Ghost
by sailor80
Ghost
[reviews]
Ghost
© 2007 MF Vinson All rights reserved
Buffy and Her Friends belong to Joss Whedon and a bunch of suits. I'm adjusting their realities for fun, not profit.
I was working in the yard and listening to the Indigo Girls and this popped into my head.
I think it's finished, but I've been wrong before...
'How long has it been?' Buffy Summers wondered as she went through her home again, preparing to relocate. She looked at the letter, not needing to open it to know every word, the last she had heard from her best friend. 'Ex best friend,' she silently corrected herself. It had been six years since Sunnydale, California, was swallowed up by the evil it harbored. The first night, at some nameless hotel, she had been too tired to talk with anyone. She took the key Giles offered, and crawled into bed, still wearing the bloody, filthy clothes, covered in the dust of countless vampires, and stayed there, unmoving, for two days.
By the time she got up, everything was decided. She was torn, still seeing herself as their leader but glad not to have to make those hard decisions any longer. Willow was gone, and Xander was shellshocked, and Dawn had all ready signed on with the new Council. She had tried to listen to Giles, about Cleveland and everything else, but couldn't take it in. She was tired, more tired than she had been before the last time she died. When he realized he wasn't getting through to her, Giles handed her a cell phone and a credit card. The next time she got up, they were all gone.
For two more days, Buffy was at a loss what to do with herself. She slept during the day and wandered at night, habit driving her to seek those things that preyed on the innocent, but the small town was empty of those creatures. The next night, she took her bag - one bag, all that she had brought away from the hole in the ground that was once her home, and began walking. She never bothered to go through the bag, didn't even look as she reached in for clean clothing.
Buffy walked at night, headed always east, into the rising sun, and when she felt its rays on her face, stopped wherever she could for shelter and food. The phone rang, and she ignored it, moving without thinking too much. Thinking hurt. Thinking made her remember, and that made her cry.
Months later, she stood at the outskirts of Cleveland, Ohio, trying to decide what to do. She could feel them there, the energy and life of so many new Slayers, and around them Giles and Xander and Dawn, but not Willow. Buffy knew what she should do, go and at least let them know she was alive, but couldn't bring herself to do it. They were happy, and she wasn't, and she couldn't bear it, the enthusiasm of youth and new beginnings.
Faith found her that night. Buffy wasn't surprised. Faith didn't say much. They had said so much before, and it had come out wrong so many times. They sat under a tree and Buffy cadged cigarettes from the brunette while they passed a bottle back and forth. Not touching, nothing could touch Buffy now, and she shied away from the most basic contact, hating herself for needing it, needing anything. When morning came, they stretched their stiff limbs and looked warily at each other. Buffy couldn't think of anything to say.
"I'll tell them you're all right," Faith said, even though she knew Buffy was anything but.
Buffy nodded, and accepted the envelope Faith thrust at her.
"Take care of yourself," Faith said gently, and Buffy turned and walked away without answering. While she moved, she put the envelope in the stash pocket of her jacket.
She carried it for months before she opened it. After walking in the rain for two nights, Buffy picked a spot and holed up to wait out the weather. She had no idea where she was, but there were trees and no vampires, and when the wind didn't howl, she could hear the ocean. Buffy emptied her pockets onto the table in the small room. There wasn't much, a stake, a pocketknife, some random change, the phone, her credit card. And the envelope. She dumped the bag onto the bed, as surprised now as when she packed it how little it held. Clothes, none of them in the best shape any longer, and some pictures. And another envelope, that made her frown as it fell from the bag onto the small pile.
She didn't want to deal with any of it right now, and stripped. She left those clothes in a damp pile on the floor and went into the bathroom. It was clean, and there was plenty of hot water, and Buffy stayed in for nearly an hour, trying to get warm, although she knew it wouldn't help. She hadn't been warm for so long, since being torn from heaven.
Buffy avoided the mirror while she toweled herself dry. She walked back into the room and found her comb, ran it through her hair. Before getting into bed, she opened the window just enough to hear the weather and the ocean under it, and fell into sleep. It was restless, and full of nightmares and sorrow, and each time she woke, she listened carefully to the wind, hoping it would tell her what she needed to know.
It was still raining when she woke up because the door was opening. Habit drove her from bed into a defensive stance. The maid shrieked when Buffy pounced on her, and Buffy came fully awake as she realized the body she held submissive was human. "Sorry, sorry," she said, and let the woman go.
Her voice was shaking as she said, "I'll come back later," and backed out of the room.
Buffy sighed, and went through the pile of clothes for the least dirty. She dressed in those and stuffed the rest into her bag. The other things, except for the knife and credit card, she swept into a drawer, and headed for the motel lobby. The maid was there, gesturing to the manager while talking a mile a minute about the crazy naked woman who attacked her.
Buffy apologized again, but the maid stayed out of her reach and returned to her duties. The manager looked at her warily. "I need some cash, and something to eat, and someplace to wash some clothes," she said. He was polite and accommodating, adding the $50 he pulled from the register to her bill. The he pointed her toward the attached restaurant and finally showed her on the site map where the guest laundry could be found.
Buffy ate first. Not much, though. Food was fuel now, and nothing more, and she was never hungry. Everything tasted like ashes, so it didn't really matter what it was. That chore finished, she made her way to the laundry room. She leaned against the wall while she waited for her clothes to wash and dry, staring at the empty wall over the machines and seeing the same things she always saw, each of her failures in excruciating detail.
Buffy carried the clean clothing back to her room. She tried the television and as she moved through the channels, a random lyric from long ago came to her. "Fifty-seven channels and nothin's on." She turned the television off and stared at the drawer. It held two envelopes she hadn't opened in all the time she carried them. The weather report said two more days of hard rain before the storm front moved off, and to Buffy that was two more days she would be here.
She got up from the bed and got the envelopes. She started with the one Faith had given her. There were letters in it from all of them except Willow because Willow wasn't with them. None of them gave any indication they knew where she was, and all of them said the same things, choking Buffy with their need. "We love you, we miss you, come home soon."
Her stomach turned. She had no home. Sunnydale was a hole in the ground, another unnatural wonder of the world that held everything Buffy had ever hoped to be and nearly everyone she loved. There was money, too, and another credit card. The only one who hadn't said those things was Faith. She wrote, "The blood dries and itches, but sometimes it's still wet, and we can never wash it off. Can't run away from it, either, or forget how it got there. The night always calls with promises that this time it will be different, better, but it never is, and we can never get away from it. I could say you did everything right, but that would be a lie. You did your best, and it's all you can ever do. When you can't move any more, before you let it catch you, take a deep breath and stand up and hold out your hand. You might be surprised who's there to take it."
