Willow Rosenberg had never known such a clarity of purpose in her entire life. Longer than she could remember, she’d thought of herself as ridiculously, pitifully small.

Well, that had changed.

The alchemists she’d studied with Tara, be they Nicolas Flamel or Robert Fludd, would have called this her Opus Magnus, her Great Work. She preferred to think of it as an act of mercy.

For Willow Rosenberg had felt the weight of the world, and decided it was too heavy for anyone to bear. Especially her.

Standing on Kingman’s Bluff, her black hair flowing in the breeze, Willow extended her hands and let the tremendous power she possessed flow through her, out of her, onto the rocky ground. And the world began to shake as the Temple surged out of it and rose proudly in the air.

Willow smirked. It really was all about the power. The power to end it all. Period.

Something rustled at the edge of her consciousness. Something not of her or of the Temple. She let her mind reach out… I have to stop her, said the voice.

“Always the Slayer… right to the last”, she spoke, eliciting a mental gasp from the girl who had been her best friend, so long ago… Had been Willow’s best friend, she corrected herself with anger. Buffy was nothing but an enemy. And a jealous enemy at that. They were all jealous. “Well it is the last, you know. For all your fighting, thinking you’re saving the world… and in the end, I’m the only one who can save it.”
By killing us?, she heard in her mind. Something in the tone made her stir inside, but it lasted only a moment.
“It’s the only way to stop the pain. I can’t take it anymore…,” she answered. Deep, deep down, the dull, constant ache that she managed to keep under control by replacing it with pure anger gave her a sharp jolt. It wasn’t meant to be this way, she reflected. Life… wasn’t meant to be so hard, so… full of despair. She’d known so much grief… The massacres at Sunnydale High, the endless battles, not knowing whether the day she was living was the last… Oz had left her, then Buffy, and now Tara… So much loss, and what had she gained? Pain. The pain of the world.
Shut up, she ordered herself, clamping down hard on the pain. She had the power to end it. Returning to the matter at hand, she realized that her former best friend at least deserved an honourable death. One that would also keep her out of the way. “But I know you, Buffy,” she resumed, something like tenderness in her voice, a half-smile creeping up on her face. “You’re all warrior… You won’t go out without a fight. I don’t really have time for one… but you should go out fighting.”
Willow, what do you…, Buffy started in an alarmed tone. “It was me who took you out of the earth,” Willow cut in. For all the gratitude that got me, bitch, she thought sourly. Again, the pain. They’d never understood her, never would. Nor would they understand what she now had to do. The thankless SOB’s. “Well now, the earth wants you back,” she finished, a smirk on her face.
With a flick of her hand, Willow conjured up Buffy Summers’ last job.

“Let the cleansing fires from the depths… burn away the suffering souls and bring sweet death!”
Willow closed her eyes with relief. Briefly. Now, with the Earth’s vital energy channelling through her, to the Temple, up to empty space, it couldn’t be long…
Tara…
Buffy had it wrong. They’d all had it wrong. The only way to get rid of all the pain, destruction, demons, vampires, was to wreak more destruction. So much destruction that this Earth would never harbour life anymore. So much destruction that no one would be left alive to ever feel pain again. She hoped her friends made it to Buffy’s paradise. For that, she’d brave the flames of Hell after this. Oh, do shut up, stupid little girl, she snarled at herself, wondering where these thoughts had come from. She didn’t care where her “friends” ended up. As for herself, the bliss of non-existence was all that she yearned for. No more thoughts, no more regrets…
The energy channel to the Temple dried up abruptly.
“Hey black-eyed girl,” spoke a too-familiar voice, “watcha doin’?”
Of all the people she expected… “Get out of here!” she snarled at him. Xander was something that was supposed to be very, very far away, an echo of a previous life… She didn’t have time for this… aggravation.
“Oh no. You’re not dealing with the Powers, you know,” he answered lightly. “You may be a hyped-up überwitch, but this carpenter can drywall you into the next century!”
Willow was more than annoyed. He didn’t know her. He never did. Otherwise he wouldn’t have insulted her by attempting to tap into her by jokes. That was good for the mousy little girl, not her.
“I’m not joking, Xander. Get out of my way, NOW!”
It came naturally. The flick of the arm, the bolt that sent Xander crashing to the ground, unconscious. My God, what am I doing, she thought, suddenly reeling with shock. I said shut up, you idiot!, she shouted at herself. You’re NOTHING, do you hear? NOTHING! And neither is he!!!

