The Lateralus Duet - 1 - Schism
by Valyssia
A Reflection of Human Frailty
[reviews]
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers' souls in motion. Disintegrating as it goes, testing our communication.
As she slowly drifted out of sleep, Buffy became aware of the weight that still lay on her shoulder. Her eyes slowly opened and she smiled. Very carefully, she lifted the hand that cupped her breast, to save Willow the embarrassment. The redhead stirred and mumbled something completely unintelligible when she laced their fingers together. Dawn was thumping around, getting ready for school, so there was little need to rise immediately.
Buffy's mind wandered while she began to gently stroke the hair away from the witch's face. She must've thought it felt good too. Funny how the simple stuff can be just as good as the complicated. And when she wakes up, we can go get some guilt-free waffles. I'm starved. Then the talking. Now there's complicated. One of us needed to find the courage to say something. Once I got that she was telling the truth, it had to stop.
Buffy restrained a soft snicker. Now the stopping, that was interesting. Guess she knows. Fact is, though, what she has with Tara's just way too good for me to mess with. She knows. We'll work to fix what's broken, and if Tara comes back— Her thoughts cluttered momentarily and a deep sigh slipped out. If Tara comes back, good for Will. If she's happy, I'm cool. I've always driven people away who got close. Better if she does—look at those eyes. I'd almost forgotten how cute she was in the morning before all the— Her voice sounded like a broken whisper when she offered, "Morning."
A serene, contented grin spread over Willow's face as she woke up. She absently nuzzled into the slayer's shoulder, then tilted her head to look at her profile. 'Peaceful' was the first word that crossed her mind. The haze lifted and she considered the 'why' again. Alright, who are you and what have you done with my Buffy? Brain snatching alien thingies? Possession? Oh, I know! There's a big bug on her back. She was tempted to slip her hand behind the blonde just to check. Okay, so that's just gross. Whatever it is...I vote we leave it.
Buffy turned glance down at the witch's face and almost giggled at the furrowed brow. She thinks I've flipped. Maybe I have. "It's me, Will. Still here. No monsters or ookies," she commented wryly.
The crinkles got deeper and Willow managed to ask, "What happened last night?"
Buffy trailed her hand up the length of the witch's spine and started to inattentively caress. Her attention shifted as she paused to listen to the noises coming from the house. The front door opened and she heard Xander. Good. Then she distantly remarked, "Umm...let's see... Not much...big fight, then we made up. At least, I guess we made up, what, with the 'you here now.' "
"Yeah...I got that much. What I'm having trouble with is the 'why,' " Willow prompted.
A delicate sigh drifted lazily through her parted lips and Buffy admitted, "The geeks attacked me the in cemetery last night. Hit me with something. Totally clueless what but, when I got up, l felt better—more focused, y'know? It went badly for them."
Willow sat up and turned to peer anxiously at the slayer. I can still see her, so that's good. She felt like she should be doing some sort of an examination. Bad Willow. No examining. 'Cause, with the potential nakedness— Then it really sunk in: whatever they'd done was good. How could it be good? Last I checked they weren't big on the helping.
Buffy met the redhead's nervous gaze and stated in a comforting voice, "Relax, Will, I'm fine. Whatever it was, they obviously screwed up." After rising to sit cross legged on the bed, she suggested, "Let's get dressed and go out for breakfast. More talk later—food first. I'm starved." Once she received a nod from her friend, she crawled out of bed and set off to get ready.
***********
The Freightliner truck sped south down the open highway. Andrew looked over at the driver and smiled nervously. When the burley driver returned the smile, he timidly scooted over, pushing Jonathan against the door. Mexico...senoritas and margaritas, he told himself convincingly.
Jonathan turned and whispered into Andrew's ear, "I can't believe Buffy would..." Class protector...and she saved me—took the gun. It doesn't make sense.
"I watched her hit him, Jonathan. She walked around him like some sort of big cat playing with a mouse. She even kicked him after. It was horrible," Andrew whispered back. He looked like she—I barely recognized his face. What if she came after us? Mexico—Mexico's a good plan.
"But dead? You said she—" Jonathan returned in shocked disbelief.
The frustration welled up and Andrew replied, "She hit him three times. His jaw was broken in three places, his skull was fractured, neck broken, five broken ribs, a collapsed lung... He's dead. You got the same news I did, Padawan. If she comes after us, we're dead too!" He fell silent realizing he had been yelling at the end and that the driver was giving him a dubious glare.
