Sleep was cruelly torn from her, the sea receding from a woman trying to drown.

The maybe-still-morning sunlight stung as Willow heaved her eyelids open, finally surrendering herself to consciousness.

Her head throbbed a relentlessly, a terrible unyielding rhythm behind her eyes. Each and every excruciating beat her body's punishment for what she had done hours before.

Willow could feel weakness and aches throughout her entire body. This was a familiar feeling. An all too familiar feeling.

It was going to be hard getting up, from wherever Willow was now laying.

Though she didn't know where that was.

She didn't know how she ended up like this.

She didn't know why she had ended up like this.

There was a dense fog engulfing her mind and it was hard to focus enough to even think properly.

Willow's eyes adjusted to the all too bright light that mercilessly cascaded through the windows.

Damn that hurts

Now she could see that she was on the floor in the living room. Next to the couch but evidently not on it.

Lifting her head a little and looking around, Willow could see the apartment better. Trashed wasn't exactly the right word to describe it, it was just a mess, but she must have taken while making it so. A couple of chairs were knocked over, a bottle or two on the ground, and glinting from what had to be shattered glass.

The worst part was the stain on the carpet that looked, and smelled, like she had thrown up at some point.

Realizing this, Willow looked down at herself. While thoroughly disheveled; appearing like she had made an attempt to undress but quickly gave up, Willow was clean except for what must have been some wine stains on her partially unbuttoned blouse.

Years of practice at not ruining designer evening gowns was probably to thank. Willow had learned that fairly early in her addiction. Jacques had not been kind the few times she had soiled a dress in public.

Even compared to usual.

I'm going to need clean this up before James comes back Willow thought, not wanting her friend to see the insult she had inflicted upon his generosity.

But first a question plagued her, gnawed at her mind together with the pulsing headache.

What happened?

Willow slowly muddled through her own groggy and impaired mind, trying to recall. Gradually she pieced together some of what was hopefully yesterday.

The last thing she remembered was a knock at the door.

. . . Then she went to the door and was given a letter.

She must have read the letter. . .

The letter. . .

The letter. .

The letter Willow remembered tears soaking through, ink running.

The letter that shook with her hands, trembling with every sob.

It was from her son.

It was from Whitley.

That damned letter. . .

Willow couldn't recollect a single second of what happened after she had read it and now.

But she knew by heart every word on that page. Each individual mark a brand burned on to her soul.

Her eyes began to water again as Willow remembered what she had wanted to forget. What she had tried to wipe from her memory.

She began to spiral back down as Willow was reminded of who she had become, and maybe who she still was.

I really need another-

Then a knock at the door.

That had to be Ironwood. She didn't want him to see her this way, not after she had come so far. But it wasn't like he hadn't seen her like this before. This was going to be embarrassing, degrading, but no worse than she had suffered before.

At least it's only James who will see me like this.

The knock came again, but accompanied by a voice.

Not Ironwood's, but a young woman's.

A very familiar young woman.

"Mother?"

Willow could always recognize her eldest daughter's voice.

It sent a wave of fear throughout her, she gasped at the realization.

I can't let Winter see me like this. Not again.

Willow didn't want her daughter to ever look upon the failure she had become ever again. Never again see the mother who had failed her.

Failed her so many times.

And now the mother who had tried so hard to right the wrongs had only to have failed yet again.

How could she face her daughter like this?

Getting an arm underneath herself, Willow scrambled to her feet from where she was on the ground, using the couch to pull herself the rest of the way. Muscles ached.

As she stood up a wave of nausea hit her and the room began to spin. The throbbing in her head only got worse.

Willow tried to steady herself, taking a few steps towards a chair she could use to do that. But only succeeded in taking it down with her as she fell hard to the floor below with a crash and a thud.

She let out an involuntary groan due to the now compounding pain.

Fuck

More words came from the other side of the apartment door. Willow couldn't understand what they were, but the tone was worried, almost frantic.

Next Willow heard something slam into that door, accompanied with cracking. Then again another strike, splintering the wood and slamming open the door against a wall.

"Mom!"

Seeing her mother on the ground, Winter instantly rushed through the entrance and to her mother's side. "Mom, are you alright?"

Willow felt a hand on her shoulder, and she let it help her in to more of a sitting position.

" . . I-I'm f-fine." Voice hoarse, throat dry the lie was not very believable even if proof to the contrary wasn't right in front of Winter.

The older woman was brought face to face with her daughter. Willow peered into Winter's blue eyes,

much like her own but yet so much brighter than the ones she saw in the mirror. She had always loved to see her baby girl's sapphires when they had looked up to her.

