Of Human Bonding
by HDGenscher
Through The Darkest Night
[reviews]
TITLE: Of Human Bonding [3/5] - Through The Darkest Night
AUTHOR: HD_Genscher
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: B/W
SPOILERS: for "Spiral"
DISCLAIMER: All characters and places belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al.
ARCHIVE: HD's Fan Fiction Archive, http://www.wiffy.de/hdffa/
FEEDBACK: If you liked it, I'll appreciate your feedback. And if you didn't like it, it'll help me a lot if you point out what I did wrong.
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OF HUMAN BONDING
Part 3. THROUGH THE DARKEST NIGHT
It was all Anya's fault.
It was all Xander's fault.
Or Willow's, or Giles's, or the monks'.
Or her own.
If Anya hadn't called Dawn "pure, green energy" in the worst possible moment, revealing her true nature to the Hellgod they knew as Glory, if she wouldn't have been brainwashed in the first place because she and Xander wouldn't have fought over whether or not they should go to that damned Arts Fair...
Buffy glanced at the former demon, sitting on her left on the backseat of Ben's car, absent-mindedly tugging at the bandage protecting her broken mid-hand, then at her boyfriend, who was driving.
The monks certainly were to blame--if they hadn't turned the Key into her sister, none of this would've happened. If Giles would've been more reluctant to give in to her plan to flee from Sunnydale, these damn knights wouldn't have had a chance to almost kill him.
Her watcher was half sitting, half lying in the front-passenger seat, unconscious most of the time, either due to the loss of blood, or the pain, or the drugs Ben had injected him.
If she wouldn't have been blinded by her concern about the ones she loved, she would've seen that leaving the cover of their hometown wasn't such a good idea...
And finally, if Willow--Buffy gulped hard, but the limp in her throat wouldn't go away--if Willow, her lovely, beautiful, fighting-like-a-lioness Willow wouldn't have attacked Glory when she suddenly appeared at the abandoned gas station, if she would've left this duty to her, the Slayer... they'd most likely all be dead by now.
If, would, had... This wouldn't take her anywhere, Buffy thought and sighed.
It seemed easy to blame someone, anyone, for the mess they were in, tempting even. The temptation to blame herself had been overwhelming for a moment--when Glory took off with Dawn, Willow just sat on the ground motionlessly, and there was nothing she could do about it, but she had resisted it, knowing that without her leadership, everything was lost, and everything she'd fought for in the past years with it. Together, they had a chance to beat Glory, but she'd need all of them, even Spike--who had to take the trunk during their ride home because there weren't seats for all of them in Ben's car.
But most of all her friends and allies (she wouldn't go as far as calling Spike a friend), she needed Willow--her center, her guide, her lover, the one easing the weight of the world that was lasting on her shoulders--and a very powerful witch who'd been able to at least hurt Glory at more than one occasion. Buffy turned to the redhead, who was sitting on her right, and slowly caressed her cheek, hoping to evoke a reaction from her. But Willow didn't move, didn't react at all to her surroundings, ever since she'd fought Glory.
As the car sped through the darkest night, bringing them back to Sunnydale, Buffy recalled the recent events.
The fight was unlike anything Buffy had ever seen before, and if a Slayer said something like that, it certainly meant something. Willow threw spell after spell at the Hellgod, causing the ground to shake, at the same time blocking Glory attempts to hurt her, or anyone else. Her green eyes, filled with dark mojo, turned black, and Buffy still shuddered inwardly at the disturbing and frightening sight. Still dazed from the blow she'd received from Glory right at the beginning of the battle, all she could do was watch in awe and fear as good fought evil, compassion and love fought hatred and death.
