Deeper by Mad Hamlet

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc. (Reluctantly).
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: Thank you.
Spoilers: Season 7.
Author's Note: Two rewrites, six drafts and about a hundred pages later, this thing is finally DONE. And I'm rather pleased with all the work that went into this one. Why? Well, easily put I was being paid for it. Okay, not paid but a bargain had been struck. The person who was kind enough to send me copies of Season 6 made me an offer. On the one hand I could send them the money they had spent on shipping and handling or I could do what they requested- That being salvaging Buffy and Willow at the end of Season 6, as realistically as possible. I don't think it's that bad. What do you think?
Pairing: Willow/Buffy

Summary: Willow and Buffy have a deep conversation.

The August moon hung fat and yellow on the horizon; so close to the edge of the earth it appeared bloated to three times its normal size. When tired winds blew clouds before it the shadows cast upon the ground were tinged with a deep infected hue, while the edges of the clouds themselves glowed from the sickly light behind them. The air near the ground was motionless; there wasn't enough power anywhere in the wind to disturb the smallest leaf. It hung, humid and wet, around everything like a heavy blanket.

The Slayer shrugged out of her jacket, tugging the front of her tank top away from sweat soaked skin. Warm air rushed into the space provided bringing no relief. Grunting slightly in disappointment the young woman flung open the gates to the Southside Cemetery. The rusty hinges protested loudly but did not slow her down.

She looked around carefully, looking for a target. 'I really should have swept this place more often,' The Slayer thought to herself reluctantly. 'But ...she's buried here and that means-' With a shake of her head the thought was caught and killed.

'She won't like it that I'm here.' She paused and a small smile flashed across her face briefly.

'Either of them might not like it.' The young woman thought to herself. Then she squared her shoulder, 'That's just too bad,' she decided. 'The local vamp population somehow figured out I was avoiding this place and now all the other locals are empty. Only place to left to look is here and if she doesn't like....' The blond shrugged.

Resuming her pace she moved through and between the graves with practiced ease, senses primed, ears cocked, muscles ready but relaxed, a long, sharpened stake in hand. She went in a circular pattern, going around the edge of the cemetery first and then moving inward. No crypt went unopened, no grave unchecked for fresh dirt. Her hunting bore some success, a few vampires in the wrong place at the wrong time; these were effectively and quickly dispatched.

She took as much time as she could to avoid the center of the cemetery, prolonging investigations that she already knew wouldn't reveal anything but she went about them anyway.

Eventually there was only one place left to go. The one place she didn't want to.

'Could call it a night,' she thought. 'Not like there's going to be anything there. I know that.'

"Let's get this over with then," Buffy Summers said aloud and started jogging to the center of cemetery; the place where Tara Maclay was buried.

Kneeling in the soft earth she picked up the young oak sapling, still in its pot. Picking up a trowel she dug a small hole in front of the grave and then carefully lifted the sapling out if it's pot, being sure to keep the rootball intact, and set it in the earth. Filling in the extra space with loose earth she took a bottle out of her backpack and poured the contents onto the newly planted tree.

With her fingertips she caressed the tiny saplings main branch, the one, with luck, that would someday grow into a might trunk bringing this particular spot cool shade and comfort when it was hot, and protection from the elements when it rained.

She took one leaf, and being careful not to break it, moved its branch gently so the wide, bright green leaf, brushed against her face. "Make me clean," she breathed. "Take from me and leave me clean."

No wind blew to jostle the leaves in the slightest. She let the leaf go and sat back on her haunches.

The redhead let out her breath slowly, 'This is gonna be fun,' she thought to herself sarcastically.

"Fine," the redhead replied absently. "I could have told you about it if you'd met me at the airport like everybody else."

The Slayer shrugged, though with the hacker's back to her it was a useless gesture. "Had a shift at the DMP, couldn't get out of it."

Willow gently ran her fingertips over the edges of the largest leaf on the sapling. "Gotta keep the national fat consumption rate up, that it Buffy? Glad to see you're committed to your goals."

"Not fair?" Willow stood up and looked at her 'best friend' for the first time in two months. "Not fair?" she repeated. "I'll tell you what's 'not fair', Buffy. Not fair is being bundled off to England and not even being able to attend the funeral of the person you love more than anything. Not fair is living with the guilt of trying to kill your family. Though you might know something about that."

"How long did it take us to forgive you for nearly leaving us to the jack-ah-whatist deamon?" Willow continued. "Forty five seconds? Hell, did we even have to forgive you?"

"Dawn forgave me, you know that?" Willow interrupted. She turned her attention back to the sapling, but kept talking to The Slayer. "I couldn't look at anybody in the car ride back from the airport. Xander was driving, I was in the backseat, Dawnie riding shotgun."

Willow reached again into her backpack and pulled out another bottle with a spray-top. She triggered it a few times covering the leaves with a fine moisture film. "Halfway home, nobody had said anything up until then, Dawnie turned around in her seat, snapped her fingers in front of me until I looked at her."

The redhead gently nudged the topmost leaves aside and triggered the bottle again so the leaves underneath got an equal share. "She said, 'I'm glad you didn't turn me back into a ball o' light.' I was horrified naturally but before I could do anything she winked at me, smiled and said, 'Glad you're back, Willow. I missed you.' Then she turned back around. When we got to your place she took my luggage for me, made me dinner."

She started to say but pride reared its head before the 'sorry' could escape. "I...saw you pouring something on the tree," she said pointing at the sapling. "What was it? A potion?"

"Oh," Buffy said weakly. She blinked a few times. "And...the uh...squirt bottle?"

"This?" Willow held up the bottle. "Natural pesticide; ecologically friendly. So, not only am I not using magic, Buffy, but I'm also contributing to the saving of the planet." she dropped the bottle back into her backpack. "On Mondays and Wednesdays I carry the blue tub with glass bottles to the roadside to be recycled."

'Okay, hold it,' The Slayer thought to herself. 'I'm not the bad guy here. Er...there is no bad guy here but I wasn't the bad guy earlier...neither was she...just hurting...but she killed...so?'

The words slipped out of her mouth before she had time to consider them. "Not fair would also apply to Warren."

The redhead winced and was silent for a second before replying, "Not fair that he was born, or not fair that I killed him?" She didn't sound upset, just mildly interested in The Slayer's honest opinion.

Buffy's eyes widened. 'God,' she thought to herself. 'Doesn't she even have any remorse?'