Buffy carefully folded the slips of paper and put them back in the envelope and put it aside. The other envelope sat on the bedspread and she looked at it. It was blank, but Buffy knew who it was from, who it had to be from, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to open it. She looked at it for a long time, until she felt night come, and after that. She didn't know what time it was when she finally turned the envelope open and carefully unsealed it.
The pages inside were covered in Willow's handwriting. Seeing it again brought a lump to her throat. Thinking about Willow was complicated. No one knew her better, no one knew better when to push and when to leave her alone. The letter had been in her bag, so Willow must have put it there before they piled into the bus to drive two miles to the place Buffy hated more than any in the world.
Buffy unfolded them gently, smoothing them flat. She wanted to read them, to hear Willow's voice in her head again, and at the same time, she wanted nothing more than to be asleep with nothing to think about. Buffy took a deep breath and began.
"Dear Buffy, stupid beginning, I know, but I don't know how else to begin. There are some things I wanted to say to you, and never had the time or the courage, and when this is over, I don't know that I'll be able to say them. Or write them or whatever. I want to start by saying that you are still my best friend in the world. You stood by me through so much, and I hope I was able to give you some support in return. I know that things between us have been hard for the past two years, and I know it's my fault, since I'm the one who brought you back. I'm not sorry, though. I'll never be sorry for that, only for the pain it caused you. The others went along with me because I made them, not because they thought it was the right thing to do, and if you survive to read this, let them off the hook. I know you say you've forgiven us, but I know you, Buffy. And I don't blame you for not forgiving me. I don't deserve it. But I want it.
"If I make it through this time, I'm going away. I can't stand to be around them anymore. They expect so much of me, and I just don't have it. If the world ends, it ends. And if it doesn't, then I guess I'll find something to do to keep myself busy. But away from them, from demons and vampires and the endless cycles of fear and research and injury and death. I don't know where I'll go, but wherever it is, I'll be able to see for miles and miles and miles and nothing except memories and my heart will able to sneak up on me.
"I never told you, because I never wanted you to worry, and I know you would. Magick always has a price, and I was so arrogant, it never occurred to me that I would have to pay it. It cost so much more than I ever dreamed, even in my darkest nightmares. Bringing you back cost a lot. When Osiris refused to bring Tara back to me, I knew then that it wasn't because he didn't want to meddle. Tara's death was repayment for the blood sacrifice it took to start the ritual, and my soul was the price to complete it.
"I hope, still, that I'll be able to get out of that part of it, though it seems unlikely. After all, D'Hoffryn offered me a place, and that darkness never went away. It stays with me, absorbing a little more of me each day. I keep trying to do good, hoping to wash it away, replace it with something that doesn't make me do the things I do, secret things, things you never saw and I never told you about, and I'm not going to start now.
"What I want to say, I was too afraid to say for so long. I love you, Buffy Summers. I have a trillion pieces of you in my memory, stored for this time, when we will be apart. I know exactly how you smell, and how you look, even how you look now, reading this. I know you knew, and couldn't love me the same way, so I kept it to myself. You had so much all ready, and the older we got, the worse things got for you. I tried to help you, Buffy, I tried my hardest, and I'm sorry for all the times I let you down.
"You're going to come through this. You're all ready a superhero, and generations of Slayers will know your name. And I know you'll do what you always do when things get too hard. So run. Run as far as you can as fast as you can, and when you can't anymore, call and let them know you're all right. That's all they'll need from you, to know that you're still alive and that you think of them once in a while.
"I told Oz the last time I saw him that I imagine a future where we'll meet somewhere far from Sunnydale. I'd like to say the same thing about us, but I'm not sure that I'll ever see you again. I'm not sure that I even want to. My heart is dark and tight and scarred. Everyone I ever loved left me. Even you. Especially you.
"When you find whatever it is you think that you need, you better hang onto it. And be happy. Find a way to smile, to laugh, to not wish for one moment that you were still in your grave.
"I could say a lot more, but it's getting late. Or early, I guess, since the sky is becoming light. Either way, there's no more time for this. Love, Willow"
When she finished, Buffy started to read it again. And again, and again, until all of the words Willow said, and those that she didn't sank into her brain. She saw image after image of the redhead, watching as she changed and grew and became someone Buffy still knew better than she knew herself. So much of Willow was always on the surface. The dark things, too, and Buffy wished for the billionth time that there had been another way for all of them. Her brain played 'what if' for a while. What if she had ignored Willow and taken the pass into Cordelia's clique? What if she hadn't rescued Willow that first night? What if she hadn't permitted them to help? While she did this, her hands automatically folded the letter and carefully placed it back into the envelope. She put it on the bedside table and got up. She went to the window, listening to the howling wind and the soft rush of pine needles and somewhere in the distance, the ocean beating relentlessly against the earth.
There was nothing dangerous out there, she knew, just like she knew that the maid would be watching for her to leave before cleaning her room. It was just another place, as far as she could get from California without leaving the continent, and Buffy was suddenly exhausted. She leaned against the window for a few seconds, enjoying the cool glass against her forehead. If she let them, tears would come, but she was too tired for that, so she lay on the bed and waited to fall asleep.
Things went quickly after that. She liked the little tourist town, so different from Sunnydale, and found a job and a small cottage, and set about remaking herself. She called Cleveland each month, talking with whoever was available to tell them what they needed to hear from her. But she never asked about Willow, and they never offered, and after the end of the second tourist season, Buffy put her things, a few more now, but not many, into the same worn bag, and began walking again. She didn't know why she headed south this time, except that it was someplace she hadn't been before, and she hated the frigid northern winters.
It became her pattern, to settle for a few months, maybe as long as a year, before she had to set off again. She never stopped to wonder what she was running from, or to. The moving was what mattered, because Buffy was certain that as long as she moved, she could be safe. Every six months or so, Faith would track her down, and they would do what they had done that first time, share a bottle and a few cigarettes. Sometimes they sat outside, sometimes at the kitchen table of whatever place Buffy was staying. When the sun came up, Faith would give her an envelope and she would leave. Buffy didn't have to ask how Faith found her; other than Willow, Faith knew her better than anyone, and they always felt each other, more so now.
