FIC: Whither Thou Goest... Part 16/?

[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: soft R -- for cursing, some violence, and such
Part: 16/? (yeah, I know the parts and the chapter numbers don't match
up--and they never will bwahahahahaha)
Author's Notes Mark 2: Yeah, I know this one is just effing weird. So,
shoot me.

Whither Thou Goest...
Chapter 11 (part 2)

Willow obviously heard the soft rustle of blankets, because she turned in
her chair, eyes finding the Slayer's. "You're awake," she exhaled, and
Buffy could hear the tension in her voice.

Buffy ran a hand through sleep tousled hair, smoothing it back from her
face. "Yeah...awake..." she sighed, frowning as the strangeness of the
dream washed over her, not knowing whether it was just a product of her
highly stressed psyche, or another of the prescient dreams she'd
occasionally had since becoming the Slayer. In either event, since the damn
thing made no sense, she supposed it hardly mattered.
"Kinda...sorta...maybe..." She glanced out the window, noting that night
had fallen while she slept and sighed softly.

As if reading her friend's--no, Willow mentally corrected herself,
lover's--mind, the hacker quietly told her, "There's still time... I didn't
wake you earlier because I figured...after everything that's happened...I
just figured it was best if you get some extra sleep." They both knew why.
If Spike was right and DuCourvallier was going to be there to meet Buffy,
then the Slayer would need all of her strength just to survive.

Buffy nodded distantly, still staring out at the strip of night sky she
could see through the window-blinds, trying to imagine what it would be
like to be sentenced to nothing but night for all eternity. "When I was
little, I was afraid of the dark," she admitted quietly. "And I didn't even
know the half of it." A moment later, she felt the bed depress and then
Willow's hand on her cheek bringing her head around until their eyes met in
the darkened room.

"You aren't alone," the hacker reminded her.

Buffy reached out, tenderly brailing Willow's face, committing every curve
and arch to memory. "You are so beautiful," she exhaled at last and felt
the heat under her fingers as Willow blushed violently.

"No--"

"Yes," Buffy said flatly.

A long moment of uncomfortable silence passed, then Willow cleared her
throat and took a deep breath, knowing full well that what she had to say
Buffy wouldn't want to hear. "Buffy, I think it's time to call Giles..."

The Slayer ignored the comment, nodding toward the open laptop. "Did you
find anything?" she asked quietly.

Willow's eyes slid closed as she fought tears, but she managed to sound
more controlled than she felt as she answered. "Some more history...but
nothing...nothing of any real value..." She had never slept
after...after...simply holding Buffy until she was deep in slumber, then
quietly slipping from bed, hoping against hope that if she just dug hard
enough that she could find the secret, the one thing that would make it all
just go away. And she couldn't help but hate herself for failing.

"It's not your fault," the Slayer said softly as she tenderly stroked
Willow's cheek. "She's lasted nearly four hundred years with the entire
weight of the Council after her. If they couldn't find a way to kill her
easily..." she trailed off, not liking the direction her mind was taking.

Willow's voice thickened as she spoke, "I really don't think you should do
this alone."

Buffy allowed herself a tiny small smile. "And I really think I can't do it
any other way." She hooked her hand around the hacker's narrow shoulder,
stroking the sharp jut of her collarbone through the light fleece of the
sweatshirt Willow had put on to ward off the chill while working. Then she
pulled Willow into a soft kiss, exploring the depths of her mouth until
they were both weak and gasping for air. "You have to trust me," she
whispered when they parted.

"I do. You know that," Willow insisted. "But--"

"I can't have any of you in danger," Buffy cut her off. She swallowed hard.
"This is going to take everything I've got...everything...and if I'm afraid
that you or Giles or Xander is going to get caught in the crossfire, that's
all I'm going to be able to think about." She kissed Willow again, barely
touching their lips together. "It's not like dealing with regular vampires
or the mayor or any other kind of demon..." Buffy caught Willow's hands in
her own, holding on tightly. "It's like with Faith...she's my responsibility."

"Because she was a Slayer?" Willow whispered, just as confused now as she
had been when Buffy had insisted on going up against Faith alone.

"Kinda...yeah..." Buffy sighed, unable to explain the sense of
responsibility that since it was one of her own kind that was hunting them
all, it was her job to deal with it.

Willow considered the comment for a long moment before quietly declaring,
"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my life." She shook her head.
"That's like me saying, 'Hey, because Moloch wound up in the computer, it's
my problem to deal with it." Willow shuddered with distaste as she
remembered her former boyfriend and cyber demon.