Willow calmly put the empty bottle that had held the vitamins, and the squirt bottle back into her backpack, zipped it up and slung one strap over her shoulder. "I'm sleepy," she said to no one in particular. "Jet lag bites. Think I'll call it a night, Buffy."

She bent over and gently kissed the top of the gravestone, then turned and walked away into the gloom of the night before The Slayer could get out another word.

Buffy's mouth hung open, she tried to speak, tried to cry out but couldn't. Not until long after the redhead had vanished was she able to whisper, "I missed you too, Willow." But only the cool wind that had sprung up, heard her.

For the second night in a row The Slayer was reluctant to go to the Southside Cemetery. The day had not gone smoothly. Xander had shown up after lunch with a few movies, 'Summer hits that Willow missed while in merry old would you like another serving of fish and chips? England' He had explained.

Xander and Dawn had spent most of the day up in Willow's room. Buffy had stood outside the door, listening. A few times she had raised her hand to knock but never had actually done so. As Xander had been leaving he had given The Slayer a puzzled look but said nothing.

She sat on a headstone, toeing the earth with the tip of one of her boots. 'Cordelia would have a fit if she saw what I was doing,' she thought to herself. She gave the tip of her boot and extra hard grind into the soft earth.

'Don't have to go to that part of the cemetery,' she thought, echoing her arguments from the night before. 'The chances of something ugly moving in from last night are slim to none.'

She scraped a small divot of earth off her boot on the corner of the grave. 'Hell with it,' she thought with a shrug. 'Might as well be sure.'

Her step was brisk as she headed for the center of the cemetery and her mind treacherously thought, 'We're not going there to really look for vampires anyway.'

Her fingers trembled only slightly as she moved the tip of her index finger through the loose earth, carefully and precisely in a set pattern, one from memory that she would never forget and held precious above many others.

She reached into her backpack and pulled out two bags. One was filled with green sand and the other with red.

"It's your color, honey," she said aloud, holding up the green sand. "I remember."

Carefully she poured the sand into her cupped hand and then gently she let it trickle from between her fingers. Soon the runes spelling out her love's true name were filled with green.

Again she dipped her fingers in the cold earth and carved runes into it, following the arc of the circle she had drawn before she wrote herself on the ground.

Again she poured a handful of sand, this time red, into her hands. She filled the runes with sand until finally her own true name was written on the earth in red.

"Now for the last part," She whispered. She carefully tied off the bag of red sand and put it back in her pack, making sure it was snug against the bag of green sand. Then she pulled out a jar that sloshed noisily.

Holding the jar of sacred oils she carefully poured them into the furrow in the earth. The liquid, glowing white under the moon, pooled and spread out filling in every curve of the circle drawn out by her fingers a short time before. Soon the oils surrounded her, their white light glowing around her in the circle its light glistening off the colored sands that made the runic diagrams marking out her and her lost one's names.

"Didn't you learn anything this summer, Willow?" the voice came from beside her. Buffy Summers walked out of the treeline that separated the center of the cemetery from the rest. "I mean, God," The Slayer crouched on the balls of her feet, the tips of her toes only centimeters from the edge of the glowing circle. "Not back for more than forty-eight hours and you're already back into the magic."

"What about your promise, huh, Willow? Doesn't that mean anything to you? You come home, we welcome you back-"

Willow shook her head slightly, "Nothing, Buffy. Old joke. I just find it funny you said 'We' considering you've been avoiding me since I got here. Real welcoming."

The bottom dropped out of The Slayer's stomach and her feet went cold. "I-I don't hate you, Will," she said. "I don't know if I trust you but-"

"You-You," Willow openly mocked her. "Tara's stutter was kinda cute. Yours is just annoying. So tell me Buffy, what's not to trust? Got hooked on the magic, stopped that, fought it, was doing pretty good too."

"So you killed him then," Buffy said, crossing her arms. The queasies were gone, this was ground she had been looking for, the big beat down.

"Yes I did," Willow replied. She didn't flinch, she didn't look away and her voice was steady and calm. "I killed Warren but not just killed, I tortured him, first stalking him like a beast, an animal. Then I captured him, than I pushed a bullet into his chest slowly, finally I flayed him and burned him. I didn't just kill him, Buffy," Willow's eyes met the Slayer's stare. "I killed him a lot."

The stars beamed down on the two of them, the clouds from the evening before long swept away by the night winds. The moon was below the horizon so black ruled the sky save for the impotent pinpricks that marked other places where evil might hold sway in the dark. The two women stared at each other in silence, one inside a circle marked by runic patterns and glowing oils, the other on the outside on soft earth that sighed quietly as she shifted her weight.

"So, Buffy," The hacker said, crossing her own arms and cocking her hips to her right, mimicking The Slayer's stance. "This is where you tell me about how it wasn't my place kill Warren; that we don't kill humans. You're probably dying to say it, some speech you've had planned for weeks and all it really boils down to is the tired, old 'Two wrongs don't make a right'."

"Well you can," Willow kept talking. "I'll listen this time but before you do can I ask a question?"

Again Buffy didn't respond and they stood in silence for a time; finally Buffy nodded once.

Willow pursed her lips slightly; almost smiling. "How long are you going to hide behind Faith?"

Buffy's eyes widened just a fraction. The surge of adrenaline dropped on her system and the knuckles on her fist turned white.

"Dare?" Willow asked, eyebrows raised. "You're a hypocrite Buffy, there's nothing daring about it. That question should be asked of you, how dare you try and judge me!"

"Not the same?" Willow replied with a snicker. "It couldn't get more identical if it tried."

Buffy's legs ached the muscles were so tight. Her stomach rocked in protest, she could feel the acid splashing on her insides but she took the pain and used it. 'Will not cry,' she thought. 'Has to be done this way, no choice.'

"You failed," Willow continued. "And Angel died. How I remember his funeral, it was a terrible day. But wait a second," the redhead snapped her fingers. "That didn't happen now did it? Golly, why not?"

"Oh yes, how could I have forgotten," Willow suddenly exclaimed, smacking herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. "Silly me. It didn't happen because you let him use you as a lunchable."

"Uh-huh," Willow snorted. "And I bet you say that every time you savor the memory of shoving that nine inch blade into Faith's stomach. I bet you use that as a condolence so you don't feel guilty from enjoying your jaunts down memory lane."

"God Damn you!" Buffy screamed and her teeth snapped shut nearly cutting off the tip of her tongue; cutting off successfully the rest of her sentence so only in her mind was it finished, 'and God damn me too.'

