Flood
by Valyssia
Something Deeper
[reviews]
All I knew and all I believed are crumbling images that no longer comfort me.
Buffy trudged into the kitchen, still shaken by everything that had happened. She headed straight for the life-giving coffee maker as though seeking absolution. She poured herself a cup and took it to the kitchen table. Sitting down, she reached for the sugar and creamer. "Caffeine will make it all good," she murmured.
She sat there for a moment, mixing the coffee to her taste, listening to the morning news program playing on the TV in the living room. She was so focused on the announcer's voice, she never heard her mother enter the kitchen.
Walking in, Joyce took in Buffy's agitated appearance. She headed over to get a fresh cup herself and asked, "Have a rough night?" from by the coffeepot. I really should be embarrassed, but I just worry. When I checked on her I completely forgot that she'd asked to spend the night at Willow's. Of course, her room was empty. It took a moment to sink in that her absence was fine, to be expected. Seeing her now is even more surprising.
Jerking at the question, Buffy splashed a little coffee on the table. Frantically, she grabbed some napkins to sop up the spill. "Uh, well, it was okay," she answered unconvincingly as she cleaned.
"I thought you were staying over at Willow's?" Joyce asked pointedly. There's only one reason I can think that she'd have Willow cover for her.
Buffy stumbled through an explanation as she finished moping up. "No—well, yeah. I mean, I was but I—"
" 'But' what, Buffy?" Joyce took on a harsh, accusatory tone, "You climbed in through your bedroom window when you weren't even supposed to be home! Why? Does Willow even know you left? Is she going to wake up and wonder where you are? Or did you just not spend any time there at all?"
The highly effective 'Mom Glare' was in full force and Buffy flinched under its assault. Part of her truly did feel guilty for leaving Willow to wake up alone, knowing exactly how that felt.
Joyce's eyes narrowed at the guilty look on her daughter's face. "You went to see Angel, didn't you?"
Buffy flinched again when she heard her ex's name. The memory of their last encounter was still too fresh.
Seeing a second flinch, she raged, "Dammit, why, Buffy? Hasn't he hurt you and your friends enough? Why do you use lies like 'sleeping over at Willow's' or 'patrolling' to sneak off and be with him?"
"It wasn't like that!" Buffy protested.
"You saw him and he left you an emotional wreck yet again, didn't he? I knew he was trouble long before I knew he was a vampire." She repeated tightly, "A vampire!" After closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to center herself, she continued, "Most mothers only have to worry about their daughters falling prey to a predator two decades older, not two centuries."
"It's not like that! He's not like that!" Buffy objected stridently, reflexively defending Angel despite everything.
Joyce sat down at the table, tightly reining in her temper. Softly, she asked, "Can you tell me the last time you spoke to him and weren't upset after?"
Buffy opened her mouth to pop out a snap answer but was stymied. The many times she had been upset were what came foremost to mind. "Uh, er—" She deflated and seriously searched for an answer.
Joyce took her daughter's hand. "Honey? I'm sorry. It's just that I love you and hate seeing you hurt," she said tenderly.
Giving her mom a weak smile, Buffy appreciated the sentiment.
"So that's why I'm grounding you."
"But, Mom!" Buffy almost shrieked.
The 'Mom Glare' returned. "You may legally be an adult but you can't lie to me about where you are and go sneak off to see your boyfriend. Those aren't the actions of an adult, so you're grounded. I expect to see you in the school library at four p.m. sharp, understand?"
The sullen teen muttered, "Yes, Mom."
***********
Angel awoke to a gnawing hunger. The need for blood forced him to his feet and he staggered to his kitchen. He pulled a packet from the fridge and bit into it without hesitation. Quickly draining it, he tossed the empty into the trash, then pulled out another. This one he drained into a glass and he heated in the microwave.
While waiting for his meal to warm, he stripped off his blood-stained shirt. He used it to dab at the half-healed puncture wound in his chest. The pain made him growl. You deserved that for what you did last night. Hell, you deserved a lot worse. He ran the edge of the shirt under some water in the sink, then wiped off the dried blood around the wound. Pheromones are no excuse. Once he wasn't quite so filthy, he pulled the glass from the microwave and sipped from it on his way to his bedroom.
He reemerged shortly, still damp from a shower, carrying an empty glass. When he reached the sink, he rinsed out the glass. He leaned against the counter and contemplated having a third. Before he could reach a decision, he became aware of a human presence within the mansion.
A woman's voice carried in from the foyer, "Angel?"
He made his way to Buffy's mother, noting that she was visibly distraught. "Joyce," he greeted neutrally in reply.
Without preamble, Joyce launched right into Angel, forcing eye contact. "What happened between you and Buffy last night?" she asked harshly. She immediately waved the question off, "Never mind. I don't need to know."
"Believe me, I never meant to hurt her," Angel said softly. He closed his eyes and mentally relived the previous night's attack. "You have to understand that last night was a...special circumstance." He looked at Joyce and pleaded with his eyes, "I'd never—"
"It's always a 'special circumstance'," Joyce interrupted sharply. Shaking her head ruefully, she conceded, "I know you don't really mean to, but the fact is you do hurt her."
Grudgingly, Angel nodded his acceptance. "I-I know."
Joyce folded her arms across her chest and countered bluntly, "Well, it needs to stop—you need to stop. And if that means you get out of her life, then so be it. Whatever it takes."
"Joyce, I—" the vampire pleaded.
Ignoring the apparent discomfort in Angel's voice, Joyce continued in a forthright manner, "No, Angel. I think you need to consider who you're helping by staying here. And who you're hurting. Buffy doesn't deserve to be hurt by you anymore."
Angel stood stunned, gaping at Joyce.
"It's a big world, Angel. I'm sure you can find something—someplace else that needs your help. Buffy has family, friends...all the help she needs. But, most importantly, she needs a life free from you. She needs a chance to move on. With you here she won't."
Slowly, Angel nodded his grudging acceptance. "You might be right." He closed his eyes for a moment and turned away.
Joyce stepped closer, softening her voice. "I'm sorry. I know I sound harsh, but I have to look out for my daughter first. Her happiness is all that I care about."