Jonathan wasn't sure how to respond. He'd heard the doctor, but hearing it from Andrew made it somehow more real. It was his fault. He'd gotten the ingredients wrong and there was a psychotic slayer loose in Sunnydale. Finally he stated the simple truth in a small voice, "It's my fault."
***********
Buffy slammed against the rough wooden wall. Pain tore through her as she slid to the ground. Her cuffed hands reflexively raised to protect her face as the vampire closed on her. It did no good.
Spike drew back and smacked the slayer, then backed away, breathing hard. "I don't believe you. After all I've done for you, how could you?" he spat, casting his gaze around the musty old barn. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one up. After taking a couple of calming pulls off the smoke, his attention turned back to the slayer. Her hands were again covering her face in a feeble gesture of self-defense. He breathed out a deep sigh and commented ruefully, "'Spose you just couldn't stand the idea of a bath and a meal. Would've been too easy."
Her whole body shook with fear as Buffy sat there on the dirt floor. He's coming back. I can feel it. And he's right. Why'd I think screaming would get me shit? He just threw me back in the car and— She winced when his hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Spike picked the slayer up to face him. He was disappointed that she couldn't meet his gaze with some defiant remark, but he pushed the feeling aside. Time to break the girl. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it out with his heel, then picked her up by the waist from behind and pushed her over the hood of the old Cadillac.
Buffy raised her arms when her body smashed against the old car. Her nails bit into her palms when her fingers closed into fists. Somehow she knew what was coming. It terrified her. Tears streamed down her cheeks when he pulled the coat up over her waist. His hand struck her ass and she suddenly felt like a small child. Worse yet was the sensation when her body responded by gushing. This was turning her on. He hit her again and she felt the moisture build. Muscles clamped and contracted. She groaned then blushed as shame washed over her. The pain in her side, face, and leg seemed to dull as her body reacted.
"Like that, do ya?" Spike remarked as he paddled the slayer's bare ass. He landed three more swats, then commented, "Well, if you like that, you'll love this."
Her body clenched and a soft moan slipped out when he pressed inside her. The rhythm started and the humiliation built. Then it stopped when he pulled out. She gasped when the attention stopped. What's he doing? Why?
"This...this is what you'll get—" Spike began. His hand smacked down on the slayer's red bottom again. "When you bollocks up my plans," he continued as he rammed himself deep inside her. Bugger, that's tight. A groan rolled off his lips. "I'll give ya a spot of the difficult brown."
Oh God! Confusion and shock hit her and Buffy cried out. It felt like she was being split open. Tears poured down her cheeks as the agony and degradation filled her again. Her body tensed when he started to pound away. Every muscle seized in protest. Mercifully, she went numb after only moments of the brutal thrashing. His hand coiled in her hair, then her head jerk back as he pulled. She turned to look in disgust and horror. There was a twisted sneer on his sallow face.
***********
Willow clutched the strong hand and her mind drifted. The morning sunshine felt good and the air smelled crisp and clean. Small children played in their driveways. All seemed to be right with the world. Her hand caressed the smooth calluses of the familiar yet distant and forgotten hand she held. As they moved together down the sidewalk, she glanced over and grinned at her friend. The gentle smile that met her glance inspired courage. Before she knew it, the question slipped out, "Was that a fluke?" She blushed at her own forwardness and quickly tried to cover. "I mean, what with the kissing flukes and the weirdness. We've been so estranged. And the fighting—passions running all rampant and high—" Her babble was cut short by a single word: 'no.' No? How could it be 'no'? That would mean—? Astonishment reflected in her expression and she didn't bother to hide it. She snapped to a stop and the hand she held pulled against her. Turning, she met the same serene gaze and asked bluntly, "How long?"
"How long what, Will?" Buffy prompted.
"How long you with the—and me— I mean, Buffy, kind of a big secret to—" Willow babbled nervously, making as little sense as humanly possible and she knew it. A soft frustrated growl slipped out and she tried to collect her thoughts. This is huge. How could she not tell me?
Buffy sighed, then her face filled with delight. "It wasn't a secret," she replied good-naturedly. A soft smile warmed her expression even more as she watched her friend's mouth drop open. She cut Willow off when she tried to reply with an indignant 'not a secret?' It was the response she'd expected, so she brushed it off and moved on. "Willow, listen. 'Always' is the answer you're looking for."
