Wish Upon A Demon
by UrbanGoth
Hold Up, Dorothy. What's Going On?
[reviews]
NOTES: Words encased in [ ] indicates thoughts.
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"Wow." She paused to collect her thoughts after the girl's other-dimensionly revelation. "You really aren't from around here."
Willow giggled a little to herself. "What's funny?" Buffy asked, not threateningly, but seriously enough for it to be taken as a warning. Willow, chided, stopped her giggle and reassured the that it wasn't a mocking laugh.
They sat on the dirty yellow quilt of a double bed in a one-room, one-bathroom, motel hotspot. The wall was the same dreary thin-urine colour that you find in most undecorated motels, an off-white-yellow colour. There was a little TV with a black and white picture that stayed off, due to the lack of ariel, a kettle, for those extra caffeine boosts needed to stay awake to spot the rat-sized cockroaches you could really do without choking on during the night, a bed, obviously, God knows why, and a little table lamp to focus on when the caffiene sinks in because the TV doesn't work. Apart from those little objects the room was bare and lifeless. It had no character or stories to tell, and the two women sat like black spots on the bed, both with novel-length adventures to recount. They were extraordinary beings in a cardboard box.
"It's weird. When I saw you back then I couldn't help but think how different you are to my Buffy but now, talking to you, I'm beginning to see the similarities." She replied.
"Oh." Buffy stopped to think again, giving the witch time enough to study her face. She sure looked like Buffy but there were a few little differences, one of which being the mother of all scars that ruined her delicate lips. Her posture was different, there was a lack of slouch, as if she sat with a purpose. She was hyper aware of everything, and her features seemed harder, older. In her eyes was a sharpness that Willow had never really noticed in her Buffy's.
"So... Willow?" The redhead nodded in confirmation. "So, what am I like? Where you came from?"
"Well, you're not completely different. You look exactly the same. Apart from that scar." She pointed to it and Buffy fliched. Willow, surprised, withdrew her hand. "Sorry. Does it hurt? How did you get it?"
"Just a vamp gave me some trouble. And no. No, it doesn't hurt. I just don't like it." Everyone is sensetive to their appearance, but Willow couldn't help but feel that there was more to it than Buffy was letting on. [Some things just don't change.] Understanding she was treading on thin ice, she let the subject drop, filing away the information for a later date.
"Um... You usually wear different clothes. Brighter clothes. You've got a really nice yellow top that you wore to school one day which I r--"
"Is this a dimension for the brainless?" She cut in. Spotting a look of hurt on the girl she apologised. "No offense."
"Well... a little taken... Anyway, no. I don't even understand what you mean by that."
Buffy sighed. "Everyone knows that demons and vamps are attracted to bright colours." She said matter of factly, a little fed up. "Besides," she added, "yellow is just gross."
"Well you.. the other you... doesn't like it either. I do, but your Mom gave it to you so you can't get rid of it until she won't notice that's it's-- Are you alright, Buffy?" The blond was staring at her wide-eyed. "What did I--"
"She's alive?" She almosted shouted the question.
"What? I... Who?"
"Mom." Buffy lost herself for a second, almost giving in to the urge to cry. "She's alive?" Her voice was now hushed and cracked on both words.
"Yeah." Willow replied, almost as quiet.
If it was possible to be jealous of yourself Buffy was right there, so jealous she couldn't breathe. Why should the other her get to have a Mom? Why does this-dimension-Buffy get the shit deal? She has friends, she wears fashionable clothes. She's probably had a boyfriend or fourty. And anyone else who thought this would think themselves crazy, but she even goes to school and that could be one of the worst things. She doesn't have to hide in the shadows and only come out at night. She doesn't wake up at dusk and go to bed at dawn. She has a life.
[Why couldn't I have a life?]
"Oh Buffy, I'm sorry." Willow consoled, it finally hitting her. "Oh Goddess, I'm so sorry."