"And that's not me anymore," Angel said sadly, turning back to face the blonde.
Joyce gave him a pitying smile and thought, It never was.
***********
Buffy meandered into the library. Not making eye contact with anyone in the room, she listlessly took a seat across from Willow. Her gaze fixed on the heavy wooden table in front of her.
Wesley trundled around the stacks with a heavy book in his hand. His posture conveyed the authority that these young people denied him as he spoke in a crisp tone, "Right, good of you to come. Are we about ready to begin because Mr. Giles and I have some news?"
Willow was completely perplexed by her friend's behavior. As she sat mutedly observing what was all-too-somber a display, Buffy raised her right hand to place on the table in front of her. Both of their attentions rested on the scrupulously manicured nails and deceptively delicate fingers. She really does have beautiful hands. I wonder what she's thinking. 'Kay, so...I can guess, but I don't get the moody. "Umm...Buffy, I brought your books," she offered bashfully, watching hopefully for a response.
Buffy murmured the word, "Thanks," and continued the intense study of her right hand.
Wesley placed the heavy volume on the table and began to page through it as Mr. Giles ambled around the table to join him.
Xander blinked as he watched his two friends. What's up with them? I mean, 'strange' is pretty normal, but this is abnormally strange. He found himself looking at Buffy's hand too, wondering if he was missing the punch line to some sort of inside joke. He gave Buffy a sideways glance and considered, Oh...'kay...so...not a joke. More demon blood? Is her hand going to sprout spider legs, rip from her body, and crawl across the table? Oh! Maybe it'll choke Wesley! That'd be funny.
As Giles stood next to Wesley, his attention shifted between the three teens at the table. Something of note has occurred within the group. He carefully studied their behaviors, ignoring Wesley almost entirely.
Oz entered the library, taking in the curious interactions at the table. Buffy's hand, interesting thing to study. After pulling up a chair to seat himself next to Willow, he joined the examination and asked, "Did I miss anything?"
"Nothing much," Willow mumbled absently, turning her attention to Oz who was trying to take her hand. She gently brushed off the gesture and a pang of guilt caused her to blush slightly.
Wesley stopped turning the pages of the musty book and gestured triumphantly. "The Box of Gavrok," he announced authoritatively. His brow wrinkled with uncertainty when no one showed the slightest interest at all in what he declared.
Buffy squeezed her eyes shut while the others deliberated around her. She could feel Oz's gaze and the intense scrutiny raised a flush to her cheeks. The warmth of her discomfiture seemed to radiate from her face. She wanted to place her cool hands on her cheeks to soothe the unease, but she knew this would make her appear guiltier. Instead, she sat rigid in her chair and struggled to drive away the unwanted emotions that threatened to betray her.
"The Council received word that an artifact of great import was making its way to Sunnydale," Wesley offered hopefully, gesturing again to the book. His manner was gradually becoming more desperate and he chided himself for allowing these young people to cause him distress. The slayer is still the instrument of the Watchers' Council, regardless what this arrogant girl might say. There are lives at stake and I will not be ignored!
Oz's eyes narrowed as he studied Buffy. He analyzed the scents and actions of the others. There's something wrong here. Not just a little wrong either. This is big wrong. He caught the faintest hint of the last thing he expected to smell, but the thing he had found he could, disturbingly enough, detect with the greatest sensitivity. Blood. Willow's blood. His attention turned to his girlfriend and he tried to assess the injury. Blood mixed with— He slowly turned his gaze to Buffy and noted the faint hint of color in her cheeks. As the pieces fell into place, his curious gaze turned to an accusing glare. He was considering whether he dared challenge her when Wesley's frustrated voice broke in.
"Do you people not care that the first pure demon to exist on this plane in thousands of years intends to ascend right under our very noses in a matter of days?" Wesley spat in dismay. He began to pace out of sheer frustration as he ranted, "Mr. Giles and myself spent the entirety of last evening observing City Hall," he raised his hand, making a fist. "Why did we do this? Because the slayer, the one who is called upon to protect the world from exactly this—" he paused dramatically, "was busy," then scornfully shook his head, "Mr. Giles refused to allow me to call her into service. He said she had 'personal issues to which she must attend'." His brow knit and he wheezed, "Personal issues?" Stopping to take a deep breath, he concluded, "This is absolutely unheard of!"
Buffy snapped her attention to Wesley, giving him the stare to make all other stares cower in fear, the dreaded 'Mom Glare.' She knew from all-too-recent experience that this stare could effectively peel paint if delivered properly.
Wesley gestured emphatically at a thick, musty book that lay open on the study table in the middle of the library. "I tell you this is it. We have here the key to defeating the mayor before his Ascension," he offered the room in a heated voice, oblivious to the small drama unfolding around him.
Giles met Buffy's gaze and took a step back. He placed a hand to his chin to conceal his amusement and fixed his attention on the floor at Wesley's feet. I do hope the pathetic little ponce remembered to pay his insurance premium.
As Willow helplessly watched the exchanges going on in the room, she heard a faint rumble emit from the slayer's chest. Uh-boy! She's mad. Chancing a glance at Oz, she noted that his gaze had turned to his lap. A brief glimpse of Xander revealed a sudden and mysterious fascination with the book that was open in front of him on the table. You can tell that things are going straight to heck when Xander develops an interest in reading.
Abruptly, Buffy shot to her feet and rounded on Wesley.
At the same instant the slayer moved, Oz rose quietly to his feet and slipped out of the room.
Willow peered at the library door, watching it swing back and forth. Then she stood up and helplessly followed Oz. I have to talk to him. It's pretty obvious he got it, so...asking Buffy—not so much necessary. I'll come back and— Well, maybe she'll talk. I mean she has to talk to me, right? Deep worry etched her face as Willow pushed the library door open and ran down the hall.
After shoving Wesley aside, Buffy glanced at the picture in the book and briefly read the description. Source of indescribable evil...blah, blah, blah... They could be talking about the Rubik's Cube. Whatever. Big yawn. Her gaze fixed on her would-be watcher. If getting this stupid box will do anything, especially get Wimpley off my back for five...it's a 'good' in my book.
