FIC: Whither Thou Goest... (1/?)

[PB <pbnj@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Title: Whither Thou Goest...
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Archive: Pink Rabbit, A Slayer/A Hacker
Author's Notes: This is the latest sequel to Spin, Spinning, Spun Out, It
All Depends On Your Timing, and Interludis Neanderthalensis. It's not
finished, but I'm going to start posting in segments since it's getting
close to the end (probably).
Disclaimer: The characters and show all belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant
Enemy, Kuzui, and God only knows who else. This particular arrangement of
words in cyberspace belongs to me, however. Btw, it contains love between
two women, so if such things offend you, are illegal where you live or
somesuch, kindly don't read it and upset yourself, 'kay. It'll just make
life easier on all of us.
Spoilers: None that I can think of.
Rating: PG-13
Part: 1/?

Whither Thou Goest...

Present Day--University of California, Sunnydale

Willow was crying again, not deep wrenching sobs, but soft, almost
soundless tears that seemed to go on forever. Just in from patrol, Buffy
silently peeled off her clothes and changed into a nightshirt, painfully
aware of the tiny sounds as she tried to tamp down a wave of nagging guilt.
She knew she was doing a sucky job as a best friend. With camouflage
commandos running around campus, Spike living in Gile's bathtub, plus
school, semi-dating Riley or at least being pursued by and considering
semi-dating Riley, and of course her usual vampire killing duties, she just
hadn't had time for doing the sort of
best-friend-helping-best-friend-get-over-guy-by-eating-too-much-chocolate-an
d-plotting-vengeance sorts of activities--Buffy sighed softly--and maybe
there'd been a bit of avoidance mixed in there as well, she admitted in a
darkness inspired flash of discomfiting honesty. That whole Cro-Magnon
necking experience had thrown her equilibrium more than she cared to admit,
not just because she'd enjoyed it, but because as much as she'd pursued
Parker and now Riley during the day, it was Willow she seemed to be
dreaming about at night--starting shortly after Angel's exit from
Sunnydale, and seemingly growing in intensity with every passing
night--strange dreams full of tenderness and sensuality that left her
panting and painfully aware of her own body when she woke. It was all just
a little too confusing--and now that Oz was gone from Willow's life --at
least temporarily--maybe just a little too tempting.

Sniff.

The soft sound reminded Buffy of just where her line of thought had begun.
That's good, Buffy, she castigated herself, can you get any more
self-centered? Willow's hurting, and are you thinking about her? No, you're
worrying about yourself. And after all the times she's done the
sympathize-over-the-boyfriend thing for you. If you can manage to be just a
little more sympathetic, maybe she won't turn down that whole Vengeance
Demon gig next time.

Sniff.

"Hey, Will," the Slayer said very softly as she drew close to the bed. The
sniffles instantly stopped and she could almost hear Willow trying not be
heard crying. Buffy sighed softly again. Oh, she'd mouthed all the right
platitudes, but it suddenly bothered her that she hadn't spent nearly
enough time offering Willow the kind of unconditional support Willow had
offered her. Hell, Spike had been more in tune with the fact that she was
walking on the edge. "I know you're awake," she added gently and heard
another soft sniff that made her heart clench with guilt. No wonder Willow
had nearly wound up switching off the good guy's team.

"Maybe a little," a tiny voice admitted in the darkness.

Buffy silently took a seat on the edge of Willow's bed, startlingly aware
of the warmth of her friend's body where it nudged up against her hip. "I
just..." Buffy began hesitantly. "I wanted to talk to you." She reached
out, resting her hand lightly on Willow's hip, moving her thumb in a gentle
circular pattern.

"Oh," Willow exhaled in a tiny voice. "I guess you were out slaying tonight."

"Yeah," Buffy said, her tone brushing the subject aside. "Look, Will, I
know things have been really difficult lately...and...well...I just...some
apologies are in order--"

"Buffy, I'm sorry," Willow apologized instantly. "I mean I'm really sorry
about that whole spell thing and causing you and Spike
to...well...kiss...and all that...I mean I really didn't know--"

"Shhh," Buffy hushed while Willow kept apologizing until the Slayer laid
her fingers lightly over her friend's lips. "That's not the apology I was
referring to."

