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Wordpicture: Willow Rosenberg

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At fifteen, she was a nerd. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

At sixteen, she discovered magic. And it was good--alluring in a way that nothing else had ever been...

At seventeen, she fulfilled every high school senior's dream and blew up her school. Admittedly with help.

At eighteen, her life ended--or so it seemed. Loving a werewolf had been difficult enough. When he left her, it was soul-killing.

At nineteen, her life began again. A new life, a new love... Everything from then on should have been perfect.

But nothing's ever perfect--as she learned when she was twenty, and they lost the Slayer.

Things only got worse when she brought the Slayer back. Suddenly, at twenty-one, her new love had left her and returned and been ripped from her a final time, and she'd lost her will and what precious little remained of her innocence.

But it wasn't until she lost her mind that she began to see things clearly. Until she had looked into the abyss, as they say, she hadn't really seen herself. And then one day, on a grassy knoll in England, she called forth the Earth and asked it to create for her. She asked, and that was enough...

Enough to start her on the road home.

And now, staring at the burnt out remains of that home, she could feel the Earth's gratitude. It thanked them for this destruction. It thanked her.

Which was enough to start her on a road to another home, some other place.

After all, Earth would still hold her up, no matter where she went.

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The End