Willow's face turned into a distorted mask from exertion as she tried to put a kind of paralysation spell on Glory. The Hellgod was somehow resisting it, but the witch obviously didn't want to give in, tried to put all the power she had into maintaining the spell. It almost seemed as if the veins in her face were turning black, at least for a moment, and the witch's hair tips were darkening, when, with a sudden desperate motion, Glory fought off the spell, sending the witch staggering backwards and against the wall. Sensing that this was her chance to retreat, moving much faster than the eye could see, Glory grabbed Dawn and slammed through the barricade they'd erected at the door, taking half of the front wall of the derelict building with her. Then she was gone, and even more terrifying than the thought of her sister in the hands of Glory was the sight of Willow slowly sliding down the wall into a sitting position on the floor. The death cries of the Knights of Byzantium told her that it was rather imprudent to go after Glory now if she didn't have a burning desire to join their fate, so Buffy crawled over to her girlfriend instead. The witch's impact into the wall hadn't been that hard, not hard enough to cause any internal damage even for someone who didn't have Slayer constitution. But Willow didn't move, and her gaze was fixed on an invisible object at the opposite wall. Buffy felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest, leaving a large hole filled with fear.
"Willow, are you alright?" she asked her lover, while she examined her body for injuries. She found none.
"Willow, you're scaring me!" she shouted, snapping her fingers in front of the witch's face. Willow didn't even twitch.
"Willow, please..." she finally pleaded. But Willow, the lover she'd only found recently, didn't answer.
A single tear rolled down Buffy's cheek, but she wasn't willing to give up, not until she'd tried everything in her power to get Willow back, to get Dawn back, and to stop Glory. Maybe Willow was just overexerted, and after a little rest, she'd snap out of her current state of mind. As long as there was hope, there was something worth living for.
A plan began to form in her mind.
"Xander, after you've dropped us at Revello Drive, you'll bring Giles directly to the hospital," she instructed.
"Okay, Buffy." Xander answered, not taking his eyes away from the road, and Buffy noticed the serious tone of his voice. A while ago, her friend would've answered with a funny remark, but the recent events obviously had affected him as well.
"I'm gonna need Giles' help to cure Willow, so let's hope his injuries can be taken care of rather quickly. I'll take care of Anya and Willow while you're gone."
They drove past the sign welcoming them to Sunnydale, and to Buffy, it seemed like pure derision.
**
Giles returned at daybreak, a large white bandage covering his left shoulder and a part of his chest. After making sure that no major arteries had been injured, his wound had been cleaned and stitched up, and finally he'd received a transfusion to compensate his loss of blood. The medical personnel in Sunnydale's hospital were used to cases like this: strange wounds, and lots of anaemic patients. They were quite experienced in treating those cases quickly and effectively, and that was the reason why the wounded watcher was allowed to leave the clinic after a little more than five hours. Knowing that the Slayer was expecting him as soon as possible, Xander had driven them back to Revello Drive immediately after Giles' discharge.
"Giles! Are you alright?" Buffy greeted him as he and Xander entered the Summers' home. She was sitting opposite of Willow in the living room. Obviously, the witch's state hadn't changed in the past hours.
"Yes. A little stitching, and my shoulder's as good as new," Giles answered. "I'll have to renounce doing anything that might interrupt the healing process, though, and I'm afraid this will include fighting a certain Hellgod."
"At the moment, I won't need your fighting skills, Giles. I need your help with Willow."
"What exactly happened to Willow?" the watcher asked, while he tried to take off his jacket with his good arm. Xander, who'd gone upstairs to check on Anya, entered the room again and offered to help him.
"I'm injured, not crippled, you know," Giles told him with a slightly bitter undertone. Without answering, Xander helped him out of his jacket. "Thank you, anyway," he added. "I remember that she and Glory fought, and it was one hell of a fight..."
"Glory managed to break her spell and took off with Dawn. Willow staggered and bumped into the wall, and ever since, she's been like this," Buffy explained and looked sadly at the witch, who was sitting and staring without any sign that she was perceiving anything that was going on around her. She took her girlfriend's hand into hers and slowly stroke it. Giles moved over to where the two girls were sitting. He knelt down in front of Willow and alternately shone a small flashlight into each of her eyes.
Buffy held her breath while the Englishman examined the redhead.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Her iris reflexes are intact, but her eyes don't follow the light." He demonstrated this with his flashlight. "I'd say she's in a state of mental shock, perhaps from the amount of magical power she's used. Or maybe she severed her link with this world to protect herself from the effects of Glory breaking her spell. I don't think that Glory did any physical harm to her. From what we know, she'd need direct physical contact to achieve that."
"So, you're saying that somehow her brain shut off reality to protect herself?" Xander asked, trying to grasp the essence of Giles' explanation.
