Understand
Netgirl

She emptied the little bottles of pills into the toilet one by one. Painkillers. Flush. Anti-Deppressents. Flush. Sleeping pills. Flush. She's already torn up all the prescriptions and burned them. Every little reminder of Tara's illness, destroyed. Like that period of her life never exsisted.

She can hear the blonde witch moving around in the main room, picking out clothes for the funeral. Buffy's funeral. It's tonight, after sunset so Angel and Spike can attend. She wishes she weren't so happy, but as she flushes away the rest of the pills, she's sure Buffy would understand her good mood. Buffy understood love.

Willow. Happy. Painkiller.