This is a Season 6 story written with a chapter per prompt word given to me.

Prompt: Colours

Willow knew Buffy hated her for what she did. She didn't understand why, but she knew she did. God, she could almost taste the hate rolling off Buffy in waves. Buffy forgave everyone else, of course she did, but not Willow. Not the one responsible for the whole spell. Buffy was so okay with everyone else it made Willow feel physically sick to be near any of them while Buffy was there. She hadn't been able to do it before, nothing like it, this was Tara's domain. But now she could feel it. Not empathy. Never empathy.

Not now.

Tendrils of emotions that wrapped round a person and spread to others around them. The warm purple thread that reached out for Giles when he neared Buffy. The orange tendril that was always there reaching out for Xander, even if was on the other side of town. The velvety red and green tendril that wrapped round her own girlfriend, glowing brighter the closer Willow got to Buffy. The black sharp tendril that never reached for her, only blocked her when she neared.

Willow did what Willow knows. She researched. Auras, empaths, anything to do with emotion. Eventually, she stumbled across a colour chart of the tendrils, and explanations of the types. Purple for family, orange for only the closest of friends. Red for protection and green for platonic love, entwined tendrils of two colours proves the strongest bond of all. And then she found the black barbs she was looking for, and there was no surprise there. Hate. Loathing. And fear.

Fear was deep dark blue that was meant to be entwined around the black barbs of hate.

When Willow looked at Tara, she looked at her through a deep dark blue mist that was emanating from Tara in her direction.

Fear.

Tara feared her.

She didn't look at Tara again.

She looked up from the latest piece of demon research, and homed in on her new ability. She almost chocked on blue. Sure, other colours floated around, but none to her. Some yellow sympathy from Xander, a slither of purple from Giles, the small tendrils of deep red love forcing its way through the mist around Tara. Nothing like the cacophony of colours around her from the others to each other.

Willow had to leave. The blue was claustrophobic. It was going to kill her.

She slammed the book shut and stood up. She didn't have to look around to see the eyes on her. She already knew. The Magic Box was almost filled with blue that Willow couldn't see. The door was only slightly visible.

She bolted.

It was only when she came back 2 hours later that she noticed there was no blue in the Magic Box at all. Not after she'd left. So she hung her head and glanced around her, spotting the orange tendril attached to Xander, already knowing where it would take her. To Buffy.