windows, scar, trust (max of 350 words)
(takes place in the Lotus 'verse)
Tara was wary of windows. Not all of them, just the one.
She was surprised at how delicately a window could shatter. Sometimes in the morning, Tara would hear the pane break, sounding almost like a light twinkling and in any other world it would have reminded her of a wind chime.
But in this place she only saw blood and a question.
Since Spike had told her the truth, that it was her who had gotten shot not Willow, Tara would often dip a finger under the collar of her shirt and absentmindedly trace the area over her heart. She didn't understand it, how there was no scar. No mark to show what had transpired, just a expanse of skin as smooth as her memory.
Months ago, she'd stood in front of the same window in their bedroom, deciding what to do about Willow. Tara knew she was strong enough to leave her, to leave everything she'd ever known. She'd done it once before, after all. But Tara wasn't sure about Willow. No, she was sure about Willow and the sinking feeling in her stomach was why she hesitated. But in the end, that was why Tara had to leave and she knew it.
She'd stood, arms crossed, a hand resting over her heart, staring emptily into backyard. Had part of her known even then? Had Willow been her scar, the way she quaked through Tara's being?
Tara remembers when things were simple. When trust had been given without hesitation and the lines were clearer. It seems so far away now, knowing the terrible, dark things Willow was capable of, but she hopes - Tara hopes, with everything in her and without - that this spell will bring her back. That it'll give them the opportunity to make new, to fix things that had gone so horribly, horribly wrong.
Willow said she'd always find her. It's time Tara returned the favor.