"Always," Willow dully mimicked. Her mouth snapped shut and her brain went off in search of what was left of her self-esteem. I'm gonna need some help here. Hope she explains 'cause this is really freak-worthy. She looked expectantly, hoping for more information.
Buffy set off down the sidewalk again, towing the witch along with her. As they moved, she explained, "Always, like...always. I had a girlfriend for a while at Hemery. I mean we weren't 'out' or particularly 'proud,' but we were and it was nice. Then I came to Sunnydale—sorta ended any of the past tense. I flirted with you; no score. You didn't seem to notice. I figured it was better that way and dropped it."
"You flirted?" Willow parroted again, still trying to get her mind around the facts. When did she flirt and where was I? How'd I miss the flirting? There was flirting and no one told me?
Buffy snickered. "Yeah...you do understand flirting? Y'know, body language, running your fingers through your hair, laughing at the right jokes, holding the person's hand if they let you?"
Her mind went straight to static and Willow struggled to recall. Okay, so there was definite hand holding. She flirted with me? "Why didn't you—? I mean, Buffy, I thought you were the straightest girl on the planet."
"See what you get for thinking? I've been telling you for years it's a bad," Buffy replied amusedly as she turned the corner and stopped at the curb. The restaurant was in sight and her stomach growled in protest. Thank God! Food! "It's not girls, Will, it's certain girls. Just like it's certain guys. Would you've been happier if I'd made a play for Cordelia?" A giggle punctuated the thought. "Or Harmony?" The giggle turned into a laugh when the redhead glared at her. "How about Anya? Ooh, now that'd be scary." Her mirth thickened as she tried to make her way across the street. She does fit the not quite human prerequisite. The thought was instantly sobering, like a splash of cold water. She straightened up and kept walking.
"'Kay...I see your point," Willow replied frankly.
"I hope so," Buffy responded, steering them toward the front of the diner. "It was you, Will. And I thought you weren't on the menu, so..." After reaching for the door and ushering the redhead inside, she waited patiently for the hostess to offer them a booth. Once they were seated and coffee was on its way, she resumed, "Tara hurt, Will. That's why you got the disappearing-Buffy act. Thing is...I think Tara was a good. You two were great together. I want you to have that back. That's why I wanna call Giles if you'll let me."
Willow's mind was still reeling from the previous news. When she heard the name 'Giles,' it froze and her mouth dropped open again.
"Lemme explain. See, I've been thinking. Yeah, I get that I just told you it's bad, but—" Buffy accepted the coffee their waitress served them with a polite 'thank you' and ordered a plate of waffles and a side of bacon. When the waitress left, she continued the thought, "Remember when I didn't want to be the slayer?"
Willow sipped at her coffee and looked expectantly for the next piece of news that might take her a month to recover from. This has been a barrel of laughs so far. I'm thinking I want more...and a side of therapy. Her chin dipped in recognition that she remembered.
"When I looked at you last night, something hit me. I don't think you have a choice. I think you are exactly what you are," Buffy offered, pausing to sip her coffee. Her voice broke as she tried to continue, "I think you bit off too much with—with me—with bringing me back." She looked anxiously away and struggled to collect herself for a moment. Once the confident, loving smile returned, she shifted her attention back to her friend. "Nothing about our lives is normal, Will. It makes sense that you'd push too hard. Then the horror and the badness. I don't think it's an addiction. That metaphor's wrong. It's closer to Xander's sex metaphor. It's part of you. Giles needs to help. Being avoidy 'stuffy British guy' isn't gonna cut it."
Therapy and waffles. Yup...exactly what I need. Willow faked a smile and tried to explain, "What makes you so sure, Buffy? It's something I do, not something I am. It always has been. Just like the computer thing."
"I kill monsters with my bare hands and a little piece of wood. Wanna try?" Buffy replied with a smile. After another sip of coffee, she sat cupping the mug in her hands and inquired, "Where's the power come from, Will?"
"The earth mostly," Willow replied honestly.
Buffy sighed and took another sip of her coffee then placed the cup back on the saucer. "And anyone can do it? Like, if I wanted to do the pencil floaty thing, I could? 'Cause—lemme tell you—hella useful. You haven't been holding out on me, have you?"
"'Kay, so...I see your point, but Giles?" Willow conceded. A soft sigh slipped out and she reached for her coffee.
"Giles has been there. He's just being a—" Buffy remarked, but stopped short because the word wasn't there. A few seconds later she cleared her throat and added, "Coward."
