Addiction
by UrbanGoth
Denial
[reviews]
NOTES: [ ] character thoughts
2. Denial
She ambled down the road going over that last conversation again. As if he was that disillusioned. 'There are other ways...' Way to woo a girl. Leer and smirk like a dirty old man. 'You're a tease, y'know that, Slayer?' She shuddered a little. She didn't want a love sick vampire. Look how well it ended last time.
But she needed his strength. It was the main thing that was keeping him alive. Granted he begrudgingly fought demons on her side, but, still, he did it. And he made parts of it a little easier. Even if he made the rest of it harder. Still, a girl can always use an ego booster. What else boosts your ego better than a secret admirer? Well, maybe not secret.
Throwing her keys on the table, she closed the door and peered around the house in search of life. Had to keep battling on. Keep on with the norm. Which means hassling tennants to wash the dishes.
"Willow?" She called from her spot by the door. If she didn't have to see her it may be best not to. Buffy really didn't want to touch on what happened at the Bronze at all.
Hearing no answer she headed up the stairs, and, bracing herself for any and all possible outcomes, she opened the witch's door.
"Will, I just came to-" she noticed another girl in the room and casually gave her a nod from her position at the door. "Oh, Tara, hey-" Woah. "Amy?" This was not an outcome she'd expected in the slightest.
"The whole school?" Amy said to Willow, who nodded. Buffy's stare drifted from Amy to Willow and back to Amy again. Apparently they'd been catching up. "By a giant snake thing." She stopped and considered this, nodding. "Okay, still adjusting." Not taking her eyes from the space of wall she was studying, she acknowledged the petite blond. "Hi Buffy."
Buffy, taken slightly aback offered her best greeting. "Hi." At a loss, she gave up searching for something intelligent to say. "How've you been?" Awkward much.
"Rat. You?"
"Dead."
"Oh."
The silence was almost deafening. No-one is really sure what's appropriate and inappropriate when it comes to conversations swimming in bitterness, however well disguised said bitterness is. Usually, it's hard to hear it when someone is almost in complete shock, but Buffy knew bitterness well. When you use most of your vocal chords in such a way as to hide it, you catch the moment, the semi-quasi-second, when they slip up.
After what seemed like an age and a half, Amy piped up with a reason to get out of the room. "Do you have any cookies?"
Back on familiar grounds, at last. "Uh, yeah, w-what kind?"
"Any kind. Not cheese." Willow had to restrain herself from laughing.
"Um, sure, in the, the kitchen." She exited the room and headed towards the kitchen with Amy at her heels, leaving Willow in her room. Well, at least it avoided the conversation she didn't want to have. She reached into the cupboard and fished out the cookies for Amy who graciously accepted and backed out into the living room and parked herself on the couch, ready to do a lot of TV watching. Buffy found herself staring out the dishes, half wondering, half wishing that maybe if she wanted hard enough, wanted with all her strength, they'd wash themselves. But knowing it wasn't gonna happen she turned on the hot tap and set to work.
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Willow watched the detailed bedspread, silently asking it to tell her what to do. This whole Amy-rat-Amy thing had put a few things in perspective. All the things that had happened while she was a rat, if you put yourself in her shoes, were a bit mind blowing. Even without the empathy, things were a bit mind blowing, and the witch found herself thinking of the old days where power wasn't an issue, and competition only came to light on sports days.
Willow felt the power stir and groaned. It called to her, commanded her to the window, and she obeyed. Peering through the curtains, she watched as the peroxide nightmare sparked up another cigarette and felt herself grin with the power. Power she had over him. She had what he wanted. She had the slayer. A satisfied smirk crossed her features as she watched him, hopelessly waiting for unrequited love, if that's what it really was, to become a mutual thing. She caught his eye and he stared up at the witch's window, saying nothing, as she continued to smirk. Buffy was her outlet of frustration. If anyone got to-
Then she caught herself and flinched from the window. What was she thinking? This is Buffy. Best friend, confidant, partner in crime. Fighting. Crime fighting. Slayer, protector. Fought the forces of evil with vehemence and faith, and grace, and balance and stealth, air sweeping over her lithe body as she twisted behind the headstones in the darkness, as Willow held her firmly against the wall of a crypt, running her hands along the subtle curves, pressing against her, rubbing her, fingers seeking-
She caught herself again. [What is WRONG with me?] Sighing, she picked her way to the bathroom quietly.
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Shortly after finishing the plates, she put them away and went to check on Amy who hadn't moved.
"Hey." Amy quickly turned the TV to mute, listening to Buffy. "How you doin'? Need anything?"
"No. Thanks." She grinned and held the plate up a little. "Good cookies."
Buffy tried to smile. She really did. It was getting harder and harder these days, as if it ached. She felt like a fraud when she smiled, but knew it was what her friends needed to see. Her mind wandered over Willow again. To be honest, the slayer had no idea where this turn in the friendship would end up. There was no doubt that they were still friends. They would always be friends. They'd made a pact. It was silly and childish to think about but, on some primal level, it made sense. Honestly, Buffy wasn't sure how she would deal with things without Willow. She'd thought about it often, even back when they'd first met.
Amy gazed softly at Buffy before speaking. "Sorry about your Mom."
"Thanks." Her voice cracked bit. She wasn't over it. But then, it's not something you really ever get over. Ever.
"It's crazy, all the things that've happened since I went away."
Buffy snickered a little. "No kidding."
"Snyder got eaten by a snake... high school got destroyed..."