"Willow, it's not--"

"The same," Willow finished for her friend and now lover. "Oh, yeah, right.
It's all about the whole Slayer thing...only the problem is, she's not just
a Slayer, she's a vampire too...a four hundred year old vampire who's
smarter and faster than other vampires...and who--if she can succeed in
killing you--will probably turn her eye to everyone you know. That means
the rest of us have a stake in this, Buffy."

Faced with Willow's fierce determination, the Slayer could only smile,
warmed by the passion in her voice. For all of the logic, Buffy knew
perfectly well it wasn't her own life that Willow was worrying about. She
squeezed Willow's hands tightly in her own. "I'll tell you what," she
bargained at last, "I've got to call Giles and find out what he's learned.
I won't make any decisions until then."

Willow sighed very softly. It was nowhere near the total concession she'd
hoped for, but neither was it the total refusal she'd half expected. It was
also as close to victory as she was likely to come for the moment. "All
right," she exhaled hesitantly.

"I guess I should...ah...get dressed," Buffy murmured after a beat,
suddenly very much aware of her nudity. "Naked slayage being a bad
idea...and...all...that...." Both girls looked away, still uncertain quite
how to deal with the change in their relationship, not even entirely
certain what the change in their relationship actually was...past the
obvious. After a long moment, Buffy slid from bed, wrapping the sheet
around herself as an impromptu robe as she moved, while Willow moved back
to her computer, organizing files on her hard drive to distract herself
from the soft sounds Buffy made getting dressed.

Finally, the hacker felt the warmth of the Slayer's body as Buffy leaned
past her to reach for the phone. "Time to find out what Giles knows," she
murmured, then glanced down at Willow. "Is the line clear?"

Willow nodded distantly, stomach clenching as she became more and more
aware of every passing second moving past and drawing Buffy closer to the
confrontation with her deadly predecessor. She lifted a foot, bracing it on
the edge of the chair, while she rested her chin on her knee and wrapped
her arms around her folded leg as she silently listened to Buffy's end of
the call. Once the greetings were over with, it consisted mostly of "Yes,"
"No," "Nothing," "What about you?" and a few other choice phrases that
communicated precious little meaning.

The brief conversation wound down quickly and soon Buffy was saying her
goodbyes, her tone purposely neutral. "No, I'm just going to patrol the
campus. You keep checking. I'll call in later. Yeah...thanks...and
Giles...say hi to my Mom for me when she wakes up...yeah, thanks. I'll talk
to you later."

Willow was in agony by the time her friend hung up the phone. She knew from
Buffy's expression what the answer was. The Slayer was wearing her resolve
face, eyes flinty with a warrior's determination. "I'm coming with you,"
Willow bit out before Buffy had a chance to even tell her that there was
nothing to report from Giles and she intended to face DuCourvallier on her own.

Buffy's mouth softened to a gentle sad smile and she reached out to
rhythmically stroke Willow's hair back from her temples, ignoring the
impetuous comment as she carefully explained, "They haven't found anything
in the painting that might explain why she wants it so badly and they
haven't been able to trace any current locations on any of her known
identities or contacts."

Willow could barely feel the pain where her teeth were digging into her
lower lip as she unsuccessfully fought the threat of tears.

Buffy swallowed hard, her own emotions raw. Tell her the truth--the
annoying little voice that she'd grown so used to hearing in her head of
late, insisted, and for the first time, Buffy realized the voice sounded
just like her own--that you love her too much to let her risk her life, no
matter how much you want her there by your side. "Giles traced the name of
the woman selling the art collection--Devon Carstairs--to an art history
professor at George Washington University who was killed several months
ago. A car was rented in her name in Los Angeles five days ago. Giles
believes it must have been DuCourvallier...which means she may have been in
town as much as four days before making contact with my mother. She may
have watched us all...and know where we all live by now...."

"Buffy, please--"

The Slayer continued, her tone implacable. "Giles thinks she must have
killed Devon Carstairs to steal her identity...all things considered she
could undoubtedly get close to an art history prof without much effort.
He's calling the Watcher's Council in the morning." Buffy swallowed again,
her throat painfully dry from the stress. "We both know how much they care
about all of your lives," she added tightly. "So if I don't come back, I'm
trusting you to make certain that you and my mom, Giles, Xander...and even
Anya...get out of town. It won't be safe here."

Silver tears slipped from Willow's eyes, sliding down her cheeks in ragged
trails.

Buffy leaned down, barely brushing her lips over Willow's, her voice the
barest whisper as they parted and she swore, "It'll be okay." Then she
pulled away, moving back to her closet to grab for a jacket. After slinging
on a black leather biker type that not only looked rough and tumble, but
was also heavy enough that it tended to lessen the impact of any hard
blows--and she expected a lot of solid hits to be aimed her way very
soon--she knelt next to her bed, ignoring the tumbled sheets that were a
very physical reminder of how she'd spent her last hours. She pulled a
wooden lock box out from under the bed, flicking it open to grab Mr.
Pointy--Kendra's last gift to anyone--into an inner pocket, settling it
until it didn't make the jacket bulge.