"Oh, Buffy...are you sure that's fair?" Willow prompted, appearing aghast. That's pretty harsh even for Buffy.
Buffy replied with three not-so-simple words, "Mark of Eyghon." Her hands closed around her coffee cup and she leveled her gaze on the appalled witch. Willow didn't fight her. She watched her expression relax to one of thoughtful reflection. Finally she stated plainly, "It is what it is, Will."
Her brow furrowed as Willow shot the slayer a dubious glance. "When did you get all insightful? Can I get the old, oblivious Buffy back? She wasn't nearly so scary," she commented with a wry grin.
Buffy smiled brightly before she remarked, "Sorry, Will, you're stuck with this one. At least till next fall when the new models come out." Her hands moved from the table when the waitress set her plate down. Wasting no time, she smoothed the butter over her waffles and picked up the syrup.
Willow stared in amusement as the slayer turned her plate into Lake Maple and started to wolf the poor drowned waffles down. A careful ritual took place on her plate: just enough butter and syrup in each hole. When everything was right, she finally ate. Glancing up, she noticed that Buffy was staring at her over a half-empty plate. "What?"
Buffy shook her head and took another bite. Once her mouth was clear, she took a sip of coffee and half replied, "I'm sorry. I just—" stopping short, unable to finish the thought.
" 'You just' what?" Willow prodded as she carefully sectioned off a cube of waffle.
"Nothing," Buffy tried. Seeing that she wasn't going to get off easy, she finally grudgingly admitted, "Okay, so...I think it's cute." Her gaze turned back to her plate and she shoveled another bite in, trying to push the embarrassment aside.
She's right. I should've noticed. Willow took a careful sip of her coffee then picked up another creamer, pouring only half the contents in to balance out the mix the refresh had left her with. She stirred the cup and took a drink, then went back to her waffles.
Buffy took the other half of the creamer and added it to her coffee and stirred. After taking a drink, she remarked, "I've got something else I need to talk about, but we should finish first."
Oh boy. I'm not sure I can take any more Buffy-insight this morning. Willow took another bite of her breakfast and looked up to meet the slayer's gaze. "If you're gonna talk, you might as well. I'm still trying to get over the first four epiphanies. Another's not so much—it'll add to the stuff I have to tell my new therapist."
Buffy chuckled and took a bite of bacon dipped in syrup. Yum! Salt, sugar, and fatty goodness, all in one bite. When she finished with the strip of bacon, she cast her gaze down at her nearly empty platter and threw caution to the wind. "Is there any reason—I mean, can you think of one—that I might've come back different?"
Confusion and shock washed over Willow's face for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning. She sputtered and said, "What?" Her fork hit her plate and she suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. "What makes you ask that?" she queried defensively.
Buffy placed her hand over the redhead's to comfort her. "I'm not saying you did anything wrong, Will. Please don't be upset," she offered in a gentle, reassuring tone. It surprised her slightly that Willow didn't pull away and she gratefully closed her hand around the soft, delicate fingers. "Spike can hurt me," she stated, watching her friend's mouth drop open again. As an after-thought, she added, "It's just me. His chip still works."
Willow reeled from the news.
"I told you it could wait," Buffy commented with a sheepish grin as she gave the hand a light squeeze.
Willow's brain finally caught up again and she asked, "But how do you know? I mean, you haven't been spending time with him have you?"
Uh-boy...now here's the hard question: how honest? I'm not sure I can even say that to her. Buffy finally nodded and withdrew her hand, lacing her fingers together in her lap. She sat, considering how Willow would react. She'll be so disappointed in me. Guilt spoiled her features and she quickly looked away. A wave of remorse swept over her as tears welled up in her eyes. I need to get a grip, she admonished and harshly rubbed her eyes. Knew I should wait.
It was like reading Buffy in code as Willow watched this little drama unfold. What could upset her so much? I mean she was better than fine a couple minutes ago. 'In control' doesn't begin to describe it. Now she's a mess. Willow mentally ticked off the list of revelations for the morning. Oh Goddess. She loves me. No...no, she's in love with me. She sprang to her feet and fished a bill out of her purse. And she's barely been home. She fucked him. That has to be it. After she tossed it on the table, she ran out the door. Why else would she be guilty? The need to run as fast and as far as she could took over.
Buffy dug into her pocket and tossed the last of her money on the table, hoping it would cover the tab, then she set off for the door. She shot a hasty apology to another patron as she pushed past him and burst out onto the street. Willow didn't have a prayer when she let the slayer take over. They were halfway across the park when she caught up and stopped dead in front of her friend.
