Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Wish I did but I don’t. BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and Anita Blake belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton.
Distribution: Take it if you want it. Just email me first.
Summary: Asher finds a lost soul.
Feedback: Love it!
Spoilers: BTVS: season 6
Author Note: I had originally wrote this story as a one shot for Zoe's birthday. But I liked the idea so much I have decided to rewrite and extend it.
Willow laid quietly in the Summers' guest room, trying desperately not to think about what she had done.
She could hear them whispering about her in hush tones laced with fear and anger. Xander and Giles had wanted to send her away to a Covenant in England, while Buffy had wanted her magic to be bound. Dawn just wanted her dead, put down like any other evil monster. Willow snorted is bemusement. They should have listened to Dawn. Some things can’t be forgiven, like trying to kill your friends and attempting to destroy the world. She had fell deep into the dark arts, past the point where any sane person would go, and no one could come back from that, not completely.
They didn’t see her as their friend Willow anymore, but the thing that was once their friend and they mourned for their lost. For them they had lost not one but two friends that day, one to death and the other to darkness. She was now a something that needed to be dealt with, another problem that needed to be solved. They were right in a way. Everything inside of her that was good and wonderful died when Tara died. All that was left was this empty shell, just another living corpse that needed to buried or burned.
It didn’t took Willow long to realize she couldn’t stay. It was an easy decision to make, one based on pain and grief. It just hurt too much to stay in the same house that she once shared with her beloved Tara. It evoked feeling that she no longer wanted to feel, of things she had lost and will never have again. So after the others went to sleep, she slipped out of bed and left, running towards oblivion where she couldn’t feel anything at all.
Willow had walked for hours half hoping that some random demon or vampire would finish her off. Unfortunately, the word had gotten out that she was some kind of magic sucking dark witch; and after they found out what she had done to Rack, no demon in a fifty-mile radius would risk their neck for a seamlessly easy prey. Willow had wandered for days until the streets no longer look familiar and sulfur of the hell mouth no longer tainted the air. Then she emptied her pockets of all her cash and purchased the first bus out of town. She didn’t care where it took her as long as it took her somewhere no one could recognize her.