Buffy snapped contemptuously, "So, you're telling me that this box" — she pointed at the book — "this box has the power to bring about serious badness?" Perceiving a tentative nod from an intimidated Wesley, she prompted brusquely, "And the mayor has this box? You know that for certain?"
The blood seemed to drain from his face as Wesley reluctantly stammered, "Well, yes...umm...I do believe so. Faith delivered an object—" He cringed and cut short when the blonde bristled at the sound of the other slayer's name.
Buffy charged for the library door, stating bluntly as she moved, "Then let's go get it." Serious badness is my specialty.
Giles watched the slayer leave and called after her, "One moment, Buffy!"
***********
Willow caught up with Oz in the quad. Running at full speed, she called out, "Oz, wait! Stop! No, wait!"
Oz rolled his eyes, clenched them shut, then turned to glare at the redhead. "Let me go, Willow," he replied in a low growl.
After clumsily sliding to a halt and nearly colliding with Oz, Willow replied in anxious defiance, "No. I mean, not yet," through labored breaths. Meeting the irritated, dejected gaze of her now-obviously-former boyfriend, she offered honestly, "I'm not saying this to make myself feel better. Really, I'm not." She sighed and worked to stifle some of the unrest, then stammered "I am truly sorry. It wasn't—it wasn't something. I-I didn't mean—"
"Kind of a theme with you, Willow," Oz snapped and started to turn away.
The harshness of his words cut her and Willow flinched. Seeing that Oz was trying to leave, she stepped in front of him and put her hands out in earnest. After quickly mustering her resolve, she leveled her gaze on Oz, forcing eye contact; the words tumbled out, "I'm not asking for any— No." She swiftly raked her fingers through her hair, holding her hand at the crown as shook her head in frustration, then the blather resumed, "Nothing, Oz. Umm...another chance, forgiving—er, forgiveness, stuff... I'm not asking for stuff." Her demeanor grew sullener and she whispered, "I know I don't deserve it."
Gently placing her hands on his upper arms, Willow quietly concluded, "I just need you to hear this: I'm really sorry I hurt you—that I disappointed you." After taking a deep breath to try and stave off the tears, she released Oz and started off across the quad toward the entrance.
***********
Buffy burst out the library door and bolted down the hall, slipping deftly around a corner. Partway down the main corridor Principal Snyder stepped out of his office. She braked, SHIT! slid, Ssshhhit! stopped, Shit, back-peddled, Ssshhit, turned, shit, and prepared to run, crap. Dammit! Betrayed by my favorite tennies.
"Miss Summers," the beady-eyed little man purred. A venomous smile curled the corners of his thin lips and he continued, "We've had this talk about wandering the halls between classes."
Her eyes widened and Buffy stammered, "But I was—"
Cutting Buffy off, Principal Snyder offered delightedly, "While It won't be nearly as satisfying as turning you over to the police—" After stepping in front of his favorite delinquent student and folding his arms, he continued, "I'm afraid you've left me no choice. I'm just going to have to call your mother."
AH FUCK! Buffy waffled back and forth, praying that Giles wasn't too far behind. Oh, that's low. You slimy little weasel.
Giles rounded the corner, taking in the scene. Serves her right. After clearing his throat to draw their attention, he offered genially, "Buffy, one moment."
Buffy glanced gratefully at Giles and stammered again. "I was...umm..."
Producing a scrap of paper from his pocket, Giles made his way to the impetuous teen's side and said, "We'll be requiring three of each of these as well."
Buffy took the scrap of paper and unfolded it. After carefully reading over the penciled note that, much to her chagrin, was actually a list of book titles, or so it appeared, she smiled and replied, "Sure thing, Giles."
Principal Snyder snatched the piece of paper and examined it.
"We've been doing some independent studies and, as Buffy" — Giles gestured to the blonde — "had this hour free, I asked her to assist me with acquiring a few items."
Principal Snyder leveled his gaze on the Englishman and growled, "Students aren't allowed to leave the property during school hours."
Giles nodded. "Yes, yes, quite right... That is why I intended to accompany her. She just got a bit ahead of me. Eager, you know."
After folding the note and placing it in her pocket, Buffy glared at Principal Snyder and lifted him by his lapels, setting him gently aside. She smiled warmly and tugged at his sport coat to straighten it, then growled, "If that's all?"
Giles shrugged helplessly as Buffy tore away from the two them and continued to the front door. He glowered after the slayer and remarked, "Eager lass. Strong too, but not overly bright. Now, if you'll excuse me?" After side-stepping Principal Snyder, he ran after his charge.
It wasn't all and Principal Snyder knew it, but he found himself standing alone nonetheless. Staring after the peculiar Englishman as he ran from the school, Principal Snyder shook his head and stepped back into his office. After taking a seat at his desk, he glanced at the clock. Twenty-one days—another twenty-one days, six hours, and thirteen minutes, and she'll be somebody else's problem.
***********
Gasping for air, Giles did his utmost to follow the now irate slayer as she tore off down the street. "Buffy, please slow down," he implored breathlessly.
Buffy grudgingly slowed her pace so that Giles could keep up. Wesley's right, I need Giles to disarm any mojo the mayor may've put in place. Besides, Giles having a heart attack on the way to City Hall...not exactly serving the greater good. She mumbled, "Sorry, Giles," then paused to match his pace.
"Can I assume that the issue of yesterday has been resolved?" Giles asked delicately.
Buffy simply nodded as a means of affirmation, then gave her former watcher a sideways glace.
Giles took in the expression on the slayer's face. It screamed 'this is none of your concern,' but he found himself quite troubled despite her guardedness. He had examined the facts of the morning meeting and drawn reasonable conclusions from them. His concentration now turned to what he knew of demonic pregnancies. This cure involved the heart and blood of a demon. The physical effects may well have been some bizarre means of procreation. It's an unfortunate, yet not unreasonable leap in logic.
None of the things he knew painted a very pleasant picture, so he decided to keep them to himself and simply research independently. Upsetting an already volatile situation would serve none of them well. I will make a point of speaking candidly with Willow. It will have to be handled with the utmost delicacy. Though, she is typically much more open than Buffy herself. I'm not certain what I hope to find, but I must try. Willow may be in real danger.
