AUTHOR: Goddess Isa
EMAIL: [email protected]
SUMMARY: Xander and Willow have a rough go of it. Set in the fall of 99
SPOILER: nothing specific, just the basics we know about the remainder of S3
DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just email me & lmk where it's going - I like seeing my name in print =) My site - http://planetslaythis.homestead.com
FEEDBACK: Please, I'd hate to have to Slay for it. =P
RATING: TV-14
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, Joss Whedon does. If he ever decides to give them to me, that would be nice. =) The Hardest Thing is by those hard bodied hotties of 98 Degrees
//It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do
To turn around and walk away pretending I don't love you\\
--98 Degrees - The Hardest Thing
*****
"It gets easier."
Her voice promises me that, and I'm forced to believe her. After all, we are the last of the Slayerettes now. Angel in LA, Buffy in New York, Oz in Seattle, Giles in England, Cordelia in France. We're all there is. It's just Willow and me. Two against the world, the way we used to be.
Only it's not how it used to be. It's all jumbled up, like when someone is almost done with a puzzle and another person comes up and takes half of it apart, scattering it around the table. That's how Willow and I are.
She started Stanford the other day. Me, I started nothing. I'm still thinking. You know, I must be the only kid from our graduating class whose parents aren't on him to do something. Mine could care less. As long as there are cigarettes in the morning and whiskey in the evening, they're fine. Big sister Kelly got herself a rich husband, it doesn't matter what Xander does.
It isn't fair though. We were crusaders, the seven of us. We fought for the safety of the world more than once and we won. And now we're like....like that puzzle.
I hate puzzles.
"I should go," Willow says, gathering her bookbag and. "I have class."
I don't answer her. Why should I bother? She won't heed anything I say anyway.
"I'm sorry." her voice is quiet and almost maudlin now. I hate seeing her this way. If I could reach out and touch her...
She places the flowers in her hand on my grave and kisses the headstone. "I miss you. I love you. See you tomorrow."
And then she's gone.
And when she returns the next day, and the next, we wait, but it never gets easier.