Soulmates
by Anne-Lise
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"I can't take this anymore," Xander sighed. "It's killing me to see her like this. There's got to be something we haven't tried. There just has to be!"
Anya shook her head. "We're doing all we can, love. We just have to be here for her. It's all we can do."
"She's going to get herself killed."
Anya stared at her coffee mug. "Yes, but that's her choice."
"I refuse to accept that!" Xander roared. "She's my..." He trailed off and tried to calm down. "She's my best friend, Anya. I've gotta do something." Tears fell from his eyes. "I've got to try to save her. Save her from herself. No-one else can."
Anya shrugged. "I'm not even going to try and talk you out of this," she sighed. "There's no point. Just be safe." She studiously ignored him by staring into her mug.
Xander grabbed his coat and left.
*
Buffy patrolled the graveyards, looking for trouble, and the voice came along too.
"What have we here?" The deep snarl of a vampire came from behind her. Stupid, Buffy thought. It might've stood a chance if it'd just attacked her silently from behind. Then again, probably not.
She turned to face her latest adversary and studied him as he approached. She pulled a rough-hewn stake from her belt and prepared herself.
"Who are you?" The vampire asked, suddenly unsure.
Buffy threw the vampire a quirky smile. "I must really be off my game if the local vamps don't recognise the Slayer," she commented wryly.
"Slayer?" The vampire approached, wary and unsure. "I heard the Slayer was dead."
Buffy attacked, the stake a whirlwind in her hands. Her feet described arcs as graceful as a dancer. The vampire was overwhelmed. The vampire was dust.
"Guess again," Buffy said, and the voice gave its approval.
She whistled jauntily as she thrust her stake back into her belt, straightened her red hair, and strolled out of the graveyard.
*
Tara stared into the darkness waiting for Willow to return from her patrol. Rain pattered against the glass, and a tree branch tapped irregularly in eerie counterpoint on the windowpane. Lightning flared and lit up Willow's outline in the doorway.
"W..." Tara broke off. "Hey?" she called.
Willow stared blankly at Tara for a moment. "Buffy!" she smiled. She walked over and scooped Tara out of the chair. "God, Buffy. I'm glad you're back safe."
They shared a kiss.
"How was your patrol?" Willow asked as she led the way to the bedroom.
Tears marred Tara's cheeks as she answered. "The patrol went fine, Will. N...no problems."
*
I feel her hand at the small of my back and before I know it, we're kissing. I guess Buffy doesn't believe in long formalities. Little sighs and groans escape my mouth as I revel in her soft lips. Her hands travel down and scoop me up as though I weigh nothing, and she presses me closer against her velvet body.
She pushes me against the bedroom wall, hard, almost too hard. Her fingers fumble at my skirt as my own hand runs between her legs. She reaches under my blouse to brush my nipples and I moan into her mouth, rubbing up and down on her thigh.
She lifts me, higher still, and rips away my skirt. We're kissing the whole time, and she can't take me fast enough. The wall is cold and hard against my back, yet all thoughts of discomfort quickly disappear as her hands travel up my bare thighs, pausing for a long, delicious moment, before her thumbs come to rest gently on my clit.
I become one big nerve ending as she slowly strokes me, as she becomes acquainted with my wet folds. Everything in my body begs her to keep going as she slips yet more fingers inside me. She finally starts thrusting, and as my back arches I bump my head on a picture, knocking it askew. I hardly notice; I'm getting louder and louder and I can't help myself. Buffy's breathing is getting heavier too, with her soft groans providing a subtle undertone to my gasps and breaths.
She slides her face down my body, easily breaking the vice grip of my thighs. She looks back up at me as her head moves into position between my legs. My face clearly shows all my emotions but I no longer care. In fact, I want to be even more obvious so that she can see exactly what she does to me. I rest my thighs on her shoulders, and her mouth softly closes around my clit.