***********
After retrieving her notebook and textbook from her bag, Willow fixed her attention on the blackboard. Glancing at the empty chair next to her, she was once again overwhelmed with feelings of abandonment. How could she—?
Willow dipped her chin to hide the pain she knew reflected on her features just as the teacher said something about 'homework.' What class is this? Did I do homework? She glanced at the cover of the textbook. History. I think I did homework. After glancing at her neighbor across the aisle to make certain she had the right book, she searched through the notebook to find the correct page and removed it, handing it to the teacher as he walked past. Where's Buffy? This is her worst subject. She really should be here.
Is she being avoidy? Running from me, or am I just overreacting—being too sensitive? She really should be here.
Why was she acting ashamed? Was it because of Oz? I'd get it if the shame was over Oz, but what if it was over 'us'—the 'me and her' us? How could she be ashamed? It was the most wonderful, beautiful night of my life. Why would—how could she be ashamed?
Willow sighed and turned her attention back to the chalkboard, mindlessly transcribing what the teacher was writing to a fresh sheet of notebook paper. The lecture was so far removed from anything she actually cared about that this act felt like simply going through the motions. You're overreacting. Buffy loves you. She said so. More importantly, she didn't need to say so.
So, what do I do if she won't talk to me? Who would I normally—? Willow didn't need to finish the question. I can imagine trying to talk with Xander about this. That'd go well. I'd get to, 'I had sex with Buffy,' and his head would explode. She imagined it and a sad quirky smile curled the corners of her mouth. Well, not literally, but it wouldn't be pretty.
A feeling of profound isolation came over her as Willow realized that the two people she felt comfortable with talking about anything this serious were too involved. Oz and Buffy... Oz won't ever speak to me again. This was the last straw. I destroyed our relationship. She choked down the need to cry.
Willow closed her eyes tight to clear them. When they fluttered open, she tried to focus on what the teacher was saying for several minutes. Eventually, through sheer force of will, she began to take her usual, careful notes based on the lecture.
Then it all fell apart. Oh Goodness! What if she thinks we can't make love without—? What if she doesn't want to? I mean, eventually—sooner or later, a cure—and she'll be normal. Could it be that, or was the whole thing—the entire thing—was it because of—? She couldn't have just wanted to try it out? Take it for a test drive? No! No! No! That's not Buffy! She'd never hurt me like that.
Willow took a quick glance at her entirely meaningless notes. Humiliation washed over her as a tear splashed on the page, distorting the ink. She cupped her face in her hands to hide her shame. Crying in class? Exactly what I need. She could hear the muttered jibes of her classmates before they began. 'Did you see Rosenberg lose it in history? What a dork.' Through gritted teeth, she whispered, "I don't care," as she sobbed into her hands.
***********
"Stay behind me, Giles," Buffy grumbled.
Giles heard the instruction and, as he was musing, I wouldn't consider any other course of action, the doors to City Hall were nearly ripped from their hinges by the slayer. They creaked violently in with a loud crash of twisting metal and breaking glass.
Oops! Guess the doors opened out. My bad! Buffy smiled sweetly and turned to the guard on her left.
Before Giles could blink, a security guard was being physically thrown over the slayer's head. Giles heard a loud grunt and he presumed that one guard had been used as a blunt object to bludgeon another. By the time he stepped past the mangled doors, Buffy was jerking the receptionist over the front desk.
Buffy watched in amusement as all the color drained from the petite, dark-haired woman's face. As she suspended the receptionist at eye level, inches from her own nose, the slayer snarled, "I'm here seeking Faith."
The receptionist wasn't sure whether to be mortified or amused. The expression on the blonde woman's face quickly told her that 'mortified' was the correct answer to her current dilemma. When the blonde growled, the receptionist managed to sputter, "S-she's not in."
"Good to know," Buffy replied graciously and she heaved the receptionist the rest of the way over the desk, placing her gently on the ground. She pulled on the hem of the strange woman's blouse to straighten it. Then without warning, Buffy struck the receptionist on the temple just hard enough to knock her out and guided her to the ground. "Sorry," she whispered, then hopped the front desk and popped the door open from the inside.
Giles was bent over one of the guards, stealing his keycard, when the hiss came for him to follow. He quickly retrieved the piece of plastic and a ring of keys, then ran to the door Buffy was holding open.
While Giles slipped through the doorway, Buffy continued to press forward through a short hallway behind the front desk. He couldn't help but recoil when the fate of the first two men was spelled out for him in graphic detail. After glancing ruefully down at the two fallen guards, he hauled them into the security office and made his way to the T-juncture where Buffy had halted and stood smiling.
Buffy turned to glance at the fire hose and axe behind the glass case in the wall, then winked over her shoulder at Giles. Using her sleeve to cover her hand, she wrenched the door open and noted, "There're just certain things you see that really make you think bad things. I've always wanted to do this." Then she giggled and grabbed the fire hose as the alarm sounded.
People came pouring out of the offices, shoving past Giles as he stood fixedly staring at the sign that said, 'Chief of Police.' Taking in the arrow, he peered down the hall at the slayer who appeared to be skipping while she towed the heavy hose through the departing throng. She's lost her bleeding mind. He looked again at the sign and, before he turned back, Buffy was at his side. Glancing back down the empty hall, he noticed more unconscious men.
A charming smile lit her features and Buffy gestured to the valve. "Would you like to do the honors?"
It took about two seconds for the Ripper in Giles to say, Bloody right, I would! A wicked smile twisted the corners of his mouth and Giles pulled out his handkerchief and reached for the valve, using the cloth to avoid leaving any prints. As he turned the valve the hose began to flail around violently, taking chunks out of the drywall. When he turned around, Buffy had disappeared again. Seconds later, she emerged from a room just down the hall carrying two two-liters of cola. He quirked an eyebrow at her as she passed by, shaking the bottles.
Upon entering the security office, Buffy stepped over one of the unconscious guards. Twisting the top on the first two-liter, she pointed the spewing bottle at the surveillance equipment around the guard's desk. A curtain of smoke filled the room as she hosed the electronics. When the first bottle was done foaming, she poured the remains on top of the stack and opened the second. Glancing over her shoulder, she winked again at her slack-jawed watcher.