Willow's face instantly relaxed, her shoulders slumped a little and she smiled a slow, lazy smile.

"But Faith didn't get killed by you," Willow said. "So not only were you willing to kill for your loved one, you were willing to risk dyin" Willow's voice cut off. She took a step back realizing her mistake.

Buffy didn't miss it. 'Gotcha!' she thought and the exultation was enough so she didn't acknowledge the pang of guilt as she went for the jugular. "You weren't," she said pointing at Willow. "You killed for Tara, there was no need for it though, it wouldn't have brought Tara back, it wouldn't have helped you in any way. There was nothing to save."

"Says me," she replied. "And says you, but that's not why I don't think I can trust you Will. It's because what you tried to do afterwards."

Willow tore her gaze away from the Slayers and looked anywhere else. "That...that part you're right."

"Like hell I can't!" Willow shouted back. "Fine, I'll repeat myself. I killed Warren and you know what, Buffy? I don't mind. All those TV shows were wrong. I haven’t changed, I haven’t gone over a line that I can never come back from. It might sound horrifying to your sensibilities, Buffy, but not only did I kill Warren, I can also live with having done it!"

Willow was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "What happened afterwards-"

"When you tried to kill everyone else you mean," Buffy snapped. Her arms folded across her chest again, holding herself very tightly, not letting herself shudder.

Willow flinched visibly this time, losing her balance slightly and having to take a step back so as not to fall over. "And you say you don't hate me," she murmured. "It's funny, but most people would call you not even giving me a chance, hatred."

"I do ...regret...that," Willow continued. "I spent the entire summer in constant terror, worrying about your reactions. I...I must have been terrible."

"Xander I wasn't too concerned about," Willow went on. "He was there when I left, he waved. I could see him from the airplane until we took off. He just kept waving...." her voice drifted off. She began pacing back and forth in the confines of the circle.

After a few seconds, "Dawnie I was really worried about. The things I did, what I said...." The redhead hugged herself tightly and shuddered. "She didn't see me off, and when I came back yesterday and saw her at the airport I almost turned around and got back on the plane. Is that what you wanted to hear, Buffy? About how guilty I felt and still feel?"

Buffy said nothing. In her head she wanted to scream out, 'I don't care. Come home, be home, please, please, please let's go home.'

"You want to know what I really feel guilty about, Buffy? It'll surprise you," Willow began grinning widely.

"I feel bad about hurting you Buffy, I feel bad about hurting you, and Dawn and Anya and Xander, I felt bad about hurting Giles but he told me to stop it in late July. Said it was getting on his nerves." Willow giggled into her hands. "Sorry, where was I? Oh yes. Destroying the world, that ...that's a toughie. I remember being able to feel the collective pain of...everything."

"It's kinda strange," the redhead pressed on. "Our dogs get hurt and we kill them, call it mercy. You have no idea what it felt like Buffy. All that pain. A part of me," she shrugged again. "Still thinks it wasn't that bad an idea."

"You haven’t learned a thing from any of this," Buffy said shaking her head slowly. "It's amazing but you really haven’t. You stand there expecting me to believe you felt guilty for this and that, but that you're all better having spent the summer in jolly old England and yet here you are inside a magic circle and telling me to shut up about the person you murdered!"

Buffy walked around the outside of the circle. Her steps were slow and sure, each one placed carefully before the next. Hands hanging loose at her sides, relaxed and steady. 'Don't collapse,' she commanded herself. 'Be strong, be resolute, be...No...no no crying! Be...merciless, God I'm sorry Will!'

She never took her eyes off the redhead who turned around to follow The Slayer's progress, her own face an expressionless mask, save for the slight shine in her eyes that Buffy would not allow herself to see. "And you say you're all sorry." Buffy said, ignoring the clenching of her stomach and guts.

"I am sorry," Willow moaned softly. "But what I'm really sorry for, what I really feel guilty about...." her voice faded into silence, she stared at the ground.

"It was my fault," Willow whispered. The starlight reflected her losing struggle to stay impassive, the tears dripped over her cheeks slowly, gaining momentum.

Willow sniffed again, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looked up and stared The Slayer straight in the eyes, "You stupid bitch," Willow seethed. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Buffy gaped. 'I wasn't even sure if she knew how to say that word,' her mind uselessly informed her.

"It was my fault Tara died," Willow said, her grin was back, full force; white, wide and with many teeth. "My fault alone and you wanna know why?"

Before Buffy could say anything Willow continued, "I'm glad you asked that question, Buffy," she said pointing at the Slayer.

"I'll tell you. It's my fault Tara was murdered because I told her not to worry about Warren and his buddies." Willow began to slowly rock back and forth on the balls of her feet as she continued speaking. "I called them 'The Empire of the Nerds'. I- I really wasn't concerned about them. I thought they were harmless and stupid and clumsy, kinda funny actually."

Willow stopped talking; she took several deep, slow breaths, her face tense and drawn. When she resumed her voice was small, tiny and far away. "And I kept right on thinking this up until the second Xander told me Warren had been the one who had come in with a gun and tried to kill you."

'Willow,' The Slayer's legs began to tremble. 'No, she thought. 'No. No, no, no...God, no. Not your fault, mine, my fault...could have stopped them but didn't...could have...should have. My fault.' Her fingers itched, 'Oh God, why can't I step over the line and hug my best friend?' she cried inside. 'Why can't I let it go?' Buffy clenched her fists, feeling her nails bite into the palm of her hands.

"I didn't get concerned when they made a freeze gun, something the Military with a bijillion dollar budget can't do," Willow said calmly. She wasn't looking at Buffy anymore " Or nearly tricked you into letting them kill you with the invisibility gun. Nope, still not even the teeniest worried," Willow hiccuped slightly, shaking her head. "Wasn't worried after your trip to lala land, or hearing about how Katrina was found dead."

The redhead, still rambling, slumped froward, onto her knees, leaning heavily against Tara's headstone. "Not a care in the world. I thought they were funny really so I didn't pay them any attention and in doing so I basically shot Tara myself."

"No," Buffy said, vocal control returning at last. "No, no, no Will, that's not right."

"Oh now you're my friend," Willow laughed. "All sympathetic? Well it makes no difference to me, Buffy. Love me, hate me...feel free. Options are..." she paused, her eyes glazing over again. "Very optional right now. You can hate me to your hearts content, Buffy. Won't matter, your hating me is nothing compared to my hating me."

Willow snapped back into focus. "It's not magic, Buffy. It's simply will; it's keeping a promise. I promised Tara I'd always find her and now I'm going to do that."