Each time she moved, the bag got a little fuller, but she never had to leave anything behind. Each time she stopped, it was because the nights were safe and empty and she could spend hours staring at the stars, wondering as she always did what Willow saw in them. Willow stayed in her thoughts and rituals. It was the first thing she did after settling into a new place, read the letters, all of them, Willow's last. She didn't really need to read it anymore. When her eyes rested on the paper, she heard Willow's voice, knew where she babbled and where she stalled, and when Willow reached the end, Buffy carefully put the letter away.
And now, six years later, Buffy was in Jasper, Tennessee, preparing to leave again. Whatever she was looking for wasn't here, in yet another suburb of the new south's boomtown, and she needed to be someplace with more space and fewer people. She held the envelope in her hand, wondering why she still carried it around, but put it in her bag all the same.
Buffy took one last walk through the small apartment, making sure she left nothing, before slinging the bag over her shoulder and walking out the door. She walked west, with a northerly drift, feeling this time like she was going somewhere. The feeling was familiar, but she couldn't exactly place it, so she let her routine carry her. Walking at night, resting during the day. Slaying if she found something that needed to be killed, but mostly pretending that she was nobody, just another woman estranged from life.
The feeling that she was going toward something grew as she covered the miles. She left Tennessee behind and moved into Missouri, and then Kansas. Autumn was coming, and she knew she'd need to find someplace to settle down before winter came again. She chose roads at random, 'not random,' a small voice in her head reminded her, and Buffy ignored it and kept walking.
It was a generic stop and rob, gas pumps, lights that drew insects by the thousands to their deaths, and there should have been nothing there to tickle her senses, but there was. As she got closer, Buffy saw the red hair first, of a woman putting gas into a nondescript SUV, and her brain told her what she wanted to deny. Her stride grew longer and quicker, and she covered the ground between them before the woman finished pumping gas.
"Get in the car," Willow Rosenberg said without looking at her.
Buffy hadn't expected that, nor did she expect to obey so quickly, but she did. She walked around to the passenger side and climbed in, putting her bag between her feet. Willow got in the driver's seat a few moments later. "Seat belt," she reminded Buffy while she clicked her own into place.
They didn't talk while Willow drove. Willow's silence was unusual, and Buffy had grown used to not talking. Whatever they were doing here together, Willow would explain when she was ready. They drove for half an hour before Willow turned off the paved road onto a dirt lane, and several minutes on it before a house came into sight. There was nothing around for miles.
Willow put the car in the garage, and Buffy followed her into the house. It was Willow's, and Willow's alone, she could tell. It looked like the redhead, and felt like her. Buffy followed her through the house. Willow opened a door and stepped aside. "Here's your room," she said, and left Buffy.
When Buffy entered the room, she knew Willow had made the space for her. It was uncluttered, but there were small surprises: Framed photos she thought lost forever, Mr. Gordo on the bed. Buffy dropped her bag and closed the door. She sat on the bed and picked up Mr. Gordo, and all the tears she had held in for so long came out.
Willow left her alone that night, and for that, Buffy was grateful. There would be time to talk, all winter, at least, Buffy suspected. When she woke at sunrise, she found the bathroom and showered, and put on the last clean clothes from her bag. As she did every time she stopped somewhere, Buffy put her papers and other things in a drawer, leaving the bag full of laundry. She went through the house until she found the washer and dryer, and put the laundry in.
Willow found her in front of the washer and handed her a cup of coffee, then left her alone again. Buffy wondered at that. Willow's silence was unusual, but didn't feel wrong. Nearly an hour later, Buffy passed through the kitchen with her clean clothes. She put them neatly into drawers, surprised to find clothes in them, and in the closet, as if Willow had been expecting her. Buffy shrugged. At least she would be warm.
She wandered through the house until she found Willow working in one of the upstairs rooms. It was full of electronic equipment and wires and three of the biggest computer monitors Buffy had ever seen. Willow turned around and looked at her. "I'll be about another hour," she said, and turned back to what she had been doing.
Buffy knew she had been dismissed, and continued her exploration of the house. There were three more rooms on that floor, all guest rooms, but they looked as if they had never been used. Buffy went downstairs, through the kitchen, and found the basement. It was bright, and divided into three parts. The first, nearest the stairs, was set up for entertaining. There was a bar and a large cabinet that held a television, DVD player, and two video game consoles and all their accessories. The door next to it led to a gym. It was full of equipment, but also had a large area, covered with mats. The door on the far side of that room was locked, but Buffy felt the buzz of magic from behind it, and knew that it was Willow's work area.
Her explorations done, she returned to the kitchen. She checked the refrigerator and found it full of food. A package of ground beef caught her eye, and she put it on the counter. Then she went in search of a frying pan. Once she found that, she shaped the meat into patties, haphazardly seasoned them, and put them on to cook. While that went on, she returned to the refrigerator, coming out with cheese, ketchup, mustard, lettuce, and a container of sliced tomatoes and onions. More rummaging produced paper plates, cutlery, and hamburger rolls.
Willow appeared as Buffy put the first burger on a bun. She got drinks for them while Buffy removed the burgers from the pan, and they sat as far away from each other as they could to eat. Buffy ate two burgers and eyed the last one. She was surprised to find that she was hungry; she hadn't eaten like this since leaving Sunnydale, and Willow nodded to let her know it was all right to eat it, too.
Buffy cleaned up while Willow sat at the table and watched. Finished, she leaned against the sink and looked at Willow. "Why now?" she asked, and Willow shrugged.
Buffy had expected something else, but she wasn't sure what. She and Willow looked at each other, assessing the differences caused by six years. Buffy was leaner and her eyes were dark; Willow had regained her confidence.
"There's a phone in your room," Willow said. "You should call them. You missed last month."
"How do you know?"
"I know everything about you, Buffy."
"Stalker much?"
"No." Willow smiled tightly, but didn't elaborate.
"What do you want?"
"The same thing I always wanted from you."
"I can't," Buffy began, but Willow cut her off.
"You won't," she said flatly, and got up from the table. "I need to finish debugging that program. I'll see you later."
Buffy watched her go. She thought about getting her things and leaving again, but it was too much work. Instead, she went out the back door and walked a little way into the emptiness. There was nothing there except fallow fields and bright blue sky and a steady breeze that hinted of things to come, falling leaves, bonfires, football games. Things that once would have mattered to her, but no longer did. The only thing that mattered was that she could walk all night and not find a single vampire, or dead body, or demon, nothing except the ghosts that trailed her everywhere. She felt the magical barriers Willow had constructed, and wondered why she felt the need so far from everything.
