Fic: Half a World Away (1/?)

[sjld5602@xxxxxxxxxxx]

Title: Half a World Away (1/?)
Author: dap311 (sjld5602@xxxxxxxxxxx)
Pairing: B/W eventually
Disclaimers: Buffy and Willow belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy.  
"Half a World Away" is Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe (R.E.M.) off
Out of 
Time.  
Spoilers: This is set during their senior year in high school, but 
in an AU, so no real spoilers. There is no Oz is this universe.  
Feedback: Yes, please.  
Summary: Willow is fighting depression, Buffy tries to help her.  

** is flashback
----- text ------ indicates writing, such as a journal entry. 

"My hand' tired, my heart aches, I'm half a world
away."
R.E.M.

Willow sat at her desk, pen in her hand, notebook open in front 
of her, trying to figure out what was going on in her life.  
------I feel so alone right now- I don't know what is wrong with 
me. One minute I'm fine, happy, getting along with the gang, and 
the next minute I can't speak, I can't smile, it's like
I'm frozen- my 
mind, my heart, my soul. I don't feel anything then. I'm
numb 
and frustrated. I've been depressed before- how could I not, 
being the school geek and all. But, I thought that all ended when 
Buffy came to town- I finally felt apart of something other than the 
"I hate Cordelia Club." But, that feeling of belonging
faded- I'm 
back to feeling empty and lost. I don't have the energy to go to 
class, but I do. I don't have the motivation to do my homework, 
except to keep up the appearance of normality. For all anyone 
else knows I'm doing just fine. Good ol' Willow- she's
just 
super! But, I'm not. I wish I were- I would give anything to
feel 
normal again. The only person who knows is Buffy, but I hate 
burdening her- she's got enough to think about, saving the world 
and everything.-----  
She stopped writing and looked down at her wrists. There were 
two parellel scars running along her right wrist and about five 
small cuts on the outside of her left wrist. They were fainter now; 
a week ago they had been red, loud testaments to the anguish 
Willow was going through. She didn't tell anyone other than 
Buffy; she felt too ashamed of her own actions to admit to hurting 
herself. But she couldn't lie to Buffy, to her best friend. 
Even if 
she had tried Buffy would have known something was up. As it 
was she knew there was something the matter the morning after 
Willow first cut herself. They had been sitting in the cafeteria at 
school.  

** "Hey Will. What's up?" Buffy slid into a chair at a
round table 
that Willow already occupied.  
"Uh, not much. How `bout you?" Willow looked up
briefly to see 
the smiling face of her best friend, but her eyes drifted back 
down to her tray and her sandwich. She tried to smile, but 
couldn't.  
"I'm okay, you know, ignoring all of my homework and stuff. 
The 
usual. You sure you're okay?" Buffy's brow was wrinkled
with 
concern.  
"Not really. But I don't want to talk about it right
now."  
"Okay. I'm going to go grab some inedible stuff. I'll
be back."  
Buffy had relented and wouldn't push the issue- for now that is.  
**
	
Later that day Willow had shown Buffy her wrists. She had spent 
the afternoon with her, just chatting, talking about movies and 
stuff. Around 3 a classmate of Buffy's had come over to do a 
project, so Willow thought it would be better if she just left. She 
didn't want to go, but she didn't want to be in the way,
either. 

** "Are you sure you want to go? You can stick around, you 
know. We're just gonna be watching a movie and figuring out 
how to use it in our presentation." Buffy was still concerned
for 
her red-headed friend; she just wasn't usual Willow-y self.  
"Yeah, I'm sure. I've got some homework to do that
I've been 
ignoring for a couple of days- I shouldn't get too behind."  
Willow's voice was emotionless and flat as she spoke to her 
best friend. She tried to sound enthusiastic about her 
schoolwork- she had been in the past, but she just couldn't.  
Stepping closer to Willow, Buffy wrapped her arms around her 
best friend. Something was wrong, she could feel the tension in 
the redheads shoulders, she even thought she could feel pain.  
Spider sense is good for something other than vamps, she 
thought.  
As they broke the embrace, Willow pulled back, looked down at 
her wrists and spoke in a quiet, timid voice.  
"Buffy?" That was all she said. She held her wrists out,
facing 
up towards the slayer. Buffy looked Willow in the eyes for a 
moment before noticing her outstretched arms and upturned 
wrists. Looking down she saw the red marks, the cuts that 
stood testament to what Willow was going through.  
"Oh, sweetie?" was all Buffy was able to say before she
pulled 
her best friend into a bone-crushing embrace. They stood like 
that for awhile, neither willing to let the other go, the classmate
in 
the living room long forgotten. Finally, Willow pulled back and 
looked Buffy in the eye. She put on her resolve face, determined 
to leave the Summer house with some sense of her dignity.
"I should go. You have work to do. I'll talk to you later,
okay?"  
She began to turn towards the door, her resolve face fading as 
soon as she was out from under Buffy's gaze.  
"Hey Will? I love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, Buffy. I love you, too." And with that Willow
stepped out 
onto the porch. **