"Oh," Willow murmured, then drew a sharp breath. "I'm sorry if I haven't
really been a lot of fun lately, and if the whole crying thing has been
keeping you up--"

"Will, don't," Buffy interrupted the ongoing apology, feeling worse with
every word Willow had said. God, she really hadn't been getting it right
lately. "I meant the apology I owe you."

Willow went completely still. "You owe me?" she repeated doubtfully.

"Yeah," Buffy confirmed. "I haven't done a great job of being a
friend...since...well...lately." Buffy sighed tiredly, leaning forward, her
elbows braced on her knees, fingers loosely intertwined. "I dunno," she
exhaled. "It's like I've been kind of out of control, not knowing whether I
was coming or going...I should have realized what a hard time you were
having...and been there for you..." She reached over and curved her fingers
around Willow's hand and swallowed hard. "You're the best friend I've ever
had...and I'm sorry I failed you. You shouldn't have been crying alone."

Willow sniffed back on her tears, blinked rapidly to clear her vision as
she peered up at the Slayer's shadowed profile. Slowly, she pushed upright,
sitting cross-legged, elbows braced on her knees. "Thanks," she whispered
at last. She'd entered college so confident, feeling like someone totally
different, but losing Oz had shaken her newfound collegiate composure. "I
just didn't want to be a burden...I've tried to...tried to cover things
up...but...."

"I know," Buffy sighed, remembering how that had turned out. "And the whole
covering up thing--well, in light of that whole vengeance demon
thing--maybe not such a good idea."

Willow turned her hand under Buffy's clinging tightly and blinked rapidly,
trying to clear the hot tears stinging her eyes. "It's just that everything
seems wrong lately...not just Oz...everything...."

Buffy frowned ever so slightly. She knew the feeling. She 'd been feeling
increasingly disconnected for months and nothing seemed to fix it. At first
she'd attributed it to Angel's move to Los Angeles and tried to lose it in
the pursuit of other men, but more recently that explanation had seemed
less and less likely. Perhaps it was just the change from high school to
college--or maybe it's those dreams you don't want to admit to, a tiny
voice whispered in her ear, the ones where you can't seem to keep your
hands off your best friend, where she's not just your best friend, but also
your lover, your partner, and the best thing that's ever happened in your
life. "That's not it," Buffy hissed at the recalcitrant voice only to get
an odd look from Willow.

"Buff?"

"Sorry," the Slayer apologized hurriedly. "Just talking to myself."
Willow nodded understandingly. She'd always tended to talk to herself and
lately that tendency had extended to long, unwanted conversations. She
stared down at her hands, studying the complicated network of bones,
tendons and veins as she avoided looking at the Slayer.

"Talk to me, Will," Buffy said after several long moments of silence.

There were so many thoughts running through Willow's head in disjointed,
random pathways that she barely knew where to begin. "Do you think about
them?" she asked at last.

The question left Buffy confused and she stared at her friend, nonplused.
"Who?"

"The demons and vampires you've killed?" The hacker looked up, lost in
thought as she stared at a point somewhere in the distance.

"Sometimes," Buffy admitted hesitantly, not wanting to admit that sometimes
she couldn't stop thinking about it. She knew they were demons, knew she
had no choice in what she did, but they looked human enough, had
personalities, sometimes even begged for their lives. Even knowing what she
did, it bothered her more often than she cared to admit.

"Because I can't stop thinking about Veruca," Willow whispered, then shook
her head, refocusing on Buffy. "I mean, she was our age....and she's
dead...and I--"

"What happened wasn't your fault, Will. She was going to kill you. If Oz
hadn't--"

"It's not just that," Willow cut her friend off, trying to find a way to
explain what she was feeling, the thoughts that had been running through
her head since that night. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in
an effort to clear her head. "She was human, Buffy...not dead and not a
demon--"

"She was a werewolf, Will," Buffy reminded her friend.