"Precisely."
"What can we do to help her?" Buffy asked.
"If I'm right and it is in fact a self-induced stupor, you could try to communicate with her directly, mentally," Giles continued, and took off his glasses.
"Telepathic communication? This isn't Star Trek, Giles!" Xander said.
"Xander, please." Buffy was willing to clutch at every straw, although she wasn't very convinced of the watcher's proposal herself.
"It might seem like something from a science fiction show on television, but I assure you that it's possible," Giles said and used his handkerchief to clean the glasses.
"Why me? I-I haven't done anything like that before," Buffy replied. "Wouldn't it be better if you..." Her voice trailed off.
"I can't, Buffy. Only someone very close to the person in question has a chance to enter their mind."
Buffy contemplated this for a moment.
"Okay, I'll try," she finally said.
"Erm, you meant close as in 'close' close, right?" Xander asked. Giles darted him a desperate look and nodded, then put his glasses back on.
"He sure did, Brains," Spike said from the door as he entered the room, a bag of blood in his hand.
"But what's the fuss about the witch, anyway? She gave herself a brainwash, so who cares?" he continued.
At the moment he'd finished, Buffy was over at his side of the room. With one arm, she pressed him hard against the door frame while she placed the stake she always carried with her on his chest, right above his undead heart, with her other hand.
"No one says something like that about my girl. No one!" Buffy growled with a dangerously low voice. "Not you, Spike, not anyone. And although I'd like to end your miserable existence right here and now, I can't because I need you in the battle against Glory."
"Calm down, Slayer, and put away that stake. You might actually hurt someone..." the vampire just said with an ironic tone.
Buffy just glared at him angrily, not moving an inch. Instead, she made sure that Spike felt the point of her stake just a little more.
"I didn't mean it, okay?" Spike finally offered. "Get over it!"
"Oh, I know exactly how you meant it. I just hope you'll know how I mean it when I shove that stake through your heart..." Buffy replied as she released the vampire and put away her stake.
"Now that was fun... Some blood, anyo...?"
*Pooof*
"No one!" Buffy repeated softly.
**
After vacuuming the floor in the living room, Buffy carefully carried Willow upstairs and into their bedroom, where Giles and Xander had prepared everything they'd need already. Two large armchairs were standing opposite of one another in the middle of the room now, within a circle of white sand just being finished by Giles as she entered. Several candles illuminated the room with a warm and cozy light. Buffy put Willow down in the one chair, then sat down in the other.
"I'll be downstairs," Xander said and walked to the door.
"Thank you," Buffy replied and smiled at her friend.
Xander closed the door, and Buffy could hear his footsteps in the hallway, not down the stairs, but over to the right. Obviously, he was checking on Anya first.
"What do I do now?" Buffy asked nervously and looked at her lover, who was sitting in her chair indifferently. 'I'll help you, baby,' she thought. 'I promise!'
"Take her hands."
Buffy took the witch's hands into hers, and noticed that they were sitting so close to each other that their knees almost touched. Now their hands formed a circle as well, just like the sand around them. "What's the use of the sand?" she asked.
"You're untrained, you're not used to focusing your thoughts on a specific spot or being, like a trained witch or warlock is," Giles explained. "With the circle's help, I'll redirect your stray thoughts back into the confined space in whose center you're sitting. But it will help a lot if you try to focus on Willow, both physically and mentally."
"Yeah, but how?"
"Close your eyes, and... think of her, or... or of something you two shared, perhaps a mutual experience..." the watcher instructed.
"O-kay," Buffy said, drawling the word. Then she closed her eyes and thought of Willow... tasting sweet, soft Willowlips kissing her in the desert... touching warm, white Willowskin while making out in the jeep, the rain pattering on the windshield... caressing wet, red Willowhair after they got soaked to the skin on the walk from the car to the house...
A flash of light interrupted her stream of memories, and she opened her eyes.
'What the...' Buffy thought. She was no longer in their bedroom, in her house.
She was in a very familiar room, a room they'd almost spent three years of their lives in. A bright late summer sun was shining in through the small skylights, bathing the bookshelves and the books on them in light.
Buffy was standing right in the middle of the library of long gone Sunnydale High.
To be continued in:
Part 4, "Bound"