"Oh. Gatorade has a new flavour. Blue."
"See. Head spinning." She sighed. "People getting frozen... Willow's dating girls... and did you hear about Tom and Nicole?!"
Buffy's brow furrowed a little. "People getting frozen?" Another new thing.
Great.
Amy nodded and turned the volume back up, watching as a reporter signed off from the museum.
"Weird," Amy observed. [Nope,] thought Buffy, [you're not wrong.] Weird was definately the way things were going at the moment.
She grabbed a coat and hat and headed out into the cold.
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A thick silence blanketed the Magic Box, an active silence. It danced around the room eliciting a knot of uncomfort within each of the Scoobies after the brief but awakening conversation. Buffy cautiously eyed the others whilst trying to maintain the facade of researching. Anya was, as always, as delicate in her accusations as an elephant in a china shop. But she was right.
Humans are fickle things. All of her friends had their secrets, their quirks and foibles. They stored emotions in themselves, feared death and craved love. Buffy, Willow, Xander and Giles. The Core of the Scoobies, the circle, and somehow Anya had become an intrinsic part of that yet remained on the periphery. Maybe it was due to her 1000 years as a demon past but Buffy couldn't help but wonder if was the honesty. Never had she met anyone as blatantly honest as the ex-demon. The slayer found herself wondering where she, Willow and Xander had gone wrong. Considering how long they had been friends and how much they had been through together, still, they pushed each other away refusing to admit they needed help.
Pride. The deadliest of the sins.
The slayer shivered. The box had grown dark around her as she mused. Time just didn't seem to matter a great deal recently. Days bled together, the sun burned and she found herself longing for the night and for the dark, something to hide in. A tingle of anticipation stirred inside the blond. It was twighlight and she could almost hear the new ones turning in their graves. The fight erased the rest of the world, gave her something to focus on. It made things pass a little faster.
The glow of Willow's table lamp caught her eye, bringing her out of her own mind. She noticed Xander and Anya had gone and furrowed her brow, trying to remember if she had even acknowledged them.
"Will?"
Willow froze. She'd been waiting for this since Xander had left with Anya. Clearly Buffy wasn't going to say anything in front of them, especially him. The fingers of her left hand were cold and she brought them up to her mouth warming them with her breath, hoping Buffy wouldn't say her name again. She had considered doing a forget spell, it would be easy just to say a few words and have the kiss forgotten by both, but she can't sew.
"Willow?"
It wasn't even that big of a deal anyway. So they kissed. Friends kiss all the time. Natural. Show of affection and appreciation... Willow sighed inwardly and felt her eyelids grow heavy with guilt. Appreciation for what? Ripping her out of heaven? Making everyone forget themselves? It didn't feel natural either. It was a strange mixture of ice and fire. Cold at first, imperfect, until it grew and burned them both. Willow unconsciously licked her lips, not knowing whether she wished for blisters or not. And where was the affection? When they kissed, she didn't even feel that Buffy was her friend. Where had they lost it?
She didn't take her eyes from the book. "Yeah, Buff?" Here it comes...
"When did Xander and Anya leave?"
A great wave of relief passed over the redhead. She almost smiled. "About an hour ago. Said something about being tired. Going to bed."
Buffy watched as Willow, with her nose still stuck in the book, rose and crossed the room to fetch another. She seemed to float. Willow, despite being clumsy as hell sometimes, retained a goddess-like elegance that Buffy just didn't have. You could hear the heavy footed Buffy when she entered a room. The slayer traced Willow's body with her eyes again. She'd been doing it a lot lately and you'd think that one would get bored of it, but no. The red hair, the subtle curves, large, green eyes. The innocent-but-not aura. Buffy had her own private Audrey Hepburn.
A flare between her legs prompted Buffy to leap to her feet.
"I'm gonna do some training before patrol." Willow only nodded and sat back at the table, still reading and cross-referencing, glad that she was finally alone.
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Buffy crossed the back room to the punch bag and began winding a bandage round her right hand, lost in thought again.
"You bloody women. All the same." Buffy leapt around at the sound of glass crashing to the concrete floor. A bottle by the sound of the drunkard's voice.
"What now, Spike?" Not even irritated she waited for him to leave. Or start hitting on her. At least it'll give her a fight.
"You lead a guy on and knock him down!" He staggered towards her. "But now it's my turn. Cut right to the chase, luv." He brought the back of his fist down hard on her cheek and she found herself on the floor. Spike grinned through his drunken haze. "Now I do the knocking down." He leapt on her and she swiftly kicked him off but made no move to follow it. She sat on the floor, huddled against the wall in shock.
"How did you...?" She trailed off.
He stood over her and growled through his smile. "Oh the pain! The pain!... is gone." He grabbed her by the neck, pulling her up the wall, going for the neck and she fended him off, kneeing him between the legs, kicking him away. She saw him sprawled on the floor and her fists clenched automatically, anger slowly creeping into her system.
"What happened to the chip?" She spat the words out. "Where. Is. it?" She raised her arm, ready to pummel him.
Spike sprung up again, juicing himself, pissed and stupid. "It's still right up here, luv." He said through laughter, gesturing to his head. "Nothing wrong with it. YOU," he pointed, his finger inches from her face, "are the problem."
Buffy froze. Her arm lowered. Her fists became lax.
Spike leered over her, staring into her eyes. "You came back wrong."
Buffy slid down the wall, not even caring about the biting pain at her neck, and closed her eyes.