Buffy walked in a spiral, seeing how far from the house she could get before Willow's magic faded away, but didn't find that limit. She stayed out until full dark, returning to the kitchen to find Willow putting dinner on the table. She washed her hands and sat in the same place as before, but Willow moved to the side of the table. Not close enough to touch, but closer. They still didn't talk. Buffy wasn't certain what to say, and she couldn't read Willow, who was opaque to her in ways she hadn't been since Tara's death. That thought still stung Buffy, and she pushed it down and ate.
Willow had learned to cook, and after the first mouthful, Buffy said, "This is great."
"Glad you like it."
"Are we ever going to talk?"
"Later," Willow said, and Buffy could tell it was a promise. She nodded her acceptance and returned to her dinner.
This time, Willow helped Buffy clean up. It didn't take long, and when they finished, Willow refilled their glasses and led them to the basement. They sat at opposite ends of a sofa, not looking at each other, and Buffy broke first. "So, what's new?"
Willow laughed hollowly. "Nothing's new under the sun, Buffy."
"With you."
"Nothing's new with me, either. I work and I hide."
"What are you hiding from?"
"Same things you are." Willow looked at Buffy for the first time. "Destiny. Prophecy. Blood."
"I'm not hiding."
"Right," Willow said slowly. "That's why you've walked all over the damn country instead of helping with the new organization in Cleveland."
"They don't need me."
"They don't need me, either, but it doesn't keep them from asking me to go to them. Just like they ask you all the time."
"How do you know?" Buffy asked.
Willow shrugged. "I know lots of things. I know how many vampires you've staked in the past six years. I know every little town you've been in. I know Faith still struggles to be what she thinks you want her to be. I know Giles keeps hoping that you'll come home. I know that Xander is as hollow as we are, and that Dawn only sleeps when all the Slayers have come in from patrol."
Buffy ignored the pain that Willow's words caused. "You didn't answer my question."
"I know those things the same way you do, Buffy, if you ever let yourself feel or think."
"Why would I? So I can see it all again? Each of those girls falling, bleeding, dying, and for what? So I can see our friends die or get hurt over and over?"
"Is that what you see?"
Buffy got up and began to roam the room. "You want to know what I see, Willow? You want to know what's there every time I look over my shoulder? Every person I couldn't save. Every. Single. One."
"Let them go, Buffy."
"If I let them go, who will remember them? Who'll give a damn that they lived?"
"That's not why you hold on to them," Willow said. She approached Buffy cautiously.
"What the fuck do you know about it?" Buffy snarled.
Willow offered her hands, and Buffy saw blood on them. She looked at her own, not really surprised to find them slick with blood, and Faith's words echoed in her head.
"It never goes away," Willow said quietly.
"Make it stop," Buffy replied hoarsely. "Please, make it stop." It was a demand, and a request, and a prayer, and it cut into Willow the way nothing had since Tara's death.
"It never stops," Willow said, and took Buffy's hands. "It never ends, and it never goes away, and it follows us every minute. If I could, if I knew how, it would have ended long ago."
Buffy looked at their hands, joined for the first time since Willow first returned from England, and all the confusion she felt about Willow bubbled to the surface. She pulled away from Willow, and raced up the stairs and out the back door into the endless night. Willow sighed and watched her go, and without thinking wiped away the single tear that rolled down her cheek.
Buffy ran. There was nothing here that could hurt her, except Willow. Running was safe and easy and Buffy slammed into the ground after she tripped over an uneven spot. She lay there, inhaling the odor of regular dirt, so different from cemetery dirt. After a long time, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the stars. She had seen more, had seen the entire Milky Way sprawled before her eyes night after night. If Willow couldn't fix this, couldn't fix her, no one could. It would quicker to kill herself, but that was easier said than done. Buffy had tried and failed countless times. She healed too fast, and anymore, she believed that anything short of decapitation was just an inconvenience.
Willow would be waiting when she chose to return, Buffy knew. Willow always waited for her, night after night, to make sure that Buffy made it home from patrol, to tend to her injuries and listen to her explain what happened. Buffy wanted that and at the same time, hated it and what it represented. She knew how to end it, walk back into the house and gather her things and walk out again, but she couldn't find the energy to do that, and knew even if she did, Willow's voice would follow her.
Buffy got to her feet and ran more, away from Willow and their past, until she had to stop, doubled over from the need for oxygen. The stars had moved, and the moon set, and to her right, the sky was less dark. She turned around and began to walk back to Willow's. It took longer than she thought it would, and it was mid-morning before she even saw the house.
It was just a house, a farmhouse meant to hold a large family, and now it was full of Willow. Buffy struggled with her feelings for Willow. There was love and affection, and rage so dark she feared it, and other things, too, some positive, some not. She stopped and looked at it. Most of the windows were dark, only the kitchen lit on this side. Buffy knew Willow would be at the table, and coffee would be waiting for her, and hated fiercely for a moment this connection between them that had existed as long as she could remember.
Buffy made herself move forward again, and made herself move without hesitation into the house. Willow was at the table. She looked rested and wary, and Buffy's coffee was waiting at what was now her seat, hot and sweet and fixed exactly how she liked it. She sat and looked at it, then at Willow, and said, "What are we doing?"
"I don't know." Willow looked at the table.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Willow looked at Buffy. "I left you alone for six years, Buffy. I thought we'd die back there, but we didn't, and we didn't, and we didn't. Not like we didn't try," she added, adding something to her gaze that told Buffy she knew Buffy had tried, and that she had, too.
Buffy looked back at her. It didn't matter what they had done, all the ways they tried to leave, only that they were here now, and there had to be a reason. "So?"
"There's so much unfinished between us."
"Can't we leave it that way?"
"No." Willow got up to refill her cup. She willed her hands not to shake as she poured coffee. "What's leaving it be done to us? You can't stay still and I can't move." She returned to the table.
Buffy wrapped her hands around the mug, leeching its warmth into her chilled fingers.
"You don't have to stay," Willow said gently. "I'll be here whenever you're ready."
Buffy raised her head and looked into Willow's eyes. They were sad and resigned and so full of love that she didn't know what to say, so she looked away again.
When Buffy didn't answer and refused to look at her any longer, Willow picked up her mug and left the kitchen. Buffy listened to her move through the house, knowing that Willow was going to lose herself in work, as she had been doing for years. Buffy left her mug on the table and went to her room. She got her bag, and began to put things into it, but halfway through, she couldn't think of a reason to leave. She couldn't think of any to stay, either. She was tired, and pushed the bag to the floor, and laid on the bed.
