FIC: Whither Thou Goest... Part 7/?

[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: This one's tending more toward an R, folks.
Part: 7/? (yeah, I know the parts and the chapter numbers aren't
necessarily matching up, but that's because there was a prologue and now a
chapter that had to be split into two parts)

Whither Thou Goest...
Chapter Five

Buffy blinked, momentarily confused as she realized she was snuggled up
against a warm body--not a normal event in her life--until she remembered
the events of the previous hours. "Oh, God," she exhaled almost inaudibly
as it all came back to her. She'd made love with Willow; hot, sweet,
incredibly erotic love-- just the memory of it made her pulse pound--then
curled up in her arms to fall into an exhausted sleep that was the best
she'd had in months.

Way to go, her inner voice encouraged, but Buffy was far less confident
about the matter, her head rolling with inner turmoil, while her heart just
wanted to hold on and never let go. She was conflicted to say the least.

She pushed up on one elbow just enough to stare down at Willow's face,
taking in delicate features softened by sleep. "Ah, God, Will, what are we
gonna do?" she breathed, then reached out and tenderly brushed several
strands of bright red hair off Willow's cheek. Well, at least she's
forgiven me for this morning, she thought with a touch of dark humor. I
wonder if she'll forgive herself for how thoroughly she forgave me? I
wonder if I'll forgive myself?

Don't think like that, her inner voice chastised.

Shutup, Buffy ordered the voice which had been her constant companion of
late. You're the one who got me into this.

Even you don't believe that, her inner Jiminy Cricket disagreed.

Buffy shook her head slowly, wondering if she was going nuts. The dreams,
the constantly chiding inner voice, and now whole conversations. It wasn't
the sort of thing that boded well for her ongoing sanity. And then she
looked down at Willow, lying so trustingly against her side and couldn't
squelch the thought before it blossomed in her conscious mind, if this is
insanity, bring it on.

Suddenly, she needed to move, escape the thoughts moving through her own
head. Buffy was lying on the outer edge of the bed and only had to
carefully disengage from the figure cuddled against her side, then slip
quietly out of bed to leave without waking her sleeping friend. The sweats
and tank top she'd worn to bed were still tangled amid the tumbled covers,
so she didn't even bother to try and dig them out, just moved to the chest
where she kept that sort of thing and pulled out a fresh pair of sweat
pants and another tank top. As she tugged her clothes on, it occurred to
her that Willow's laptop was still open on the desk, though the screen had
long since darkened and gone into power-saver mode. Willow had probably
been doing either homework or late night research. She tended to lose
herself in the computer when she was hurting. Still pulling her shirt down,
Buffy reached over to at least close the laptop so it couldn't accidently
get knocked over and damaged, jogging it just enough that the screen flared
to life. Buffy jumped in surprise as she noted the icon in the corner and
realized the computer was still logged on to the Internet and a chat
program was still scrolling by, while some kind of other program ran in the
background.

"What the..." the Slayer breathed as she saw the discussion going on.
Vampires, UFO's, werewolves, and anything else supernatural or strange
mixed in with lurid remarks, obvious double entendres, and aggressive
cyber-passes. She reached out and scrolled up so she could see the start of
the conversation; Willow, as scooby1, looking for someone with the handle
artfuldodger and suggestive teasing from the other occupants of the
chatroom--chat-surfers with handles like lonegun1, alienluvr, and
msfang--about the amount of time they'd been talking to each other
recently. Buffy tamped down an unfamiliar flame of jealousy as she found
herself wondering if Willow had some online thing going with this
artfuldodger character. After all, weren't online sex and romance all the
rage, and a screen name like that certainly indicated a tendency toward
dishonesty. This guy was probably some sleazebag who bounced through chat
rooms, looking for innocent young girls to "cyber" with. Probably some
loser who couldn't get near a real girl if he paid for it. And he was
chasing Willow. Buffy's hands fisted at her sides as she imagined smashing
in his scrawny, ugly, pimply, cheating face.

She was still glaring at the computer screen when she heard the soft sound
of Willow stirring in the blankets.

"Buff?" the hacker mumbled sleepily as she rolled over, peering at the dim
figure of her roommate where she stood silhouetted by the soft glow from
the laptop.

Buffy did a slow pivot, eyes finding the hacker's slender form where she
lay tangled amid the blankets in bed...my bed, Buffy mentally amended.
Willow slowly pushed into a sitting position and the Slayer felt her heart
clench as she saw the way moonlight spilled through the window across her
friend's pale skin and bright copper hair, reminding her that she had spent
the night touching fine skin, sliding her fingers through the crimson river
of hair, tasting the swell of soft breasts. "Will," she croaked.