"How could you?" Willow spat. Her hand drew back and without thinking, she slapped the blonde with all her strength.
Buffy recoiled and rubbed her cheek. Her instincts told her to push back, but her heart was saying, 'she's right.' After a couple of seconds of internal debate, her heart won. This is Willow...and she's right. "Hit me again," she asked in a voice that barely registered as a whisper. Her head hung in shame.
"What?" Willow queried, not sure if she heard correctly.
Tears welled up in her eyes and Buffy pleaded, "Hit me again."
Willow couldn't believe what was being asked of her. She stood and stared at the utterly defeated slayer. Finally, she simply replied, "No."
"Please, Will. Hit me again," Buffy begged, looking up to meet the angry, disbelieving glare. Her face was wet with tears that seemed to pour endlessly from grief-stricken eyes.
Willow stood there and watched as Buffy wiped her face so harshly she felt certain she was going to injure herself. Her hand moved to stop the assault, but she was a second too late.
Buffy fell to her knees sobbing, "I'm sorry, Will. God, I'm so sorry."
***********
Buffy had never been fucked so long or hard in her life. It made their little spectacle in the abandoned house look compassionate and loving. She'd given up begging for forgiveness and simply lay weeping. Her entire body ached. Pain shot from the base of her spine when he pressed in. He was being careful to not give her any pleasure, pulling back before he brushed anything that might ease her suffering. The cruel rhythm stopped and a hand struck her hard on the ass. She winced and another cry for mercy slipped out. Another firm slap and he started in again.
"Some lessons are hard to learn, pet," Spike growled as he pushed the sensations aside. Bitch'll never forget this one. Give her the fucking of a lifetime.
More anguish, her body was awash with it. Her senses dimmed and Buffy was grateful. Cold comfort fell on her, coating her like a glove. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out, falling utterly limp on the hood of the car.
"'Bout soddin' time," Spike grumbled. Picking up the pace, he shot his load inside of her, then pulled out. Tasty little tart still has a constitution, I'll give it up for that. He swept up his tee-shirt off the car and cleaned himself up, then zipped his pants. After casting the shirt aside and going to the boot for another, he walked back around to the front of the car and stared at the unconscious woman. Something happened to her. I'd lay wager she's lost it. I mean, look at those bruises and I barely touched her. He took a pull off his smoke and shook his head. Well, one thing's sure: that arse'll never get old. Once he finished his cigarette, he cast it aside and walked back over to Buffy. His fingers traced a line up her core, slipping briefly inside. Well I'll be buggered! All that wailing and she's positively dipping. She'll do for a shag, I reckon. Bit of the easy pink this time. He unfastened his jeans as he fondled the blonde.
***********
Willow dropped to her knees in front of the slayer. Why am I mad? We're not married. I've never even kissed her. It's me—my fault—I'm disappointed and maybe—weird—maybe a little jealous. Her expression changed to the purest sympathy. She loves me. Like really, no joking, head over heels. Why else? She reached out and placed a finger under Buffy's chin and gently tried to raise it. Stubborn as ever, the chin didn't move. Refusing to give up, she wrapped her arms around the blonde, cradling her.
Buffy tried to pull away, but the witch wouldn't let her. Refusing to use slayer strength to run away, she finally surrendered and placed her head on Willow's shoulder.
This is arguably the stupidest thing I could ever do. Then again, it might be the smartest. And if I think about it too much, I'll chicken out, but great big huge emotions here, jealousy and guilt. And they mean only one thing. Willow leaned back to look into Buffy's eyes, then she kissed her. It was a short, tender kiss, just enough to get the message across. Now I've committed the crime. Jealousy? Yup, right where it should be.
Buffy pulled out of the embrace, feeling like she might emotionally overload at any second. "No, Will. You need to be with Tara. Don't you see that? I'm a nightmare. Everything I touch turns to shit. I can't do that to you too. I won't," she spat out furiously.
"Tara left me, Buffy. She's gone. I've accepted it and mourned the loss." Willow breathed out a deep sigh. As the slayer tried to avert her gaze again, she seized her and pushed her back onto the grass. Buffy had better get a job. I'm gonna need money for that therapist. In one fluid movement, she pinned the blonde to the ground. Her tone was calm and tolerant when she commented, "Why don't you let me be the judge of what's good for me? I'm a big girl and you don't scare me, slayer."
