A Lover's Lament

Rating: PG

Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters associated with the show are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and their affiliates. If they belonged to me, none of the horrors of season six would ever have happened, and Willow and Tara would be on their honeymoon by now. But they don't, so for now I borrow and kindly ask the big, scary corporate lawyer-guy to look the other way. Also…. The song is "Reverie" by Lacuna Coil off their album In A Reverie. Again, I don't own, I just borrow… don't sue me… please. Also, even though W/T don't belong to me, this story does. Please don't plagiarize. Thank You.

Distribution: Sure, just ask me.

/mysticmuse.net 

Feedback: Yes, please. But I have a Fire Extinguisher to put out all flames.

Spoilers: Um.. yeah…Season 6, shortly after Wrecked…

Author's Notes: Songfic. This is not "death loss" just "break-up loss." Don’t want any of you folks out there thinking I’ve gone and killed someone.

Pairing: Just Willow

Willow awoke in a cold sweat. Her breathing was shallow and erratic. She closed her eyes and swallowed the hard lump that had formed in her throat. She had been dreaming of Tara, again.

Almost every night Willow's mind was visited by the same dream. In it Tara would come to her and, joining her on the bed, they would begin to make love. But as they began to levitate, which often happened as a manifestation of the two witches' passion, Tara would begin to fade away, and there was nothing Willow could say or do to keep her lover there. The blonde would vanish, and Willow would find herself plummeting back down to earth, waking only seconds before she was to hit the hard, unforgiving soil.

The lithe redhead roused herself from her lonely bed and padded quietly to the bathroom where she splashed several handfuls of cold water on her face and neck. Feeling slightly calmer, she returned to her darkened room and proceeded toward her stereo, flipping through a small stack of CDs that sat beside it. After placing her carefully made selection in the player, she returned to the now cooling bed linens, hugging one of her pillows tightly to her chest.

Softly, so as not to wake the other members of the house, the music began to play a hauntingly beautiful and poignant tune. As strings and piano swelled, the voice of a young woman could be heard singing:

I have you in my dreams at night,
You were holding my hands.
Then I awake and you're not mine,
Now it's time to rise.

I want to turn cold ice in my soul,
Got to freeze this yearning inside.

Suddenly, the girl's voice is joined by that of a young man, and together their voices join and overlap:

When you're inflicted by the passion of love
Desire and yearning the deeper they burn
You were… now it's too late, you were…

Now you're gone, it's too late
I was wrong, it's my fate

I think of you and I see me,
I'm the one I thought I'd never be
I feel dirty—no purity, desire and yearning in your heart
No mercy for you—No mercy for me.

On the bed, Willow clutched her pillow to her mouth, muting the strangled cries of desperation for her lost love. Exhausted, her pillowcase now stained with salty tears, she fell into a bitter, dreamless sleep.

The End

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