The tiny gesture knocked Willow from the brief paralysis that had overtaken
her and she dropped her foot to the floor to stand. "I'll call Giles," she
choked out, eyes meeting Buffy's as the Slayer peered back over her
shoulder. "I swear to God, the moment you're out the door," Willow
promised, "I'll call and tell him everything." She straightened her
shoulders, terrified of angering her friend and pushing her away, but also
unwilling to do nothing. "I won't just stand by and let you get yourself
killed."

"Oh, Will," Buffy sighed sadly as she pushed to her feet. Anything but
angry, she reached out to the hacker, drawing her into a hard hug, felt
Willow's arms wrap around her, holding on with desperate strength. They
were both shaking, trembling hard as they clung to each other. Buffy worked
her fingers into silky red hair, gently tugging Willow's head up from her
shoulder, tasting salty tears as she nuzzled her cheek tenderly. "I love
you, Willow Rosenberg, do you hear me?" she whispered raggedly. "Always
remember that." She was still holding her lover like that when she snapped
the handcuff she'd palmed from the box around one of Willow's slender wrists.

The hacker jumped, uncertain what was happening until she found herself
tipped back onto the bed and realized that one wrist was locked in a silver
bracelet. "No," Willow grunted, trying to push upward as the she Slayer
came down over her, pinning her to the mattress. It was the strangest of
battles, both girls desperate to get their own way, and neither one willing
to hurt the other to do it.

Willow never had a chance. Not against Slayer strength, even gently
applied. In moments, Buffy had her hands pinned against the mattress over
her head and had passed the loose cuff through the steel bedframe before
locking it around Willow's other wrist. No more than a heartbeat later,
Buffy felt Willow draw a breath, read her intentions, and did the only
thing she could think of; she kissed Willow, dragging the breath from her
lungs with hungry lips that pressed with a fervor made up of equal parts
love and frustration. The hacker bucked desperately, but was nowhere near
strong enough to dislodge her gentle assailant. Her lips still wedded with
Willow's, Buffy scrambled, reaching for the clock-radio that sat on her
nightstand. With a set of circadian rhythms that would never let her be a
morning person even if it weren't for the late nights required by her
slayerly avocation, Buffy had found through hard won experience that an
alarm too many decibels below a low yield nuclear device was doomed to
failure. As she flipped the switch, the familiar and raucous sounds of the
local punk station--the only one that could consistently rouse her from bed
for an eight a.m. class--blasted through the room. She pushed the volume
all the way to the top until the music rocked the lighting fixtures and
made the plaster walls shudder in time with the throbbing beat.

Within moments, the rooms on either side of theirs were alive with
overloud, bad music, following the dormitory tradition of turning one's own
volume up in lieu of asking a neighbor to turn theirs down.

Willow could scream herself hoarse and no one would ever hear.

The Slayer pushed herself up on her hands, flinching under the impact of
the angry gaze directed her way. "I'm sorry, Will," she mouthed to avoid
screaming above the sound of the music.

Willow tugged against the cuffs, twisting to glare over her head at the
chased silver bracelets. "Damn you," she hissed, her voice inaudible above
the din, not that the Slayer needed to hear her to know what she'd said.

Struggling to ignore the guilt burning in her chest, Buffy pushed up on her
knees, reaching over the edge of the bed to snag the pair of red velvet
lined cuffs she'd retrieved from a Spiel Demon with interesting tastes
months before. She'd kept them with some distant thought of playing
a tacky joke on Giles sometime when he got on her bad side. In moments,
she had Willow's ankles bound to the bedframe, despite the hacker's efforts
to avoid her. She slid back up, trying to ignore the headache the music--if
it could be called that--was threatening to inflict on her skull, sitting
on the edge of the bed next to Willow.

"Don't do this," Willow panted desperately, her eyes glinting with unshed
tears of panic and anger.
The Slayer leaned down, stroking Willow's cheek tenderly as she pressed her
lips against a delicate ear to make herself heard. "I'm sorry. I wish there
was another way, but I can't risk you...I just can't." She kissed Willow's
cheek softly. "I'll make sure there's someone here to let you out in the
morning." And then she was standing and moving toward the door.

Willow could barely hear herself screaming Buffy's name, her voice hoarse
with effort as she strained against the all too effective bindings.
Helplessly, she watched as the Slayer dropped the handcuff keys into the
top desk drawer, then moved to leave. She looked back as she reached the
door, mouth barely moving as her eyes met Willow's.

"I love you."

And then she was gone, leaving Willow alone with her desperation.

* * * * * *


TBC

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

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