Buffy held back most of the tears as the young woman before her cried slowly, unable to say much more. [She must've known my Mom. We must be good friends.]
The two young women sat together, each taking comfort in the other's presense, but still aware of the space between them. Buffy took the time to wonder within herself as to what the other Buffy did with her Mom. Did she take her for granted? Did they argue? Did she know about the slayer business? That question hit her hard and she couldn't help but wonder if her Mom was still alive because, as Willow said, she didn't know of demons and vampires and Hell and all other things that are regarded as life in this place. Her Mom died because of her, no question, but this just set the guilt bonfire alight.
Willow herself sat and watched Buffy even more, all the while listening to her ambition to return to her own Sunnydale whistle as it slipped away down the dark paths that she figured out were now the hard yet vulnerable girl before her. As soon as she woke, blinded and battered from the spell, fresh in a new war, all she wanted to do was find a way back and hoped that Giles would somehow find out and save her. Now, the curiosity she felt for this Buffy begged her to stay, begged her to help because, even though Buffy sometimes denies it and Giles disapproves, one of the reasons Buffy is Buffy is because she has her friends. This Buffy was colder than a January morning and hard as stone. Or so she appeared. The shy redhead may not be the power behind the investigation but she could always read people, Buffy being a favourite subject. Behind the callous exterior, she could see it like a firefly in a glass lantern, was a broken spirit who never stopped crying.
And she knew, the longer she was here, the harder leaving would be.
Finally, Willow spoke again."In my reality, it wasn't your Mom that died. It was you."
Buffy's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "Okay. Wasn't expecting to hear that. So how can I parade around school in a yellow top?"
"Well," WIllow entered program 'explain', "when the Master tried to rise you went down to stop him and after he bit you he dropped you into some water. You were unconscious so you drowned but Xander brought you back life with CPR an... then..."
Buffy, still listening, reached out to poke the redhead. She had stopped moving, talking... maybe breathing. Something was wrong.
"And Xander is...?" She waiting expectantly. "Hello?" Nothing. "Willow?"
Just as Buffy thought she was going to have to hit the girl, with the smallest of voices, she spoke.
"Remember the vampire back at the factory?" She breathed to the floor. Her red hair fell forward across her eyes as her head hung low and sullen. The slayer shook her head, afraid to speak lest she frighten the witch, and was caught, as she raised her eyes to Buffy's, in the redhead's grieving expression. The slayer said nothing, just let the girl bite her bottom lip in a effort to stop herself from crying, and carry on with the story. "No, I wasn't expecting you to." The pale skin that was wrapped around elfin features grew paler, almost transparent, and her cheeks flushed red. "The one that had hold of me at the fence. Dark hair, yay high..." A little tear spilled onto her cheek as she described him but her voice never faltered.
"Yes. I remember." She did.
Willow nodded. "Xander."
"Oh." She tried to figure out how she felt about this. On the one hand, she had saved his life and they were best friends, but on the other, she had never met him. For Willow, she thought, finding out that your best friend is dead in one dimension and alive in another must be a bit like finding out your Mom is alive with another you in the same kinda situation. "I think I understand how you feel."
"Buffy usually does." The redhead smiled a sad smile and was consoled a little when she found one returned.
The two, unsure of what exactly to do now, sat in a tense silence. Buffy ran over the little infomative things that Willow had provided her with. Sunnydale should've been her home, Rupert Giles should've been her watcher, she and Willow should've been best friends along with Xander. Her Mom should still be alive. Really, seeing an upside to having this knowledge was beginning to become impossible. If anything, it just served to depress her, thinking that somewhere else in the world? universe? multiverse? [how DOES this work?] was another her with a perfect life.
Willow, again, watched Buffy. She had seen her visibly relax in the time and conversation passed. Clearly, she was always meant to be a friend. The young witch knew she could help Buffy in so many ways here. She could be the friend she needed, give her the support and reassurance that everyone could do with now and again. Buffy seemed to have no one here. Not even Giles...