"And so's Oz, but he hasn't given way to the darkness. So why did she go
the way she did? What made the difference in her life?"

Buffy started to answer, but held her words back. True, Oz hadn't given in
to the wolf, but he was afraid of it, and she suspected there was a
wildness there that was never going away and might just be getting
stronger. Oz would never hurt any of them willingly, and she was quite
certain that was one of the reasons he'd left. He was afraid he couldn't
control it much longer. "No," she said at last.

"But he's afraid of it," Willow exhaled at last as if reading Buffy's
thoughts. She released her hold on Buffy's hand to let her head fall
forward into her palms.

"Will, if this is about Oz leaving--"

"It's not," the hacker denied and then looked up, her eyes damp with tears.
"I'm afraid of it too," she whispered raggedly.

Buffy stared at her friend in confusion. "Afraid of Oz?" she questioned at
last. Wolf or no wolf, she knew Oz would die before he'd hurt Willow.

Willow shook her head, frustrated by Buffy's inability to understand what
she was saying. "No, of my own darkness."

The Slayer tensed, shaking her head in denial. "You don't have any--" she
began instantly.

"For God's sake, Buffy, I just got offered a job as a vengeance demon.
Clearly I have darkness issues."

Buffy opened her mouth to argue only to snap it shut again. Willow had a
point. "Okay," she murmured after a long beat, not knowing what else to say.

Willow drew another deep breath and heaved a heavy sigh. "It's just that I
have this need to know more...to learn more about what I can
do...but...but, it's scary too sometimes...and sometimes..."

Buffy just kept listening to her friend, doing the one thing she hadn't had
time for amid her own needs and emergencies. She'd been there for Willow
that night--saving her life--but during the weeks since she'd been all too
absent and it was obvious there was a lot more going on here than she'd
suspected. This wasn't just the I-can't-get-over-the-boyfriend blues. It
went a lot deeper. And Willow clearly needed to get it off her chest.

The silence that lay between them wasn't the comfortable, friendly studying
together sort. It was more the uncomfortable,
how-in-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-say-what-I'm-really-trying-to-say kind of
thing. Not simple even for the best of friends.

"I was casting a spell that night," Willow whispered at last, swallowing
back harsh tears to continue. "I just wanted him to hurt as much as I
did...I could feel it, Buffy--the power, the temptation. It was like it was
calling to me." The hacker shook her head slowly, shivering as she
remembered the sensation of dark energy coursing through her. "For a moment
I could almost understand Faith."

Buffy shivered as though someone had walked over her grave. "You could
never be like her, Will."

"Yes, I could," Willow disagreed. "I almost was...it was only at the last
moment that I couldn't...and then Veruca got there...and Oz..." she trailed
off, staring down at her hands with hypnotic intensity.

Buffy tried to find the words to offer comfort. "But you didn't do it...you
pulled back. We're all tempted sometimes--"
"But what happens if I can't pull back some day? I could hurt someone,
Buffy." She dragged slender fingers through sleep tousled hair. "I dunno.
Maybe I should just leave too...just go away where I can't hurt anyone--"

"No!" Buffy snapped instantly, the very thought sending a bolt of terror
through her. Willow couldn't leave. That simply wasn't an option. She
caught Willow's hands in strong fingers, massaging them soothingly as she
held on tightly. "Don't talk like that," she insisted more calmly. "You're
not like Veruca or Faith...you have people who care for you...who'll help
you." Buffy had to resist the urge to lift those slender hands and press
soothing kisses across her knuckles the way she had in a half-remembered
dream. "You just have to trust us...let us help you." And by that--that
insistent part of brain clarified--you mean let me help you. "But you have
to be honest...you have to tell us...tell me...when you need help." Buffy's
gaze dropped to their twined hands to hide the guilt she was feeling. "And
if that means a two by four to my thick skull...well...you do what you have
to and play 'Whack a Slayer.'" The silence stretched out between them,
while Buffy kept her head down, not quite confident enough to look up and
see Willow's expression.