In her daughter's eyes, Willow now could see so much worry in them. Anxiety she hated to have caused, and care she didn't think she deserved any more.

For a moment Winter glanced around the apartment.

She could tell what happened.

Then the worry mixed with disappointment.

It wasn't the first time Willow had seen that in those pools of blue. But she had hoped she had seen the last.

"Mom, what happened?" Winter's honest concern laced with dismay cut deep, "General Ironwood said that you. . ."

Willow turned away as her tears began to fall, bringing up her knees closer to her chest. Tears of shame. Shame at having failed once again.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Few want to watch their parents cry. Winter was no different, even despite how many times she had witnessed it before. Maybe even because of it. Winter was not as blind to what her father did to her mother as the man thought. Those painful memories began to resurface.

So she too looked away, away from her sobbing mother.

Winter scanned the apartment, seeing the damage Willow had done. Unfortunately, none of it surprised her.

But something strange on the wall caught her attention. She got up, leaving her mother where she sat, to inspect it.

It was her mother's sword, something she remembered from her childhood, impaled into the wall.

The sword was pinning a piece of paper to that wall.

As she neared, Winter could see the writing on that page.

And standing next to the hilt she read every smudged, blue word.

Winter then came to an understanding of exactly what happened.

She understood it all.

She rushed back to her mother's side.

"Mom, I'm so sorry," Winter said kneeling back down, "Father had no right to send that. I'm sure my brother-"

"Whitley meant every word he wrote." Willow rasped, cutting Winter off, "And I deserved them all."

Willow could see the sympathy in her daughter's eyes, but as the words fell out she became more dejected.

Because despite what she had said, Winter knew the agonizing truth too. Maybe even better, she actually knew her brother after all.

But right now Willow was suffering more than just emotionally as she reaped what she had sown last night; everything hurt. Her throat felt like a dessert.

"Winter, could you get me something to drink?" She didn't want to risk another attempt at getting up so soon.

"Of course Mother." The soldier responded somberly as she rose dutifully, going to the kitchen to do as she was told.

Sitting on the floor the older woman waited for her daughter to return.

When Winter stepped back into the room Willow saw what she was carrying.

A bottle of red wine, one she must not have finished off last night.

Willow realized why:

The many times before she had asked her daughter to get her something in the morning. Back then to try and keep the pain away for as long as possible. Keeping the world blurred at every hour so she couldn't see what she had created.

Winter had even remembered what type she had preferred in the morning.

And now it would work the same as every other time.

It would take away the hurt.

I want it,

It would take away the torment.

I want it,

It would mean she wouldn't have to face the world.

I want it,

It would mean she wouldn't have to face herself.

I need it!

But it would mean that she had lost. Turn all of her work into nothing.

It would shun everyone who had helped her. Let down the people who for some reason still believed in her.

It would prove Jacques right.

Willow could see the distress on Winter's face. So much disappointment, yet still willing to help her mother. Even if that was continuing her addiction.

And even after so many years of being a horrible mother, so many years of not being there to help her.

Willow had made a promise to herself.

She would never be that person again.

No matter how hard it was.

No matter how much it hurt.

No matter hell she would have to pay.

Willow was going to keep it.

I can't.

"No! . ." Willow exclaimed, shaking her to make sure she was understood, "Please. . . just water."

Willow could see the relief wash over Winter as she heard those words. "I'll be back in a second Mom." Winter said, an upbeat tone creeping in.

And Winter smiled as she turned back around.

A sincere, happy smile. Not one trying to hide how she felt underneath.

It was something Willow had only rarely seen for so many years. An uncommon sight since she had stopped being able to cause that smile, and stop her father from taking it away. For so long Willow knew she had been the reason that even when she saw Winter's lips curl, her eyes reflected a different truth.

But now she had made her daughter smile again and it was a beautiful thing.

Willow could hold on to that.

She could remember it when things got bad, when it was hard to keep going.

Remember why she kept fighting.

The click of heels signaled Winter was returning. This time when Willow looked up she saw that her daughter was carrying a glass of water.

Winter reached her mother and sat down next to her mother, offering the cup.

"Thank you." Willow said as she gratefully accepted the drink. She took the first sip, small so as to make sure not to upset her stomach anymore.

It didn't taste or feel as good as booze at that moment, but Willow knew that ultimately didn't matter.

"We have a lot to talk about." Willow stated as she turned to Winter.

"That we do Mom." Came Winter's reply. The soldier got to her feet and extended a hand to her mother, "We can talk at the table, want some help?"

And Willow accepted her daughter's hand.

I no longer know how long this is going to be, and due to travel next chapter might take longer

Hope y'all like it :)