"Something Will said a while ago. If you really want to screw up electronic gizmos: soda. The sticky never goes away. Then she broke off into a rant about keyboards with sticky keys and—well, I sorta stopped listening," Buffy remarked as she emptied the bottle into the second rack of equipment and waved the foul smoke from her face. Pushing past Giles, she ran down the hall and stopped at the intersection. Prompting, "Coming, Giles?" she ducked into the stairwell and waited.
Giles numbly followed the slayer, observing the chaos. Two men were trying to get control of the fire hose and it was going rather poorly for them. As Giles glanced that way, one of the men had the misfortune of being caught in the stream. The Englishman thought it looked very much like one of those terrible cartoons Xander was so fond of. I'm certainly grateful she's on our side. Amused laughter poured from him as he followed his charge up the stairwell. Several people pushed past them as they ascended, causing him to sober.
***********
Extracting a hair clip from her bag, Willow pulled her shoulder length hair back and coiled it around her hand, clipping it into a bun at the back of her head. She turned on the cold water faucet and peered at her tear-stained face in the mirror. "You look like hell, missy," she commented with marked authority.
Time to play 'rational girl,' Willow reflected as she cupped her hands under the icy stream that poured from the tap. Last night was a weirdness, hellmouthy and severely wigged, regardless how you feel. Leaning over the sink, she brought the frigid water to her face to emphasize the point.
Placing her wet, cold hands on the back of her neck, she considered, Buffy might not feel the same. It might not be as easy for her to—she might not be as comfortable—as fluid... Scooping up another handful of water, she dipped her face into the chilly puddle, holding it for a moment. In fact, I know she isn't. I've seen it. Faith had her freaked. She got more comfortable, but at first—major wiggage. As the water in her hand warmed slightly, she splashed it against her skin and reached for more. And major, grumpy jealousy from yours truly—not so much helpful on the open-mindedness front, she chided.
Another handful of cold water met her face and Willow brought her hands in a sweeping motion to the back of her neck. The chill felt good against her tight muscles. She started to rub some of the tension away as her face dripped into the sink. So what now, rational girl? She pondered this for a fraction of a second. Now, I guess, I give her what she needs. Buffy will want space to figure things out. Above all, I'm her friend. That's first. I need to let her know, then—
Looking up, Willow met her own soggy gaze in the mirror.
It's up to her.
***********
"Way I've got this figured, Giles, it's gonna be as far from the front door as possible. That means upper floor. From there, we look," Buffy offered as she bounced up the stairs. Glancing back, she noted that Giles was looking very serious again. "If there's a hose up here, I'll smash, you grab. Use it as a weapon," she instructed, quickly adding, "I don't have to tell you not to—"
Buffy pulled a stake from her sleeve and kicked the door. It flew off its hinges and clattered into the opposing wall, carrying one of the two awaiting vampires with it. A feeble groan issued from behind the steel sheet as the second vampire gawked at the slayer. Buffy glowered and made a simple 'come hither' gesture with her free hand. When the vampire recoiled instead, she surged forward, whirling into him and smacking him so forcefully that she spun him back through the stairwell doorway. His body flipped over the railing and fell into the open pit. As he hit bottom, a plume of ashes dusted the concrete stairwell.
Buffy burst into the hallway and kicked the door again. A cracking noise and a pained grunt issued from behind the buckled steel plate. She whipped the door aside. It clattered down the hallway as the other vampire tried to crawl away. Reaching down, she jerked him to his feet, plunging the stake into his chest. After dusting herself off, she ripped the glass door open to the enclosure with the fire hose. "There you go, Giles. Have a blast. I'm gonna go find it," she directed and ran down the hallway.
After opening several doors, Buffy was finally attacked. Must be getting warmer, she mused as she ducked a punch and drove the stake into the vampire's chest, sending a cloud of ashes across a large table. She shoved the second vampire into an office chair, then kicked the chair and the vampire out the window. Not even bothering to watch, she ran back into the hallway and tried the next door. It was locked.
Do we have a winner? Buffy kicked the door in. On the table in the middle of the room was an ancient looking box. I'll take door number six. She broke into a full run, covering the distance between herself and Giles in a few seconds. "Bingo, Giles," she chirruped and ran back down the hall.
Giles looked over his shoulder as he tried to control the fire hose. He quickly wedged the hose into the doorway and followed the slayer. Once they arrived at the box, he took a pouch of powder and a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. After motioning for Buffy to stand clear, he quickly sprinkled the powder as he read the incantation, "Sis modo dissolutum exposco, validum scutum! Diutius nec defende a manibus arcam, intende!"
Buffy cocked an eyebrow while she watched the shield flicker. "'Kay, so...grab the box. Make sure it stays closed."
Giles followed the instructions. A wave of apprehension overcame him. He didn't like the slayer's tone one bit.
"Got it?" Buffy asked. When she perceived a nod, she directed him to the window. "Just focus on the box. Keep it closed," she added to reinforce the instruction. Then she seized Giles from behind and flung them both at the window. She hit the window first, pirouetting as she kicked off.
Time lingered. Spinning...aiming...revolving...guiding...falling...
Buffy landed underneath Giles on the hood of a squad car. The hood buckled. She felt her ribs crack. When Giles jerked to a halt, his head smashed into her face.
Stars.
Glass rained over them and Giles held the box over his face to shield it. He faltered for a second or two before he rolled off the car. His knuckles were white where he'd been clutching the box for dear life. He staggered as he stood, peering back up at the broken window. His gaze fixed on the roof access ladder that was bolted to the building right next to their impromptu exit. Unsure whether he was gaping or grinning, he simply pointed.
Her vision spotted as Buffy blearily watched the clouds drift by, struggling to breathe.
Giles began to chortle manically as he pointed.
Finally regaining her breath, Buffy craned her head up and stared at the agitated Englishman. Her gaze traveled from his extended finger to the ladder. She groaned and floundered her shoulders back and forth, preparing to sit up.
