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Title:
Straight Through the Heart [1/4 (?)]
Rating: R (f/f romance, foreplay, light sex; language, violent imagery, violence, injuries, major angstdon't worry, it's not that harsh, really.) Summary: In the aftermath of "Lovers Walk", one slayer comforts a heartbroken Willow, and the other heals a wounded Cordelia. Spoilers: Everything up to "Lovers Walk", especially "Angel", "Reptile Boy", and from "Innocence" on. Also a spoiler for "Helpless", and Willow paraphrases a line she'll say later in "The Yoko Factor." Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, I'd be out dancing. It's all Joss (and some other people and companies that also aren't me). Archiving: It's my first fic, so no one is archiving me yet. But if anyone wants to, I would love it. Just let me know, so I can tag future fics for your easy reference. Feedback: Oh, hell, yeah! Did I mention this is my first fic? Please, please, let me know, either on the lists, or offline at danspector@xxxxxxxxx (no flames, of course). Also let me know what you think of the HTML coding. Do you like this size 3 font or the size 2 I use in the text? Which color text did you like best? Do you prefer a less bright white as a background?
A nod of the unworn hat goes to Angelina's story "The Vamp Trap" (part of her series which began with "Girls Interrupted"), which features simultaneous B/W and F/C couples. This introduced me to the concept of dual-couple fic, and I thought it'd be neat to try and write about those couples pairing up, with both romances flowering from the same event. But this ISN'T a prequel, as it conflicts with the backstory in Angelina's story. And that was a comedy; this certainly isn't. Oh, and I think that this is Part 1 of 4 (the story is certainly 4 parts thematically), but Chapter 4 will cover a lot of ground, so I may have to split it due to size restrictions. Maybe we'll have Chapter 4a and Chapter 4b; I don't know
Chapter 1: A World of Hurt "What do you mean, we're not allowed to see her?" "I'm sorry, Miss Summers," the nurse said, not seeming particularly sorry, "but Miss Chase specifically requested that you not be allowed to visit her. Nor Miss Rosenberg. And Mr. Harris should certainly know that he is unwelcome, by now." Willow and Xander, standing on opposite edges of the group, exchanged a guilt-drenched glance, and quickly stepped farther apart. Xander idly kicked at the base of the nurses' station, and Willow cast her eyes down at the floor and wished she could become interested in the carpet lint. "B-but, but Buffy didn't do anything wrong," the redhead murmured, her broken voice barely audible. "W-why her?" Buffy turned to look at her best friend and moved to Willow's side. She knew that Willow had been feeling increasingly guilty over Cordelia's accident, and Buffy was starting to worry. "It's just Cordy being Cordy, Will," the slayer said, trying for a light tone that she really didn't feel. She stood behind the now noticeably shaky hacker, gently caressing her shoulder with her left hand and tousling Willow's hair with her right. "No big. You know her; once a May Queen, always a drama queen." Willow looked up at the faces of her friends standing around the hospital lounge. She knew what Buffy was saying wasn't true. Cordelia was sort of a friend now, after all their years of antagonism, and Willow knew the debutante well enough to know that Cordelia might be self-centered, but she didn't lie for effect or create scenes just to hurt people. If Cordy was lashing out, it was because she had been devastated emotionally, not to mention nearly killed. And that was all Willow's fault. Sure, maybe you could say that it was also Xander's fault, that they had both been kissing, but Willow knew that she was more mature than him, and guys are always horny anyway. It had been her responsibility to stop it and she hadn't, with horrific consequences. She was supposed to be so smart, and she had been a selfish baby. And now Xander was looking ashamed and Giles had had to rush back from his retreat and was looking helpless and Faith had come back from wherever she'd been and was looking awkward and pained and Buffy was all hover-y and nervous and it was because of her, andand, oh, God, she was going to cry. "She's doing it to make me pay," Willow said quietly, forcing herself not to cry after all. "Because I should pay. I should pay and pay and keep on paying, and then pay some more after that." Xander started to say something and then stopped, realizing that he couldn't be the one to comfort Willow any more, and perhaps never again. A look of sorrow crossed his face at the thought, and unfortunately, Willow caught it. Buffy tried to hug Willow from behind, but the traumatized girl squirmed out of the slayer's arms and skittered into the nearby corner. Buffy thought about following her, but realized that Willow wouldn't respond well to pressure in such a public place. So she headed back towards the nurse, waving back Giles and Faith who were coming towards her.