"That's not magic?" Buffy said gently, trying her best not to sound challenging.

Willow, still slumped against Tara grave, glared at Buffy from inside the circle. "No. Only make that mistake once. Can't have two people ripped out of heaven by my hand. If all goes well I won't find her."

"If she's moved on then I won't find her, she'll be home, safe...loved." Willow said listlessly.

"Willow I," Buffy tried to begin, tried to start saying something that would let her push past her own hostilities, her own accusations and anger at the redhead. 'I want to be friends!' she thought helplessly. 'Why can't we just be friends? Why am I even angry? What do I want from her? When did I lose the ability to simply be with her?'

"Go away, Buffy," Willow said, pressing her cheek against the cold concrete. "I have stuff I gotta do."

Buffy shook her head, 'strong voice, no stuttering,' she reminded herself. 'Besides Willow finds that annoying.' Her badly taxed willpower barely kept her from breaking into hysterical laughter.

"Can't Will," she said with a sigh. "You say it's not magic, my buzz-on says it is. Gotta stay, gotta make-"

"GO AWAY!!" The redhead suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs, embracing the gravestone in a deathgrip. "GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY," she screamed over and over and over, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open as her voice weakened and died leaving her jaws wide open in a silent scream, mouthing the words, 'Go away' continuously.

'Too much!' Buffy's mind screamed; her flight or fight impulse kicked into overdrive, 'Too much!'

Buffy Summers, The Slayer, chosen one, turned and ran from a threat that had nothing to do with the supernatural, and everything to do with something she did not understand.

Willow sat on the earth above her lover's grave, hugging the headstone till her arms ached and the cool cement chilled her skin, even in the warm night air. She clung on tighter, ignoring the cold, ignoring the constant thrumming in her muscles as they protested. "Let me pass," she whimpered, eyes still tightly shut. "Let me pass, let me pass, let me pass, oh God damn you all, let me pass!"

All the air in her lungs exhaled in one telling, easy sigh. Her limbs relaxed, her muscles loosened and she slumped sideways against Tara's grave. Gravity pulled steadily and her cheek, still pressed up against the stone, began to slide across the smooth surface. She hit the ground face down with a solid thud and didn't move. A slight rattling escaped her throat as the last of the air inside fled her body.

Willow Rosenberg stood in the middle of a great white nothing. There was no horizon anywhere leaving her without any sense of distance. She glanced down at her ankle and the long glowing strand of crimson light that disappeared into the distance.

She bent down and gently ran her fingers against the cord linking her with her body. Except for a slight buzz as her fingers passed over it there was no reaction. 'I'm almost tempted to break it,' she thought to herself.

Her fingers involuntarily curled around the glowing fiber and her forearms tensed waiting for the final command to jerk, rend, and twist it.

'It would end the pain,' the redhead thought to herself. 'No more having to worry about the people I hurt. I could be with Tara....'

'Yes she would,' the thought came unbidden. 'She'd care and it would hurt her terribly.'

"What difference would it make?" Willow said out loud, her words consumed by the white. "I already have hurt her terribly."

'Accidentally, yes,' she thought. 'In anger, in haste and in pain, yes. Never in planning.'

"I...I have to make sure Tara moved on okay," the redhead said aloud, letting the crimson line settle gently back on nothing.

The hacker stood back up, squared her shoulders and took a step forward. Her foot sank slightly in the white but didn't fall through. She took another, and then a third. Quickly reaching a brisk pace she stalked across the featureless, pale, void leaving the place where she had first arrived behind her.

And after she had vanished into the nothing, with only the trailing, endless, fiery red thread left to mark her passage did a circle of white slowly darken, take less vague form and pool into something black and viscous.

Oozing down nothing at all the fluid slid until it rested at the same level as the cord. The slight glow of all the white reflected off the black, glistening and wet.

Hundreds of tiny black tendrils burst from the main body, lashing about wildly and four main ones, ending in wicked barbs scrabbled madly across the white toward the cord.

And from the main body a jaw grew downward revealing an infinity of needle teeth, and hissed.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!" A blonde wept as she ran blindly through the dark. All detail of the graves and trees she swept past blurred by tears.

It was in a small clearing in the middle of the woods that The Slayer's headlong flight was interrupted. A female vampire had heard her crashing through the trees and moved to intercept. It stepped out from behind a tree with a snarl.

Without even slowing down The Slayer clenched her fists, turned and channeling all the anger, grief and remorse into a tight ball in her belly hammered the vampire in the face with a monstrous, two-handed uppercut.

The thing was lifted clear of her feet and set flying in a high arc through the air that abruptly ended when she was impaled from behind by a branch that extended off the trunk of a tree; a branch that was fifteen feet above the ground.

The female vampire stared in horror at the jutting edge of wood, coated with gore that emerged from the front of her chest. She grasped at the wooden spear, her fingers slipping over the stolen blood coating it, flung back her head and screamed.

It was the scream that brought The Slayer up short, 'Willow!' her distracted mind shouted in her head. She halted in mid-step and spun in the direction the scream had come from. 'No,' she thought. 'The...the vampire.'

The Slayer blinked and watched in horrified fascination as the impaled deamon's scream ended, and died along with her. Her arms fell slack, her head dipped forward, her forehead almost brushing the branch that had killed her Then slowly she began to dissolve to ash; her skin and muscle flaked off in seeming slow motion followed by a rapidly blackening skeleton. At that second the branch cracked and the half-skeleton slid off the tip to come rattling, flailing and cracking down to the ground where it landed with a clatter and then hiss as it finally disintegrated completely.

The acids in The Slayer's stomach would not be denied this time. Shock, pain, emotional upheaval all warred against her. She bent over, mouth open and threw up onto the earth. Falling forward she caught herself with her hands and continued heaving out the contents of her stomach on all fours. When that was emptied she didn't move while her stomach rumbled, feeling the acid burning her throat and mouth. Her tears slid down her face as she did so, dripping off her face to be swallowed by the mess on the forest floor.

Finally, some semblance of control returned and the blonde staggered to her feet and leaned back against another tree; with the back of one hand she wiped her mouth. 'God,' she thought, 'God, God, God....' She absently cleaned her hand on the leg of her jeans.

"I'm sorry, Willow," she whimpered quietly, sliding down the trunk until she sat on the ground. "I'm so sorry."

"Why couldn't I say what I wanted too?" she asked herself. "Why couldn't I just let it go?"