Turning to shake his head at the slayer, "I do wish you would warn me—" Giles started to chide until he caught a glimpse of her face. Blood was pouring from her broken nose. He changed his tune, offering instead, "We should get you to a hospital."
Rolling painfully off the hood of the police car, Buffy hit the ground with a grunt and started moving. A small crowd was already gathering to gawk and she wanted to be anywhere else but here. Sharp pain caused tears pour from her eyes, but she ignored them and wheezed, "No time. Let's get moving."
Awkwardly fishing into his jacket pocket, Giles helplessly jogged behind the slayer as she took off down an alley behind City Hall. Finally, he managed to extract his handkerchief.
"Headed to your place...a more Mom-free zone... Unless you're still—" Buffy snuffled, intentionally cutting short the barb. "I'll guard while you work on the destroying."
Gratefully slowing pace to match the slayer, Giles passed his handkerchief off, then breathlessly answered, "That's rather simple, Buffy," he puffed, "I think the Breath of the Entropics is typically used for this sort of thing."
Blinking the tears away, Buffy put a hand out to halt and scanned the cross street cautiously. Setting off again, she gingerly mopped the blood from the lower half of her face with the hankie and mumbled, "Whatever works." The coppery taste returned as she licked her lips.
***********
Buffy flopped heavily onto Giles' couch and groaned, peering muzzily at the box on the coffee table. "You had better be worth it." She'd reluctantly looked in the mirror when she went to use the bathroom. It wasn't pretty. Both eyes were blackened and swollen. In short, she looked like a throwback from a Rocky movie.
Y'know...way I have it figured, if you can get the what-not-to's down, you pretty much got a plan. It's never really about what you do—course that's important—but it's always more about whatcha don't wanna do. Like putting your hand on the oven door glass. Most of us ramp up on that being a major what-not-to pretty early on. I'm adding a new one to the list. This one's important. Never, ever, ever, not even if your life depends on it, let an English librarian set your nose. The depth of the suckage is unquantifiable.
After turning to lie down, Buffy put a throw cushion under her head and shut her eyes. Not sure they'll open again, but whatever. Slayer healing can kick in any minute now. I need to look decent by four or Mom will wig. That'll be fun. Whatcha think the odds are? Wonder if Giles will run more interference? Trouble is, Mom has an avoidy cap. She hits her limit and it won't matter. I'll have to give up something. Right now, which bit of truth y'think Mom would handle best? Survey says: none of it.
***********
Giles felt surprisingly good, considering the fall. His left calf was painfully bruised, but otherwise he had been mercifully spared by the slayer's protective nature. The experience had been strangely reassuring, giving him hope that their relationship would one day be completely mended.
He limped into the library through the side entrance. Once inside, Giles made his way to the study table where Willow was sitting with her untouched lunch spread out in front of her, obliviously reading a paperback novel. "You should try to eat," he offered in a soft, kindly voice.
Willow flinched at the sound of the voice. Turning to face Giles, she remarked sullenly, "I tried. I'm just not very hungry."
After taking the seat across from the redhead, Giles nodded and said, "I'm not terribly surprised. If you wish to talk—"
Willow marked the page in her book and began to pack her lunch back in the bag as she replied, "Oh, I—well, I'm not sure I can, Giles. I mean, it's really sweet of you, but—"
Watching the young hacker throw away her uneaten lunch, Giles met her gaze as she returned to her seat. Simply offering her a nod, he rose to being gathering the things he would need.
As she watched the Englishman limp around the library, gathering supplies, Willow stood up and asked, "What happened?"
"Our attempt to procure the Box of Gavrok was quite successful, however not without complications," Giles stated simply as he searched through the supply cabinet.
Willow glanced up from packing her school bag and queried with marked concern, "Is Buffy okay?" Procure? They got it already? Umm...wow! That was quick. Buffy must've seen that thing about the mayor's press thingy on the morning news. Slime ball taking one last chance to taste the babies—figure out which ones are yummiest, I guess. She should've been watching that with me. But I guess if she had, she wouldn't have seen it, 'cause— The faintest trace of a smile flickered across her features and was instantly replaced with sadness and worry.
Giles looked over his shoulder to take in the troubled expression on the redhead's face. Wanting to gloss the situation over, he simply offered, "She was injured as well, but she will make a full recovery." He stooped to gather a few remaining items off the lowest shelf. Willow was crossing the room from the book cage with a box, when he painfully stood up and placed them on the counter.
As she started to pack the items Giles had selected into the box, Willow remarked, "I'm coming with you, Giles."
When Willow was finished, Giles swept the box off the counter and replied genially, "Certainly, as you wish."
Hastily collecting her cola from the table and Buffy's school bag from behind the counter, Willow followed Giles out the door.
Once they were in the relative privacy of his Citro'n, Giles started the engine and backed out of the parking slot. As they left the school parking lot, he began to speak candidly, "Willow, I pray you will forgive me for being so intrusive, but I feel I have little choice given the circumstances. I believe I bear a portion of the responsibility for yesterday's occurrences. I should have voiced my concerns. Unfortunately, given the personal nature of the issue, I had difficulty doing so." Spying a fairly secluded place to park, Giles pulled the car over.
"Umm...Giles, why are we stopping?" Willow asked nervously.
Giles removed his glasses and withdrew a handkerchief to clean them with before he answered, "This is a matter of some delicacy. I believe it best that we be afforded privacy. Willow, this morning's exchanges left me with the impression that something might have transpired between Buffy and yourself." After replacing his glasses, he turned to take in the gaping expression on his passenger's face.
When nothing was offered in response, Giles continued, "I recognize fully that it is not my place to pry. Furthermore, it is easy to see how confusing this must be for the two of you. I do not wish to aggravate an already difficult situation, but I must impress upon you that occurrences of this nature are rarely without consequence."
