I Will Remember You

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The song is Sarah McLachlan's; the characters are Joss's; I'm only borrowing both and will return both in better-than-new condition when I'm done.

Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net

If you want it, please ask me first.

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Angst, lesbian relationship.

Feedback: Please!

Pairing: Willow/Buffy

I will remember you, will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by,
Weep not for the memories
Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us when things got bad.
How clearly I first saw you smiling in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me
I wanna be the one

In the dream, warm arms held her and a soft voice teased her gently. In the dream, dark hair spilled down around her, creating a curtain that could shut out the world. In the dream, she remembered joy.

Willow liked to clean. Putting order to chaos was something that eased the torment in her mind and heart when she spent sleepless nights alone, as she so often did these days. The alone part wasn't what bothered her—after all, it was only because every officer had to take a three-month turn on the night shift, and this cycle had been her lover's turn to take the shift. No, the part that bothered her was the sleeplessness, or more specifically, the reason for the sleeplessness. The dreams.

Kennedy.

Willow sighed, curled up on the sofa and stared out the living room window at the stars. She did so love living in Colorado. There were so many stars in the velvet black sky at night, especially if you lived far enough out of town that they didn't have to compete with the light pollution. She stared at Orion, the legendary Greek warrior, and thought of Kennedy, the unsung hero who had stood between her lover and the end of the world, and had selflessly given her life to prevent that apocalypse.

"I love you, Willow. Never forget that. This is what I have to do, to end it. But you need to know—there's someone who can love you more than I ever could. You need to be open to that person, and love them as much in return. But I will always love you." And then the dark-haired potential Slayer turned and threw herself into the breach, sealing the Hellmouth forever by the sacrifice of her Slayer blood. And Willow had fallen to the ground, crushed by grief.

She looked across the room at the ornate chest that graced one corner of the room. A pretty patchwork quilt that Willow had bought on their trip to Georgia on her previous anniversary covered it, but Willow knew its contents intimately. Now she moved over to it, working the combination lock and throwing back the lid, heedless of the quilt as it slid to the floor behind the chest. She reached inside the chest to touch each of the items gently, reverently, remembering a time when she'd seen each item used. Kennedy herself had used only one of these items, but they all reminded the redhead of her on this night. And she knew why. This was the night it had happened. Tonight was the tenth anniversary of Kennedy's death, and Willow was marking it in her own way.

When she saw the marks of her own tears mar the dust within the chest, Willow closed and locked it again, covering it once more with the quilt and returning to the couch.

I will remember you; will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
I'm so tired but I can't sleep
Standing on the edge of something much to deep
It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard

In the dream, Willow was wrapped in her cocoon of grief. Moonlight shone down upon her through the open window of her room, but she didn't see it through the filmy haze of her grief. She could see nothing except Kennedy's face, just before the young Slayer-in-training had thrown herself into the mouth of Hell, giving the dark forces the blood sacrifice that was needed the close off that portal forever. But there was something else. There was someone drawing her back from the darkness, back from the grief. There was a voice in her mind, spontaneously speaking directly to her only one person ever had, telling her that she was still loved, that there was someone who wanted the chance to help her forget and help her learn to love again. There was still someone whose heart she owned. And, coming out of the black miasma of grief that had consumed her for several months after Kennedy's death, Willow found herself in the strong, loving arms that she would soon learn to call home.

In the dream, the voice of her lover said quietly, "I'm going to take her away from all this. There's nothing here to hold us any more—any of us—and she needs to get away from the memories. She has Tara and Kennedy both to mourn, but it's killing her to be here where everything she sees reminds her of them both."

In the dream, which was really a memory, her lover had been released from the obligations that had previously bound her. Finally able to shed a yoke that she had never wanted to carry in the first place, Willow's lover was free to live as she chose, and she chose to take Willow and start anew in another place.

In the memory, which she relived as she slept, Willow knew that she loved the woman whose life she shared, loved her as deeply as she had ever loved anyone. She mourned the losses that she had sustained, but she truly did love this woman. And the knowledge of that love terrified her. But this was not a surprise. She had loved this woman since the day they had met. But she couldn't admit it, not even to herself, outside of the deepest recesses of the dream. For, if she allowed herself to love, she feared that the love she had felt for Tara and Kennedy would disappear.

Outside of the dream, quiet footsteps in the hall insinuated themselves into her dream. Willow's lover entered the room, sighing softly to see the redhead curled up in a corner of the sofa, tracks of tears drying on her face. She, too, glanced at the chest in the corner of the room, the chest that held the tools of the trade she no longer plied, and she, too, thought of Kennedy. She sighed as she looked at Willow. For ten years now, the broken woman had held the place of honor in her heart. For ten years they had shared a bed and a life together. But she knew that Willow was unable to let go of the specters of her lost lovers, and until that could happen, Willow was only a shell of her former self, only a faint shadow of the young and vibrant girl that had captured her lover's heart so many years ago.

In the dream, Willow felt her lover's arms wrap around her. Part of her knew that she was being carried away from the couch, carried to bed, by the one who loved her most of all. And she snuggled against the warmth of that love, reaching out her arm to wrap around it tightly. When she was laid on the bed, the warmth receded a bit and Willow cried out, reaching, grasping, until it came back to her.

Outside of the dream, Willow's lover was amazed. Willow had never reacted to her that way before—never wanted her to come back when she stepped away. She snuggled against Willow, holding her tightly, the desire to change out of her police uniform lost in the desire to hold Willow, and know that somewhere inside, Willow wanted her to be holding.

But I will remember you; will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
I'm so afraid to love you
But more afraid to lose
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose
Once there was a darkness
Deep and endless night
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light

In the dream, Willow held tightly to the warmth of her love as two figures approached her, one dark and one light, and both glowing with an ethereal brightness. They smiled upon her, and their radiance took her breath away. "Kennedy? Tara?"

In the dream, they embraced her, and told her without words that they loved her and always would love her, but that it was time for her to put aside the past and move forward. Unequivocally, they told her that she needed to look beyond her own pain and see the pain she caused for the one who loved her more than life itself. They told her to live. And then they were gone.

Willow woke up wrapped in the arms of her sleeping lover. She studied the face, so soft in repose, which had held her heart since that day in February, so many years ago, when she had first seen it by the water fountain in the main hallway of Sunnydale High. She studied the high cheekbones, the face still beautiful despite—or maybe because of—the marks of age beginning to creep onto her features. She stroked the long blonde hair, gossamer threads in her hands. And she laid her forehead against that of her lover. "Oh, love," she whispered quietly. "I've done you so wrong. I hope you can forgive me. And if you'll let me, I'll fix everything. It's all going to change. Oh, Buffy, I do love you."

And Buffy, who had not been sleeping, opened her eyes and smiled. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you to say those words to me?" She pulled Willow close and kissed her gently, first on the forehead, then on the lips. "I love you, too, my Willow. And you don't need my forgiveness. You never have. All of me is yours." She drew the lithe redhead to her and held her close, and for the first time in ten years, Willow slept knowing completely that she was loved and that she loved in return. She would never forget the loves she had lost before, but finally she could move on to the one who loved her, and who she loved more than life itself. And for the first time in ten years, a retired Vampire Slayer slept, looking forward to the morning.

And I will remember you; will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Weep not for the memories

The End

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