She stayed there for three days, sleeping or staring at the ceiling, ignoring Willow when she stood in the doorway. It took her that long to realize she wouldn't be able to shut herself down again. The last day, she let the connections open, weeping at Xander's pain, Dawn's fear, Willow's naked need. When she couldn't cry any longer, she got up and showered, and put on some of the clothes Willow bought.
Buffy walked barefoot through the house, toward where she knew Willow was. She stood behind Willow's chair and waited for her fingers to stop flying over the keyboard. Willow finished the section of code she was working on and spun her chair. She wrapped her arms around Buffy's waist, resting her head against her. Buffy put one arm around Willow. The other stroked her hair, softer than Buffy remembered. They stayed like that for a long time, and it was Willow who pulled away.
"There's a plate in the refrigerator for you," Willow said softly.
Buffy nodded.
"Go eat. I'll be down soon."
True to her word, Willow joined Buffy in the kitchen before she finished eating. She sat at the table and watched Buffy eat, and when Buffy finished, Willow put everything in the sink. They went back down to the basement. Willow sat on the couch and Buffy wandered the room until Willow summoned her.
Buffy stood between Willow's legs, looking down at her friend.
"I don't know how to live without you," Willow said, meeting Buffy's gaze.
"I don't know how to live," Buffy answered.
Willow tugged her down. "One breath at a time," she said softly, and kissed Buffy gently. The she let her go. Willow expected Buffy to run again, but she didn't.
Buffy pulled Willow up and examined her face for a few seconds, then kissed Willow. When they pulled apart, Buffy asked, "Is this what you want?"
Willow, unable to speak, nodded.
"Can you make me feel something that doesn't hurt?" Buffy asked hoarsely.
"I can try." Willow cupped Buffy's face with her hand. She felt Buffy shaking, and still thought that Buffy would run.
Buffy surprised her. She lifted Willow easily, and Willow made a quiet noise at the feeling of Buffy's body pushed so firmly against her own. Her lips moved freely against Buffy's neck. Buffy passed through the kitchen and walked past her own room to Willow's. She had never seen it before, but there would be time later to examine it. What Buffy was concerned with was the bed, now neatly made, and she threw them carelessly onto it.
Their mouths found each other again. Buffy was surprised at how easy it was to kiss Willow, and how her body reacted to Willow's caresses. They lost the day there, fully clothed, and when it was too dark for even Buffy to see, they removed each other's clothes. Willow knew Buffy's body, and noted the changes as she touched her. She had a few more scars, and less muscle, and protruding bones everywhere that made her frown even as she kissed them.
Buffy concentrated on Willow's touches, and on touching her back. She was surprised at how wet she was when Willow slid two fingers into her, and how Willow pushed back against her own hand, and most surprised at how much lighter her heart felt as they held each other silently before drifting into sleep.
Buffy woke alone in Willow's bed and knew she wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. Willow, in a robe, appeared seconds later with coffee for both of them, and kissed Buffy gently before handing her the mug. Then she got into bed beside Buffy. "Hi."
"Hi."
"You all right?"
"Yeah." Buffy sipped her coffee. "You?"
"Yeah." Willow paused. "We ok?"
Buffy thought for a few seconds. Unable to find any other answer, she nodded.
Willow smiled and rested her hand on Buffy's thigh. They still had so much to talk about, but what concerned her most was how thin Buffy was. She had never before been able to see the definition of bone beneath her skin. "Want some breakfast?"
"Nah, not hungry." Buffy sipped her coffee, thinking about other times and places they had done this.
"I know I'm gonna sound like a mom, Buff, but you haven't been taking care of yourself. You need to eat more."
"I'm good, Wills," Buffy answered.
Willow put her mug down and took Buffy's. She took Buffy's hand and ran it along the washboard of her ribs. "You're like that everywhere, Buffy," she said gently.
Buffy frowned. She had been avoiding mirrors for years. She kept her long hair, uncut since leaving Sunnydale, in a single braid down her back, and tended it by touch. How she looked no longer concerned her, but Willow was finding fault, something she never did in the past.
"Are you gonna let me take care of you?" Willow asked in the same gentle tone.
"Can I stop you?"
"You know you can." Willow kept her voice soft and even. They had to start slowly, or they would implode, leaving them running from yet another hole in the ground.
Buffy didn't answer for a long time. She wanted her coffee, she wanted to be warm, she wanted, hard as it was for her to believe, Willow's nude body atop her own. "I think the last time I did that was when Mom died."
As if she read Buffy's mind, Willow removed her robe. It slid down her back, and the motion caught Buffy's attention. She looked at Willow, who turned to her and gently pushed her down. Willow moved on top of Buffy, pulling the blanket along. Buffy had always been hot, "Slayer thing," she said, and Willow had never thought to investigate further. Now, she was hot, and Buffy was cool, shaking beneath her.
It was almost too much for Buffy to bear, so much skin, so much touching. She spent years freezing at the casual brushes of everyday life and dodging anything more. She hadn't even touched herself unless it was necessary. But it was Willow, and Buffy recognized her in ways she couldn't understand, and that made it all right, at least for a while, and Buffy's arms went around Willow, securing her in place. "I'm tired, Willow," she said softly.
"I know," Willow answered. "I'll get you fixed up, and then we can do what we have to do."
"I'm not the Slayer," Buffy said flatly.
"Yes, you are," Willow said. "You are *the* Slayer."
"I can't do that any more."
Willow chuckled. "You never stopped." She cupped Buffy's face in her hands. "Since, well, since then, you've slayed 1,963 vampires, two Argnoth demons, and four others that I can't find any reference to. You've saved 234 people and one town, and, somehow, yourself."
Buffy closed her eyes while Willow recited her past six years. "I wish I hadn't."
"But you did." Willow kissed her forehead, eyes, cheeks, nose, and chin before reaching Buffy's lips. "I'm glad you did," she said, and kissed Buffy again. This time, Buffy kissed her back.
Buffy left Willow asleep in the big bed and went to take a shower. She dressed in her old clothes and finished packing her bag. She couldn't do this, couldn't be Willow's hero, couldn't save the world again. She struggled against her past to draw a full breath, and checked the drawers one more time.
Buffy walked down the dirt road, her boots kicking up small puffs of dust with each step. She felt the pull of Willow behind her, and set her jaw. Buffy felt rubbed raw, as if her skin had been sanded by the contact with Willow. She ached like she hadn't since the Turok Han beat her down, since she crawled from her grave, since sticking the knife into Faith's stomach. At the paved road, she turned right and kept walking away from Willow and whatever it was she was supposed to do this time.
