Promises
Who: Willow Rosenberg
Where: the tower
When: after the call from Xander
Invited: phone call from Xander, Faith , Gavin? unknown
Rating: unknown
Title: Promises
Willow had gone up stairs to her private tower after the phone call to Xander. She missed him, even as she knew his friends, people she once called family, plotted to destroy her, to wipe her from the planet.
the picture:
She stepped into the tower, and began climbing the polished white and silver marble staircase. She then opened the white ash wood door to her tower. This large tower room was not a place of magic that she used, but a place of memories, an asylum, a sanctuary that she could remember those long lost days prior to when Tara died.
The room was large, with white washed walls, and two large rounded, arched windows one to the east, the other to the west. There was a brass day bed on the left side of one of the windows, and a large white washed dresser to the right. There was a bookcase, filled with yearbooks, diaries, scrapbooks filled with memories that ripped at Willow’s fragile, complicated, practically broken soul.
She went and knelt in front of a large white washed chest, with the letters TBM engraved into the top along with a weeping willow tree wrapped with wild roses. Willow’s pale fingers trail over the letters and the engraving, as her eyes filled a hot rush of tears. She lifted the lid, and her fingers caressed a dark blue cashmere sweater. She lifted it from the box along with a long dark chocolate brown broomstick skirt. She carried them to the bed, and they seemed to fill with nothing but air. She lied in it’s arms, and for a short time, pretended it was Tara holding her.
After a while she stood, and the magic deflated the clothes. Willow then put them back in the chest. She closed the lip and then looked at the pictures she had framed on the bookcase. They stared at her, reminding, taunting for her failure to protect them from the one thing she could have. Herself, her magic, her darkness. the monster she had become.
She stepped over to one of the pictures. It was in an anique silver frame that Joyce Summers had given her as a graduation gift. God, how she missed Joyce. She had been like amother to willow and to Xander. The picture was one of Her, Xander and Buffy from Halloween , first year of college. Xander was looking at Buffy, wearing that silly tux. He had decided to go as ‘Bond, James Bond.’ She laughed a little as she remembered. Buffy had been in the middle wearing a Little Red Riding Hood costume, with a basket full of stakes. She, willow, had gone as Joan of arc, because her boyfriend at the time, Oz, had gone as God.
She turned away from the pictures, to push the tears from her cheeks.
“I’m sorry Guys, I promise, when I remake the world, everything will be the way it should be. No more monsters like me, like Warren. I promise. I’ll make it right” he said out loud, her words were more then just words, they were a vow, a promise, something unbreakable.