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A/N: Challenged by Amy to write a depressed Post Big Bad Willow fic, with alcohol, less than a thousand words. This is the result. Hope you like it, bit.

A/N 2: Drabble-fic, inspired by Amy and the country song ‘Whiskey Girl’. I’m not sure who its by, but it is a fab song.

Dedication: To J.M., who will always cause me a little more ache and a little more pain. And for G., the result of a tragic relationship that never should have happened. I love you, sonny-boy. You are my shining light, and the reason I can go on.

A/N 3: Written in the dead of night while sleep-deprived and insomnia-ridden. Please, there are reasons why it might not make sense. Not very good ones, but they work for me. *g*


Willow was depressed. Like, country music and getting drunk depressed. And she was in England, the official country of gloom. Its weather perfectly suited her mood right now. She was on her own for the night, something that had rarely happened since Giles had taken her away for magical rehab. The coven, not to mention Giles, had been very reluctant to let her out of their collective sights for the night, but one of the coven members, Nieca, had spoken up for her, saying that she had been doing very well over the past two months, and had convinced them to let her go out alone.

So now she was sitting in what could only accurately be called a dive, which served a myriad of alcoholic beverages, but the only one she wanted was Jack Daniels. There was a bottle half-empty in front of her, and a full shot glass in her hand. Willow lifted it and silently toasted her lost love, taken from her in a vicious twist of cruel fate, one stray bullet and the shining light of her existence was gone. Snuffed out like a candle that wasn’t needed anymore. With a bitter snort, she tipped the glass back and let the fiery liquid burn a trail down her throat, adding to the molten pool of lava that her stomach was rapidly becoming.

No one she knew would approve of this, she knew, and didn’t care at this point. Xander never drank to excess because of the fine example his parents set, and Buffy, well, after the whole ‘beer bad’ incident; she’d pretty much shied away from more than one or two beers. She knew Giles indulged in good scotch every once in a while, she’d found his hidden bottle back in Sunnydale, when they were still in the old library, and once she’d caught him drowning his sorrows after they’d fought Glory; and he would still tell her ‘no’ in that very British Stiff Upper Lipô way that he had.

But she was an adult, she thought; pouring another shot of the soothing liquor. Though it wasn’t soothing her. It was just something to dull the ache, lessen the pain she felt. Every day she’d inadvertently catch herself thinking of…Tara, thinking of Tara, her beautiful blonde lover, and then her breath would stall and her heart would clench, with a little more ache and a little more pain. Sharp, jagged edges that scraped her raw still, and would forever.

Bottoms up, and down went the shot. Her vision was beginning to blur now, her world taking on the soft, fuzzy edges of someone who was well on their way to being trashed. She sighed, and fingered the money she had in her pocket. Enough for a cab ride home, since she’d already paid for the bottle of whiskey. Home. Snorting derisively, Willow quickly poured another shot and drained it.

This was not home. Home was Tara, a warm place filled with sunshine, and love, and cookies, and Miss Kitty Fantastico. Home was something she would never have again.

For now, home was the whiskey flowing through her veins, and the small measure of forgetting it allowed her.

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The authors own nothing. Joss, UPN, WB, etc. own Buffy, the show, the characters, the places, and the backstory. The authors own any original plots.