Buffy didn't bother to stop until late the next morning. She walked into another gas station convenience store and bought water and a sandwich, and ate while she walked. If she stopped, Willow would find her. Not that she couldn't anyhow, Buffy supposed. She kept expecting Willow to pull up beside her, angry and demanding.
Buffy kept walking at a steady clip. She headed south again, away from the cold air she felt coming down from Canada. After three days and two nights, she could take it no longer and needed to stop. There was a tree, and she sat against it to rest, unsurprised when two hours later Faith appeared.
Faith was angry this time, but Buffy didn't care. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Buffy shrugged. "Same shit, different day."
"She called Dawn in hysterics." When Faith realized Buffy wasn't going to stand up, she threw herself down beside her.
"You don't have to do this."
"I do, B. I need to keep you safe as I can."
"I'm not going with you, Faith."
"Yeah, you are. And I can take your skinny ass if you wanna argue about it."
"Just kill me. That's all you ever wanted to do anyway."
Faith barked a laugh. "That's the last thing I ever wanted."
"What, now you're gonna tell me you wanted me, too."
"Wanted you, wanted to be you, whatever." Now that she was sure Buffy wouldn't take off on her, Faith reached into jacket and pulled out the bottle. She handed it to Buffy.
"Past tense, huh?" Buffy easily cracked the seal and took three long swallows.
"All we have left, isn't it?"
"Me, maybe, but not you. You're big kahuna in slayerville."
"Nah. I'm just another body in Dawn's army."
"Dawn's, huh? What happened to Giles?"
"He's officially in charge, but the Slayers all answer to Dawn."
"Good for her." Buffy didn't bother to share the bottle this time. She was tired and wanted to forget everything, and pulled on it again.
"What did you do to her?"
"Nothing."
"What did she do to you?"
Buffy flinched involuntarily, and Faith knew she had hit the mark. She lit a cigarette and handed it to Buffy and lit another for herself.
"You belong with her, you know."
"No."
"You gonna run forever?"
"Long as I can." Buffy swallowed more liquor. The bottle was half gone, and she was getting warm, finally.
"Listen to me, B. Go to her. She's the best thing that ever happened to you, and you know it."
"You don't know anything about it," Buffy answered.
"Then at least come to Cleveland and get your shit together. You keep doing this, you're gonna wind up dead."
"Good. I want to be far away from everybody this time, so nobody can find me and bring me back."
"You're gonna hold that against her forever."
"Yup." Buffy finished the bottle and threw it as hard as she could. They heard it land in the distance. "I hate it here. I hate being indispensable. I hate having a destiny. I hate every fucking prophecy ever written. I hate this world, and I'm tired of saving it. Let it end. Let it all end."
"Not gonna happen, B." Faith stood up. "I'm gonna give you a choice. You can come with me or I can make you."
Buffy stood up and squared her shoulders. "I'm not going."
"You sure that's how you want it?"
Buffy didn't answer, and Faith threw the first punch. Despite the alcohol and lack of practice, Buffy was able to keep Faith at bay for a long time without hurting either of them. Faith surprised her with an uppercut, and everything was dark after that.
She woke up in a moving vehicle, her head throbbing each time the tires marked a new section of concrete. She tried to move, and realized she was securely tied up. "Faith!" Buffy bellowed. "When I get loose, I'm gonna kick your ass."
"You're not gettin' loose any time soon, so I ain't worryin' about it." Faith pulled over and stopped the car. "You thirsty?" she asked as she twisted in her seat to look at Buffy. Buffy glared at her, and Faith shrugged. "Fine. Do it the hard way." She started the car again and moved into traffic.
"Where are we going?" Buffy asked after many more miles.
"Cleveland."
Buffy kicked furiously at the back of Faith's seat.
"Just chill, B. We still got miles to go before we sleep," Faith chuckled.
"I hate you," Buffy screamed so loud it hurt her throat.
"Bout time you admitted it," Faith answered.
Buffy kicked the seat one more time for good measure, and was happy with Faith's grunt. She forced herself to relax before beginning to test her bindings, and heard Faith laugh again. "Magical. Slayer-proof. Tested on many others."
"Including you?"
"Definitely. Know what I found out? You struggle too much, you get a heinous rash. Not enough Benadryl® or calamine lotion in the world to help it."
Buffy muttered something, and Faith laughed again.
The sun was low in the sky before either of them said anything else. Buffy broke first. Her muscles were cramped from being in one position for so long, and she was beginning to panic at the thought of her family. "Faith, please don't do this."
"It's not up to me, B. You made your choice. You can't stay with her, you're comin' to us."
"I'll go back."
"And leave again."
"What makes you think I'll stay in Cleveland?"
"They can make you."
"What, it's a houseful of Stepford Slayers?"
"Nothin' like that. Won't even chain you in a basement. There's a hospital area, and from how you look, you'll be there for a while. No windows, one door, and if you act like an ass, they'll lock you in there until you behave."
"Do you hear yourself?" Buffy demanded. "You're taking me someplace I don't want to be and locking me in."
"It ain't jail, B."
"Sounds like it." Buffy kicked Faith's seat extra hard.
"Do that again, and you're goin' in the trunk. I'm just the friggin' messenger."
"Didn't you know? The messenger always gets killed for bringing bad news."
"You had your chance," Faith said and turned on the CD player as loud as it would go. Buffy got the message and shut up. She kicked the seat one more time for good measure, and Faith pulled over. She turned off the engine, and silence filled the car.
"You aren't going to put me in the trunk," Buffy said defiantly.
Faith sighed. "No, I'm not puttin' you in the trunk." She turned to look at Buffy. "What's wrong with you?"
"Hmmm, let's see, for starters, I'm tied up in the back seat of a car."
"Do you ever give anyone a straight answer?"
"What do you care? I'm not there, I leave you alone. Why can't you do the same?"
"They need you, B. How damn dense are you? You missed Dawn's graduation from high school and college. You missed a buncha birthdays, didn't even bother to call. Giles got old real fast when you didn't call, didn't write."
"They don't need me!" Buffy screamed. "All I ever do is bring death. It's my fucking gift, and I'm sick of it, and I'm not gonna dump it on them again."
"What about Red?"
"What about her?"
"You need to get right with her."
"You don't know a damn thing about what I need, Faith."
"Neither do you."
