Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Returned to Active Duty
Chapter 1. - Anniversary.
1 reviewAs Willow's relationship with Kennedy rapidly disintegrates, Tara is resurrected by the Powers that Be. But, of course, things can never run smoothly in the Buffyverse.
1OOC
Chapter 1. - Anniversary.
Willow Rosenberg was dreaming. She knew this, because she was happy, deliriously so. An emotion that she hadn't truly felt since before She had gone. Been taken away by the random, careless act of a bitter, twisted little man. Even if she would never consciously acknowledge it even to herself, Willow still hated him for that. Hated him for taking away her One, her Only, her Tara.
But all of her grief, all of her anger was meaningless at this point, for she was there, with her. Her one true love, her soul mate.
Tara stood before her, bathed in the sunlight pouring like liquid through the window behind her. It reflected from her long, honey-blond hair, illuminating her head like the halo of some glorious, voluptuous deity. She smiled so gently, so knowingly, that Willow's heart melted completely.
But something was wrong, some nagging, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It felt as thought her innards were burrowing down into her legs, prior to gnawing through the soles of her feet and beyond.
It was only when she finally noticed the clothes that Tara wore that Willow realized what was wrong. The pale blue denim jeans, the long sleeved blue shirt. Willow knew them well, all too well. They had figured prominently in her nightmares for years now, equaled only by the memory of Warren Mears flayed corpse. They were the clothes that Tara died in.
Time seemed to freeze for Willow even as she tried to scream, to pull Tara from out of harm's way. As always, Willow was too slow. There came the crack of the gunshot, the shattering of the window pane, and the almost physical pain she felt when her lover's blood splattered against her. And as always, her final words, filled with bewilderment and concern for Willow.
"Your shirt?"
Tara fell, lifeless, and Willow's heart fell with her. She screamed, hurling every scrap of pain, every wisp of grief she possessed into her voice. She fell to her knees beside Tara's lifeless body, her own slender frame seeming to collapse in upon itself.
Beside her, Tara's eyes snapped open, and for a brief moment Willow's heart leapt.
"How could I ever love something as twisted and foul as you!" Tara snarled, her voice heavy with hate and loathing. She sat up and reached for Willow's chest, her hand twisted into a vicious claw. Willow screamed again as her soul mate ripped out her still-beating heart.
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Willow bolted upright in the bed that she shared with Kennedy, screaming like the proverbial banshee, covered in sweat and her unseeing eyes bulging with terror. Her hands flailed wildly at the air, as if attempting to tear it asunder.
Beside the frantic witch, Kennedy woke with a start. For a heartbeat, the slayer was utterly confused, the lack of light combined with Willow's overwrought keening making the younger girl think she was having an exceptionally vivid nightmare.
"Crap!" Kennedy cursed as she realized what was going on. "Willow! Snap out of it, baby!"
Kennedy grabbed her terrified lover by the forearms, unheeding of her slayer-gifted strength. She knew from prior experience that Willow would be badly bruised in the morning, a fact that never ceased to tear at her heart, but every time that Willow had done this previously, Kennedy's strength had been the only thing to snap Willow out of her fugue state.
Kennedy shook the witch until her mindless scream abruptly ceased, then hauled her distraught lover into a tight embrace. Willow's body jerked with the force of her sobs as she wept into Kennedy's shoulder.
"It's alright, baby. It's okay, " whispered Kennedy soothingly as she stroked Willow's sleep tousled hair. "You're safe, and you're loved. You hear me? I love you."
But even as she tried to soothe Willow, a single sentence was running through Kennedy's mind. /I just wish that you loved me back/.
----------
Willow sat slumped at the kitchen table in the small, but cozy apartment where she lived with Kennedy, staring blearily-eyed at the bright, cheerful calender stuck to their refrigerator. More specifically, she stared at today's date. May the seventh, 2005.
Three years/, thought Willow. /My Tara has been gone for three years. Three years without seeing her smile, hearing her voice, touching her ...
Willow deliberately forced her mind from that train of thought, before she could start sobbing anew. So much had changed in those three years, not least of all herself, but the pain of Tara's absence still cut Willow to the quick of her very soul.
A slight sound behind her made Willow swiftly reign in her emotions, knuckling unshed tears from her bloodshot eyes. Kennedy walked past, her mood subdued from her usual state of saucy exuberance. The sight of her lover made Willow wince mentally, even as she plastered a clearly fake smile on her tired face.