"She's my best friend," the blonde whispered to herself. "My best friend. Best friend and I'm not even sure what that means anymore."

She beat her fists against the earth in frustration. "Dawn forgave her, and she did more to Dawn then she ever did to me." The Slayer spoke her thoughts aloud. "So how come she can do what I can't? What's wrong with me?"

The Slayer covered her face with both hands, and moaned quietly. "It's true," she whimpered. "I could have done something, could have...been more."

'Everybody can,' her mind said. 'But they usually aren't. It happens, we need to forgive ourselves.'

'Besides, it's not like you're alone in the blame game,' she thought. 'It's not like any of your friends really spent a whole lotta of time trying to figure out your problems.'

"That's no excuse," she said aloud. "I shouldn't think this way about them, about her."

'Oh, so we're defending Willow now?' She mentally snorted. 'Funny, a short while ago we wanted to crucify her.'

She sighed and let her head fall back on the trunk with a slight thump. She stared up at the patches of stars that could be made out through the branches. "I missed her," she said. "I missed her so much."

"It's not that simple," she protested. The tears had stopped and she wiped her face of the rest, she didn't take her eyes off the stars.

'She understands exactly what she's done!' the shout in her mind was so fierce the blonde visibly winced. 'And it's tearing her up and she comes back here anyway hoping against hope it can be alright and what do we do? Confirm her every worst fear. Nice job that one.'

'You wanted remorse? Pain? Fear? Wasn't that enough for us? We should certainly think so. It was so much we couldn't stand it, we ran! Or do you forget tearing your way across half of Sunnydale in a blind panic?' The derisive sneer was almost audible.

Signing the blonde pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around them and hugged them close to her chest. She rested her chin on knees. "So now what?" she asked aloud.

'Then we be that.' Her mind snapped back. 'Not a teacher, not an adult, not some guiding figure that can be disappointed when someone we love does something bad, or pleased when they do something good, we simply be there. Always. That's the difference between a parent and a friend.'

"I'd- I'd forgotten that part," she whispered, her words slightly muffled behind her legs.

'We go?' The voice speaking in her mind, her own humanity, almost sounded eager.

"We go," she said standing up. "We go to Willow, give her a big hug, tell her how much we missed her and then just be with her."

Buffy Summers smiled, it was a small smile, not a beaming wide happy grin, nor a sad winsome regretful wishing smile. It was a simple, hoping one.

And then she set about jogging back the way she had come to find her best friend.

Willow Rosenberg screamed as the black tendril slashed across her back. Diving forward she shrugged off the thing's touch and got to her feet slowly, keeping herself between It and the cord.

It didn't move, remaining where it was though all the tendrils about it spun and slashed through the white so quickly they blurred. Again the jaw opened slowly and It hissed at the redhead.

"Stop saying that!" She screamed at It. "You're lying! You're always lying! She did love me, no, she does love me!"

Willow's face flushed, "Stop laughing at me!" she snarled through clenched teeth. "You stop laughing at me and you shut your lying mouth!"

A tendril, ending in a cruel, hooked claw, screamed through the air toward Willow's eyes.

"Willow!" Buffy called loudly as she neared Tara's grave. "Willow, I'm sorry. Can we-" her voice cut off as she neared the gravestone.

"WILLOW!" the young woman shrieked as she spotted the body of the redhead lying languidly in the center of the circle. She broke into a full speed dash intent on scooping up her friend and making sure she was okay.

Instead she ricocheted off the barrier marked by the edges of the circle. The impact was so great that she fell backwards onto her back and rolled a few feet. "What the hell?" she wondered aloud, rubbing at her nose.

Scrambling back to her feet The Slayer approached the circle carefully. She reached forward and tried to reach over the line the glowing oils marked, instead of air she met a solid wall. "Damnit Will! You said you weren’t doing magic!" she cried out in frustration.

'She said she wasn't using magic but what else is this thing?' She thought to herself. 'And it's now in my way, well, we can fix that.'

"Ow," she murmured shaking her bruised fists. Slowly she moved around the circle to the place where the hacker's head was lying. "Willow?" she said softly. "Can you hear me?"

There was no response. The Slayer rapped gently on the barrier as one might knock on a door. "Willow?" she asked again.

At that second the glowing oils flickered and dimmed then brightened again. "What the heck?" Buffy said aloud. She blinked a few times and shook her head quickly. "Did that even really happen?"

"Now that I definitely saw," Buffy said. A slight chill settled into her now empty stomach. The beginning needles of fear and the sense of something being wrong. "What was it Willow said about this? It's not magic it's will but that means if the barrier is made by her will and it's...."

She ducked another swiped from It's tendrils; the ebon thread whipping over her head. 'Just want to sleep,' she thought. 'Sleep would be so nice.'

'Sleep,' It whispered again. She could feel It crawling across her mind, sweaty, sticky, deep and thick. She shuddered in revulsion at the sensation.

She flung her hands outward. "This is the truth," she shouted and a blazing wall of red light sprung up into existence between her and It, intercepting It's next blow. It screamed in agony as Its tendrils smashed into the wall.

For the third time the circle dimmed, The Slayer waited for it to brighten again but it didn't, instead it continued to darken steadily before it finally bottomed out to a barely visible, sputtering light.

Inside the circle the redhead's body began to twitch, then heave. Her arms and legs flapped and flopped disjointedly about, her jaw opening and snapping shut, flecks of phlegm and drool were spit over her face and the surrounding earth.

"Willow!" The Vampire Slayer shrieked. She began hammering at the barrier again, flailing at it desperately over and over. Her fists slammed into with all their power behind it, sending thundering echoes across the graveyard. Still she kept hammering at it, ignoring when her knuckles split open and began to bleed, ignoring the splotches of her own blood that were left behind by her blows on the barrier and she ignored it when that blood began to sizzle on the unseen surface. She just kept hitting it, striking it, and screaming, "Willow!"

"No!" Buffy shouted. "Don't do this, don't you dare do this! No, oh God no!" and she kept striking at the barrier. "Don't, no, let me in you bastards, let me in! I have to get to her, I have to help her! She's my best friend, I won't let her die, let me in, let me in you bastards, let me IN!" And her final rising shriek was punctuated with a hammer blow that caused the air around the impact to shake. The barrier stood fast.

Cradling her bruised hand to her chest Buffy leaned against the barrier watching her best friends body continue to flop and dance and gasp and heave as whatever was killing her continued to do so. "Don't go," Buffy whispered. "Please don't go."