They stared angrily at each other. Faith turned away. "We'll be there in an hour." She started the car, and the music blasted from the speakers again, blending with Buffy's inarticulate howl.
Faith carried Buffy in an alley door. She turned immediately into a small room and dropped Buffy on a cot in it. She closed and locked the door, and through an intercom, spoke the words to release the ropes. As soon as Buffy realized she was free, she began working the cramps out of her muscles. It was slow and painful and helped focus her anger.
Within an hour, Faith was back. She had sandwiches and water, and opened the door cautiously before putting the offering on the floor and quickly closing the door. She returned again after half an hour with two other women Buffy wouldn't have recognized even if she was awake. Faith stood at the foot of the bed with a tranquilizer pistol pointed at Buffy while the women examined her. Buffy didn't acknowledge them at all, although she knew they were there. The pistol in Faith's hands was sufficient incentive to remain passive.
Faith returned in the morning with Buffy's breakfast. This time, she leaned against the door, holding the tray of food in front of her as a peace offering.
"You think I'm going to eat that after you drugged me last night?"
"Why does everything have to be so damn hard with you, B?"
"I don't know, F, why don't you tell me?" Buffy answered pointedly. She had a hangover from whatever they had used to knock her down, and her body still ached from being trussed in the back seat for hours.
"It ain't drugged. Just eat it. Dawn and Giles and Xander will be down later. Save the attitude for me, all right?"
Buffy launched herself at Faith, who dropped the food and went into a defensive stance. Faith didn't fight back. She blocked Buffy's blows, and when she could, wrapped her arms around Buffy. Buffy headbutted her, and Faith finally lost her temper. She threw Buffy into the wall and stood at the door, waiting for her to get up for another round.
When Buffy didn't move, Faith frowned and went to check her. Buffy grabbed her upper arm and slammed Faith's head into the wall. Faith blacked out, and Buffy searched her for the key. She found it and let herself out of the room. She turned for the exit and pushed through it, ignoring the alarm that went off. Buffy left the alley and turned left and ran as fast as she could. When she finally stopped, she cursed the loss of her bag. It would be safe in Cleveland until the end of time, Buffy decided. She didn't need the letters, knew every word of each of them by heart, just like she knew the photos. She checked her pockets, found the credit cards and her knife and the phone, somehow undamaged.
Fuel, she needed to eat first, she decided, and walked into the first place she saw. Buffy normally hated McDonald's, but she ordered two Big Mac meals and sat in the back corner by the bathroom to eat them. Then she took off again, walking at a quick clip. She knew she had to get out of Cleveland quickly. Once they found Faith, every Slayer in the city would be looking for her.
She found her way to the bus station and bought a ticket on the next bus. It was headed to Chicago, but she didn't care, as long as she was away from them and all the things they wanted and expected from her. She stared at the back of the seat in front of her, and for one moment wondered what was so terrible that they couldn't handle it alone. Then she laughed out loud. Faith was going to be mad when she woke up. She probably was concussed and out of business for a few days.
Buffy sobered. She had to find a way to cover her tracks so Faith couldn't find her right away. The next time they met, Faith wouldn't hold back on her, and Buffy knew she couldn't take her. She had three choices, she realized: Cleveland, Willow, or death. The third hadn't worked no matter how many times and ways she tried, and she had effectively cut herself off from Cleveland. That left Willow, and the thought of her made Buffy shake.
"She called Dawn in hysterics," Faith had said. Willow in hysterics was always short-lived. She would marshal her resources and regain control quickly, and Buffy guessed that by now, Willow was mad at her, too. Buffy sighed and pulled the phone from her pocket. She went through the contacts list and found three numbers for Willow. The first two were disconnected, but she answered the third on the second ring.
"Where are you?" Willow demanded.
"On a bus."
"Where, Buffy?"
"What, I'm going to tell you so you can sic Faith on me again?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Faith came and got me and dragged me to Cleveland."
"You're in Cleveland?" Willow asked hopefully.
"No, I'm on a bus. I'll be back before winter." Buffy closed the phone. She knew she had to return to Willow, but she could do it on her own schedule. By her reckoning, she had two months at most. She decided right then that she was going to spend them drunk, or as close to it as she could get without cursed beer.
She got off the bus the first time it stopped. There was, of course, a liquor store close to the bus station, and Buffy got two bottles of dark rum and as much cash as the storekeeper would give her. She put one bottle in her jacket and opened the other. Then she started walking. She didn't have a destination in mind, just walked south until she was tired. She made sure she was alone, and emptied the first bottle. Then she leaned back and went to sleep.
When she woke, Buffy opened the second bottle. She drank just enough to take the edge off, and got up and started walking again. Every time she saw a liquor store, she stopped and picked up another bottle, so she always had one full one in her jacket. She couldn't get drunk, but she could keep everything from being so sharp that reality made her bleed.
Winter surprised her by coming early. She woke up under a tree one morning, and everything around her was white. She didn't realize for a long time just how cold she was, not until she was in a booth at a roadhouse bar that was definitely on the wrong side of the tracks. She ordered coffee and a bottle and the bartender brought her a hamburger even though she didn't ask. Before he left, she asked him where she was. He flipped a pack of matches at her.
It took her a while to focus on the letters, black against red, 'dried blood against fresh,' she thought. She ignored the burger in favor of coffee and liquor, and pulled the phone from her pocket, and for the first time, it occurred that someone must have magicked it so the battery never died. She pushed the send button twice, knowing it would dial the last number again.
Willow answered just as quickly this time. "Buffy, are you all right?"
"I'm in," she paused, trying to read the matchbook, "Sullivan, Illinois. If you want me, you better come and get me."
"Stay there, please. Is there a hotel or what?"
"Redline Bar." Buffy chuckled. "I'll be here until they throw me out."
"Please find someplace to stay. It's going to take me a while to get there." Buffy heard the quiet click of keyboard keys.
"I'll be right here," Buffy said and closed the phone.
The bartender finally left a pot of coffee there with her, and brought another when she emptied it. She had pushed the burger to the far side of the table, and he took it when he replaced the empty rum bottle. Buffy ignored everyone who came near the table. She drank steadily, hoping one liquid or the other would warm her or let her not care, but neither did.
Five and a half hours later, Willow entered the bar. She stood in the doorway while her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and ignored the appreciative looks and comments thrown at her. She saw Buffy. Willow walked to the booth and stood at the table, looking at her. "Buffy?"
"Hey, Will." Buffy slurred her words a little. She was as close to drunk as she had ever been able to get.
"You ready?"
