This fic is the result of W/O withdrawal and anger over Joss’ latest ideas.
I got the call. I don’t even know how they found my number. All
I know is that I got the call.
With that call, the world stopped. My life ended.
A few days before, I felt something inside me get ripped out. As if half of me
died. It took me hours to calm down, to stop shaking and be able to stand. I
didn’t know what had caused it, I didn’t want to know. So, I ignored the feeling
of dread inside me. Hoping it would eventually go away.
But, with that call, reality was forced to step in. Harshly kicking away the
bliss of denial.
I had almost not answered the phone, but something within me forced me to pick
it up. Xander had been the one to tell me.
Warren had walked into Buffy’s backyard and had shot Buffy, almost killing her.
While in the process of trying to kill Buffy, Warren accidentally killed Tara.
I remember at that point of the conversation I had actually breathed a sigh of
Not because Tara’s death didn’t matter to me, it did. No fellow human being
deserves to die. Especially not like that, accidentally at the hands of a
I was relieved the call hadn’t been about Willow.
Yeah… I know, pathetic. Almost three years and I’m still pining for my lost
love. Holding out on the belief that we would be together as we once promised we
That’s when I realised the call wasn’t over yet.
When I had last visited I had given Xander my number only to call for the worst
of the worst emergencies.
Why would he call someone who hadn’t even known Tara, to inform them about her
death? There had to be more to the story.
Willow had gone on a rampage, she stormed off into the Magic Box and invoked
some dark mojo. She went after Warren, but she was so blinded with rage that she
didn’t…… she didn’t hear him coming. He killed her.
He. Killed. Her.
My Willow. Dead.
Sorry, I still can’t fully comprehend her death. I almost wish I hadn’t asked
how she died.
He shoved an axe into her back. The axe was supposedly made with dark magic.
Darker than what Willow could ever produce. It killed her.
Warren ran. To escape the Slayer’s wrath.
Buffy tracked that asshole for weeks. She used every means possible. Everything
from expensive locator spells done by the best Sorcerers in the world, to the
latest technology provided by the Initiative.
She and Giles somehow even managed to talk to Watcher’s Council into helping out
with the search.
I remember Willow’s funeral. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. I never
regretted my decision to leave Sunnydale as much as I did then. My mind was
plagued with “What if” scenarios. I could have stopped her from magic. I’m
positive I could have. I had warned her that magic was dangerous. If only…
God… If only…
So, I took Willow’s murder into my own capable hands. Forget high-tech
equipment. All you need to a werewolf’s nose and the right amount of fury. It
took me a while to find him. He was somewhere isolated in the Yukon.
Good. Isolation is good. No one can hear you scream.
I found him sitting in front of a fire in an antique rocking chair.
He didn’t even care that he had killed something as precious as Willow.
I approached him. He didn’t even know who I was. How should he? I was long gone
in Sunnydale when he had come around.
I merely looked at him and uttered one word. “Willow.” His eyes widened with
fear. He tried to escape.
I wolfed out before he even stood up. He didn’t even have a chance to invoke a
spell of protection.
I don’t remember much about that night. The next morning when I woke up, I was
covered in his blood. I didn’t even care.
I washed up. Ditched the remains and headed back home. To Sunnydale. Next stop:
One down… Two to go…
Belief is such an empty word. So fake, so…pathetic. When you’re young you
believe in whatever your parents tell you… The Easter Bunny, The tooth fairy.
When you get older you believe that love will survive. That it’s the one thing
that can’t be broken down or bought out.
How stupid I was to believe in it.
Belief is nothing more than a handkerchief blinding your yes with a passionate
red. Belief that… hey, don’t worry! He’ll come back to you… He loves you
remember. He’ll be back.
Sure, he came back. A few months too late.
Belief that love can defeat even death, that it can some how transcend
everything. That because you’ve been a good little girl for most of your life
the Powers That be will bring her back.
See, pathetic. I am alone. I am unloved. All because I believed in a pathetic
thing called love.
But now I’m stronger. In every sense imaginable. I believe in a new mistress
All’s Fair in Love and War, remember?