A raw animal grunt escapes me as she licks the underside of my clit, her fingers still inside me. She keeps her tongue moving, lightly at first, enjoying the responses she evokes within me. I'm completely at her mercy. She moves her hand inside me again, curving her fingers to find my G-spot and stroking it steadily until I make yet more animal groans. Finally she senses I can't take it much longer and sucks me full force. I spasm, so stimulated that it hurts. My mind becomes a fog, but my body adjusts to her increased rhythm; climbing, riding the swells, inevitably peaking. I let my legs fall wider and wider apart, totally relaxing my muscles, begging her to go deeper still and bang her head hard against my cunt. Roiling heat starts in my belly and floods outwards. My mind blanks, my body shakes, and I come with a shout.
"Willow!" I scream, and as I feel her pleasure within me, my mind fogs once more.
Moments pass, and as Buffy lifts her head I feel suddenly naked. She kisses her way back up to my mouth and I taste myself on her lips.
Slowly, I regain a measure of control over my movements. I feel shy and sheepish, my old, true self. She makes me feel, somehow, more real. Me again.
I love her for it, and the voice loves her too.
"I love you, Buffy."
"I love you too, Willow," she replies. Strangely, tears marr her perfect face but I'm too tired to ask why. So tired.
Rest now, the voice advises me. I can't tell whether the voice sounds like Buffy or Willow. Who am I?
Rest now.
*
Xander found Tara on the floor, curled in a foetal ball, crying. He put a hand to her shoulder and wondered what in hell he should say.
"Are you alright?" He finally asked, lamely.
Tara uncurled enough for Xander to see the bruises. He stared at the welts on her naked thighs, and the blood oozing from deep gashes on her neck and face.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.
"She's getting worse," Tara whispered in a small voice.
Xander closed his eyes, eyes that burned from holding back tears.
"You're the only one that can bring her out of this," Xander reminded her." The only one of us who can break whatever spell she cast." Xander's voice choked up. "Before she hurts... someone. Worse. Or she gets herself killed."
"Isn't Giles coming?" Tara asked as she took Xander's arm and climbed unsteadily to her feet.
Xander straightened up. "We still haven't called him."
Tara frowned. "I think you should."
"We will."
"Xander?" Tara stopped him with a touch to his arm. "She never even says my name anymore. Its Buffy she makes love to, not me. I..." Tears leaked from her eyes. "I can't deal with this anymore, Xander. She doesn't even know me."
"Yes, you can!" Xander shoved her backwards, rage in his eyes. "And you will! We owe it to her! She tried to bring back Buffy because that's what we agreed she should do. You included! And I'll be damned if we turn our back on her because the spell fucked her up instead. If she needs you to be Buffy when she gets her rocks off, you will fucking be Buffy!"
Tara nodded. "I... I'm sorry."
Xander relented. "So am I, Tara. So am I."
*
"There she is," Anya pointed to Parkside where they could clearly see Willow walking blithely amongst the tombs and graves. They saw the vampires approach. Too many of them, six in all. And they were too far away to be of any help.
"Willow!" Xander cried, but she didn't hear him.
Anya put her hands to the sides of her mouth. "Buffy, look out!" she screamed.
Willow span and yanked her stake from her belt. She met her attackers at a run, the stake weaving from hand to hand as it described lethal, circular motions.
Xander staggered to a halt at the cemetery gate. Shock forced him to stand immobile and stare as Willow dusted five of the vampires with fluid ease. The last made a determined run in the opposite direction. Right towards where Xander stood, only the old iron gates to the cemetery separating them. The vampire crashed into the gates and stopped.
He had a gaping hole in his chest. Broken ribs showed white in the spilling gore. Through the hole, Xander caught a glimpse of Willow striding towards them. Almost casually, the vampire stared down at the wound. He didn't seem to be in any pain although the agony must have been terrible. The vamp's expression was one of dazed affront. Then it vanished into dust.
Xander gaped, and looked behind him at the stake lying on the floor off to one side. Willow had thrown it so hard, it had literally ripped a path through the vampire. Any misjudgement on her part, and Xander or Anya could have been killed too. He forced himself to breathe again.