"Hey baby! How did you ..." Willow's voice trailed off weakly as she realized the stupidity of her question.
Kennedy didn't reply as she removed a carton of juice from the fridge and a clean glass from a cupboard, before sitting down directly opposite Willow. The witch was beginning to be concerned by Kennedy's uncharacteristic silence, and as usual, Willow's emotions were clearly visible on her face.
Unnerved by the silence, Willow began to babble. "I'm sorry about last night, I know I've been doing that more and more often lately. I didn'tmeantowakeyouupanddidyougetanysleepafterand
I'msorryandIalreadysaidthatandI'mrepeatingmyself ..."
"Will, breathe." Kennedy glanced up at Willow through the fringe of her long brown hair. It was a move so reminiscent of Tara that Willow's heart ached even more. As Kennedy stared at her, Willow half-heartedly berated herself for obsessing over her dead lover when her very much alive girlfriend was right in front of her.
"It's okay, Willow. I know what's going on." Kennedy's statement made it seem to Willow that she had been reading her mind, and she barely prevented herself from flinching.
"Y..you do?" Willow whispered anxiously. "I'm not sure that I do."
"Of course I know what's going on, Will. I'm not just a pretty face." Kennedy's final statement was made with her customary sultry verve, and brought a brief smile to Willow's face.
"It's her anniversary. Of ... you know." Kennedy's voice trailed off, as if she was unsure of how to continue. "Of course you're going to dream about her. She was the love of your life, after all." This last statement was tinged with barely concealed bitterness, but Willow was too engrossed in her own misery to notice.
"It can't help that you don't even really have anything to remember her by. You lost all that when we destroyed Sunnydale. You don't even have a grave to mourn at anymore. It can't be easy."
Bowing her head, Willow fought back a fresh flood of tears, and Kennedy cursed under her breath. She was trying to make Willow feel better, not worse. Reaching out, she took Willow's hand in her own, and the redhead clutched the offered appendage as if it were a lifeline and she was drowning in a sea of repressed emotion.
After a few minutes of sniffling, Willow regained control of herself enough to face Kennedy again. With an awkward half-smile, she half-heartedly tried to straighten her disheveled appearance.
"Sorry to be so weepy. It's just ... I thought I was over it. Losing Tara," Willow shrugged bitterly. "But I don't know if I'll ever really get over her."
Willow felt Kennedy's hand briefly convulse in her own, and stared at her, puzzled. Kennedy carefully kept her face pleasantly non-committal, but it was difficult, and not entirely successful. Willow frowned, noticing Kennedy's gritted teeth and set jaw.
"What's wrong?" Willow asked gently.
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong.” Why would anything be wrong?
“Kennedy.” The slayer could hear the mild reproach in Willow's voice.
“What?" she snapped, unable to keep the faint strain of bitterness from her voice. The subdued anger in her lover's voice made Willow recoil slightly, and Kennedy's hand slipped from her grasp.
"What's going on, Kennedy? Talk to me."
"Just leave it alone, Willow. Just leave it." Kennedy bolted upright, her chair falling to the ground with the sudden violence of the movement. As she turned to leave, Willow grabbed her by the wrist. Kennedy froze, keeping her back to the redhead, her body language screaming of repressed tension.
"No, Kennedy. I will not 'Just leave it'. Tell me what's wrong," demanded Willow, her petite features firmly fixed in her resolve-face. Kennedy reluctantly turned to face her, but kept her face downcast. Her eyes focused on Willow's slender hand, grasping her own so fiercely. Almost fearfully, her gaze traveled slowly up the redhead's arm. Then she saw the bruises left by her own fingers the night before, vivid and accusing against Willow's pale skin.
"Your bruises," Kennedy whispered.
Willow blinked owlishly, caught by surprise. "It's okay, Kennedy. I know you didn't mean to hurt me."
"So dark, so ... visible." Willow squeezed her lover's hand sympathetically, but even as she opened her mouth to reply, Kennedy cut her off. "Your bruises are there for everyone to see. Out in the open. Mine aren't. My bruises are all on the inside, where no-one can see. On my heart."
"Kennedy ..."
"No, Will. Not today, okay." The slayer tried halfheartedly to free herself from Willow's grasp, but the witch held on tenaciously.
"Yes, Kennedy. Today. Now. Make with the spillage already."