"You can't go, Willow," she said, the fingers of her good hand splayed out on the invisible surface of the barrier. "You can't go, can't leave me...I need you Will. I need you with me, please," The Slayer sobbed.

The blond landed face first in the mud directly next to the redhead's still jerking body. She lay there in dumb amazement for a few seconds until the rattling from the throat of the woman beside her caught her attention.

At that second the jerking stopped. The redhead's eyes fell open and the dull green within reflected the final embers of light from the circle dying away.

"NO!!" Buffy shrieked at the top of her lungs. She began to shake the body fiercely. "You come back to me!" she cried. "You come back to me you stupid hacker, you come back here right this second, you hear me? Do you hear me?"

"You come back to me!" she commanded fiercely. "Right now! Right this very second or so help me God I'll come to you and kick your ass!"

And Buffy Summers felt something very strong grab her like a vice and toss her up in the air.

'That's odd,' she thought, strangely calm, as the earth fell away from her. 'I can still see me lying next to Willow.'

The thing screamed and it's thrashing tendrils lashed against the barrier keeping it from the glowing cord.

Willow, her brow knotted in concentration, tried to maintain her focus. 'Tara loves me,' she thought desperately. 'Tara loves me, she loves me I know she does, she loves me, she loves me, she loves me.' Over and over she repeated the mantra of her beliefs in her mind. 'That thing is a lie and I have my truth, it can't hurt me, it can't hurt my truth.'

The barrier created by Willow looked like a semi-transparent orange box. Contained inside it was the black thing; some of it's tendrils beat against the container repeatedly while others gently caressed it.

"She loves me," Willow said aloud, trying to reinforce her belief. "She loves me, she loves me, she loves me, you're wrong, you're wrong, Tara loves me."

The battle was happening in her mind. Every time the thing's black touched her shield the voices in her head, her doubt's, her fears, grew a little louder, a little stronger.

'How you react?' It hummed. 'What you do? You kill, you torture, you hurt, you burn. Loved you before, yes. Love you now? Never.'

'Lie I am,' It chorused. 'Truth I say, loved you, past, present not, present Tara not love. Can't love. Tara dead. If Tara living see you now not love anymore. Never love something like you! She love light and beauty and soft and wonderful. You not that, not anymore. Why she love a monster?'

'N-no,' Willow could feel it sliding between the cracks. Cracks now reflected in the container. 'She loves me, I know she does, I k-know it.'

'What you know?' It laughed. 'You know pain, you know suffering, you know your friends not your friends. Not like you, not need you. Pity you, yes, truly, but not your friends. Your victims.'

'Wrong?' Like nails across rusty metal It slithered through her heart. 'You know this not so, you know your truth is not love, your truth is not friends. You know truth.'

The cracks became gaps and the thing lost Its consistency and began oozing between them to puddle and reform on the surface of the white.

'Truth is hate,' It whispered. 'Your truth is hate. Hate from others to you, hate from self to you. You have hate as truth. Hate, as truth, is no protection from me!'

The orange shield, darkened, bled, broke and shattered silently as Willow herself cried out gently, like a kitten struck in blind anger, and she collapsed.

Exploding from the wreckage of Willow's truth It came; scurrying across the white, jaws crashing and beating together in hungry rhythm as it neared its prey. Its tendrils beat against the white, dragging It across toward the glowing, crimson, light the stretched from the redhead's heel into nothing.

It turned inside out briefly until Its jaws popped out the opposite side facing the intruder.

Buffy stood, blue light cascading across the white, making the area around her glow slightly blue itself. At her ankle an intensely bright blue cord rippled across the surface of the white.

"Don't know what you are," Buffy seethed, her legs tensing for a leap. "But you hurt Willow. That's a mistake."

Buffy sprang at the black, circular blob with it's lashing tendrils and claws, her fist drawn back to deliver a satisfying blow that would have reduced Its insides to pulp.

She didn't have time to be surprised when her fist sank into Its body. Instantly hundreds of Its tentacles burrowed into the surface of her form, sliding underneath and where they traveled within the black flowed freely.

'i'm not,' Buffy cried, a drifting lost voice inside her own self. 'i'm not, really i'm not. i'm not...i'm not...i'm...sorry...i'm sorry...i'm sorry, i tried, i tried, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i tried.....'

Willow watched horrified as the tendrils buried themselves in the form of her best friend. Lines of black had run across the Slayer's face, arms and legs and in seconds they began to spread.

At Buffy's scream the white itself had cracked and puss colored light had begun oozing and bleeding across everything.

She rolled over onto her back, rolled away from the sight of The Slayer being devoured by black. 'Why? Why did she do it? I'm not worth it, I'm not worth anything....'

Deep inside she felt it stir, twist and fight against the despair that threatened to drown her. It fought against her own fears ruthlessly until it broke free and gave Willow her answer, one she had always known. 'Buffy cares.'

"Buffy cares," Willow whispered to herself. "She cares about me...she cares...Buffy cares! She doesn't hate me, she cares about me...."

As she said it a feeling of lightness and excitement rushed through the redhead and the words came out tumbling out faster and louder. "She cares about me, because she's my friend, she's my best friend and that's what they do. They care, they care because they're friends and they're friends because they care. She's my best friend and my best care'er and I'm her best friend and I'm her best care'er and that means-"

Lurching to her feet she stared at the thing through narrow eyes as It casually sliced through the blue light cord, now very dim, attached to Buffy's ankle.

"-YOU CAN'T HAVE HER!" The hacker screamed, flinging her hands, her will and her truth at The Abomination.

Hundreds of blazing, fiery red walls burst into existence and surrounded It, blocking it off, locking it in. Those parts of It not fast enough to recoil into the central mass were severed to fall upon the white, thrashing and twisting before melting away. In a heartbeat It was neatly encased in a crimson gem a hundred facets strong and a thousand layers deep.

Buffy's self, no longer supported by the invading tendrils had collapsed on the slowly healing white.

Willow ran to the fallen Slayer's side and examined her. 'Black's fading,' she thought. 'That's good.'

The redhead eyed the fallen cord, no longer connected to the Slayer's self; it lay dark and empty but it was still connected to the body on Earth.

A low sound, like thunder, rumbled across the white. Willow flinched and shook her head slightly.

"It's fighting me," she whispered to Buffy. "It's fighting me Buffy and It's old and strong and I don't know how I can stop it." She wanted to cry.

'No crying!' the redhead chastised herself fiercely. 'Don't know if you even can here, but we don't have the time.'