After a few scant moments of silence, Willow arrived at the conclusion that Giles was so skillfully avoiding. Her complexion went stark white. "But—umm—oh," she stammered, trying to figure out how to tell the stodgy Englishman that there hadn't been any ejaculation with Buffy's climax. "Giles, umm...I...I'm not—I mean...not much with the knowledge...er...umm...definitely not 'knowledge girl'...and the experiencing, but—well, I do know how—" An exasperated sigh slipped out. "I got that the stork's a myth... See, thing is, there are things that are sorta supposed to happen and well...umm..." By this point she was completely convinced she wanted to die. Heat radiated off her face as she slouched gradually lower in her seat. Finally, she managed to sputter, "They sorta didn't."
Giles brow was deeply furrowed with confusion when the young hacker finished. "Willow, I'm not certain that I'm following you."
Willow dropped her face in her hand and rubbed her eyes. Ever notice there's never a huge rock to crawl under when you need one? Then she spied her soda and an idea took form. After rolling the window part of the way down, she shook the bottle and held it outside the car, carefully releasing the cap. The soda briefly sprayed the side of the car, then shot a stream out of the bottle. She pointed.
Appearing even more mystified, Giles watched the redhead drop her soda on the ground and shake her sticky hand. I don't understand the fixation with shaking carbonated beverages. It seems to be something of a theme today. I do hope we move on.
Pulling her arm back inside the car, Willow looked around for a napkin. Accepting the handkerchief Giles offered her, she wiped her hands. When she eventually spoke, Willow sounded vaguely perturbed, "Put it in the context of the conversation we weren't having, Giles. Please! I'm begging you." Stifling the annoyance with another well placed sigh, she concluded, "It didn't happen...and it sorta needs to."
When Giles finally firmed up, he hastily replied, "Right then. We should be on our way."
Thank Goodness!
***********
Her body sliced through the lawn with practiced ease. Strong scales gripped the earth as she undulated left, then right. The sun beamed down, warming her cool skin. There was something liberating about the sensation. She felt completely free. All that mattered was the earth.
She flicked her tongue out to taste the air. With the action came a barrage of sensory awareness: she smelled the fresh cut lawn, the odors of humanity, hot tarmac, sweat, blood. She was hungry. A girl stepped over her, seemingly ignorant of her presence.
As the girl passed, Buffy flicked her tongue out again, barely brushing the hosiery that clung to the girl's ankle. The girl continued on, oblivious to the gentle touch. Sweet, salty, warm, succulent skin lay under the fragile garment. Buffy's pulse leapt with anticipation.
She followed the girl, watching her long, auburn hair sway in the gentle breeze. Buffy blinked as she moved. The awareness that she could see even with her eyes closed wasn't new or shocking, though she momentarily felt it should be.
She watched the girl move. There was a nervous, guarded quality to the motion. The girl somehow knew she didn't belong. Her plain attire didn't match the bright adornments of her peers. It was dull, drab, and far too lifeless for such a vibrant creature.
The girl reached her destination. Taking a seat on a concrete bench, she lowered the bag she carried to the ground and opened it, removing a brown paper sack.
Buffy slithered under the bench, aware that the majority of her body should be plainly in view to the girl. Naked and trusting, she ventured forward. Again, there was no reaction. It was as though the girl couldn't see her, or didn't want to. Buffy looped back under the bench, slipping her body behind the girl's ankles. The thickest part of her form brushed the underside of the cold concrete slab as she passed through this abbreviated maze.
Rising up to peer at the girl eating a homemade lunch, Buffy was struck by the beauty of this creature. The desire to consume, to destroy, was overwhelming. She pulled back, watching, waiting, then abruptly she lashed forward. When her jaws met soft, delicate flesh, she began to coil around the girl, looping, twining.
The girl let out a piercing scream that was quickly choked off by the strength of the cold coils that seized her.
***********
Buffy snapped awake and screamed. A sharp pain shot through her chest. Disoriented by her surroundings, she struggled to open her eyes. When they refused to respond, her pulse raced. She curled into a tight ball and fell. Her body thudded, sprawling on the hard floor. Something connected with her arm, inflicting more pain. She gasped for breath.
The nightmare flashed painfully through her mind. In the black, her eyes welled up. The salt of her tears burned as it seeped past the thick shroud. As she flopped onto her back, cotton and denim clung to her clammy skin. Barely aware, she started to shiver.
She was suddenly stuck by the fact she couldn't breathe—or maybe it was that she was breathing too much? She fought to gain control. Her chest tightened and burned. The nightmare vision continued to haunt her in the dark. She was cold and alone. Then, just as suddenly, she wasn't.
Arms gently wrapped around her, propping her up. As they cradled her, soothing sounds broke through the terror. She was being rocked, held in someone's arms.
***********
A piercing shriek sounded from inside the apartment as they pulled up. Willow threw the car door open and jumped out before the car had entirely stopped. She staggered when her feet hit the ground, nearly collapsing to her knees. The instant her balance returned, she ran. When she got to the door, a feeling of helplessness briefly gnawed at her. She rattled the locked door, wanting to break it down.
Giles wedged himself between the desperate young woman and the door, inserting his keys.
Once the door was unlocked, Willow burst into the apartment and scanned what appeared to be an empty room. Quickly pressing on, she rounded the couch and gasped. After taking a hasty and remarkably clumsy seat on the floor, she pulled Buffy into her lap. I've never seen—oh God! She's actually so scared she's hyperventilating.
Making gentle hushing noises, Willow started to rock and caress to calm her friend.
***********
"I thought you said 'injured'? How could you leave her like this?"
Willow's voice rang through the maelstrom and Buffy recoiled. No! The arms tightened around her as she began to struggle. I've got to—I have to get away. Don't make me hurt you, Will.
"Buffy, it's me. I won't hurt you. Please don't hurt me," Willow said anxiously.
The word found voice and Buffy screamed, "No!" as she fought to get away. Breaking free, she scrambled across the floor until she collided with something. "I will hurt you! I did hurt you!" What? Wait? Hurt you? Umm... Suddenly, like a dash of ice water, it hit her how irrational her previous thoughts were.
"Willow, perhaps it would be prudent to allow her to get her bearings first?" Giles suggested in a mild tone.
"No, Giles. Would you mind—? I mean...umm...I know it's your place and everything, but—" Willow replied bashfully.
"Certainly, but do be careful. I'll just be outside should you need me."
Willow ignored the exiting librarian and asked Buffy calmly, "You hurt me?"
