Fic: "Starlight", Part four

["jbstories _" <jbstories@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Part Four
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Giles remained in the room for a few moments after Willow exited the room
and continued to stare at the small figure that lay on his bed. Buffy had
said very little since Willow had come to get him, leaving the hacker to do
most of the talking. Buffy had spoken when she was spoken too, but had
volunteered little more than that. She now lay on the bed completely still
staring at the ceiling. Giles sighed, then backed out of the room.

In Sunnydale, when it rained a monsoon was sure to follow.

"We're got to find the demon," Willow said the moment Giles entered the
common room. Xander had arrived while Giles was still in with Buffy and was
standing slightly behind Willow.

"We've got to calm down," Giles said taking his glasses off. "We can't go
rushing into anything."

"Nobody's rushing, we're taking tiny little baby steps here G-man. It's
just that the solution isn't exactly playing hide and seek with us. In
fact, it's pretty damn simple, we find the demon," Xander responded moving
in front of Willow.

"That's not simple, that's suicidal," Giles responded in a more commanding
tone than they had heard him use in a while. "If the beast was easily
killed we wouldn't be having his conversation, not mention that demons
aren't exactly know to be particularly so-operative."

"What we always do," Giles responded sighing. He had thought that the
answer was fairly obvious.

"I've got musty texts letters A-E," Xander called moving over to their
make-shift study area, otherwise known as the couch.

"Willow," Giles said turning to face the red-head. "I need you to talk to
Buffy and try to get a description of what attacked her, and any other
relevant information."

"Giles, she's…"

"I know Willow," Giles said wearily. "I know. But the longer we wait, the
more her chances for recovery diminish. We've got to move quickly."

Willow merely nodded and started the walk back to the bedroom.

===========================================================

Buffy's head was turned away from the door, towards the window, and from her
position by the door Willow could only make out have of the Slayer's face.
The part that she could see, however, held her captive. The pale light of
the moon shone through the open window illuminating Buffy's face. Willow
thought to herself, that lying there Buffy was the most beautiful and tragic
sight that she had ever seen in life. Lying there she looked like a
painting by some French artist from the Rocco period-dreamlike, vulnerable,
strong, mysterious, beautiful. A vision that left the viewer mesmerized and
wondering what exactly was going on inside of that beautiful, tragic mind to
produce such a picture of longing and loss. Watching her, lying there
looking so small, Willow felt a tear work it's way down her face for what
had to have been the thousandth time that day, and like those other times
she reached up and brushed it away, resolving not to let another fall,
because she had to be strong-she, Giles, and Xander-they had to be strong
for Buffy.

She made her way to the side of Buffy's bed as quietly as possible-though
she knew the effort was folly since Buffy was certainly aware of her
presence the moment she appeared in the doorway. And while Willow knew all
of this she still proceeded stealthily, mot wanting to disturb the quiet or
break the peace.

She stood by Buffy's bedside for a moment before reaching out ant gently
placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"I'm back," Willow said softly, even though she was aware of the banality of
the statement. She had been in and out of the room all day alternating
between spending time with Buffy and helping with the research.

"I gathered," Buffy responded turning her around, finally, to face Willow.

"We…the…Giles is out getting the…thing," Willow said searching for a gentle
term for it, "so we should be able to get you out of here by morning," she
continued looking at the floor. Some would have found Willow's vagueness
confusing, but Buffy had been around the hacker long enough to be able to
decipher her babblings anytime or anyplace.

"Is he going to Kramer me, or am I actually going to get one with a joystick
and all those other do-dad's?" Buffy asked a small, tortured, smile working
it's way across her face. She was after all taking about the appropriation
of her wheelchair.

"State of the art, I'm pretty sure you could even launch rockets with this
baby," Willow responded with a like expression on her face.

"Rockets, huh? I would have settled for Tetris, but rockets are cool too.
I'm sure blowing up vampires makes them just as dead as staking them," Buffy
responded.

"Yeah…but littering," Willow responded, her lips curving up in an
unconsciously erotic way. Buffy licked her lips.

"That's what we have convicts for," the Slayer responded dryly before
turning her face back towards the window allowing Willow to observe her
freely.