"GILES!" She cried.
"How's that?" Buffy questioned.
"Giles was meant to be your watcher here in Sunnydale."
"The guy that asked for me?"
Willow brow furrowed. "What?"
"Well," Buffy explained, "up in Cleevland my watcher got a call about the Master and said that some guy named Rupert Giles wanted to see me." She feigned the worst British accent possible. "Urgently," she reverted to her own voice again, "he said." She paused and looked directly at Willow. "Now I get why."
"Well, he doesn't know I'm here but could really shed some light on this whole thing. He was a magick badass in his day." She nodded mater of factly, a smiled a wide smile, relaxing into Buffy's company.
Buffy smiled back at the sweet girl before her. She seemed far too soft and naive to be tainted by this sort of world, a world killing and death and blood, whatever dimension it be in and however obvious it is. She had a young nature about her, a childlike disposition that veiled an old soul that had seen and done many things that people never see, better yet, don't believe in. The slayer's eyes scanned Willow and she shook her head at the pink and white. It would never do.
"We have to get you out of those clothes." Then noticing the confusion, possibly shock, in the green eyes, she changed her phrasing. "Into something darker. Vamps aren't afraid of me here. They think they're invincible." She explained a little bitterly, thinking back to her dream of being feared an revered. "I'd rather you felt safer. That way you won't get jittery."
"Oh, don't worry, Buffy, I always feel safe with you." Willow reeled of absently, searching the room for something to wear. "Um.. where are these clothes coming from?"
"Oh.. Sorry." Buffy shook herself from her thoughts on that last comment. She got off the bed and went to the far corner to retrieve her her backpack. [Were we only friends?] Pulling out a small, dark khaki jumper and black pants, she passed them to Willow. "I wear them pretty long so they should fit you." She added, taking in the length of the witch's fabric-covered legs.
"Thanks." Replied the redhead, and, when Buffy tirned around to put her backpack back, pulled of the pink jumper. Buffy, having dumped the rucksack back in the corner of the room, turned and began to speak again.
"I've got a spare set of-- Oh God, I'm sorry." She spun back around and hung her head guiltily infront of the bag in the corner, which she somehow felt was staring at her in a very disapproving manner, thankful she didn't see the girl's expression.
"It's.. it's ok, Buffy. I thought you'd turned around that's all." Willow was pulling on the tight green jumper and wondered if she should keep her tights on. [Nah.] Peeling them off, she wrapped them in the pink jumper with her skirt and put on the fitting black combat pants.
"I was gonna say I've got a spare pair of sneakers that arent as white as yours. They're black." [Oh, how articulate.] It was actually quite hard to say something intelligent when the image of a smooth, cream-coloured torso invaded your mind.
"Thanks, but they might not fit me. I'm a size bigger than you." Sliding her foot inside one of them she noticed the tag on the tongue wasn't Buffy's usual size... but a size bigger. She shrugged and tied the lace up. [Must be a dimension thing.] Slinding the other foot in the second sneaker, she flushed again, remembering the embarrassment, but even more embarrassed that she was embarrassed. It always got to her when Buffy saw any of her... but so little? She barely saw her stomach and it made her tingle. She finished up tying the lace.
"All set." Came a voice from behind Buffy.
She turned around again, safe that nothing was visible this time but admired the tight khaki on the girl, and smiled sheepishly. "Okay then. We'll get going." She held out her hand to Willow, who took it automatically, such is the way of Buffy and Willow of old, and smiled again. [I could get used to this.]
Willow looked down at their joined hands, noting how the slayer had grabbed her wrist forcefully at the factory and now offered a hand. She grinned to herself as Buffy started opening the door, and swivelled her hand around in the blond's, entwining their fingers.
Looking back and down at their hands then to Willow, she winked at the redhead and they exited the motel as the sun settled just over the horizon, ready to throw the town into darkeness again.