The hacker suddenly realized the sheet had tumbled down around her waist
and tugged it up over her breasts as memories of the heated words and
caresses they'd shared washed through her. She swallowed hard, not knowing
what to say or do, or how to react. Not when she couldn't regret what
they'd shared, but had no way of knowing what her friend was thinking or
feeling. "Buffy?" she whispered tightly as she slid out of bed, wrapping
the sheet around her body as she moved.

The Slayer swallowed hard, standing absolutely still, her hands hanging at
her sides, uncertain whether she should apologize, run away, or just throw
herself into Willow's arms and hold on. For once, her inner voice didn't
offer any brilliant advice, just stood back and left her to handle it on
her own.

"Say something," Willow begged after a long moment of silence.

"Who's artfuldodger?" Buffy whispered at last, blurting the first words
that came coherently to mind.

Willow blinked. Of all the questions or comments she'd been expecting, that
was nowhere on the list. The hacker frowned, then her eyes flashed to the
computer screen where the online discussion was still flowing past.
"Dodger's just someone...someone I've...talked with...online..." she
babbled. "But...why...I mean..." Willow glanced back at the bed where the
blankets were still torn up from their shared passion. "We...just--" She
couldn't quite get the words out.

Buffy spun, concentrating on the computer instead of the bed. She could get
her brain around the computer. The bed was proving to be a much larger
challenge. "So...what...you're cyber-sexing with some creep--"

"Cyber-sexing!?" Willow exploded. "What are you talking about?"

Buffy spun around, feeling more confident now that she could concentrate on
an argument instead of the far less comfortable topic of her emotions, and
the even less comfortable topic of Willow's emotions. "Oh, come on, I've
read about what goes on in those chat rooms, and I can see for myself the
kinds of remarks being made in this one...though how vampires and the
supernatural translate into online sex totally escapes me."

"No!" Willow snapped. "If I wanted that, I'd have been talking to lonegun1,
not dodger." She straightened her shoulders, glaring at Buffy and somehow
making the simple sheet she was wearing seem regal. "What the hell is going
on here?" she demanded, refusing to be drawn into a fight.

Buffy spun away, bracing her hands on the desk as she tried to clear her
head. "I just...I know you're vulnerable...right now...and ... I hate the
thought of someone...some creep...using you...or taking advantage..." she
stammered raggedly, accusing herself with every word.

A moment passed before Willow quietly asked, "Is that what you think you
did, took advantage?"

Buffy froze. Now, there was the million dollar question. She wondered if
there was any way she could use a lifeline...no, probably not without
having to put up with Regis Philbin in the bargain."Hell, Will, I all but
attacked you," she whispered at last, then let out a hollow laugh. "Who are
we kidding, I did attack you." A hand landed lightly on her shoulder.

"No," Willow disagreed. "I mean it started out that way," she allowed after
a beat. "But that was the nightmare..." She leaned closer to the Slayer,
not touching anywhere but her shoulder, but close enough to draw strength
from their nearness. "Not the reality...what happened...whatever it
was...whatever we want it to be...it wasn't about using each other...or-or
taking advantage..." she whispered in disjointed syllables, not knowing
what was going to come out of her mouth until the words already hung in the
air between them.

Drawn by the emotion in Willow's voice, Buffy slowly turned to face her.
Even in the faint light cast by the computer screen, she could see the
honest concern in her friend's expression. No anger, no fear...no regret?
Buffy was less certain about the last one. There was something there in her
eyes, something shadowed and hard to read, and as turbulent as the emotions
burning in her own breast. "Will," she whispered after a long moment. Her
jaw muscles clenched tightly, and she realized she was shivering violently
as if caught in the treacherous grip of hypothermia. Hard throbbing terror
ripped through her. "I'm scared," she choked out at last. "I don't ever
want to hurt you." She was close to crying again, tears filling her eyes
until she could barely see. She lifted her hand, almost, but not quite
touching Willow's cheek, afraid that if she actually made contact, she
might shatter into a thousand pieces.