"No, Willow," Kennedy begged, trying again to free her hand, unsuccessfully. Willow gaped in shock as she realized that Kennedy was silently crying, tears falling reluctantly from half-closed eyes.
"I don't want to do this, Will. Not today."
"What don't you want to do, Kennedy?" Willow asked fearfully.
"I don't want to break up with you on the anniversary of your dead girlfriend's murder!"
Kennedy's hand finally slipped free as Willow recoiled, and the brunette finally looked her lover in the face.
Willow's face was slack with shock, but her eyes were twisted with pain and grief. That expression on the face that Kennedy loved so much, made her want to weep, to turn back time and undo that which pained her beloved so. The fact that it was her that had hurt Willow in such a fashion only made the pain that much more bitter.
"You're breaking up with me?" whispered Willow, her voice torn between disbelief and heartbreak.
"Willow ... we haven't really been together for a long time now."
"Of course we have," Willow replied desperately. "I'm pretty sure I've still got some hickeys in some rather personal areas that beg to differ." Such a bold statement made Willow blush terribly, even in her grief. Kennedy's heart twisted at yet another reason why she loved Willow so much.
"It's not that. The ... bed stuff is good. Hell, it's great. But that's not the problem, Will."
"Then what is? Whatever it is, I can fix it. I can change." Willow was crying now, her words almost incomprehensible between her sobs. "You don't have to leave me!"
Willow's tears almost broke Kennedy's resolve, and she ached to gather her lover into her arms and kiss away her pain. But Kennedy knew that she had to be strong, for both their sakes.
"The problem isn't something that you can fix, Will. It's not something that you can change."
"Hello! Super-duper witch here! Of course I can fix it!" There was the faintest thread of anger in the redhead's voice now, and Kennedy was glad for it. "I'm the reason you're a slayer, remember? I think I can fix whatever personality flaw you think I have."
"Can you make yourself love me?" Kennedy queried sorrowfully. Willow froze in shock, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly in an impressive imitation of a goldfish. Kennedy dropped to her knees, and took Willow's hands in her own.
"What?" she finally responded, disbelievingly. "You think I don't love you?"
"I know you don't." Kennedy firmly cut off Willow's denial. "I think you want to. At least I hope you want to. You've tried to love me, I'm sure of that. But you can't. Because you're still totally in love with her." Despite her best efforts, Kennedy's final word was tinged with a bittersweet mixture of pain and desire.
"I'm still in love with who?" Willow's reply was a tortured whisper, because she knew what Kennedy's answer would be.
"With her. With Tara."
"Kennedy ..."
"It's okay, my love. I've ... kind of known this was coming, for almost a year now." A sad smile passed swiftly over Kennedy's face. "I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I knew. I think part of you knew it as well."
A fresh wave of tears flowed from Willow, and Kennedy knew that she'd been right. The fact that she had been right didn't make it hurt any less though. Willow clutched Kennedy tightly to her, as if unwilling to let her go. Truth be told, Kennedy didn't want to be let go of either, but she knew that she had to be the strong one in this.
Reluctantly, Kennedy gently extricated herself from the distraught redhead's grasp, and rose gracefully to her feet. As she stepped back, Willow looked up and wiped her blotchy eyes clear.
"Are you leaving today?" Willow asked, her voice shaking with emotion.
"I have to." Kennedy's reply was equally rough. "If I don't go now, I might not be able to to."
"It doesn't have to end like this!" Willow blurted desperately. "Please! Stay with me!"
"I see you've stopped trying to convince me that you love me." Kennedy's tone was trying for joking, but not overly succeeding. Willow's only response was to stare at the floor, and she missed Kennedy's melancholy smile.
"I wish I could stay, baby. But it's killing me." Willow's head dropped even further, and Kennedy stepped forward, clasping Willow's head in both hands and cradling it against her stomach.
"I deserve to be with someone who can love me, Will. Because I can't compete with a ghost." She gently kissed the top of Willow's head and released her, stepping back once more. Turning, Kennedy started towards what had been their bedroom. She stopped just before the doorway.
"I do love you, Willow Rosenberg," she stated plainly. "No matter what happens between us, if you ever need me, I'll be there."
With that final statement, Kennedy disappeared into the bedroom to start packing. Willow sat on her chair, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt hollow, as if she had been cracked open and drained of everything that made her ... /her/. She looked up woodenly, and her eyes fell once more onto that hated date on the calender.