Stabilized, Willow resumed her channelling. From the Earth through her, to the Temple, to the ether… From the Earth through her, to the Temple…
Again, Xander stood there, interrupting the flow. OK… You wanna play? This time I’ll blow you to kingdom come, she promised him.
“You can’t stop this!” she informed him. Perhaps one last chance…
“Yeah, I get that,” he acknowledged. “It’s just, where else am I gonna go?”
To Hell would be a good start, she thought with barely veiled anger.
“You’ve been my best friend my whole life,” Xander continued. “World gonna end… where else would I wanna be?”
Understanding dawned on Willow. And it amused her. Oh, how it amused her. The way a scientist would be amused at a lab rat who’d found a new way to get to the cheese. Didn’t he know, this poor, clueless Xander, how far above him she was?
“Is this the master plan? You’re gonna stop me by telling me ya love me?” she asked, allowing herself a smirk.
“Well, I was going to walk you off a cliff and hand you an anvil,” he answered, deadpan. “But… seemed kinda cartoony.”
What had been the old Willow Rosenberg had to appreciate Xander’s gift for repartee. The new Willow humoured him. “Still making jokes…,” she started.
“I’m not joking. I know you’re in pain…,” he answered soberly. Willow groaned. Here we go. The fake, human-interest psychology. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re in,” he continued. “And I know you’re about to do something apocalyptically evil and stupid… and hey, still wanna hang. You’re Willow…”
“Don’t call me that!” she retorted angrily. That had actually stung. She’d had just about enough. But…
“The first day of kindergarten,” he jumped in quickly. “You cried because you broke the yellow crayon, and you were too afraid to tell anyone.”
She wanted to zap him here and now, end it quickly. She didn’t like hearing this. She remembered that little girl too well; the little redhead who’d hung out in the back of the class because she was so shy, who’d stuck to Xander as often as she could so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone else… How had she gone from that little girl to all the grief she now felt? Why had life done all this to her? You’re not me, you little idiot!!! she growled inside to the little girl.
As if sensing the question, Xander continued. “You’ve come pretty far… ending the world, not a terrific notion, but the thing is, yeah… I love you. I love crayon-breaky Willow, and I love scary, veiny Willow.”
So he thinks I’m just the same Willow, she thought. Let me show you how wrong you are, buddy.
“So if I’m going out,” Xander was saying, “it’s here. If you wanna kill the world, then start with me. I’ve earned that.”
“You think I won’t?” she growled ominously. Don’t push me too far, Xander Harris. You can die easily or in pain. Either way… you’ll die.
Xander shrugged. “It doesn’t matter… I’ll still love you.”
“Shut up!!!” she shouted. She was shaking inside; realizing he was playing with her psyche, she angrily slashed his cheek with magic.
Xander touched his bleeding skin, looked at her… Yes, that’s right, come at me and I’ll show you who’s got the power, she thought. But Xander surprised her by saying, once again, “I love you!”
Can’t you see I’m doing this for you, for all of us?, cried the old Willow Rosenberg.
“SHUT UP!!!” she shouted again, as much to herself as to him, knocking him down with a bolt of energy.
So much loss… Tara, why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t it be me? And why Xander, why him, now?, cried the little voice once again.
Xander stumbled to his feet. “I love you,” he repeated.
“SHUT UP!!!” she shouted, sounding now more panicked than angry. The fury was ebbing away, and the power… No! I can’t! Don’t make me live!
“I love you, Willow”, Xander said softly, gingerly stepping toward her.
“SHUT UP!!!” The bolt of energy that came forth from her hands was barely enough to make him step back a bit.
“I love you!”
Willow was shaking now, as she realized the power was gone and Xander was in front of her. “STOP!” she angrily demanded, realizing with fear and pain that whatever strength she had was toppling inside her. She was toppling inside. No, please! NO, NO!!! Again, she tried zapping him, but nothing happened.
What remained of the fury Willow had harnessed started throwing punches at Xander’s chest. She wasn’t really hurting him, though. She was hurting Warren, the world, all that had wronged her, hurt her and made her what she’d become.
With no more fury to clamp it down, Willow Rosenberg’s pain came up to the surface in one huge, intolerable wave. Suffocating in tears, unable to stand up anymore, she crumpled in Xander’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. It all came out at once. The grief over Tara’s death, over the sorry place the world was, and over what a sorry person she was.
“I love you,” Xander said once more, holding her in his arms. But she didn’t hear him.