"You didn't," Willow exhaled after a beat. Her eyes slid closed and she
swallowed hard, summoning her courage to put her heart on the line and
whisper, "I don't regret any of it." The moment that followed was among the
longest of her young life, then she felt the tenderest of touches on her
cheek, stroking very lightly. Green eyes sprang open and Willow could feel
her heart thudding against her ribcage. "If you don't want it to--"

"Shhh," Buffy hushed and brushed a finger over soft lips. She didn't want
to think about that...didn't want to let herself delve too deeply into her
own fears, uncertainties, and hangups...somehow, she sensed danger along
that route. Her inner nag was babbling away, telling her what to do and how
to do it, but she ignored that as well, and just let her body take over,
muscles instinctively straining to bring her closer to Willow's delicate
frame. She lifted a hand to carefully brush silky hair back from the
redhead's cheek, still not quite touching the softness of her skin. They
were standing so close that the thin strip of air that separated them
warmed with the heat of pouring off their skin, while their breath mingled
as their mouths drew closer.

And then they touched, lips just barely meeting, electricity arcing between
them. Buffy shivered and tasted Willow's tiny cry. She let the hand at
Willow's cheek fall to her bare shoulder, stroking the line of her
collarbone tenderly.

Willow shivered in response. It was like flame sliding over skin, leaving
overheated, exposed nerve endings in its wake. "Buffy," she gasped through
the blending of their lips. She found the curve of the Slayer's waist with
an unsteady hand, edging her fingers under the bottom of the loose tank top
to spread her fingers against the flat plane of Buffy's stomach.

They were still kissing long minutes later, when a steady, grating beeping
sound intruded on the sweet magic. Willow pulled her head back, breathing
deeply as she tipped her head to one side to peer past Buffy's shoulder at
her laptop.

"Wha'?" the Slayer gasped unevenly, then realized Willow had focused on
something else and turned her head, following the path of the hacker's
gaze. "What is it?"

Pulling the rapidly slipping sheet back together over her breasts, Willow
reticently stepped away as the beeping continued its obnoxious rhythm.
"It's a search bot I left running...before..." she didn't finish the
sentence, her meaning clear to both of them.

"A what?" the Slayer questioned as her friend stepped around her and
reached out to bring up another program. A list of urls and descriptors
filled the screen, while the scroll bar indicated hundreds, possibly
thousands more entries. A brief second later, a new message box popped up,
this time with no more than a half dozen sites listed.

"A search bot," Willow said distantly as she began saving the data. "It's a
way of automatically searching for information on the net, plus I wrote in
a little subroutine that does some additional cataloguing."

Buffy peered at the information, noting the titles and descriptions with a
raised brow. "And just what the hell are you searching for?" she whispered,
a new tension entering her voice. Half of the titles she was looking at
were in Latin or other languages she had no way of recognizing, but what
English she could find kept coming up with terms that made her shiver--like
Watcher, Slayer, Watcher's Council, Vampire, The Chosen One, and
prophecy--having broken with the Watcher's Council a year before, she had
no desire to attract any attention from the shadow group that had
controlled Slayers down through history.

Willow did a slow pivot, her expression guilty. She took a deep breath,
nerving herself up to continue. She knew perfectly well how Buffy felt
about the Council and had known when she started this particular project
what Buffy's response would have been had she told her about it in advance.

"Will?" Buffy prompted sharply.

"I've-been-trying-research-the-history-of-the-Slayers-and-the-Watcher's-Coun
cil," the hacker got out in a single gasping sentence that bordered on
being one very long word.

Buffy flinched as though struck and her breath caught in her lungs. The
Watcher's were a secretive organization at best. She was far from sanguine
about their possible response if they thought someone was trying to divine
those secrets. They'd been more than willing to kill her for the sake of a
test, and she'd always suspected that, had they succeeded in transporting
Faith back to England, she would not have found herself being tenderly
ministered to by a team of highly qualified psychiatrists.
"Wha'...Will...I-I...I really don't think...I don't think that's such a
good...a good idea..." she muttered in halting, stammered syllables, while
still trying to get brain around the whole concept. Her brain wasn't having
the best day on that whole getting around concepts thing, so it wasn't
moving very quickly. She looked at the screen again, riveted by the hint of
information she could make out. "If they find out...."

"They won't," Willow insisted breathlessly. "I've covered my tracks, worked
through proxys, used hacked IP numbers...as far as the net is concerned,
nothing I've done ever happened...and if it did happen, it's not me that
did it anyway."

Buffy shook her head slowly, horror crawling over her skin for reasons she
couldn't even begin to fathom. "It's too dangerous."