/Oh Tara/, she thought as she sat there. Once more, all alone.
Willow Rosenberg was dreaming. She knew this, because she was happy, deliriously so. An emotion that she hadn't truly felt since before She had gone. Been taken away by the random, careless act of a bitter, twisted little man. Even if she would never consciously acknowledge it even to herself, Willow still hated him for that. Hated him for taking away her One, her Only, her Tara.
But all of her grief, all of her anger was meaningless at this point, for she was there, with her. Her one true love, her soul mate.
Tara stood before her, bathed in the sunlight pouring like liquid through the window behind her. It reflected from her long, honey-blond hair, illuminating her head like the halo of some glorious, voluptuous deity. She smiled so gently, so knowingly, that Willow's heart melted completely.
But something was wrong, some nagging, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It felt as thought her innards were burrowing down into her legs, prior to gnawing through the soles of her feet and beyond.
It was only when she finally noticed the clothes that Tara wore that Willow realized what was wrong. The pale blue denim jeans, the long sleeved blue shirt. Willow knew them well, all too well. They had figured prominently in her nightmares for years now, equaled only by the memory of Warren Mears flayed corpse. They were the clothes that Tara died in.
Time seemed to freeze for Willow even as she tried to scream, to pull Tara from out of harm's way. As always, Willow was too slow. There came the crack of the gunshot, the shattering of the window pane, and the almost physical pain she felt when her lover's blood splattered against her. And as always, her final words, filled with bewilderment and concern for Willow.
"Your shirt?"
Tara fell, lifeless, and Willow's heart fell with her. She screamed, hurling every scrap of pain, every wisp of grief she possessed into her voice. She fell to her knees beside Tara's lifeless body, her own slender frame seeming to collapse in upon itself.
Beside her, Tara's eyes snapped open, and for a brief moment Willow's heart leapt.
"How could I ever love something as twisted and foul as you!" Tara snarled, her voice heavy with hate and loathing. She sat up and reached for Willow's chest, her hand twisted into a vicious claw. Willow screamed again as her soul mate ripped out her still-beating heart.
----------
Willow bolted upright in the bed that she shared with Kennedy, screaming like the proverbial banshee, covered in sweat and her unseeing eyes bulging with terror. Her hands flailed wildly at the air, as if attempting to tear it asunder.
Beside the frantic witch, Kennedy woke with a start. For a heartbeat, the slayer was utterly confused, the lack of light combined with Willow's overwrought keening making the younger girl think she was having an exceptionally vivid nightmare.
"Crap!" Kennedy cursed as she realized what was going on. "Willow! Snap out of it, baby!"
Kennedy grabbed her terrified lover by the forearms, unheeding of her slayer-gifted strength. She knew from prior experience that Willow would be badly bruised in the morning, a fact that never ceased to tear at her heart, but every time that Willow had done this previously, Kennedy's strength had been the only thing to snap Willow out of her fugue state.
Kennedy shook the witch until her mindless scream abruptly ceased, then hauled her distraught lover into a tight embrace. Willow's body jerked with the force of her sobs as she wept into Kennedy's shoulder.
"It's alright, baby. It's okay, " whispered Kennedy soothingly as she stroked Willow's sleep tousled hair. "You're safe, and you're loved. You hear me? I love you."
But even as she tried to soothe Willow, a single sentence was running through Kennedy's mind. /I just wish that you loved me back/.
----------
Willow sat slumped at the kitchen table in the small, but cozy apartment where she lived with Kennedy, staring blearily-eyed at the bright, cheerful calender stuck to their refrigerator. More specifically, she stared at today's date. May the seventh, 2005.
Three years/, thought Willow. /My Tara has been gone for three years. Three years without seeing her smile, hearing her voice, touching her ...
Willow deliberately forced her mind from that train of thought, before she could start sobbing anew. So much had changed in those three years, not least of all herself, but the pain of Tara's absence still cut Willow to the quick of her very soul.
A slight sound behind her made Willow swiftly reign in her emotions, knuckling unshed tears from her bloodshot eyes. Kennedy walked past, her mood subdued from her usual state of saucy exuberance. The sight of her lover made Willow wince mentally, even as she plastered a clearly fake smile on her tired face.
"Hey baby! How did you ..." Willow's voice trailed off weakly as she realized the stupidity of her question.
