TITLE: Requiem For A Dream [2/?] - The Dreamer -
Turning My Back On The Abyss
AUTHOR: HD_Genscher (hd.genscher@xxxxxx)
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: B/W
DISCLAIMER: All characters and places belong to Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
et al.
ARCHIVE: HD's Fan Fiction Archive,
http://www.wiffy.de/hdffa/
FEEDBACK: If you liked it, I'll appreciate your
feedback. And if you didn't
like it, it'll help me a lot if you point out what I
did wrong.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Real life's been a bitch lately and I
didn't have time to
work on the third chapter at all, but I decided to
post chapter two of this
story anyway. Enjoy!
---
Chapter 2.
TURNING MY BACK ON THE ABYSS
'Say something, Willow,' I think to myself. We're
standing near the
doorframe, Buffy's hands still on my shoulders.
She's looking at me
expectantly and a bit puzzled, waiting for an
explanation for my sudden
outburst. But I don't think it would be good to
blurt out the truth. 'I've
dreamt of you all my life, and now I finally met
you. Do you wanna be my
friend?' No, can't say that. Instead we should take
it slow. Last night's
'Will you hold my hand until I'm asleep' sure is in
the plus column for
building a friendship, but you have to earn
someone's trust before becoming
friends, and I begin to feel that sneaking up on her
like I did wasn't
exactly inspiring confidence in the first place.
What if she doesn't want
to be my friend? But why'd she have this 'Aaah,
girlfriend!' look on her
face then? Whoa, wait a minute... Girlfriend? Where
did that come from? I
blush at the thought. 'Will you please say something
now?'
"I-I'm Willow," I stammer with a sniffle. 'See,
wasn't that hard, right?'
No, but could you please stop commenting on
everything, brain?
Buffy smiles, quickly produces a tissue from
somewhere, and starts wiping
away my tears.
God, I must be looking awful.
"You're not," she says. Oops, guess I thought aloud.
I smile at her gratefully.
Smiling is good, I encourage myself. And now, what?
Why don't I show her
around?
Melissa has been watching the whole scene with a
quizzical smile on her
face. First she seemed to be surprised at my
regained ability to speak, but
now... I don't know what to think of the way she's
looking at the scene in
front of her.
"Why don't you show Buffy around after breakfast,
Willow," she suggests.
'Hey, that was my idea!' I think and suddenly I'm a
bit mad at her.
"I'd love that," Buffy replies, and that answer all
makes it up with
Melissa again. Buffy would love it! Yay! I'm really
looking forward to
showing Buffy around now, but first... breakfast!
I love breakfast, with fresh bread, strawberry jam
and cold milk. Of course
we don't have either of those, this isn't a luxury
hotel after all, but
having breakfast with Buffy, in her white bathrobe,
her hair still wet from
the shower, is heaven. 'I'd like to start every day
like this, from now
on,' I think and smile at her. She smiles back at me
and finishes her third
sandwich. (Guess she burns a lot of calories when
she hunts those baddies...)
After bringing our trays back to the small cart in
the hallway, I take
Buffy by the hand and show her the ward, from the
locked entrance ("It's
locked at all times and only opened when someone
arrives or leaves.") to
the bathroom ("Well, you know this one already...").
With only ten patient rooms, and a couple of others,
one would expect the
tour to be over quickly, but I slip in as much as I
know about what the
different rooms are used for, just to be at her side
a bit longer.
Buffy patiently endures my flood of words, her eyes
darting back and forth
between the different doors and the hallway.
'Looking for potential escape
routes?' I wonder. 'Well, as long as you take me
with you...' She even asks
a couple of questions, mostly regarding the routine
on the ward.
Melissa and Barbara, the other nurse on the ward and
a stout and resolute
woman, are in the nurses station when we reach it,
preparing the medication
for the evening. Melissa smiles upon hearing my
explanations ("And this is
the nurses station. If you need something, go here
and just ask..."), then
continues labeling the small drug tubs her colleague
prepared and checking
them off on a list as we move on into the rear part
of the ward.
This is where the common room is located. It's a
large room opening towards
the hallway, equipped with a couple of comfortable
couches, low tables and
a TV. So far, we haven't met any of the other
patients, but just as I
expected, Chess Girl is here. At least that's what I
call her, and ashamed
I have to admit that I can't remember her name.
Chess Girl, a mousy blonde of about 14 years, is
sitting at the chess
board, as usual. She's staring at the board with her
fingertips pressed
against each other, her facial expression one of
extreme concentration.
I've played her once or twice, and I must say that
she's quite good. (Yes,
I lost.) But then again I think she's been playing
all her life, so that's
not really unexpected.
If she doesn't have a partner, she's playing
herself, like now, and when
she's beaten herself, she just starts over again.
Don't know how she does
that, though. I mean, she must know what she's up
to. I imagine that it's
quite difficult for her to trick herself, unless she
doesn't know anymore
what she's doing when she's the 'other' player...
"May I do the next move?" I offer.
She slowly looks up at us as if she just awoke from
a trance or something,
but then she nods, despite the grim expression on
her face. She's not
talking at all, just like I was, and I guess she
didn't even notice that
what I just did is unusual, at least from what she
knows about me.
I think hard for a while, then move the white knight
so it's threatening
her queen. Her face lights up and she smiles at me.
"Good move, I guess," I
whisper to Buffy who has been watching the whole
scene in awe.
"I'm Buffy," she says and offers her hand to Chess
Girl, who ignores it
completely.
"She's playing day in and day out. Don't know why,
though..." I whisper to
Buffy, who's looking a bit flabbergasted at Chess
Girl's ignorance.
Suddenly I remember her name, and so I add, "...and
her