There was another rumble and the crimson gem darkened slightly. "I know you care, Buffy." Willow said. "But I'm tired and ...it hasn't been a good couple of months and I need to fix you or It'll get us both. If that happens we'll wish we had died."

Buffy, still unconscious, could say nothing. 'Shock,' Willow thought. 'Soul shock, or soul something. It attacked her soul, severed her connection with her body. I could fix it, I think, if I had time but-'

A third rumble rolled across the white and tiny red shards broke off from the gem, drifted slightly and disappeared.

"There's a place, Buffy," Willow explained to her comatose friend. "We'd be safe there, sorta and I might be able to fix this. It's risky but we'd be safe, I said that already, but we would be, we'd be safe from that thing and anything else like it. They're lies Buffy and we could go to a place where lies can't exist." She looked over she shoulder at her own cord. "But we can't go like this."

Willow made up her mind. "The alternative is worse," she said. Reaching down she grabbed the badly frayed crimson line that connected her to herself in the material world and snapped it off.

Then laying her hands, one on the empty, dark, blue cord and the rapidly fading glow of her own, with a burst of will incinerated them both.

Gathering The Slayer's self in her arms she stood, closed her eyes and dove just as the gem blew apart into nothing and a black wall of teeth, bone, claw and hate exploded outward sweeping across the area where they had just been.

In the Southside Cemetery in Sunnydale, California it was late at night. Near a marker with the name 'Tara Mclay' inscribed on it, inside a now dark magic circle, lay two girls; one with red hair, the other a blonde. They lay together as if in a deep and restful sleep. No worries marred their features, no inner pains despoiled their rest. They took slow, deep, easy breaths; their chests rising and falling

Down through the dark they fell and fell and the wind between tore at the hacker's fingers. Their energies concentrating on the hands that held The Slayer's self, her soul, to Willow's chest. They tried to break that hold these winds, using cold, and power and despair and void to shatter the grip the hacker had on her best friend. But the winds failed.

Down through the dark they fell and fell and with each second the fell farther and farther away from everything and the farther they fell the closer the two came to themselves. Willow's concerned features began to blur, Buffy's own unconscious face too became less distinct. Clothes tore off and then arms and legs simply began to fade as well.

Down through the dark they fell and fell. The fading moved up the legs, the waist the torso, erasing the form and leaving only the self behind. For they were falling away from everything and towards the end and at the end all there is is what is really there.

Down through the dark they fell and fell. There was nothing left of them save for what they were, truly; and when that was all that they had left, they were at the end.

A dark, glass clear, sky stretched from horizon to horizon. Within its ebon field were stars, more stars then had ever been or ever would be again, save this place. An infinite expanse of black sky with an infinite expanse of stars; reflecting this infinity back upon itself was The Sea; deep, and black and old. From this came everything else and to this, one day, everything would return. Its calm surface marred by no waves, no tide, no time, no change. The infinite dark with its stars bore down on the infinite dark that returned those starts to it and this was how it had been since the beginning and how it would be at the end.

On a shore of The Sea was The Beach. The Sea met the Beach like the edge of a knife, never moving, never wavering; where The Sea ended and The Beach began ran straight and true from end to end. Black sand ran along the beach, each tiny grain as hard and dark as the deepest parts of The Sea, and these tiny granules reflected the sky back upon itself as well. This was how it had been since the beginning and how it would be at the end.

Behind The Beach were The Cliffs. Hard and cold black and grey granite made up the cliffs. They stretched along the entire length of The Beach and The Sea towering over both, upwards, into the starlit sky an infinity high. The stones making up the cliff were razor sharp, and their edges too gleamed in the light of the expanse of stars above them. This was how it had been since the beginning and how it would be at the end.

Out of the sky fell two sparks, one was bigger than the other, strong, powerful, a beautiful shade of red. The other was a tiny, weak thing, sputtering and flaring like a dying blue flame. The red moved alongside the blue as if sheltering, holding, the other. They drifted, propelled by unseen winds first one way, then the other until they rested at last upon the black sands of The Beach.

There they lay for a time. The red pulsing in even beats of greater light and then diminishing, only to flare up again a few seconds later. The blue was not so regular. It would darken steadily only to flare up to a blinding intensity for a brief time but this would quickly fade back into a darkening color. And the instances between the blue's flares were growing longer and the darkening of its fire was increasing.

The red flared brightly, as if straining to accomplish something, some goal, some need, some task that needed completing and perhaps that's what it was. As its light shone upon the blue the blue began to grow in strength and light. The weakness, guttering and sputtering ceased and it began to beam with a steady pulse of its own...until the red fire dimmed, exhausted and spent. At which point the blue too dimmed and become weaker and less than it had been before.

Again the red flared and again the blue drank in the light of its companion, growing in ferocity, and power until again the red would flicker, waver and dim and the blue would mirror this only more so. The red pulsed with even beats, like a heart might beat in the breast of a loved one, while the blue flickered, gutted and began to die.

For the third time the red flared and if the first two had been great this effort was the greatest. Its crimson hue was cast far and wide across The Beach, across The Sea and a good way up the face of The Cliffs. These places that had existed in darkness, made of darkness, and of the darkness now found themselves painted a deep, fiery, fierce glare of red fire. The blue drank of this fire deeply, for a third time gaining in strength and intensity, healing a wound cut so deep and so terrible that self itself bled from it. And the red began to fade again and echoing its darkening the blue darkened but this time it would fade completely away, a burnt out ember, an empty, hollow husk.

From beyond the horizon of The Sea something glowed and skimmed across the surface of black waters. It was small and green and very, very bright. It raced to the edges of The Sea, raced to where a red spark was dimming and a blue spark was dying.

The tiny, bright green spark raced to the greater red and bobbed in the still air before it. Then slowly, very slowly the green dimmed and faded away till a tiny fragment of red was left. The red fragment now bobbed, and weaved and zipped around and around the greater, as if waiting...as if...asking for permission.

And for the first time since The Sea, The Beach and The Cliffs had first come sound echoed across all three. Quiet, hushed, and faint but sound nonetheless; the sound of someone crying.

The red pulsed in time with the quiet sobs that emanated from it, the moans and cries and weeping reflected in its darkness or its intensity. Still the tiny red spark buzzed around and over and around and over the greater red spark. Waiting.

The red spark, Willow Rosenberg at her core, spoke. "No," she whimpered. "I can't...it hurts...it hurts too much, I can't."