Kennedy didn't reply as she removed a carton of juice from the fridge and a clean glass from a cupboard, before sitting down directly opposite Willow. The witch was beginning to be concerned by Kennedy's uncharacteristic silence, and as usual, Willow's emotions were clearly visible on her face.
Unnerved by the silence, Willow began to babble. "I'm sorry about last night, I know I've been doing that more and more often lately. I didn'tmeantowakeyouupanddidyougetanysleepafterand
I'msorryandIalreadysaidthatandI'mrepeatingmyself ..."
"Will, breathe." Kennedy glanced up at Willow through the fringe of her long brown hair. It was a move so reminiscent of Tara that Willow's heart ached even more. As Kennedy stared at her, Willow half-heartedly berated herself for obsessing over her dead lover when her very much alive girlfriend was right in front of her.
"It's okay, Willow. I know what's going on." Kennedy's statement made it seem to Willow that she had been reading her mind, and she barely prevented herself from flinching.
"Y..you do?" Willow whispered anxiously. "I'm not sure that I do."
"Of course I know what's going on, Will. I'm not just a pretty face." Kennedy's final statement was made with her customary sultry verve, and brought a brief smile to Willow's face.
"It's her anniversary. Of ... you know." Kennedy's voice trailed off, as if she was unsure of how to continue. "Of course you're going to dream about her. She was the love of your life, after all." This last statement was tinged with barely concealed bitterness, but Willow was too engrossed in her own misery to notice.
"It can't help that you don't even really have anything to remember her by. You lost all that when we destroyed Sunnydale. You don't even have a grave to mourn at anymore. It can't be easy."
Bowing her head, Willow fought back a fresh flood of tears, and Kennedy cursed under her breath. She was trying to make Willow feel better, not worse. Reaching out, she took Willow's hand in her own, and the redhead clutched the offered appendage as if it were a lifeline and she was drowning in a sea of repressed emotion.
After a few minutes of sniffling, Willow regained control of herself enough to face Kennedy again. With an awkward half-smile, she half-heartedly tried to straighten her disheveled appearance.
"Sorry to be so weepy. It's just ... I thought I was over it. Losing Tara," Willow shrugged bitterly. "But I don't know if I'll ever really get over her."
Willow felt Kennedy's hand briefly convulse in her own, and stared at her, puzzled. Kennedy carefully kept her face pleasantly non-committal, but it was difficult, and not entirely successful. Willow frowned, noticing Kennedy's gritted teeth and set jaw.
"What's wrong?" Willow asked gently.
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong.” Why would anything be wrong?
“Kennedy.” The slayer could hear the mild reproach in Willow's voice.
“What?" she snapped, unable to keep the faint strain of bitterness from her voice. The subdued anger in her lover's voice made Willow recoil slightly, and Kennedy's hand slipped from her grasp.
"What's going on, Kennedy? Talk to me."
"Just leave it alone, Willow. Just leave it." Kennedy bolted upright, her chair falling to the ground with the sudden violence of the movement. As she turned to leave, Willow grabbed her by the wrist. Kennedy froze, keeping her back to the redhead, her body language screaming of repressed tension.
"No, Kennedy. I will not 'Just leave it'. Tell me what's wrong," demanded Willow, her petite features firmly fixed in her resolve-face. Kennedy reluctantly turned to face her, but kept her face downcast. Her eyes focused on Willow's slender hand, grasping her own so fiercely. Almost fearfully, her gaze traveled slowly up the redhead's arm. Then she saw the bruises left by her own fingers the night before, vivid and accusing against Willow's pale skin.
"Your bruises," Kennedy whispered.
Willow blinked owlishly, caught by surprise. "It's okay, Kennedy. I know you didn't mean to hurt me."
"So dark, so ... visible." Willow squeezed her lover's hand sympathetically, but even as she opened her mouth to reply, Kennedy cut her off. "Your bruises are there for everyone to see. Out in the open. Mine aren't. My bruises are all on the inside, where no-one can see. On my heart."
"Kennedy ..."
"No, Will. Not today, okay." The slayer tried halfheartedly to free herself from Willow's grasp, but the witch held on tenaciously.
"Yes, Kennedy. Today. Now. Make with the spillage already."
"No, Willow," Kennedy begged, trying again to free her hand, unsuccessfully. Willow gaped in shock as she realized that Kennedy was silently crying, tears falling reluctantly from half-closed eyes.
