TNW13177@aol.com

Title: Blue Oysters on a Wednesday
Author: Nickle
Disclaimer: ME owned
Feedback: Sure, why not.
Rating: PG
Notes: Hee. If you can believe it, I held back on the bashing. And
uh...Willow is the main character by the fic being ABOUT her. Heh.
~*~*~*~*~

I remember that THAT day had started like any other day.

I woke up early, hit the wheel and did a few rotations, guzzled from my water
bottle, and nibbled on a few pellets. Then took my nap before I repeated the
ritual before lunch.

Sure it isn't much to do, but I AM a rat. 

A stupid, white little rat for a little over two and a half years now.

I'm not bitter about it anymore. Not really. I mean sure it would've been
nice if Willow could've changed me back given that she's increased her power
by a zillion fold since she went total Wiccan. Or if she couldn't find the
time from her busy schedule then her girlfriend Tara- who obviously is on the
high end of the power grid- could've had a go at it.

But noooo. Let's not worry about Amy. Let's not try to think of a way to
change her back. Let's focus on developing our powers to help Buffy when she
doesn't really need our help. Let's focus on developing our powers to the
point of helping to resurrect the dead or beat the crap out of a demi-god but
let's not even think about trying to help the human trapped in a rat's body
who has been eating nothing but ground up grains and grass and other crap
shaped into nasty green little pellets for freakin years and doing nothing
but running in a stinky cage on a damn wheel!

Okay. I'm still a little bitter. Perhaps a teensy bit. A male roomie probably
would help take a little of the tension away but Willow is just SO busy doing
more important things that she wouldn't even think about supplying a me with-

Goddess.

I get that Willow is helping to save the world. She's a powerhouse in the
evil fighting department, but damn. She's got the skills, she could do
something. She could think about trying to help me get my life back.

She could think about me.

The only attention I get from her is a few minutes of her baby talk and
perhaps a minute out of the cage as she lets me run around on her bed. I
don't even think she thinks of me as a human anymore but really as a rat. She
treats Spike more humanely than she does me.

Or rather she did.

Like I said I never thought I'd see her go down like that. Not after
everything she's fought.  I mean…damn something so simple, so…innocent just
took her out. And by taking her out, I mean it TOOK her OUT. She was moaning
and retching and delirious for days before Tara gave up on trying to cure her
with love and magic and took her over to the student clinic.

But by then it was too late. She was too far gone for them to do anything.

Willow Rosenberg was dead.

Things around here were pretty glum after that. Tara was holed up in here in
a mood. She'd look at pictures of Willow, listen to songs that Willow liked,
wrap herself up in Willow's blanket and cry for hours before she fell asleep.

Then she'd talk in her sleep. In her dreams talking to Willow before she got
sick, trying to warn her against making the evening special by preparing
dinner and decorating the room in celebration of Tara's recovery from Glory's
brain scramble.

Over and over she would say the same thing-

"Blue Oysters-¦ Blue Oysters on Wednesday-¦"

She'd wake up then. Looking around the room with wet cheeks before falling
back to the bed in sobs.

She was really pitiful. I mean *really* pitiful.

You couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Even though she's a little 'eh' in
the personality department, Tara's an okay witch.

She was taking this so hard. It happened so quickly and took her by complete
surprise.

Took me by surprise too.  I didn't think that a rat who used to be a witch
could actually still do magic.

I just-¦I mean-¦well I had a bad day and was in one of my moods and she was
skipping around here so happy and goofy and HUMAN that I wished that those
blue oysters she was busy preparing would make her ill and that she would
drop dead after a long torturous illness.

Didn't realize that I had been muttering a spell under my breath. Didn't'
realize that the hateful feelings of a little rat were strong enough to make
it carry through.

Who would've thought it, huh?

But it was. Willow is dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Dead as a doornail.

All because of blue oysters on a Wednesday.

I just fee-¦I mean it's just SO sad and unfortunate that this happened to
her. I didn't want to kill her, I just wanted to-¦stop her from being-¦Willow.
For a little while.

Damn the last thing I want is her death on my conscience. Now I have to live
with this for the rest of my life. But at least I'll be human while I'm
suffering my guilt.

One good thing I learned from all this is how to tap into my powers-even when
I'm an animal. I'm back to being bipedal and eating food that doesn't look
like green crap.

Thank Goddess.

Now if only I could get rid of my buckteeth and stop nibbling my food huddled
naked in the corners of rooms I'd be okay.

END