Sitting at her desk, Willow thought back to that day; she didn't 
understand why Buffy loved her, why she had ever become 
friends with her, even. She never felt worthy of the attention, of 
the friendship. No matter how many times Buffy had said that 
she cared, had shown she cared, Willow couldn't help but doubt 
that love. And she hated herself for it. Here was someone 
willing to show her the compassion she so desperately needed 
and she questioned it every step of the way. That day was no 
different. Buffy had called not long after Willow left, leaving a 
message on her machine before the redhead even got home.  
Would she come back for dinner that night? Of course, I would, 
Willow had thought at the time. The conversation over dinner 
had been awkward at first; neither friend knew what to say, 
where to start.  

** "So?" Willow began.  
"So. How are you, Will? Really, this time."
Willow looked down at her hands, her wrists. She couldn't 
seem to look Buffy in the eye. She felt so weak, she was so 
weak. Buffy must think she is so stupid, going and cutting 
herself. She didn't know what to say to her friend. Where do
you 
begin? How do you explain emptiness? How do you explain 
numbness?  
"Um, I'm not doing so good. But, I guess you could tell
that."  
"Yeah, I could tell as soon as I saw you at lunch. I know you
Will.  
Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." Willow still couldn't look up into the eyes of
her best 
friend, still couldn't face the judgment she was she was there. 
"When do you do it?"
"Last night. It was a bad night."
There were a few moments of silence between the friends.  
Willow was sure Buffy was thinking that she was weak, stupid, 
crazy, even. Had she looked up, she would have noticed Buffy 
looking at her, trying to think, trying to process her thoughts, all 
the while with an expression of sadness mixed with pure love.  
"Can I ask you another question?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Do you want me to keep what you used?" When Willow
didn't 
answer, Buffy continued, cautiously. "I don't have to know
what it 
was, but I can keep it for you, if you want." 
"Yeah, that would probably be good."
Willow finally looked up into the eyes of her friend and what she 
saw there surprised her. She didn't see disgust or horror. What 
she saw was love and concern, and fear. She could feel the fear 
flowing off the slayer, like water off a duck's back.  
"Buffy?"
"Yeah, Will?"
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry you. I'm
sorry."  
"Will, there's nothing for you to apologize for. Please
don't say 
your sorry. Sorry for what? For telling me this? I'm glad you
told 
me- I wish you would have called me last night, but I'm so glad 
you told me. I'm not going to lie to you- this scares me. You 
don't scare me, but I'm scared for you. I don't want you
to hurt, 
Will." 
"That's just the thing. I don't hurt. I mean, yes,
physically I hurt, 
but emotionally there's nothing. I can't feel. I'm
numb." Willow 
ran the fingers of her left hand over the scars on her right wrist, 
as if remembering each cut, each slice of the blade. "I
don't 
know why I did it. I just know it seemed logical at the time. 
It's 
afterwards that my real logic kicks in and I feel stupid and guilty.  
But, I can't feel anything other than guilt. No pain, no fear,
no 
hurt, no anger. Nothing towards myself."  
As Willow grew quiet again, Buffy got up from across the table, 
walked over to her best friend, and folded her into strong slayer 
arms. She held the redhead for a very long time, tears falling 
from her eyes as she rubbed Willow's back softly. She wasn't 
sure if this was more helpful for her or Willow, but Buffy felt safer 
with her friend tucked securely in her arms. Willow, for her part, 
simply held on, feeling comforted, if just for a few minutes, and a 
little more secure than she had felt before. But, she couldn't
cry.  
Even when she felt Buffy's tears hitting her face, she
couldn't cry.  
There was no pain to force the tears. Emptiness does not let 
you cry, she thought. **
Buffy didn't leave Willow's side that night. But now,
Willow was 
alone, sitting quietly in her room. A blade, different from the one 
she had first used, sat next to her notebook on the desk. Willow 
just sat there, hands in her lap, staring blankly down at the blade 
and her journal. She reached for her pen, and began to write 
again. 
------I hate this. I hate this more than anything I have ever hated 
before. Because I can't feel anything about myself except 
loathing. And that is weak at best. I am so weak. So weak. I will 
never have the strength. I feel like I am in a box, and sometimes 
the walls seem almost invisible, like I could walk through them.  
But, as soon as I try they are steel again and I just keep running 
into them. And the box is shrinking, I think. It just gets smaller 
and smaller.-------  
Willow put down her pen and looked at the blade again. 

To Be Continued.