"I don't want to do this, Will. Not today."
"What don't you want to do, Kennedy?" Willow asked fearfully.
"I don't want to break up with you on the anniversary of your dead girlfriend's murder!"
Kennedy's hand finally slipped free as Willow recoiled, and the brunette finally looked her lover in the face.
Willow's face was slack with shock, but her eyes were twisted with pain and grief. That expression on the face that Kennedy loved so much, made her want to weep, to turn back time and undo that which pained her beloved so. The fact that it was her that had hurt Willow in such a fashion only made the pain that much more bitter.
"You're breaking up with me?" whispered Willow, her voice torn between disbelief and heartbreak.
"Willow ... we haven't really been together for a long time now."
"Of course we have," Willow replied desperately. "I'm pretty sure I've still got some hickeys in some rather personal areas that beg to differ." Such a bold statement made Willow blush terribly, even in her grief. Kennedy's heart twisted at yet another reason why she loved Willow so much.
"It's not that. The ... bed stuff is good. Hell, it's great. But that's not the problem, Will."
"Then what is? Whatever it is, I can fix it. I can change." Willow was crying now, her words almost incomprehensible between her sobs. "You don't have to leave me!"
Willow's tears almost broke Kennedy's resolve, and she ached to gather her lover into her arms and kiss away her pain. But Kennedy knew that she had to be strong, for both their sakes.
"The problem isn't something that you can fix, Will. It's not something that you can change."
"Hello! Super-duper witch here! Of course I can fix it!" There was the faintest thread of anger in the redhead's voice now, and Kennedy was glad for it. "I'm the reason you're a slayer, remember? I think I can fix whatever personality flaw you think I have."
"Can you make yourself love me?" Kennedy queried sorrowfully. Willow froze in shock, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly in an impressive imitation of a goldfish. Kennedy dropped to her knees, and took Willow's hands in her own.
"What?" she finally responded, disbelievingly. "You think I don't love you?"
"I know you don't." Kennedy firmly cut off Willow's denial. "I think you want to. At least I hope you want to. You've tried to love me, I'm sure of that. But you can't. Because you're still totally in love with her." Despite her best efforts, Kennedy's final word was tinged with a bittersweet mixture of pain and desire.
"I'm still in love with who?" Willow's reply was a tortured whisper, because she knew what Kennedy's answer would be.
"With her. With Tara."
"Kennedy ..."
"It's okay, my love. I've ... kind of known this was coming, for almost a year now." A sad smile passed swiftly over Kennedy's face. "I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I knew. I think part of you knew it as well."
A fresh wave of tears flowed from Willow, and Kennedy knew that she'd been right. The fact that she had been right didn't make it hurt any less though. Willow clutched Kennedy tightly to her, as if unwilling to let her go. Truth be told, Kennedy didn't want to be let go of either, but she knew that she had to be the strong one in this.
Reluctantly, Kennedy gently extricated herself from the distraught redhead's grasp, and rose gracefully to her feet. As she stepped back, Willow looked up and wiped her blotchy eyes clear.
"Are you leaving today?" Willow asked, her voice shaking with emotion.
"I have to." Kennedy's reply was equally rough. "If I don't go now, I might not be able to to."
"It doesn't have to end like this!" Willow blurted desperately. "Please! Stay with me!"
"I see you've stopped trying to convince me that you love me." Kennedy's tone was trying for joking, but not overly succeeding. Willow's only response was to stare at the floor, and she missed Kennedy's melancholy smile.
"I wish I could stay, baby. But it's killing me." Willow's head dropped even further, and Kennedy stepped forward, clasping Willow's head in both hands and cradling it against her stomach.
"I deserve to be with someone who can love me, Will. Because I can't compete with a ghost." She gently kissed the top of Willow's head and released her, stepping back once more. Turning, Kennedy started towards what had been their bedroom. She stopped just before the doorway.
"I do love you, Willow Rosenberg," she stated plainly. "No matter what happens between us, if you ever need me, I'll be there."
With that final statement, Kennedy disappeared into the bedroom to start packing. Willow sat on her chair, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt hollow, as if she had been cracked open and drained of everything that made her ... /her/. She looked up woodenly, and her eyes fell once more onto that hated date on the calender.
/Oh Tara/, she thought as she sat there. Once more, all alone.
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