Some of the angst subsided when Buffy scanned the witch's face. She could've easily broken the hold: her arms were held to the ground by her wrists, her would-be captor had her knee between her thighs. A small grin pulled at the corners of her mouth as she considered the face the redhead would make if she flipped her onto her back. Then she thought better of it. She was certain she'd forever be grateful she hadn't when soft lips met hers in a supple caress. Just barely brushing, tentative yet sweet, warm and uniquely Willow. She followed along with the delicate pantomime, allowing the witch to completely control their actions. Each move was countered in perfect harmony. When the kiss finally deepened, it was wonderful. The sugary taste of syrup and butter filled her senses as their tongues danced a carefully choreographed duet. Each move seemed almost scripted to perfection. Her body wept as she felt the intensity of Willow's devotion.
Every inch of Willow ached when she withdrew. She rested her forehead against the slayer's and lay there, gently panting. My Goddess, where'd she learn to do that? Her body started to protest and she reluctantly rolled onto her back next to the blonde. Once she caught her breath, she commented amusedly, "Knew you'd see reason."
Buffy turned onto her side and propped her head in her hand. Her eyes fixed on the beautiful redhead. Umm...wow...she's really mine. Now what? Insecurity welled up as she considered this, but she calmly pushed it down. I can do this. She's not a monster, or a faker. She's never pretended to be anything. She's just Willow. The temperate, even tone returned as she asked, "I want to take this really slow. That okay?"
At the sound of the slayer's voice, Willow's eyes opened. Turning to meet the blonde's gaze, Willow nodded. "Yeah...actually it sounds nice. I'm still trying to get my head around this morning. It may take me a few days just to—there's all this stuff."
"Yup, piles of stuff we should get figured first. Like my unemployedness. Not to mention you and your forced abstinence." Buffy's face lit in a bright sunny smile. "S'okay though...I could easily survive on just those kisses for awhile," she reflected dreamily.
Willow turned onto her side and mirrored her position.
A tender smile curled the corners of Buffy's lips and it was echoed back by the witch. "I'm tired of hiding, Will. It hurts."
***********
Tara moved along the sidewalk with a pile of books clutched to her chest. Spying a free bench, she took a seat to watch the children play in the park while she read. After carefully setting the books aside, she flipped through them to find the right one and lay it open on her lap. The sounds of laughter that filled the air made her happy. She glanced up from her book and scanned the large open area, looking past the jungle gyms and teeter totters. Her eyes fell on a couple lying in the grass in the distance. That's nice. She studied them for a moment or two and it dawned on her she knew the redhead that was facing her. Willow? Not a couple, then. Well, a couple of friends... Then that might be... She squinted, but all she could see was the blonde woman's back. It has to be her. They're actually talking. Maybe...maybe there's hope. She smiled warmly. Once she realized what she was doing, a little pang of guilt leapt up and Tara stuck her nose back in her book.
***********
Willow saw another talk looming on the horizon and she forced herself to relax. No way can it be more horrible or wonderful, so... I can do this—just listen.
"Remember the night we found out Mom—" Buffy started then stopped as her voice cracked. Her eyes welled up with tears. A soft hand reached out to caress the tears away and she found the strength to continue, "I was sitting on the porch and Spike showed up with a shotgun." She felt Willow tense and she instinctively reached out to take her hand. "I thought he was going to kill me at first, but it didn't matter. Then he sat down and put the gun aside. I talked and he listened. I mean, actually listened, like it mattered," she sighed, "It didn't mean anything, but it meant everything. Time passed and there were more— Things would get bad and he'd just listen, but I never stopped seeing him as a monster trying to be a man."
A short silence passed between them then Willow broke it with a sincere, "I'm sorry."
Buffy nodded. "I know, Will, it was as much my fault," she offered honestly. I could stop now. She'd be happy. Another sigh slipped out. She'd even sort of understand. Her posture stiffened then she rolled onto her stomach and began to inattentively play with the blades of grass.
Willow saw where the conversation was headed. After a moment of silent reflection, she offered permission, "Just talk, Buffy," hoping it would help. It's not like she's in love with him. I don't understand and maybe I should. Or I should try, anyway.
"The day we found out—Spike and me—that he could hurt me, he showed up to kill me. It was the fight. It was going to end." Buffy turned back onto her side and laid her head on her arm. After reclaiming the witch's hand, she shut her eyes and resumed, "One minute we're fighting and the next minute we're kissing. It was harsh. There was no love in it, just pure hunger." Her eyes snapped open and she studied Willow's face.