Buffy stood in front of room 402 and stared dead ahead, seemingly trying to burn through the door and reduce Cordelia to molten slag. "Anybody else?" she asked, in a tone that could freeze smoke. "Well, it says 'no vampires', but that's just her little joke," the nurse said, turning to Giles. "You and the other young lady may go right in." "Faith?" Giles gestured as he moved to the door. "Forget it," the leather-clad slayer snapped. "If Queen C's too good for Buffy, then I'm not gonna bother." Giles sighed and went in. Things were hard enough for Buffy and Faith without people impaling themselves and everybody staring daggers at each other. When he had gone on his retreat to Breaker's Woods the past Thursday, he had hoped that the group was getting over the emotional scars they had suffered the previous month, when Xander had discovered that Angel was alive and Buffy was still involved with him. (He had his own scars over that, Giles thought, glancing down. Many, many scars.) Instead, the Watcher had returned to find things worse than ever. And he hadn't even seen Oz, at all. Buffy watched as Giles closed the door behind him. She heard Xander mutter "Sodas, anyone?", but nobody responded. After a moment, the teen stalked off in search of a machine, and a chance to be alone with his thoughts. Faith tried to sound as casual as she could, asking, "We out of here, or what, B?" She'd never seen her fellow slayer so cold, so angry. She knew this was about Cordelia, and if Buffy was that upset with the cheerleader, then Faith wasn't feeling too kindly towards her either. Faith wasn't feeling to good about herself, either. She'd barely spoken to Buffy in the past month, coming to train with Giles while the others were in class, but otherwise avoiding the group. And when the slayers patrolled together, the brunette had been sullenly silent. But if her pushing Buffy away had hurt B one-tenth as much as Cordelia was hurting Willow&well, then, Faith just felt like dirt all over. Buffy didn't reply to Faith's question; all she could think about was that self-absorbed bitch in the private room. Yes, Willow had made a mistake. Yes, she'd been wrong to have feelings for Xander when they were both in relationships; yes, it had been wrong to kiss him and wronger still to keep it a secret, leading to the almost inevitable horrible painful betrayal of Cordelia catching them in the act. And of course it was grotesque that Cordelia, in her shock, had crashed through a faulty staircase and fallen on a steel spear and been severely injured. But that still didn't give her the right to do this to Willow. Willow: sweet, pure, beautiful, innocent Willow, who would never forget the sight of Cordelia, so hideously injured. Willow, who had barely stopped crying from the moment Cordelia had injured herself on Friday night, and all through the following day. Willow, who had gathered herself for her weekly Sunday visit to Jenny Calendar's grave (Willow normally went with Giles, but this week, Buffy had acompanied her, although not to the actual graveside). Willow, who had seemed moderately upbeat as she and Buffy had walked past a funeral on their way back, resolutely determined to beg Oz for forgiveness, and buoyed by the thought that Cordelia was being allowed visitors (the cheerleader was probably going to have to spend another week in the hospital) and Xander had gone to see her. Willow: kind, tender, gentle, loving Willowwho had been painfully crushed Sunday night, when she learned that Cordelia had thrown Xander out of the hospital, and blamed herself not only for Cordy's injuries and agony but for the devastating rejection Cordelia had dealt Xander in return. Willow, who had been so consumed with guilt that she had scared Buffy, barely registering the loss she felt when she learned on Monday that Oz had gotten in his van and driven off (thank God, it was still more than a week until the next full moon). Willow, who had skipped school today, Tuesday (the mind reeled at the thought!) to make a Herculean effort to pull herself together and be presentable when Giles brought them to the hospital, so that she could try to expiate her guilt and beg Cordelia's forgiveness and begin the harder (and, Buffy thought, infinitely more important) task of forgiving herself. And what did Willow get for all her tears and troubles? The door literally slammed in her face by an egocentric trustfund brat: a girl who chose her credit cards by how well they coordinated with her clothes. a girl who had once delayed the start of a basketball playoff game by insisting that the cheerleaders' skirts be re-ironed because the pleats weren't sharp enough (Cordelia