"Dammit, Buffy, I know what I'm doing--"

The Slayer spun, catching Willow's shoulders in a hard grip. "I said it's
too dangerous," she snarled, then suddenly froze as she saw a flicker of
pain in Willow's expression and realized how tight her hold was. Shock
etched on her features, she loosened her grip, carefully setting the hacker
back from herself. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry," she panted raggedly, her
expression twisted to one of horrified contrition. "I didn't mean to hurt
you, I just...I don't want anything to happen to you and I'm afraid that's
what the Watcher's Council would do if they knew about this."

Willow swallowed hard, biting back hurt tears. "And I don't want anything
to happen to you," she whispered through the tightness in her throat. "And
I kept thinking that if we...if we understood more about your...Slayerness,
then maybe...I don't know...maybe we could find some kind of..." Willow
fell silent, afraid to put her fears into words, as if simply by speaking
them, she would give the darkness power over the Slayer.

Overwhelmed by the need to do something, but not knowing what, Buffy lifted
shaking hands to Willow's face, brushing her hair back from her face,
studying the unique arrangement of features that made up the hacker's face.
Not anyone's definition of the classic ideal of beauty, there was something
irresistible there, something that was wholly and completely a quality of
Willow, a part of her very Willowness, and it was an intrinsic part of what
had caught and held the Slayer's attention from the very first moment,
first in friendship, and later--later, Buffy questioned, then corrected the
odd thought, no, now--this was the first time it had ever spilled over into
something other than deep friendship. She was still mulling over the
strange sense of deja vu when Willow voice broke into her silent musings.

"You've got to trust me...I know there are answers out there." Willow
caught one of Buffy's hands in her own, holding on tightly. "It's like I
can feel them...just out of reach. That's what Dodger was helping
with--he's a historian, that's all--he's done a lot of research on secret
medieval and renaissance societies and he's helped me find a lot of really
buried information sources and translations that almost nobody knows
about...things that mention the Watchers...that might offer some clues
about their history..." She reached out with her free hand, tracing the
neat arch of the Slayer's brow as if committing her face to memory. "I'm
careful, I swear...but I really think there's information that could
help..." Keep you alive that much longer, was the unspoken subtext. It
didn't need to be said. They both knew that slayage didn't have a lot of
long-term employment possibilities and the chances for advancement were
limited at best. She touched Buffy's cheek, lips lifting in a funny little
smile. "Besides, I have you to protect me."

Thick silence hung in the air between them for a long moment, then Buffy
hooked a hand loosely behind the hacker's neck, stroking her cheek with her
thumb. "I will, you know," she rasped. "I'd do anything to protect you."
They both leaned forward, foreheads just touching, both close to tears. "I
won't let them hurt you," the Slayer breathed almost inaudibly.

When they finally straightened, it was to share another soft kiss, lips
meeting and stroking, bodies just touching at first, and then molding
together more firmly. Buffy wrapped her arms tightly around Willow, lifting
and pressing her back onto the desk, deepening their shared kiss as she
felt the blood roar in her veins. Clothes were pushed and pulled aside to
allow eager hands to stroke and caress, while the sheet was peeled back to
make way for the Slayer's exploring lips. Dusting tiny kisses down the
center of Willow's chest, Buffy clung tightly to the hacker's slender
waist. She didn't want to think, didn't want to debate the pros and cons of
what she was doing. All she wanted was to escape her fears in raw sensation.

Willow moaned low in her throat, head falling back on her shoulders as she
clung desperately to the Slayer, fingers massaging and roaming over firmly
muscled arms and shoulders, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of desire. There
were two beds only a few feet away, but neither of them was willing to part
long enough to move from their oddly erotic, if somewhat precarious
position. Buffy pried more of the loosely wound sheet out of her way,
sliding her hands under the soft fabric and down to stroke the tops of
Willow's thighs before slipping underneath, tugging her forward on the desk
until they were pressed groin to groin. Delicate fingers worked into the
Slayer's hair, while Willow brought her legs up, looping them loosely
around Buffy's slender hips. They were both breathing hard, gasping for air
as though running a marathon as they stroked and touched, the passion
building between them.