"So how'd it go from—?" Willow asked, trying to keep an open mind. She wasn't sure she needed or even wanted an answer, but she felt compelled to just listen.
"The usual way, Will, but lots more violent," Buffy commented dryly then fell silent, unwilling to offer more. She shut her eyes again and struggled to make sense of it all. Her tone was even more arid as she continued to comment. None of the thoughts seemed fully formed, but she offered them anyway. "It was brutal. Do you understand what—no, you probably don't. Remember Faith saying, 'hungry and horny'?" She felt Willow nod though her eyes remained shut. "I never wanted to admit it, but she was right. There are times when there's this—it feels like an animal. That's what it was, Will, animals...monsters..." she sighed, "The other part was I hated my life. I hated everything around me. I wanted to hurt—to feel sick when I looked at myself. Like Spike kept saying, I didn't belong in the light."
I get that. Willow scanned the impassive face in front of her. The silence between them seemed deafening. Her attention turned to the sounds of children playing. "Funny how it can all seem so hopeless. You look around and know you've got a good life, friends, family, people that love you. There are problems, there always are," she sighed and turned onto her back, looking up at the sky, "You start to crave more, nothing seems to satisfy. Part of you wants to run from the simple problems—just fix them, like magic." Her hands moved in a flourish, "Poof, no more problem. Easy fix." Her left hand fell to her side while her right went up to rub her eyes. A tear crept out and she set her gaze on a white, fluffy cloud and she watched it slowly drift along. " 'Want, take, have,' isn't that what you told me? Sounds so good until you start hurting the people you love. Guess that insignificant detail didn't mean so much to Faith. Then things go all floopy and suddenly you're alone and no one trusts you."
"You're not alone," Buffy offered reassuringly, lifting herself up to prop her head in her hand. After a few minutes of closely scrutinizing Willow's face, she continued, "So, Will, what if I started using my slayer abilities to steal? Now listen for just a sec before you wig," she put a hand out to calm the witch.
Willow shot up despite the reassuring hand and turned to glare at the slayer.
Ignoring the movement, Buffy finished her thought in a calm rational manner, "Here's the thing... I could pick high dollar jobs. I have plenty of underground contacts. I'd probably only have to work one day a month and we could live well."
Willow took a deep breath. "That would be bad, but... You're not serious—with the stealing?" she babbled nervously. Her eyes passed anxiously over the impassive face in front of her.
A mischievous smile crinkled the corners of Buffy's eyes, she replied, "No, Will," choking back a snicker by clearing her throat. Her expression grew sober after a moment. "Isn't it the same thing, though? You and your thing...me and mine? Using it for good or using it for not-so-good."
Willow folded her legs and fell completely silent. Her gaze turned from the slayer to the grass in front of her. It took her several minutes to find the words. When she finally did, all that came out was, "Call Giles."
***********
Tara glanced up from her book and another twinge of guilt hit. They didn't see her, but they were standing up. She quickly replaced the book in the stack beside her and swept them all up. When she glanced back, her friends were hugging. A soft bashful smile played at corners of the mouth and she turned to walk away. If anyone can help Willow, it's Buffy. Goddess, I pray they find some peace. She offered a quick blessing, then quickly made her way down the street.
***********
Buffy pulled out of the embrace just enough to meet the redhead's gaze, then she drew her into a gentle, lingering kiss. She wanted Willow to understand completely that this wasn't a fluke, nothing strange was going on. It was just her expressing a long-standing, deep commitment in a different way. She poured everything she felt into the kiss.
Had Buffy not been holding her up, Willow was certain her knees would've buckled. The raw intensity the slayer exuded made her dizzy. Hands seemed to trail indiscriminately over her body, leaving goose bumps in their wake. The kiss itself was tender but, at the same time, there was a visceral quality that consumed without pain or regret. She felt completely bathed in Buffy. The smells, tastes, and sensations washed over her as their tongues caressed. When the slayer finally withdrew, leaning into her so they touched forehead to tip of nose, she felt like something incredibly important to her had been misplaced. She stood, blatantly panting, trying to recover her breath.
When she saw the redhead's eyes finally flutter open, Buffy smiled and commented in a muted sardonic tone, "I think I'm gonna skip the cat-burglar-Buffy act. How about we pick up a paper?" She scanned the witch's face for some sign of comprehension.