"Just gotta pay the man." Buffy finished the bottle before getting up. She pushed past Willow and walked steadily, if slowly, to the bar. "Gimme another," she said.
He nodded and went into the back. He returned with another bottle of the rum the small woman had been drinking all day. He had been expecting to find her passed out on the table, and was surprised that she could still walk.
"What do I owe you?" she asked him, and when he told her, she handed him one of the credit cards. He ran it through the machine, and she scrawled her name across the slip he handed her. She took the receipt and carelessly shoved it and the card into one of the front pocket of her jeans.
Before turning back to Willow, Buffy took a deep breath. She walked carefully to Willow, who waited near the door, and followed her outside. It was colder than Buffy remembered, and she shivered. Willow hovered, making sure Buffy got safely to her vehicle and into the passenger seat before going around.
It was still warm, but Willow turned the heat on high and pointed all the vents she could reach at Buffy, who continued to shiver as Willow got back on the road. She had filled the vehicle with gas just before getting to the bar, and had a bag of drinks and snacks in the console between the seats. Buffy opened the bottle and took a long swallow.
Willow ignored Buffy and focused on driving. There wouldn't be any stops between here and her home, although she planned to drive closer to the speed limit this time. After two hours, Buffy stopped shivering, and Willow turned the heat down a little. An hour later, Buffy finished the bottle, and a few minutes after, it slipped from her nerveless fingers to the floor. Willow reached over and checked Buffy's pulse. She was relieved beyond words to find it strong and steady, like it always was when Buffy slept.
Snow started to fall again while she drove, but Willow ignored it and pressed on. It was four inches deep by the time she turned into her lane, and she knew that neither of them would be going anywhere for a while. Willow parked in the garage and got out. She stretched before going to the passenger door. She leaned across Buffy and released the seatbelt.
The click woke Buffy. She jerked up and looked around wildly. When she saw Willow, she asked, "Are you real?"
Willow smiled. "As real as you are."
Buffy sniggered. "Then we're in a lot of trouble."
"Well, let's be in trouble in the house. It's a lot warmer there."
"Gotcha." Buffy swung her legs out of the seat and dropped to the floor. "Ow," she said softly before following Willow to the kitchen.
Buffy stood just inside the door and watched Willow move through the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and checking something in the crock pot.
"Go take a shower. You smell awful."
Buffy did as she was told. While she was gone, Willow called Cleveland. "I have her," she told Dawn.
"Is she all right?"
"I don't know."
"Faith said she's coming to kick her ass."
"Tell Faith she'll have to wait." Willow was torn between relief at finding Buffy relatively safe and sadness at the condition she was in. Willow had never seen Buffy voluntarily unkempt. Her clothes were filthy and threadbare, and Willow smelled Buffy from three feet away. It frightened her that Buffy was so utterly hopeless. "I'll call you in a couple days."
"Tell her I love her."
"I will, Dawn. Love you."
"Love you, too, Willow."
When Buffy didn't reappear after half an hour, Willow went looking for her. She heard water running and let herself in the bathroom. Buffy was passed out under the stream of steamy water, leaning against the shower wall. Willow turned off the water and roused Buffy enough to dry her off and walk her across the hall and drop her in the bed. She covered Buffy and got an extra blanket for her. Willow left the door open when she left.
Willow ate and fixed a bowl of stew for Buffy. She took it and coffee to Buffy's room, only to find it empty. Willow cursed softly and put the bowl and mug on the dresser. When she turned around, she saw the closed bathroom door. She opened it to see Buffy, nude, hacking at her hair with a knife. Willow was afraid to approach her, and said her name softly.
Buffy turned, a hank of hair in one hand and the knife in the other. She looked angry and defiant. Willow ignored the attitude and looked at Buffy. She had been thin before, but she had nothing extra on her now. There were new scars, 'always new scars,' Willow sighed mentally. "You hungry?"
"No." Buffy returned her attention to the mirror and grabbed another handful of hair.
"Want some help with that?"
"No."
"Want me to leave you alone?"
Buffy's tone was much gentler this time. "No."
"All right," Willow said, and stood in the doorway and watched Buffy saw at her hair. When Buffy decided she was finished, she set the knife down on the vanity and got back into the shower. She stood in the hot water and Willow gathered the hair and put it in the trashcan. She debated taking Buffy's knife, but left it, and was waiting with a towel when Buffy stepped out of the shower again.
This time, Willow took her to her room. She put Buffy in the bed and stripped before climbing in beside her. Buffy still felt cold to the touch, and Willow again lay atop her. Buffy made no effort to keep her there this time, but she fell asleep soon. Buffy's shaking and whimpering made Willow want to cry. Whatever had happened since Buffy had run away wasn't good. Buffy looked awful physically, and if she were a betting woman, Willow would have taken odds that Buffy had been at the end of her rope for at least a month.
Still, she stayed with Buffy, touching her gently and making soothing noises that seemed to make no difference to Buffy, until she, too, fell asleep. Willow woke alone again, but she knew Buffy was still in the house. Willow dressed and went looking for her. She found her huddled under a blanket in the basement, wearing two pairs of socks and sweatpants, two shirts and a sweater. Willow remembered the last time they had been on the couch together as she touched Buffy's shoulder gently.
Buffy looked at her. "I feel like shit," she said hoarsely, "and there's not a damn thing on TV."
"I have movies," Willow offered. Buffy radiated heat, even through all the clothes, and Willow knew she had to have a fever.
"I just want to get warm," Buffy muttered.
"It's warmer upstairs."
"All right," Buffy answered, and moved sluggishly. She kept the blanket wrapped around her and shuffled toward the stairs. Willow stayed behind her. She was afraid Buffy would fall.
They stopped in the kitchen. Buffy collapsed into one of the chairs, and Willow fixed her a cup of mint tea and a small bowl of stew. Buffy made a face at both. She pushed the food around, but ate only a mouthful before wrapping her hands around the mug. She drank the tea while it was still steaming, and had trouble putting the empty mug on the table. Willow took it from her. "Come back to bed. I have an electric blanket."
Buffy nodded and stood up. She swayed unsteadily and Willow moved to her side. She put her arm around Buffy and half carried her back to her bed. She piled extra blankets on Buffy and turned the electric blanket on high. Buffy passed out within a minute. Willow placed one hand on her forehead. Buffy was burning up, and Willow hoped her Slayer healing would kick in soon and take care of it. Willow pulled her hand back and watched Buffy for a long time, wondering what had happened and what she could do to make it better.