did seem to have a predilection for sharp objects, now). And for what? A few stupid high school kisses (as if Cordelia would ever deign to marry Xander, anyhow) and an unfortunate accident that basically made "Miss Chase" look really stupid. I mean, Spike had clumped down that staircase a dozen times, Willow had gone down it, Xander had. Heck, Cordelia and Oz had come down it together, mere seconds before Cordelia had fallen through and been impaled. What had Cordy been doing to actually break the staircasejumping jacks? Yes, Buffy thought, Cordelia had turned Willow, a true and wonderful soul who should never have to suffer a day in her life, into an emotional train wreck, and for what? Nothing. This was nothing! If you wanted to talk about hurting people in the name of love, Buffy thought, she was the one to talk to. She had killed people with her stupid, reckless, schoolgirl ideas about love, her childish desire for sex, her pathetic need to feel needed. She saw them all, every day. Jenny Calendar, dead on a bed of rose petals. Her gypsy uncle, butchered, his blood used to scrawl a taunting message. Kendra, Theresa Klusmeyer, Doug Perren, dozens of people killed for food or for ritual or for sport. And one little salesgirl, whose beating heart Angelus had ripped out of her chest, as a Valentine's Day present for Drusilla. All of the lives she had snuffed out with one cheap, I'm-a-woman-now, birthday fuck. She saw the look on Giles's face after Angelus had tortured him for the sheer pleasure of it, and she saw the look on his face when he learned she had been hiding Angel after his return. And she saw the look on Angel's face when she killed him, and sentenced him to a hundred years of suffering the literal torments of Hell. And when he had survived all that, she had told him that she couldn't see him, because he loved her and she couldn't dare love him. And yet she did love him. And hated him. And herself for all of it. And she saw the Sundays, all the Sundays. Each Sunday (rather than Saturday, in deference to Willow's Judaism), Giles would pick Willow up at 10 A.M., and they would go to the cemetery and put flowers on Jenny's grave. And Willow would pray. Buffy, although raised by agnostic parents, had still occasionally gone to church. But now she had stopped, because she refused to believe in a God who would give her this power just so she could fail again and again. Yet since she had returned from her runaway summer, Buffy had wanted to join her friend and her Watcher on these visits. But even though she had been at Jenny's funeral, Buffy didn't feel right about going along, as she couldn't help but remember how coldly she had treated the computer teacher in the last month of her life, blaming the techno-pagan for not telling her about Angel's curse, even though Ms. Calendar herself had not been fully informed. So Buffy would always be there, and yet not there, standing a hundred feet away, behind a tree, watching them, listening ("Yit-gadal, vai-yit-kadash, sh'mae rabah&") and never sure if they knew she was there. Until one day. It was not long ago. Angel had been back, and everyone knew it now. Giles and Willow had gotten out of the Citroen, walked to the grave, bearing the flowers, and stopped short. There, on the grave (where Buffy should have seen it, damn it, she always got there first), was a single, small memorial candle, its long-burning flame still flickering, in its small glass bowl. Willow had looked at Giles, but he had eyes only for the candle. He reached out and took Willow's flowers from her hands and told her, quietly, to go wait for him in the car. She thought about protesting, but didn't, and turned and walked away. Giles gently laid the flowers on Jenny's grave, picked up the candle in its bowl, blew out the flameand then crushed the bowl with his bare hand. Willow, nearly at the car, looked up at the sound of breaking glass, took a step forward and stopped. Buffy tried to scream, but no sound came. Giles kept crushing and crunching, for what must have been the longest ten seconds of his life, stopped, threw the mangled candle on the ground, shook a few loose pieces of glass out of his bloody right hand, took the scarf from around his neck with his left hand and wrapped it tightly around his rightand then Giles had turned around and looked straight at Buffy, murder in his eyes. And then, and then (the bastard! damn him!), Giles had done the worst thing possible: he dropped his eyes (as if it were HIS fault!) and headed back to the car. He got in, honked the horn to prompt the stunned Willow to do the same, and drove off. That Sunday night, Buffy went to Angel's