Her expression seemed to transform as a smile awash with sinful promise crept over the witch's features. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. Then Willow teased, "Sounds good. Soon as I can walk," turning her gaze up to meet the slayer.
Buffy exhaled a deep enduring sigh, whispering, "Uh-boy," as a breathy gasp at the end. Concern stole over her features then she asked, "Should we feed you some more? You barely touched your breakfast." The wicked, desirous grin pulled at the corners of the redhead's mouth. Buffy rolled her eyes and rebuked lightheartedly, "Not on the menu yet, remember?"
A playful pout replaced the grin. Willow's brain started to run through a long list of a dozen or more truly tasteless comebacks she could easily toss out to make the slayer blush. Then she finally replied, "Not biting," and the pout returned.
"I didn't mean to tease," Buffy offered apologetically. Her brows knit briefly, relaxing when the pout went away. She released the redhead and started to walk in a leisurely pace toward the center of town. Willow took her hand when she offered it. A weight seemed to have lifted and she enjoyed the sensations of just being out walking on a beautiful day. Finally, she reflected in a soft, pensive voice, "I just wanna put some distance between us and the crazy of the past few months, Will. I wanna do this right," she sighed, "Anyway, you know how I feel."
"I get that, Buffy, really I do. Like I said, it'll be nice. I've missed you," Willow replied with a reassuring smile. As they closed in on the newspaper rack, she was dumbfounded by the slayer's reaction. Releasing her grip on the hand she held, she continued to walk toward the blue, metal box while Buffy tore off down the street. Her mouth dropped open again as she stared at the headline, 'Police Seek Leads in Tragic Slaying'. There was a picture of Warren Mears below the headline. She tore her eyes away from the paper and rushed down the street toward the police station.
***********
"Frank, could you come out here?" the desk officer said over the phone.
"Sure. What now?" Frank replied, trying to press the irritation from his voice. I bet L.A. cops don't go through half the shit we do. Pay's probably better too.
"There's some hysterical blonde woman out here confessing to last night's murder. It's actually kind of funny. She might weigh a hundred pounds," the desk officer remarked amusedly.
Frank sighed and rolled his eyes, then grumbled, "Alright, I'll be right out." Rising from his desk, the detective made his way to the front desk and poked his head through the secured door. "Miss?" he said, resting his attention on the blonde.
"Buffy Summers," the slayer replied, turning in the direction of the voice.
After looking over the tear-stained, trembling young woman, Frank gestured her to follow and led her into one of the interrogation rooms. "You said Summers, correct?" he prompted, gesturing for the blonde to have a seat. Buffy Summers, she's on the list. Vic had what would appear to be an unhealthy fascination with a few local girls from what we found in the mother's basement. We'll need a drug test, prints and DNA. If it was her and she's clean, this could become 'justifiable' pretty damn quick. Bit crazy to even consider it. Look at her. Mears boy only weighed twice what she does and reports are that he ran with two other young men. Funny, they seem to have disappeared.
Buffy nodded and wiped her face, working desperately to calm herself. She understood how this looked and that the officer was probably just trying to be thorough.
"Miss Summers, my name is Detective Rawlins. Can I get you something to drink?" Frank offered patiently.
Buffy shook her head and stared silently at the table in front of her. I can't believe he's dead. His heart was still beating when I left. I didn't think I hit him that hard. Oh God. I kicked him. Tears welled up in her eyes again and she furiously wiped them.
"Miss Summers, would you mind telling me what happened last night?" Frank asked. Grabbing a box of tissues off the counter by the coffee pot, he set it in front of the distraught young woman and took a seat across from her.
***********
Willow sat patiently waiting in the lobby of the Sunnydale police station. It seemed to take forever for them to take their 'statement'. Worry reflected sharply on her face. Unless Buffy does something stupid, it should be okay. I mean, it was self-defense, right? They attacked her. Not so sure she'll see it that way. She's gonna blame herself. It's just how she is. Wish there was something I could do. When Buffy finally did emerge, the witch stood up and went to her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Buffy was utterly numb when the redhead guided her from the police station. They walked together in silence toward home. They had rounded the corner onto Revello Drive before she finally spoke. "Will, I'm gonna have to go before the council for review and I'm gonna tell the truth. I kicked him when he was down and unconscious. Doesn't matter why." Glancing over at the witch, she took in the anxiety that etched her face. After making her way into their home, she picked up the phone and called Giles.