"Are you okay, Willow?" Xander asked.
*
"Are you okay, Willow?" he asks.
I look around, trying to spot her.
"Willow?" I call.
From behind me the voice whispers, "I'm fine."
"She's fine," I repeat. Sometimes its almost as if Xander won't talk directly to Willow anymore. They're like kids, always squabbling.
Anya opens her mouth to say something but promptly closes it again. Xander's been a good influence on her; She thinks more carefully nowadays about what she's going to say.
"We'd better get back," Anya finally mutters. "Dawn'll be worried."
"Dawnie!" A smile lights up my face. "Who's looking after her? Tara?"
Xander nods, scrutinising my face.
I smile warmly. "I feel like I haven't seen her in ages," I say. "You're right, we should go." I look around. "Where's Buffy?"
"I'm here," the voice whispers, and follows me out of the graveyard.
*
Giles looked round at the solemn faces. Xander, sitting on the couch beside Anya. Tara, who seemed very much the battered housewife. And Dawn. Oh god, Dawn. Who knew how she was taking it all, what she could be thinking?
"She's asleep right now," Tara said. "But we should be brief. She sleeps strange hours these days."
Giles removed his glasses to rub at her eyes. Jet lag still weighed heavily on him. "So, you tried to bring Buffy back," he muttered. "Bloody fools! I thought you'd know better. Especially you," he said, staring at Tara.
"Hey!" Xander leaned forward. "Calm down, British guy. Laying it on Tara isn't helping and she's been through so much already. Too much."
Giles sighed and put his glasses back on. "And now she thinks she's Buffy."
"Its... more than that," Tara replied. "Its like she's schizophrenic. But when she thinks she's Buffy... She really is Buffy. She has her strength..."
"And the moves," Xander chipped in.
"And those really poor puns," Anya added. the others gave her a Look. "Well, she does. Its like she really is Buffy."
Giles digested this news. "I wonder," he murmured. Could it be possible that Willow had indeed summoned Buffy's soul from whatever hell dimension it'd been trapped in, and without a host was now co-habiting Willow's body? "I need a drink," he muttered.
"Tea?" Anya asked. "I went out today and got some especially..."
"No," Giles replied, getting up from his chair. "I need a real drink."
*
"Hey Dawnie." Her face goes white as she sees me and I have to worry whether she's ill. "Are you okay?"
"Willow?" she asks, uncertainly.
I nod. Willow. Buffy. Doesn't matter anymore; names are but the robes of fools.
"I'm... fine," she tries, knowing the lie will hang between us.
What should we do? Willow asks. Buffy doesn't know either.
I reach a hand out to touch her cheek, to let her see just how much she means to us. But she breaks and runs away, into her room.
And, suddenly, Tara is there.
"Tara!" Willow cries and we rush into her arms. Something's upset her, for her tears spill down both cheeks leaving silver tracks. "Please, don't cry, love."
"Love?" Tara whispers the word as though tasting it. As if we don't remind her of our love all the time.
I thought you loved me? Buffy's voice dissembles, creating discord.
I'll always love you, Willow replies, and again there is harmony.
"Are you Willow?" Tara asks.
Buffy answers for us; Willow is too emotionally drained. "We are."
*
Giles looked up forlornly from his notes. "There's a dispel," he said. "But I think it might be too late already."
"What do you mean, too late?" Xander snapped out of his daydream. "In what way?"
Giles considered his words. "Buffy's soul," he sighed. "Its like broken glass set at the core of a concrete slab." He picked an analogy that would have meaning to Xander. "And if you remove the glass..."
"The slab shatters," Xander finished.
A leaden silence.
"Fuck it," Xander said at last. "Just do it anyway."
Giles frowned. "I can't. I'm not strong enough."
"I'll do it." Tara stood in the doorway with eyes black as midnight. "She's still in there." Xander's eyes widen. "But she's losing."