"Oh...great..." the hacker drawled at last, a touch of humor threading
through her voice. "Are you trying to get me killed...'Whack the Slayer'
indeed..."

Buffy risked a glance at her friend, relaxing as she glimpsed a watery
smile lighting her gamine features.

"Though," the other girl continued, "as hard as your head is, I'm not sure
you'd notice."

Buffy chuckled at that. "Yeah," she agreed on a relieved sigh. "It is
pretty solid."

The mood broken, Willow reached out and mimed knocking her friend on the
side of the head. "Solid wood," she teased.

"Hey, that's a plus when you're the Slayer. How do you think I take out all
those vamps? I just head-butt 'em with my pointy, little, wooden head,"
Buffy defended with mock-indignation before turning serious once again. "I
mean it though, Will, the only way any of us get through life in Sunnyhell
is by sticking together--if it wasn't for you, Giles, and Xander, I'd have
been dead a long time ago--so you've got to promise to come to us when
things start closing in on you." Come to me when things start closing in on
you, that inescapable inner commentator amended loudly enough that Buffy
wondered if she'd spoken the words aloud for just a moment.
"Yeah," Willow exhaled and the two girls sat silently for a long moment.

Suddenly Buffy bounded to her feet. "Come on, up and at 'em," she commanded
with a laugh as she spun away and began digging through Willow's closet,
tugging out clothes with unusual abandon.

Willow blinked in sleepy confusion. "'Scuse me?" she questioned.

Buffy pivoted neatly to face her friend. "I've been remiss in the whole
best-friend department," she explained. "We haven't done a chocolate and
sympathy night yet."

"Buffy, it's two o'clock in the morning," Willow pointed out reasonably,
but the Slayer was not to be deterred.

"Look, Will, at times like this, the only surefire cure is a total
junkaholic pigout. Chocolate, chips, anything that's loaded with grease and
bad for you."

Willow stared at her friend with a faintly perplexed smile. "I repeat, it's
two o'clock in the morning. Where do you plan on getting this junkfeast?
Besides, chocolate never solved anything."

"Answer to question one." Buffy held up a finger to keep count. "We're
college students, where do we get any kind of food-type-stuff."

"Twenty-four/Seven," both girls chimed in at the same time, referring to
the 24 hour quickie mart on the edge of campus, where the food was stale,
the prices high, the beer domestic, and the help surly. It was, of course,
where all the college students got most of their non-collegiate All Aboard
Card approved survival provisions, like beer, circus peanuts, beer, Count
Chokula, beer, Ding Dongs, and, of course, beer.

"And as for solving things," Buffy continued. "It's broccoli that never
solved anything. Chocolate can solve everything."

"You've been watching Mary Tyler Moore reruns on Nick at Night again,
haven't you?" Willow demanded, but allowed herself to be pulled from bed by
her eager to bring good cheer roommate.

"Hey, she's gonna make it after all, doncha know?" Buffy thrust the clothes
she'd chosen at Willow. "I find this a very inspiring message." She turned
away at her friend's pointed look, trying not to listen too avidly as she
heard clothes being removed and then put on. "I always thought Mary woulda
made a good Slayer, y'know," Buffy continued, chatting in an effort not to
think about Willow standing naked or near-naked just behind her. Those
dreams really had been getting to her. She couldn't help but wonder what
her friend would think if she knew about them. Be horrified probably, she
concluded, though that taunting voice kept suggesting she ask and find out.

"Nah," Willow disagreed as she finished dressing. "Mary was too
soft-hearted. She'd have let them go."

"Rhoda then?" Buffy mused aloud as she caught Willow's hand in her own,
dragging her out into the hallway.

"Nah, the one who would have made a really killer Slayer was Ida."

"Ida?" the Slayer repeated as she drew a blank on the name.

"Y'know, Rhoda's mother. The little redhead."

"Oooo, you're right. She was mean. Must have been the hair. You know what
they say about redheads."

"Hey!" the redhead yelped, but she clung tightly to her best friend's hand
as they wandered away into the night.

* * * * * *

--"If I was all that fond of real life, I would never have majored in theater"

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