Chapter 2

1630 Revello Drive – two days later

Buffy distractedly wrote up her budget for the month of June, paying bills as she went along, calculator in hand, deducing them from whatever money she had left in her account. It would be another tight month. At least nobody thrashed the house this time, she thought. Xander had temporarily boarded up the window in the room where… Buffy pounced angrily on her calculator, forcing herself back to what she was doing.
For once, she welcomed the bill-paying activity. Surrounding herself with a semblant of normalcy was a start. Having something to busy herself with was even better. And something to keep that image out of her mind. A framed picture of herself, Xander and Willow, lying on the floor, the glass broken.
It had been a hectic two days. Just as it had been when she’s died. Or so she’d been told. Back then, Willow and Tara had taken care of Dawn, while Xander and Anya had planned her funeral and Giles and Spike took up slaying duty.
Now they were doing it all over again. Buffy and Xander were taking care of Tara’s funeral arrangements. Xander with the same determination to do right by his late friend that he’d shown for Buffy; Buffy herself with a certain sadness toned down by the knowledge that Tara was happy. She’d refused to invite the McClays, of course. She’d notified them by letter, but as far as she was concerned, she and her friends were Tara’s true family.
Giles and Anya had busied themselves with filling out the insurance papers for the wreck that was now the Magic Box. And her Watcher had also been in communication with England, for… business.
None of them tried to think too much of the broken girl lying in bed upstairs.
None except Dawn.
Buffy’s little sister had insisted on keeping Willow company. The Slayer hadn’t thought it a good idea at first, what with the danger her best friend – but is that still true? she thought - may still represent for Dawn. But the teenager had waved those concerns aside; she felt she owed Willow. After all, the redhead had sacrificed a lot to be with the teen when Buffy herself had died.
Besides, Buffy discovered she needed Dawn. Now that she’d come to terms with the idea of her sister not being merely a kid to be protected, she found that Dawn was useful. And she impressed her. She rarely left Willow’s bedside.

But Willow didn’t talk.

Since Xander had carried her back home in his arms, Willow had just lain there, curled up in bed. Not talking, not eating, barely moving. Just staring straight ahead, dried tears on her face. It was as though she was just… gone. And Buffy couldn’t do anything about it.
So she had busied herself elsewhere, avoiding the bedroom where a woman she wasn’t sure she knew anymore lay silent. She didn’t even know how she felt… She’d wanted so much, fought so much to make sure they didn’t lose Willow. And now she wondered if they hadn’t lost her anyway. Closing her eyes, Buffy thought back… the horrible things Willow had said to her…
Let me go, superbitch!
Willow’s hate-filled voice echoed through Buffy’s mind. The pure sorrow of facing off against her best friend as an enemy in the Magic Box, how it hurt her to hit Willow, how she couldn’t reconcile this angry woman with the redheaded girl who’d sunk her teeth in her peanut butter sandwich, that first day in the dorm… No, she wasn’t ready yet, as much as she yearned to be by her friend’s side.
And Willow probably wasn’t ready to see her yet, either.

Whether Buffy would ever forgive her didn’t even cross Willow’s mind. Not much did, actually. Only pain lived there; pain at what she had become, and especially the pain of the horrible void Tara’s disappearance had left within her. It wasn’t a conscious pain, really; Willow Rosenberg didn’t have any thoughts, only raw feelings. She only knew the pain.
Silent tears rolled down Willow’s face, as they had for two days. She hardly noticed them. She hardly even noticed Dawn softly stroking her back, trying to comfort her, just being there.

Dawn had never been so alarmed in her life. But of course, she’d never seen someone like this before.
She’d seen misery. Her mother in the hospital, Buffy after her and Angel had broken up, Xander after he’d left Anya at the altar. She’d even been told about how Buffy had shut down when she’d been captured by Glory.
They’d all had their share of sorrow. But nothing like this. Looking at the still form curled up in a fetal position on the bed, Dawn wondered with dread if Willow would ever be the same. Or if she’d ever be, period. She’d never seen a person so… utterly destroyed.
If she’ll ever be again… The thought made Dawn shiver. She didn’t dare think of the answer… So she just stroked the silent form, trying to making her presence comforting. Sometimes Willow moaned; never did she speak. Either she’ll acknowledge me, or she won’t, the teenager thought.
But that wasn’t important. What was important was that she not leave Willow alone. She dared not think of what would happen if…

* * *

She was dreaming. Walking down the hallway in old Sunnydale High, her books clutched tightly in her arms, she heard voices. All the voices of the demons and vampires they’d slain through the years. The Mayor, Adam, Professor Walsh, Luke, Darla, the Master… But now they spoke with reverence as she passed by. You’re one of us, now… one of us…
“Willow?”
She was there. Standing in the shadows. Dressed as she’d been the last time they’d been together. Willow felt a wave of pure, raw happiness flow through her. She ran, and ran, and ran, trying to get to her lover… but she couldn’t. She tried to speak out Tara’s name, but no sound would come forth.
Where had she gone? Willow looked around, confused… and came face to face with Tara. She launched herself into her arms.
“I thought you were dead!” she wailed, burying her face in Tara’s blood-soaked shoulder.
“I could never leave you,” Tara said tenderly.
For a moment, Willow rested her trouble psyche. But just for a moment.
“You don’t think I’d leave you be with all you’ve done, do you?” Tara added, her voice frosty and accusing.
Distraught, Willow looked up at her lover. Tara lifted a hand, and tore off her own face. Beneath, to Willow’s horror, was Warren’s skinless skull, muscles gleaming.
“Or did you forget what you did?” Warren said, bursting into a maniacal laugh.
No… Willow stepped back, tried to stumble away, but Warren would not let her go. He had a grip on her with his skinless, wet hands. Then Giles was there, too. “Are you interpreting all the signs, you rank, arrogant amateur?” he snarled.
Then Tara was back, glaring at her alongside Warren and Giles. “I told you once you’d find your true self”, she said coldly. Willow looked down at herself and noticed she was wearing a pink flowery skirt over tights and tennis shoes. She was dressed as she was in her high-school days. With one exception… her hair was black.
Noooooooooo!!! She cried out.
“You know what you have to do”, Giles calmly said.

