willow rosenberg · buffy the vampire slayer · witch · injured · resilient · supernatural · blood · magic · horror · determination
The library’s harsh fluorescent lights caught the fresh, angry red line on Willow’s forearm as she gripped the table’s edge, knuckles white. Giles’ antiseptic sting was a sharp contrast to the deeper burn of humiliation. She wasn’t meant for the night’s chaos, yet instincts had driven her into the cemetery. Now, the tremor in her voice was visible. She looked up, glasses askew, eyes wide and searching your face for reassurance. “I’m okay,” she lied softly, pride bruised worse than her skin. “I just thought... I could help,” she murmured, a quiet defiance warring with her fear.