"Please, I...I'm strong enough, I can help Buffy," Willow sobbed. "I gave you to her. She gave to me and I gave to her and you belong to her, not to me. You were a gift, a gift that wasn't supposed to return! Go back to her, go back Tara, please!"

"NO!" she screamed. "Noooooooooo...." and her wail died away while the blue continued to steadily bleed away into the black sand.

Time passed. Willow accepted, "Come," she sent. "Come back to me, I can't...I can't do it alone."

The fragment instantly joined with the greater red spark and there was a flash of crimson so great that in all directions of the sky, The Sea, The Beach and The Cliffs glowed red once more. The edged stones making up the cliff now glowed red, almost bloody. The black sands turned a muddy, red color. From The Beach a crimson light grew that reflected off The Sea with such power that the stars overhead were obscured.

Effortlessly now the red, Willow herself, burned with a great and healing power. Steadily now the blue drank in the light, the love, and the soul offered by her. And finally another small fragment of red broke off from Willow, drifted toward the blue, as if uncertain it hesitated, then turned and buried itself into the now strong, blue glow of Buffy Summer's restored and vibrant soul.

The two sparks burned for a while on the shores of The Beach, their twin lights coloring the area around them. They rested and simply existed.

With a great burst of light the blue burst into luminescence. When the flare died away there were two blue lights resting on the shore; one greater and beating with a steady pulse and the other, a tiny bright fragment of intense sapphire buzzing around between the greater fire rapidly.

Then it slowed, circled a few more times, and came to stop resting before the red. The red itself shrank away from the tiny blue flare as if in fear but the blue fragment remained adamant and unwavering in its position or purpose.

With a tiny flicker of acceptance the red accepted the gift and in a flash the tiny blue fragment buried itself in the greater light of Willow Rosenburg’s soul.

In the Southside Cemetery in Sunnydale, California it was late at night. Near a marker with the name 'Tara Mclay' inscribed on it, inside a now dark magic circle, lay two girls; one with red hair, the other a blonde. They lay together as if in a deep and restful sleep. No worries marred their features, no inner pains despoiled their rest; but their chests, their hearts, were still. No life animated any part of them and no warmth caused their cheeks to flush. They lay together in death as the dark on the horizon began to fade and surrender the field to the coming dawn.

Buffy Summers lurched upright coughing and gasping. Beside her Willow Rosenberg rolled over with a slight groan. Around them both the circle and runes sprang into life again, glowing a soft, peaceful white.

Willow ignored the random questions as she crawled on her belly across the earth. Embracing the headstone that marked the resting-place of her love, Tara Mclay, she silently began to weep.

"Will?" Buffy said sitting. "Where are you? Will?" She turned around to see the redhead crying.

'Oh...god,' Buffy thought. In her gut she felt this maw open wide. A great sense of loss overcame her and her stomach heaved at the sensation. She opened her mouth as if to gag, gritting her teeth and shaking her head fiercely helped her fight the impulse off.. Tears sprang to her eyes as a great chill fell upon her. 'No, oh God...I had no idea.' she thought.

'I should leave,' Buffy thought. 'I should stand up right now and leave. She needs to be alone, needs time to deal with this...this...'

Buffy Summers was only mildly surprised when she found herself crouching down besides Willow and cradled the redhead's chin in her good hand.

Leaning forward Buffy lifted the hacker's face and gently pressed her lips to the redhead's cheek. Her puckered her lips erasing a falling tear. Taking a tiny sliver of great pain into her.

Again Buffy leaned forward and kissed away a tear marking the face of her best friend.

'Shhhhhiiiiiitt,' Buffy's mind hissed slowly. 'I blew it, went too fast and I've probably screwed up big time now and-'

Willow shook her head, fresh tears replacing the ones taking replacing the ones Buffy had healed. "No," she said slowly. "I'm not."

"I-I'm sorry, Will," Buffy stammered. "I don't know what came over me and I thought it was a good idea and it-"

Buffy sat back and rested her forearms on her knees. "The...the tiny...little fires?"

"No," Willow shook her head. "They are something but..." she shrugged. "Just something, not everything."

Buffy was ready to leap to her feet and run. 'How could I have been so stupid?' her mind screamed. 'What was I thinking? Now Willow will never-'

"It's not easy," Willow said. "I'm not sure either but I do know I'm not...we're not...quite ready."

Buffy looked away from the stars and found herself looking at the redhead. Willow's eyes still shone with unshed tears but held her own stare steady, softly, in a non-aggressive way but rock steady. 'Her eyes are so beautiful' Buffy found herself thinking.

"This world is cruel," Willow said. "I can't be...sure. I want to be sure it'd be okay with Tara if...y'know...only there no messages in a bottle or anything."

"I...I think I can...I mean I...think that's...." Buffy started over. "Good," she said.

The hacker sat up and looked at the brightening glow on the horizon. "Gettin' early you mean."

"I guess," Buffy shrugged and the two looked at each other for a moment before smiling at each other softly.

Willow shook her head. "No," she said. "I want to sleep here. With her." Willow ran her fingers over the engravings that spelled out Tara's name.

"Oh," Buffy said standing up slowly. "Oh, okay I understand." she made a show of brushing nonexistent dirt off her jeans. "Uh...alright then I guess I'll-"

"Stay with me?" Willow said looking up at the Slayer hopefully. "Stay here? With us?"

Buffy paused, 'It could...it might be...' her mind threw up objections instinctively. 'We might be intrud- Heck with it.'

Stretching out besides the reclining redhead Buffy reached over slowly and gently took Willow's hand in her good one. They lay there for a while watching the fading stars and feeling weariness steal over them.

Besides her she felt, more than heard, Willow sigh deeply, the satisfying, restful sigh of someone who has been relieved of a long held, heavy burden. "I missed you too, Buffy." Willow said.

Soon the two girls drifted off to sleep, hands still clasped together. They rested peacefully inside the glowing white borders of a circle in which two names were carved in colored sand, a circle that would protect them from any residual nightspawn. They slept and dreamed the dreams of the found, of friends and of something, maybe, more.

The sun rose slowly in the east, its great light burning away shadow and dark, its light cascading across the sky so bright that the stars were overwhelmed and faded away until the next night. Before gaining total dominance in the dawning sky, had either of the two girls been awake to see it, they would have witnessed the awesome sight of a falling star, its tail a great and fiery white, burn itself across the sky. With its passing they would have heard the quiet rumble of distant thunder.

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Deeper

by Mad Hamlet

Copyright © 2004

Mad-hamlet@usa.net