The power is too much for Willow. She can't control it, but she hasn't realised that yet. Buffy has to stop her, but how? Willow's grief over Tara's death has led her so far into the darkness of magic, that she can't escape, without the help of her friends. But she doesn't want her friends. She wants revenge.
Willow sat in her cheap, rented apartment, sitting crossed legged, looking down upon the bloody white shirt that she'd been wearing when Tara was...was...
She frowned, and raised her white, veiny hand over the top.
"Guide me to Tara's killer." She ordered. She didn't need to say anything for the spell to work-- she was too powerful for that. No, but she wanted noise. She wanted to feel at home. But no-one could know that.
Slowly, the blood on the shirt morphed into a map of the forest next to the cemetery. A bright red light indicated where Warren was. Stupid, puny Warren. Willow could squish him with her little finger.
She grabbed the shirt and thought of a place that she wanted to go. She felt the burning as her eyes turned gold, and she saw the smoke and purple lightning rise around her. When it disappeared, she was in the forest. Warren stood in front of her, shivering with fear.
"Ah, puny Warren." She said, pulling a strand of wiry, black hair out of her black eyes.