Blood throbbing like molten lava in her veins, nerve endings so excited
each touch bordered on pain, Willow clung to her lover, fingers spread
against the breadth of her shoulder as she trailed her other hand down the
length of Buffy's torso to find the bottom edge of her tank top. Needing to
feel the softness of bare skin, she slipped her hand under the loose knit
fabric, sliding her fingers over taut muscles, then up, brailing the
rounded curve of Buffy's breast before peeling the shirt off, not caring
where it fell when she let go. A brief moment later, she hooked a toe in
the elastic waistband of the Slayer's sweats, running the ball of her foot
down the lean length of her flank as she pushed them off. She felt the
faint shift as Buffy stepped out of the cotton puddle at her feet, then
pressed closer, the sensual press of flesh making both of them shiver with
awareness.

Buffy slid up, dipping her tongue into the hollow at the base of Willow's
throat, then trailing up the length of her throat, tasting the faint salt
of her skin, feeling the unsteady beat of her pulse at the base of her jaw
and the soft vibrations of the tiny moans that bubbled up from her chest.
Sharp teeth found the delicate fold of Willow's earlobe, dragging gently
over soft skin before the Slayer whispered in her lover's ear, "Tell me."
Her fingers stroked the banded muscles of Willow's stomach, pausing just
long enough to dip into the faint indentation of her navel before sliding
lower. "Tell me what it feels like...when I touch you." She could hear the
thick pleasure in her friend's harsh breathing, feel the slick heat of her
skin. "Tell me," she commanded again when Willow didn't immediately answer.

The redhead slowly tipped her head up, wrapping arm around Buffy's neck as
she turned her head until they were eye to eye. Body reacting to the sweet
sensations running riot over overstimulated nerve endings, she brought her
knees up, tightening them against Buffy's hips and drawing her closer.
"Hot...cold...electric..." she gasped, sweat making her skin glisten in the
faint light. Agile fingers found a particularly sensitive spot and her eyes
slid closed as her body shuddered violently. She gripped Buffy more
tightly, fingers pressing into flesh and muscle. Trying to form any kind of
coherent word that could even come close to describing the cravings running
riot through her body was clearly past the capacity of her already
overloaded brain. It wasn't just the physical intimacies, it was the
knowledge of who she was sharing them with that aroused her almost past any
ability to do anything but hold on and let the tidal wave wash over her. A
beat later, she exhaled the only word that came to mind, "Perfect."

"Good," the Slayer panted, pressing a hand flat against the small of
Willow's back to pull her upright until they were breast to breast, their
sweat mingling wherever bare skin touched bare skin. "I want it to be perfect."

"Absolutely perfect," Willow breathed, trailing her free hand down from the
Slayer's shoulder to stroke the outer curve of her breast, then dance along
the graceful arch of her ribcage. Her fingers slipped lower, following the
pointed arrow of abdominal muscles that led down to soft hair and silky
flesh. She heard Buffy gasp, thrilled with the way muscles rippled with
sudden tension as she tenderly mimicked the Slayer's uncertain
caresses.

Their lips met again, sharing broad open mouthed kisses that moved and
ranged in rhythm with the instinctive syncopation of their writhing bodies
as emotion and sensation built to a fever pitch.

Then Buffy tasted Willow's cry and felt her body tremble with hard spasms.
Elation shot through her, the knowledge that she had caused that kind of
pleasure every bit as erotic as the physical caresses themselves. And then
her breath caught in her lungs, her entire body frozen in place for no more
than a heartbeat before her body seemed to implode and then flare outward
again.

Orgasm. Hot, hard, rumbling, and tumbling through both girls, electricity
arcing from nerve ending to nerve ending, from flesh to flesh. It was like
being caught in a beautiful kind of conflagration that licked at their
bodies and fired their passion without damaging flesh.

Willow gasped Buffy's name through the shared ardor of their kiss while she
clung to her with almost bruising strength.

And then they were falling back to earth again, rolling end over end before
spilling back into the real world. Their kiss broke as Willow leaned back
against the wall, then Buffy fell against her, hiding her face in the damp
column of her throat. They stayed that way for long minutes, hands touching
very gently, rough breathing slowing to normal, enjoying the closeness in
the aftermath of their lovemaking. Finally, the Slayer pushed up on her
hands, studying her best friend's face in the thin light. Nothing in her
life had prepared her for what she was feeling...actually, she wasn't even
entirely certain what she was feeling; she just knew that she didn't want
to stop feeling it.

"Buffy?" Willow exhaled at last, her voice echoing her sudden uncertainty.

"It'll be okay," the Slayer whispered. She stroked the redhead's lower lip
with the pad of her thumb. "Trust me."

"I do...always...." Willow nibbled lightly on Buffy's thumb, rubbing sharp
incisors against the faintly callused skin. Weapons training and the
night-to-night practicalities of combat and staking the undead had left the
Slayer's hands tougher than the average coed's.

