She Tried

by TexanZeppo

Copyright © 2003

Texanzeppo256@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters represented in this story belong to Joss Whedon, the Mutant Enemy co., the UPN, FOX and WB networks, etc. No copyright infringement is intended in any way and any illegal distribution of this story is not endorsed by the author.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Anywhere (except on Pens, cause they won't let ya *pouts*), provided that the above disclaimer is not violated, and also provided that it is NOT posted on a Willow/Kennedy 'shipper site. I'll chase you.
Feedback: I am open to any feedback that anyone might have.
Spoilers: Up to and including "Bring On the Night" (BtVS ep 7.10).
Author's Note: The events described could be interpreted as a dream sequence, but the actual interpretation is left to the reader.
Content Advisory: The following story has a high angst rating.
Acknowledgements: spikeme4now4200 for the feedback.
Final Note: In NO way whatsoever is this a W/K fic.
Pairing: Willow/Tara

She had always loved this room, and yet she hated it. A momentary glance at a picture frame, the slightest touch of a quilt, anything could set off a chain reaction of thoughts and memories. Memories of times when her body sang beautiful magicks, mystical or otherwise. Memories of nimble fingers trailing through golden tresses of messy hair. Memories of endless hours of staring into deep, cobalt-blue eyes...

But those blissful memories only lasted for half a moment before they inevitably led to the day when she died. 'Your shirt...'

Willow held her breath for a second before she collapsed into a nearby chair, trying to fend off the tears. She tried to hold in the sorrow, the grief, the guilt; she tried desperately to hold onto the searing pain as if it were a shallow breath under deep water, but it never worked. She let the tears go, released her life-giving breath, and tried to die a watery death.

The deed was never final though, the act never complete. She always managed to take in another painful breath, and she always wound up living just a little bit longer in that timeless hell. It was insane, but she had to do it: She had to keep on living. Even if she had no idea why.

"Willow?"

The battle-scared redhead blinked the tears away as she turned to see who had called her. Her heart jumped halfway up her throat as she saw the cocky brunette Kennedy standing in the doorway to the bathroom, her usual half-grin flirtatiously smeared onto her face. Willow was coming to loath that lecherous smile, and yet... "Yeah, Kennedy?"

The slayer recruit cocked her head and asked as she idly played with her dark hair, "Where do you keep the toothpaste? I'm all out."

Willow decided to ignore the less-than-covert signals that Kennedy's body language was sending and replied quickly, "Top drawer, left side, can't miss it."

Kennedy winked at Willow and said "Thanks," as she turned away from the red-hued bedchamber into the darkened white-tiled bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Willow let her gaze drift along with her thoughts. Tara, she thought, I love you. I need you. I need to feel you, I need to taste you, I need to see you. A horrible notion suddenly struck Willow, and the droplets fell freely as she tried to drown herself in tears yet again, thinking, but I'm not going to see you again, am I?

Her mind, with its ruthless logic and terrifying swiftness, suddenly took off again, until another thought, more horrific than the first, came into her head: So I should move on? Her kind, emerald-green eyes moistened. "No…" she whimpered quietly. She shook her head and said more forcefully, "No!"

The reddened Wiccan stood up from her chair and thought furiously as she paced the floor. Tara's my everything! Tara's a part of me in so many ways and I'm supposed to just pick up and move on! Willow spat out a Sumerian expletive at that last thought. And even if -and this is a BIG if- if I did try to 'move on', the only girl around here who would be remotely interested is that teenager, and I almost keep expecting her to say "everything's five by five, red"!

"Hey Willow." Kennedy said from the bright hallway.

Speak of the devil... Willow thought ruefully as she turned to face the slayer-in-training. She tried her best to look calm and casual as she turned towards Kennedy and replied with a faked smile, "Hey."

Kennedy ever so slowly sauntered into the darkened room, the light from the hall casting a shadow over Willow that had never truly left her. Kennedy looked at Willow, a spark of desire, curiosity and power in her large eyes, as she said, "So Xander tells me that you turned all dark in here."

Almost as though beckoned by name, Willow immediately felt the darkness within her surge upwards, the hateful and tainted magicks clutching at her chest, and she tried desperately to shove it all back down. "What?" She managed to croak out.

"He told me you went to the dark side, or something like that, in here... what's it like?"

Willow was scared out of her wits, and the evil within her was whispering into her mind, licking at her ear, but she still managed to ask, "What's what like?"

Kennedy's eyes almost seemed to glow as she spoke; "The power: The unrestricted, unadulterated and completely liberating power to do whatever you want."

"I... uh, er..." Willow tried desperately to fend off the darkness growing inside her and to think straight at the same time, when something caught her attention: What's that she's wearing?

"How did it feel when you did it?" Kennedy asked, the glow within her eyes blindingly intense.

I've seen that blouse before, Willow thought as she glanced at the white garment. Suddenly... "Wh… where did you find that?"

"How did it feel when you did it?" Kennedy repeated herself, her gaze locked intently on Willow's face.

Willow could fear her panic rising, and the darkness within her accepted it, made it its own and enhanced it a hundred fold. "Where did you find that?" Willow repeated herself more forcefully, matching Kennedy's blinding gaze with her own.

"How did it feel to kill him, Willow? How did it feel to avenge the death of that girl?" Kennedy asked, a smile slithering its way onto her face.

Willow stood speechless as her panic, her fear, her hatred, all grew together as one.

Kennedy, almost as if she was thinking to herself, cocked her head to the side and asked absent-mindedly, "What was that girl's name anyway? Tyra?"

Willow closed her eyes as she tried to shut out everything from her mind, tried to shut out the panic and the fear and the vile thoughts that were her own.

"No, that's not right..." Kennedy continued, now oblivious to Willow.

"Maybe it was Tanya... no..."

"Or perhaps..."

"Her name was..."

"...Tara."

Willow's eyes snapped open, and the pitch-black orbs gazed upon the girl before her, the one who had defiled her love so, and she focused all of her surging powers onto the center of the infidel's chest. With a sound without description, she tore a hole out of the girl's torso, blood pouring from the wound. Willow was elated- she had her vengeance, she had everything that she wanted at that one moment except for-

The hall light dimmed.

Emerald-green eyes looked into cobalt blue.

"Tara?"

"Willow…" Tara's eyes fluttered and she collapsed onto to floor, the white blouse drenched in red blood.

Willow looked down on what she had done, the fruit of her vengeance, and she let the tears flow. She let her breath escape into that ocean of pain, and tried as hard as she could to drown in it. She tried.

In Willow's room, Kennedy slept soundly on the large, comfy bed. She didn't hear the quiet sobbing from the redhead on the floor, curled into a little ball in a thin sleeping bag on a hard floor. Nor did anyone else see that in the starry sky, far above, another star fell from the Big Pineapple.

The End

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