Willow jerked awake, panting. For the first time in two days, she was focused. Tears were still streaming down her face; it didn’t keep her from noticing Dawnie dozing away in a chair pulled up against the bed.
Willow got up quietly and got dressed. Indeed, she did know what she had to do.

Chapter 3

Dawn hadn’t even noticed she’d drifted off to sleep. She just awoke with a start and a terrible sense of dread. She looked at the alarm clock and realized she’d been asleep for over two hours. It was past three in the morning… and the covers on the bed were undone, and empty. Oh, no… Willow, NO!!!
Dawn darted out of the room, tears already rolling down her face. She hated waking her sister up in the middle of the night, but this time, she had no choice. She didn’t even try to be quiet about it, either.
“Buffy, wake up!!! Willow’s gone!!!” she cried, running into her sister’s room.
Buffy had been sleeping peacefully, her blanket tucked up to her chin. She jolted awake, disoriented. “Huh? Wha…”
“Willow’s gone!!!” Dawn repeated tearfully.
“Whoa, calm down,” Buffy said. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”
“I… I fell asleep, and… and… oh, Buffy, I think she’s going to…”
“Not on my watch, she isn’t,” Buffy remarked angrily, swinging her legs out of bed.
“What are we gonna do?” Dawn asked, distraught.
Buffy was already sliding on a pair of jeans. “We’re going to stop her, that’s what.”
“But… but we have no way of knowing where she went!”
“On the contrary,” Buffy answered, all Slayer. “I know exactly where she went.”

* * *

Kingman’s Bluff was exactly the way it had been two days earlier. The temple was still there, standing crooked like the Pisa Tower. There was now yellow police tape surrounding it; undoubtedly Sunnydale officials would debate for a long, long time how it had gotten there.
But none of it mattered to Willow. What she was thinking about was how the sense of clarity she’d known here was gone, and how utterly alone she was. All that remained in the surrounding darkness was the pain.
And Willow Rosenberg wasn’t here for the temple. She was here for the cliff.
You know what you have to do…
Once more, she wondered how her life had led her to this. How the shy, mousy girl had turned into the sad, sad excuse for a living being she was.
Well, no matter now. It would all end. There was no use to go on. So she inched closer to the void. Closer, closer…

“So this is your solution?”

The voice wasn’t warm. It was accusing, angry. It had a right to be. Willow closed her eyes and tried to ignore it.
“It’s the only way…” she whispered.
“Yeah, that’s what you’d like to think!” the voice said cynically. “Ending it all here, because you screwed up? What kind of answer is that? What would Tara think?”
Images of Tara flowed into Willow’s mind. Tara and her in class, in bed, in the park… Tara accusing her, her face disapproving…
“I know what she wants,” she said calmly.
“If you think Tara would want you to jump off a cliff, you’re crazier than I thought. Tara never gave up on life! She had it ripped away from her!”
You know what you have to do… “I know what I have to do,” Willow said. “I know I’m going to Hell, and I don’t care. This world is a worse hell.”
An angry, impatient sigh came from behind. “Yeah, you know what? I’ve been there, Will. I thought this world was hell. But I lived anyway! You wanna know why? Because I knew how much you guys would be in pain if I ended it all. And because I realized I wanted to see you all happy again one day.”
Willow wavered. She hadn’t known that. But still, tears started flowing anew at the reminder of being the one responsible for tearing her best friend out of Heaven.
“What kind of friend am I?” she muttered dreamily through the tears. “With a friend like me, who needs enemies?”
Buffy groaned audibly. “You remember last year, when you got me out of my catatonia? You told me to snap out of it. Well now, I’m telling you – DAMMIT, WILL, SNAP OUT OF IT!”
Willow remembered that time when Buffy had slipped into catatonia because Dawn had been captured by Glory. The Slayer was convinced she’d killed her sister; Willow had told Buffy that Dawn wasn’t dead yet. But Tara is, she thought.
“I am snapping out of it, Buffy,” she said. “I’m putting an end to it all.” With that, she once again inched toward the void.
“Willow, don’t!!!” she heard another voice behind her shout. Dawnie… She savoured the last moment of tenderness toward the teen, and then jumped.

To be continued