They were still tangled together like that when the jangle of the phone
shattered their peaceful cuddling. Both girls jumped and Willow glanced
over at her laptop.

"It must have thrown me offline since the bot finished the search
routine...and it's been idle...since we...well...." Willow shrugged.

"Great timing," the Slayer muttered.

"Could've been worse," Willow couldn't restrain the nervous giggle as Buffy
reached past her and grabbed the phone yanking it to her ear, her tone more
aggressive than she intended as she growled.

"Yes?"

Willow felt her lover tense only a second or two later and instantly knew
something was wrong.

"What happened...God...are they okay?" Buffy pulled away from Willow,
turning away as she continued, obviously discussing something with the
person on the other end of the line. "What...who...no-no... Willow was
online doing some research...."

Sensing the Slayer's upset, Willow slid off the top of the desk, tugging
the sheet around her as she moved to rest a comforting hand on Buffy's
shoulder.

"I'll get there...." Buffy massaged her temple as though she'd developed a
sudden headache and her voice roughened noticeably. "Thanks...we-we'll meet
her downstairs." As she hung up the phone, her shoulders trembled under
Willow's hand.

"What is it, what's happened?" the hacker asked the instant Buffy hung up
the phone.

The Slayer pulled away, breaking contact as she moved to start yanking
clothes out of her closet. "A vampire attacked my mother in the gallery--"

"Oh God, is she--"

"She's got a broken wrist." Buffy's voice was a tremulous shadow of its
normal self. "According to Giles, if Xander hadn't shown up when he did..."
she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Her back to Willow, she
began yanking on her clothes, her movements jerky and lacking in their
normal grace. "Apparently, he got pretty pounded on too...but he's
okay...." She was shaking, her voice coming in rough gasps as she fought
the threat of angry tears. "When he couldn't get through on the phone,
Giles sent Anya with his car. She should be here any...any minute...to-to
take us to the hospital...to see them...."

Willow followed her friend, reaching to massage her shoulder lightly.
"They're okay," she soothed. She started to lean against Buffy's back to
offer as much support as possible, but the Slayer pulled away before she
had a chance, shrugging away from the light hand on her shoulder as she moved.

The redhead frowned, hurt flickering across her face at the sudden distance
she could sense between them. She grabbed for her clothes and began
mechanically pulling them on, but her gaze remained locked on her friend's
stiff back. "Buffy?" she whispered at last.

"I should have been there--"

"You couldn't have known what would happen--" Willow disagreed, cutting off
Buffy's self-castigation.

Buffy whirled, anger and something else twisting her expression as she cut
Willow off this time. "But I'm the Slayer." Her eyes were edged in silver
tears, her voice ragged with emotion. She knew she couldn't be everywhere,
that she might be faster and stronger than a normal human being, but she
was still human, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd failed
disasterously.

Willow stared at her friend, trying to read her expression. "Buffy...what
are you...talk to me..."

Buffy wrapped her arms tightly around her torso. It was all wrong. She
couldn't think straight. It was like something was yanking her back from
the edge of a precipice and pushing her over at the same time. She
swallowed hard, trying to collect her suddenly shattered thoughts. She
didn't even know what the hell was happening to her. Her mom and Xander
were okay, Giles had assured her of that, so why was she suddenly sweating
with stark terror, doubt burning in her breast. "This--This shouldn't have
happened," she choked at last, eyes sliding away from Willow, unable to
face the hurt and betrayal she knew she'd see in her friend's expression.

Willow flinched as if struck, some part of her not quite believing what
she'd just heard, but she sealed the hurt off quickly, walling it away in
that hidden part of herself where she was well used to hiding the petty
hurts and insults she'd received so many times during the course of her
young life. "All right," she said at last and turned away to finish dressing.

Buffy's hands fisted at her sides as she tried to deny the flood of pain
Willow's simple concession opened in her chest. She started to call the
words back, apologize, beg for forgiveness, and plead to start over.
Started to, but the words just wouldn't come, leaving her watching Willow's
back with helpless confusion.

"Come on," Willow said as she finished pulling on her shoes. "Anya is
probably here by now. It's not that long a drive." Somehow, she kept from
crying, though she couldn't hold back a sniffle or two.

"Yeah," Buffy rasped and grabbed her coat.

Moments later, they left together, their thoughts a million miles away.

* * * * * * *
TBC

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

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