She stood on the rocks, looking down at the churning blue-gray sea. It was beautiful and tragic at the same time. She felt like her whole life was devoted to everyone but herself, everything she stood for was for someone else. She'd been doing it since she was little, being the rock that everyone could lean on. Being what everyone else needed, not what she needed. She was sick of it, it needed to end. The moss coming up the cliff had been slippery and she'd cut her foot, blood was dripping into the crevices of the rock she stood on. It was ironic that the last foot print she should put on this earth would be bloody.

She took a deep breath and raised her face to the blue sky, screaming out her final frustrations and agonies. Opening her arms to the heavens she leapt, doing a ever graceful swan dive into the rocks below.
~*~
Willow stood in a foggy atmosphere, the clouds rolling around her. She was aware that her clothes had changed into long white swirling robes, she stared down at her sandaled feet. *I'm in heaven. . . * She thought dimly. Her mind whirling, she'd actually gone through with it. She'd killed herself.

She glanced around, afraid of what she would find. No angels to lead her in. . . no pearly gates. Nothing. A shrouded figure came out of no where, he was cloaked in black and his fingers were bones. He held a great scathe in his hand and as he stepped forward held out his other to her.

"Death." She whispered, half believing it.

The figure nodded. "You've taken your own life, before your time."

She turned her face away from his hollowed skull eyes, "I. . . couldn't do it anymore." He grabbed her chin, pulling her face almost painfully to meet his eye sockets.

"It was before your time. You had no right to change the fate of so many." Tears welled up in her eyes and she pulled herself away from him.

"I had no right? Its my life! You. . . just because your death. . . you can't tell me what to do!" Her eyes flashed fire and deaths gaze seemed to harden, she shivered.

"You do not know what this will cause, do you? You have taken another life with yours."

"Oh, god. Tara?"

"No. Not the one who loves you. The one who did." The world fuzzed out around her and suddenly she was sitting in Oz's van next to him. He had been crying, it was odd to see the tear tracks running down the stoic werewolves face. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, he was driving too fast.

She heard the squeal of tires and the crunch of metal but everything went blank before that, and she was standing at the foot of a hospital bed. Oz was wrapped from head to toe. His face was cut and bruised and the monitors around him seemed to be getting dimmer and dimmer. Tears were streaming down her face as she moved toward him, placing a hand on his face. "Oh Oz, you shouldn't have done this. . . not for me. . . I'm not worth it." The monitor gave a jerk as Oz's heart started and then he flatlined. Death was there, his scathe clutched in his hand above Oz.

"He's gone. Taken from his path over guilt, and pain." Willow was shaking her head furiously.

"Why? Why! We. . . I hurt him so badly. . . he couldn't have just been happy that I died!" The hospital room fizzed out and Oz was gone. Death was standing before her, menacing. "Can I see him? He's here right? Heaven. . . oh god. Please let me see him."

A eerie smile came over deaths face, at least what Willow took to be a smile out of bones. "My dear, Mr. Osbourne did go to heaven. . . your assuming that you did as well. Where do you think suicides go?"

Willow blinked. "You mean I'm in. . h-hell?"

The sculled face threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Of course you are. Did you really think a good-for nothing like you would get into heaven?" Fire licked at her ankles and her dress started to burn.

Willow began saying Oz's name over and over again like a prayer, to a god that wouldn't hear.
~*~
Willow sat up straight, sweat pouring off of her forehead. Oz pulled her back against his chest. "Baby? Bad dream?"

She clung to him. "Oh god. . . I'm so sorry Oz! I didn't mean to. . . don't. . ."

"Willow?" He stroked her sweaty hair, soothing her.

"A dream. It was just a bad dream." She whispered, running her fingers up his bare arms.

His fingers tightened in her hair. "You wish."
~*~End~*~