Willow-standing there in those moments watching Buffy in the
moonlight-realized what had been bothering her about her friends behavior
the past day. Buffy was perhaps the most passionate person Willow had ever
met and could ever expect to meet. There was a sparkly in Buffy's eyes, and
an energy that coursed through her and pulsed off of her in waves spilling
onto those in her presence, warming them. And even in her darkest hours,
when lesser people would give up and stop fighting, choosing instead to
allow the waves to wash over them, Buffy remained strong. Sure, sometimes
her step would falter, and her fears would rise, but despite that all she
would go on. In her there was the heart of a warrior, and it made her fight
the good fight, and fight it well. Certainly being a member of the
generation she was of, and being a member of the age group she was off,
there was a jaded cynicism in Buffy, a kind of sarcastic pessimism about
her, but Willow knew that those things were an asset, not a fault. Willow
knew that a person without Buffy's sardonic sensibilities could not possibly
have existed in the world Buffy occupied. To an untrained-or
uncaring-person Buffy could seem cocky, but Willow knew that what they
perceived as cockiness was in fact simply confidence, heightened. Buffy had
to go into every fight believing that she was to be the victor, or else she
would not come out of the fight. It was that defiance, that believe in
self, that love of life, that caused that spark in Buffy's eyes. Buffy
would die anyway but her way, and if you messed with that she'd knock you
down. Slaying, Willow came to realize in those moments, was the only thing
Buffy believed in absolutely. That in those dark days it was slaying that
both cause and salvation. Slaying was to Buffy what taxes are to the rest
of humanity, the only constant in life other than death.

During that day Willow had seen that spark in Buffy's eyes flicker and
falter as if it wised to go burn out. She had sensed the horsemen closing
in her friend's soul, galloping with their swords raised. And, she realized
that Buffy was afloat, unfettered from the one thing she had thought
unfetterable, slaying. With a jarring suddenness Willow realized what it
was Buffy needed. She needed an anchor, she needed something else to
believe in. But who or what would have such audacity to think that they
could replace slaying in a Slayer's life?

"Willow?"

Buffy's voice broke the hacker out of her musings.

"What? Yeah?" Willow asked blinking rapidly.

"Have a nice trip?" Buffy asked watching her carefully.

"Sorry. Had a thought and it ran away," Willow responded trying to shake
off the lingering effects of her musings.

"Are you going back to the dorm when Giles gets back?" Buffy asked in a
carefully measured tone. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal how
truly anxious she was at the thought of Willow not being around her. She
didn't want to guilt Willow into staying.

"I…Giles when we talked earlier, I asked and he was fine with, I mean he
said I could stay…if that's what you wanted…but I think that I should…I mean
we both think that staying would be good because of aloneness being
bad…which is why…"

"Will?"

"Yeah."

"I want," Buffy responded smiling. "Wasn't really looking forward to the
aloneness anyway," Buffy continued. "And you are without a doubt my
favorite person to not be alone with."

Willow smiled.

The moment Willow had settled herself into the bed Buffy moved closer to
her. Not close enough to touch, but within a sufficient distance to be able
to fell each others warmth. She-of course-wanted to do more, wanted to
reach out and pull Willow into her body and shower her face in sweet little
kisses until they were both trembling. And she-of course-wanted to reveal
the deepest secrets of her soul and let all of the emotions that welled in
her as she lay on the cold cemetery ground, while watching the distant stars
mocking her, be known. She wanted to tell Willow that she loved her. In
the words of the poet and with the actions of a lover, she wanted to reveal
her love. So she did the only thing she could do. She opened her mouth,
paused, then asked.

"Comfy?"

"Snug as a bug in a rug," Willow replied.

"Good."

"Yep."

Silence.

"You look pretty," Buffy blurted out into the silence. She had the
subtleness of a marching band, she did.

Willow's eyes widened-the universal gesture of shock.

"…good, you look pretty good all things considered," Buffy went on. Where
were her sentiments now? Where were her poetic words, and gentle caresses?
I'll tell you…they ran away, and now, Buffy: the vampire slayer-otherwise
known as the bravest girl in all the world-was back peddling. She was back
peddling like a son of a bastard, and could have given the world's best back
peddlers a run for their money. "Not that you don't always look
pretty...cause you do…just that with everything that's happened you look
just as good. Which is good?" Buffy winced mentally as the words left her
mouth. Turning statements into questions was never a good thing, ever.

"I…" Willow started to respond, still somewhat shocked but in a pleasant
enough way.

"Right."

"What?" Willow asked. She was fairly certain that she had not finished her
sentence.

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"You're right, it is getting late."

"But I didn't say…"

"Bed sounds good. Sleep it is."

"What?"

"'Night Will," Buffy said pointedly shutting her eyes and praying to God
that Willow would just go along with it.

"Good-nightttt," Willow responded drawing out the words in a tone that
clearly conveyed she was at a complete lose as to what just happened.

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End of Part Four

That's it for now, part five up soon.
Please, drop me a line and let me know if you like how it's shaping up.

Later,
Janine

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