Supposed To
Spurglie

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

She wasn't supposed to leave me. Not like this. I didn't deserve this. We'd only just got back together. There were so many more kisses and lazy days spent in bed for us, and so much more love I had left inside still to give her. Now she's gone. She's gone and she won't be coming back. I can't believe it really happened. It's a bad dream. The worst dream. It has to be.

But I think it's real.

You know, through all of the filth and evil that the hellmouth throws at us, all the monsters and the scum sucking demons, I managed not to lose anyone I loved since Jesse. Poor Jesse. He never even knew what it was that took him. Back then the only thing we only had to worry about were our bad dreams. He never even got to meet any of the more colourful demons that it's been our distinct displeasure to deal with over the years. It was a vampire that took him. Just a lowly vampire that we should have been able to stop, but because we didn't know how to, it killed him. What if we'd known? All it takes is a sharp stick. A toothpick. A splinter. And if we'd saved him, if he'd lived? Would he be here now with Xander? Maybe he's introducing himself to Tara right now and they can sit around and swap stories about me. I just hope they can't see what I've become. A killer, even if it was in their name. For their sake.

Joyce is gone too, but at least it was natural. At least she died at home, where she felt safe and where she knew she was loved. And Buffy? Well she's like the New York cockroach. Apparently it's going to take more than a nuclear winter to keep her down.

All those monsters. All that magic. All those imaginative ways to kill and maim people and he takes Tara away from me with a gun. One tiny bullet that wasn't even meant for her. Wasn't even aimed. It was a mistake. A goddamn mistake. Her death was a mistake. Everything she was - her gentleness, her beauty, her strength - is gone. She loved me, and she'd come back to me, and it was a mistake. It's not right. It's not fair. And I'll never get to touch her again.

It was meant for Buffy. Buffy, who survived. I made her whole yet again and still she tried to stop me from taking my revenge because she thinks I'm wrong. They all did. Just because he had a dirty little soul. Who the hell are they to decide? Who is she? She's The Slayer, not Lord God Almighty. He's a murderer. A little kid playing at being a bad guy and then can't take his punishment like a man when he loses. I don't care if he had a soul. There, I said it. I don't care. Warren, that piece of shit. I'm glad he's dead. I'm glad I killed him and I'm glad I made it as painful and as terrifying as possible for him. I'll never be sorry. Never.

I won't even pretend for them. They better not ask me to.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

He'll go to hell and she'll be safe in heaven. Maybe they gave her Buffy's place. Is that wrong? Maybe they gave her mine.

I wonder where I'll end up now. I only took an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, isn't that what the Bible says? So maybe I was supposed to turn the other cheek. Why? So he could shoot me through it? He's- was only a little boy. Was only. A weak, pathetic human. Just like Jesse. Just like Xander. Just like me. Except I have the magic now. I have so much of the stuff that I think I've changed forever. Addicted much? Nah, not me. Not me. I've become the magic. I wear it like my skin. I can feel the change in me already. It's a part of me. It's not a trip anymore; it's not some high that I have to trick the elements into giving me. They recognise me now and offer it freely. That's what I am. A natural born witch connected to the earth in a way they'll never understand. They may never be able to forgive. Giles may have thought he knew what he was doing in giving me all that power, but I'll bet he didn't count on this happening to me. They'll be forever afraid of what I can become, and even with all my strength there's nothing I can do to take that fear away.

I wonder what this will mean for the future. Maybe next time I become Veiny Black-eyed Willow they won't be able to stop me. Maybe next time there won't be enough of me left to weep so bonelessly in Xander's arms like this, clutching at handfuls of orange-brown dirt until I break my nails and my hands hurt and I can hear the whispers in the earth. The earth agrees with me. There are voices down there, you know. They welcome me. Comfort me. But it's not enough. It'll never ever ever ever be enough.

Buffy knows. She knows. The last and final decision is made by another power. The evil doers will be punished and go to hell. The good and the righteous are sent to heaven where they will be surrounded by pure joy and happiness. Why try to save all these people who are so miserable here? Where they suffer and are tormented by pain and evil when they could be wrapped up in joy in heaven?

That was what I was offering them. Is that wrong? I would have gone to the hell we know exists for them. Gladly. I would carry that burden if only I could take the pain away. Why would Buffy want to stop me from doing that?

I didn't expect to succeed, but I was willing to try.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Xander wasn't supposed to be the one who found me. He wasn't supposed to tell me that he loved me. Damn him. He wasn't supposed to mean it. He wasn't supposed to hold me in his arms and tell me that it didn't matter. That things would be okay. He wasn't supposed to make me doubt.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. They were scattered and they were weak. I did that. They were supposed to band together, find that hidden strength. They were supposed to find a way to do it, just like they always have before.

They were supposed to kill me.

Willow. Dirt. Bitter.