long walk because my legs were throbbing and sore by the time we reached the building, but I cannot recall a second of it. He opened the door and guided me over to the bed where he let me sit.

It was the first time I looked up at him. He looked beaten and weak and it was all my fault. It was really my fault. The blood on the side of his face, the bruises, the near deathness- I did that. I did that to Giles. Giles. He was like the stuffy British father I never had; he certainly paid more attention to me than my real parents did.

He nodded over to a door on the other side of the room and told me to go get cleaned up. I saw him take off his glasses and wipe them on his shirt. I hung my head embarrassed. He told me he was going to see what arrangements he could make for another plane ticket back to England. I saw him lock the door as he left.

I sat there for another minute before I could make my legs carry me off the bed and into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me. I didn't move once I got there, I just stared at the clean, pure, whiteness of the room. I looked down at my hands. I guess I hadn't washed at all in the past few days, I could still feel Tara's blood on me. Oh god. Anything, anything but this! I sat down on the toilet.

I'm on the beach. The sky is full of stars and there isn't a single cloud in sight. The moon is full so everything is bright; the sand is glowing, the ocean is shimmering. It's the perfect kind of sand too- like a fine powder, not rocky or full of tiny shells.

Anything for the old days; before death, back in college, when everything at least felt right. Joyce was still here, Tara was still here, Xander and Anya were together, Buffy was still my best friend. I'm sure none of them want anything to do with me anymore.

Tara's holding my hand as we walk together. We look up at the stars making pictures out of them. I can see the big pineapple. I think I see Spongebob next to it too. We're both wearing bikini tops and sarongs. Not matching ones of course because that is silly. But the night is warm, and I can feel her pulse as I hold her hand.

I got up and walked over to the bathtub, turning on the water. I sat on my knees at the edge and watched it fill up. Bubbling, turbulent, but still so clear. I tore my clothes off of me and threw them into the garbage can. They felt dirty. I crawled into the tub, water splashing over the edge and onto the tile floor. The water felt scalding hot but it didn't bother me too much, I deserved it.

"I bet you can't catch me," Tara giggles and runs out in front of me. I smile and run after her, giggling as well. We sound like school girls. I catch up to her and playfully tackle her into the sand. The only sounds around are the crash of the waves and the soft whinnies of the horses we rode out to this secluded place and our panting breaths. I lean close to her kissing her softly. "I love you, Tara, I love you more than anything. I want to spend the rest of my life with you…"

The evil is there. Vampire me was right. I am she. She is me. That darkness was always there inside me. Being turned vampire brought it out in her. I brought it out in myself. I could have not gone down that path. If I didn't, Tara would probably still be here. We wouldn't have split. We wouldn't have gotten back together. We wouldn't have senselessly been doing it like rabbits all day. She wouldn't have been in front of that window. That bullet would have never hit her. Oh Goddess, Tara, it's all my fault.

I reach into my pocket, because in this my sarong has a pocket, and I take out a small black box. I sit back and Tara sits up too. I open the box revealing a simple gold ring. It's not impressive but I don't have a lot of money. It doesn't have any fancy jewels on it or anything but I had it inscribed. It reads, "I'm under your spell too." Tara looks at it and then looks up into my eyes, her eyes are wide and hopeful and blue and beautiful. "Tara… will you marry me?" I ask.

I groped for the soap and the washcloth and scrubbed compulsively, but no matter what I just could not get clean. I felt everything. Tara's blood, Warren's blood, Xander's blood, Buffy's blood, Giles's blood. I looked down at the water expecting it to be turning red around me, but it was only mildly murky with the sand from the desert. I wanted to cry, but I had no tears left inside me. I hadn't shed enough. There had to be more of myself I could give. I know nothing I could do would completely fix what happened but there had to be something I could do.

Tara has tears of joy in her eyes. She looks like she is struggling for the words, I love when she does that. It's so cute. "Oh yes," she finally gets out softly. I take her right hand and slide the ring onto her finger. She throws her arms around me and we lie on the beach holding each other. "I love you," she tells me.

I crawled out of the tub, dripping, not even bothering for a towel. The mirror was all fogged up. I realized I haven't looked at myself since everything fell apart. It was fogged up. I looked at the vague shape that I could see. I stared for a long time before I reached up and wiped away the steam. It looked like Willow in the mirror there. It was not Willow. It was some beast who used to have friends, used to have a lover, used to be a person. The old Willow could never come back, and could not be of any use here anymore. I didn't want to see the reflection anymore. I pulled my hand back and punched the mirror. It shattered, a few pieces of glass clattered to the floor.

I think I had an idea.

I knew that I could give something to make things better. I picked up a piece of glass and sat on the floor with my back against the tub, I made a shallow cut on my wrist and watched the blood trickle. That was better. No more Willow, no more problems. I dug the glass in and made a deeper cut. The blood flowed more freely now, it dripped down onto the tile floor. At least it wasn't white anymore. I hated all that white.

I made another cut right next to the first one and then a third trying to connect them. The blood was flowing faster, my grip on the glass slipped from the red coating it. That was okay, I didn't need it anymore. I had done enough. I'm pretty sure I started crying again, but this time they were tears of joy, as I watched my life flowing out of me.

New scenario. I'm dead. We're together again.

I think I remember seeing the door open before everything went black.