Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: This was written for serialbathera. I do so hope she likes it.
Jellybeans
She left Sunnydale with so little. If she’d had time to think, she knows she’d have brought other things with her, different things, more important things. She wishes that she’d saved Tara’s headstone somehow, or at least a piece of it, or one of her bones, those precious bones that held her love together. But she doesn’t have them, or much else. But she has a small package of jellybeans. The years go by but she keeps them. Kennedy went to eat them once - she may have been joking, not that it mattered - and Willow almost left her. Kennedy learned quickly: the jellybeans are sacred.
Willow takes them out of the drawer by her bed every day - at least once, sometimes twice. Though she never eats them, she can taste them through the plastic when she holds them in her hands. They taste of Sunnydale and Buffy and Xander, they taste of good days and bad days and the girl she used to be, they taste of Oz and they taste of Tara, they taste of all the happiness she once had and all the happiness she’ll never know again. The jellybeans are sacred. They taste like home.