mansion, knocked on the door, stepped inside when he opened itand beat the vampire half unconscious. Angel had gotten in a few good shots once he realized that she wasn't going to stop or talk, but she was stronger and angrier and soon had him at her mercy. He looked up, expecting to see the stake, and Buffy turned, ran outside, fell to her knees and vomited, knowing that whatever insensitive jackass thing Angel might do, this was still all her fault. Angel's curse was a part of him, and Angelus had always been there, waiting, and Buffy (who was supposed to stop these things) had set him free. Angel had staggered to his feet and walked out onto the lawn, crouching over the retching slayer, reaching forward to comfort her, but she had sprung away from him and bolted into the night. The next morning, Monday, Buffy had gone to school and walked straight into the library. I have a report from last night, she said. [Giles did not look up.] I fought a vampire, she said, choking back a sob. [Giles looked at her, self-loathing horror all over his face.] I could have killed him, but I didn't, she said. [Giles rose from his seat.] He'll hurt more people, she said. I'm sorry. ["Buffy, no&" Giles said in an agonized whisper, reaching forward with his bandaged hand towards the girl who had already turned and begun walking out, headed for class. He stood staring after her for a long minute, then sat down, took a pen in his injured hand, and began writing in The Watcher's Diary. Then he threw the pen across the room, ripped out the page, and found himself gulping back tears.] Yeah, Buffy thought, Willow kissing Xander, that's some big fucking deal. No wonder you're so upset, Cordelia. Let me make it all better; I'll rip your fucking eyes out and then you won't have to see anything like that ever again, you goddamn cunt!! Buffy stepped toward the door, but checked herself. No. She would not do this. She would not hurt others because she was guilty. She would not make people who had suffered too much already watch her destroy more lives. Besides, Willow didn't need an avenger, Willow needed a healer. Willow didn't need Buffy's hate; she needed her love. "B? Hey, B? B B-Buffy?" She became aware of Faith's plaintive voice, cracking with pain. I'm hurting her, too, Buffy thought. What else is new? "I'm fine, Faith," Buffy said, turning to her right, taking the other slayer's cautiously outstretched left hand with her right and gently stroking the back of it. "I have to be." "But, Buffy&" Faith persisted, but the blonde slayer had already spun towards her left, looking for Willow. Willow was leaning into the corner, her arms wrapped around her quivering chest, seemingly trying to fold herself into the walls. She was still blinking back the tears, in case Cordelia asked for her after all, but it was becoming more and more difficult for her to hold it together. Buffy crossed the room with quick, purposeful strides, Faith moving tenatively behind her. "Come on, Will, we're going," Buffy said. "But, but what if&" Willow said, eyelids fluttering over red-rimmed eyes, glancing at Cordelia's door, but being drawn back to Buffy's resolute face. "We're going." Buffy gently clasped Willow's wrist and pulled her out of the corner. The redhead gave a little cry as she was jerked forward, but fell in alongside her best friend as she guided Willow towards the elevators. "Faith," Buffy said, briefly looking over her shoulder. "I'm taking Willow home. You'll patrol alone tonight." Orders, thought Faith. Not a question mark there. She really didn't like getting orders. She looked down at the back of her left hand, still feeling Buffy's gentle touch. Then she looked down the corridor, where Buffy was firmly guiding Willow into the elevator. No, she decided, she really didn't like that at all. She walked to the stairs and headed out. Xander came back, with a Mountain Dew and a box of Raisinets, wondered where everybody was but didn't really care, and sat down. Five minutes later, Giles came out of Cordelia's room. "Can I go see her?" Xander asked, quietly. "I'm afraid not," Giles said. "I told her you were all waiting," (apparently a lie, the Watcher thought, scanning the near-empty lounge), "but she would really rather not. These things," Giles said grimly, flexing his hand, "do sometimes take time." He took a few steps and turned towards the boy. "Would you like to come?" he asked. "Yeah," sighed Xander, getting to his feet. "I can leave a room for Cordelia." He walked behind Giles for a bit, then turned and looked back at Cordelia's closed door. I owe her that much, he thought. And the rest was silence. (to be continued in "Too Many Consonants") |