The door opened, then shut, and the slayer was alone with Willow. Sensing movement, Buffy turned to face it and spat blindly in the direction of the voice, "I hurt! I used! I violated! I betrayed!"
Distress and confusion tainted her voice as Willow remarked, "That might all be true if...if I hadn't freely offered." An exasperated sigh hissed from her and she seemed to calm. Her tone was more level and forthright when she added, "Now settle down and let me see you."
Buffy didn't struggle when Willow tentatively closed a hand over her shoulder. As the gentle caresses continued, pieces of the nightmare vividly hung in Buffy's mind. She felt the bones snap. The sound of Willow screaming filled her remaining senses. No! I gotta get a grip. It was a dream. Just a dream. A truly scary, really messed up...God, Buffy! Freud much? It was a dream. Course 'not being able to see'—not helpful either. It's like the blindfold: you can see, just listen.
In a tranquil voice, Willow offered, "Buffy, I know you need time to think, but I also want you to know: you're my friend first and foremost. That means more to me than anything. If I have to, I can bundle up everything that happened yesterday and put it someplace safe. Hold onto it as a beautiful memory." Taking a deep breath, she amended, sounding marginally terser, "And don't you dare tell me it wasn't beautiful, Buffy Summers. I couldn't forgive you for that."
Buffy didn't struggle when Willow moved next to her and pulled her into a gentle embrace. The soft movement and soothing caress resumed. Tears leaked out again through the puffy flesh. Buffy winced. "A beautiful memory? How can you call it that, Will?" She raised her hand, asking to be heard out. "I took something from you—I stole something that should've been Oz's. I don't get you. Don't you feel bad about Oz?"
The movement abated as Willow stiffened. There was an extended silence; finally, she replied patiently, "Of course I feel bad. Feeling bad—feeling horrible—it isn't going to undo what happened. All the regret in the world can't change it." She sighed. "As to the stealing: you musta missed the whole 'freely offered' part of the speech. You can't steal what's freely given. It's an impossible combination. It was mine to give. That wasn't your choice or his and I refuse to regret an instant of it."
While the calming motion continued, the lingering images of the nightmare faded, driven away by soothing touch and gentle words. It was just a nightmare. Me. My guilt. I guess if she doesn't feel that way—which is totally wig-worthy. At least—I mean, I guess it is. I know that, after Xander put the whammy on me, what I really wanted most was to stuff him in a trash can. An image of Xander's feet and head sticking out of a galvanized steel garbage can flickered into view. I was nice...actually kinda regret that. In her mind's eye Buffy kicked the can on its side and sent it rolling down a hill. Let's hear it for a healthy fantasy life. No 'trash can stuffing' for me. Nope. Instead she's holding me—comforting me. Maybe— The tears calmed, but Buffy was afraid to wipe them away. Finding the strength to answer, she simply whispered, "I'm sorry, Will."
"What for this time?" Willow teased playfully, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
"For leaving," Buffy whispered.
"That you can be sorry for. The rest: you're not allowed."
Willow's lips brushed Buffy's forehead ever so gently and soft finger tips swept a lock of hair from her cheek. Her eyes burned from the drying tears and she struggled to think through the proverbial 'salt in the open wound' sensation. Gathering the remainder of her resolve, she commented wryly, "I'm just glad you're not trying to stuff me into a trash can. 'Cause right now, you might have a shot."
Willow gasped, "Huh?" sounding utterly mystified.
"Nothing really, Will. Just, with Xander, I felt used. I figured you'd feel the same," Buffy replied weakly.
Willow's tone changed, reflecting amusement as she responded, "That wasn't a love spell, Buffy. Like I said last night, it wasn't like I just 'had to.' I was there because I wanted to be. The only weird thing I felt was—I dunno—like really, really lusty. I actually thought about it and decided—made the decision to stay."
"Oh," was all Buffy managed to say. All of the pieces snapped into place and it was her turn to be mystified. She meant it—like really. Not an 'I love you' you'd say to a friend, but— Wow! She's right. I need time. Umm...wow...lemme think. Fingertips gently caressed her jaw line. I'm an idiot.
Buffy could feel a smile starting to form and it hurt. Suppressing the impulse, she sighed at the mess she'd made. I did the same thing to Will that Angel did to me and got attacked by him for it. Didn't deserve it, did I? Then for icing: I get grounded by my mother. Still utterly undeserving. I wigged over Oz and got pounded to a pulp. Me doing the badness to myself. There was a ladder? Signs might be helpful. Nightmares, horror, and pain, I give you: Buffy Summers. I'm an idiot.
"Let's get you back up on the couch. I need to go see what's up with Giles."
Buffy moved from Willow's lap and put a hand in the air. When Willow's hand met hers, Buffy stood and followed the subtle cues. Feeling the couch behind her calves, she sat back and crossed her legs casually. She sensed Willow moving away.
Utterly blind, but strangely calm for the first time in days, Buffy began to seriously consider her reactions. Not a love spell? Harmony's reaction was totally love spellish. Harmony's also—well, when her IQ hits fifty she should totally sell. What about the others? Was I just tweaking over women checking me out? Were the ones that were 'following me' just walking—going somewhere—just like me? Maybe. Oh Christ, Summers! You are an idiot! Overreact much?
The front door clicked and swung open. Giles voice sounded from outside, "Ah...Willow, I was just about to knock. Very good. If you would bring the box, we can end this and get on about our lives."
Willow returned, leaving the door open. Buffy could hear the crackling sounds of fire drifting in from the patio. The Box of Gavrok slid across the coffee table and moments later a hand met hers. Rising to her feet, she wrapped her arm around her friend's slender waist and began to walk where directed.
"Sorry you can't watch this," Willow reflected in a soft voice.
The heat of a fire warmed Buffy's tender skin. Giles muttered words that she didn't understand and honestly didn't care to. There was a sense of closure in the air as the Box of Gavrok thudded against a metal surface, starting to crackle and pop. As she listened intently, the slayer could swear she heard the sounds of stifled shrieks. Leaning close to her friend, Buffy murmured, "I'm watching, Will." For the first time in days.