Fic: Willow W Buffy--The Body

["ivy444444" <ivygort23@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Author: Ivy	
Spoilers: The Body
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Willow.

Note: I wrote this fiction for the three people that gave me feedback 
on the first story. I'm sorry but I only have Internet access for an 
hour each day so I couldn't return your kind wishes. I know that I 
should be writing for me and me alone, but I have to tell you that 
feedback really, really, helps those middle of the story blues!



Willow Watching Buffy-The Body



We walk into the back door of Buffy's house. I watch as Giles 
carries the sleeping Dawn up to her room.

"Do you want some coffee or something, Will?" My best friend asks 
over her shoulder with a fake, polite smile. She continues to the 
sink even though I haven't answered her. 

"I don't have any tea," she pauses just a beat and picks up a coffee 
mug that has 'the world's coolest mom' written on the side of it. 
Then I see her gather her formidable resolve, and firmly place the 
cup in the automatic dishwasher.

I can't tell what's happening inside of her--I think she's still in 
shock over finding her mother...my mind shies away from the thought. 
I think I loved Joyce as much as I could love my own mother. I have 
a reason to, it was always Joyce that remembered my birthday and who 
I was dating...I nearly chuckle when I recall Mrs. Summers reaction 
to finding out about Tara and I. My real mother could never be 
bothered.

"What so funny!" Buffy's demanding voice breaks into my thoughts, as 
I look up into the pale, drawn face of my best friend, and I feel 
guilty. I guess I did chuckle after all. 

"Nothing, I'm sorry," I start contrite. But Buffy just waves off my 
explanation turning back to the sink. And I see that formidable 
resolve crumble right in front of me.

"Ah, don't worry about it..." the slayer begins then her voice trails 
off, and she picks up a wash rag. I notice that her hands are 
shaking when she turns on the water and wets the rag. Buffy's hands 
never shake; I know there is an explosion of emotion just under the 
surface-I hurt with compassion for her because she feels that she has 
to be strong-she doesn't! Not around me; she doesn't have to put on 
that tough slayer act, not for my sake.

I want to walk over to her and gather her into my arms and just hold 
her until she breaks down and, and ...only I don't. 

I can't. 

I remember the time when Angel was stalking her, that was the last 
time I saw her any where near this raw, when she's like this it isn't 
safe to just walk up and touch her. I'm not saying she would hurt me 
on purpose, not Buffy! She just doesn't have the control over her 
slayer reactions that she normally does.

As I said before, there is an explosion of rage, pain, just under the 
surface and if I startle her, the slayer might react before Buffy can 
reel it in.

And I do fear the slayer.

I follow her into what Mrs. Summer's liked to call her 'reading 
room.' Buffy immediately drops down to her knees and begins to scrub 
a stain on the carpet.

I watch for a moment, she's scrubbing the stain so hard that the 
cloth rag is beginning to tear. I know it's useless to try and get 
her to stop, so I just sigh and go back into the kitchen. 

I look in the frig to see if there is anything left to eat; I know 
Buffy hasn't eaten anything, since well, since.... 

She had forced one of those awful hospital sandwiches on Dawn while 
they waited for the doctor to check her out in the ER. Dawn only had 
a few scrapes from the vamp attack but the doctor insisted on giving 
her "just a little something for the pain."

She was asleep within a minute.

That was after Giles had taken him aside and explained that her 
mother had just died unexpectedly. And the doctor had been nice 
enough to give him an envelope with something for Buffy in it, too. 
That envelope I now had in the front pocket of my jeans.

I try to take a deep breath as I realize that I've been standing in 
front of the frig, lost in thought, for a good five minutes. I 
purposely close the door and check on Buffy; she's still at it, the 
rag is in shambles and the carpet is beginning to look a little 
thread bare. 

Of course the stain is still there, still apparent. Unlike Buffy's 
emotions, she seems to have pushed them back down again. The only 
way I can tell something's wrong with her is that she's trembling.

"Buffy, I don't think that stain is going to come out." I tell her 
mildly. 

She glances up at me, her expressive face devoid of emotion, then 
throws the rag down on the top of the stain. "I know, mom would be 
so pissed..." she trails off once more. What is it about her that 
she can't finish a sentence?

Then I realize my thought and feel worse. I already feel terrible, 
so I can't feel bad, I just feel...worse.

I close off that line of thinking; I'm actually here for a reason, 
I'm here to try to get Buffy to take the sedative the doctor gave 
Giles for her. That's why Xander, Anya, and Tara went on patrol. 
Why Giles is up stairs with Dawn, so that I will have a chance to 
help Buffy. If we all ganged up on her then she would dig in her 
heels and never agree that she needed rest, that she needed to let go 
for one night and let me, ah, I mean us, take care of her.

As it was it was a battle to keep her from going out tonight. It was 
finally Giles' suggestion that Dawn might wake up that kept Buffy 
inside and safe.

I think she must've drifted there for a minute because when I come 
back from remembering the battle in the ER over patrolling she's 
still sitting on the carpet next to the stain staring at nothing. 

Or maybe she's staring at some kind microscopic flaw on the wall that 
she'll have to clean next-I don't know-I don't care. 

I do know that tomorrow is going to be rough on her even she gets 
some sleep and food tonight.

Time to do my 'best friend's job.' I think as I walk around her then 
offer her a hand up. She jerks like I surprised her or she'd 
forgotten I was even there, which was probably the case, her 
forgetting I mean.

"Com'on," I say when she reaches up and lets me pull her to her 
feet. She only flinches a little when I don't let go of her hand and 
I wrap my other arm around her waist. 

This touching is okay; touching her like this when she expects it is 
safe, within the rules and boundaries she's set-up as the slayer.

"I want you to do me a favor," I say as I start to lead her back to 
the kitchen. I know I'm cheating, Buffy could never refuse to help 
anyone, especially not me...there's another thought that needs to be 
closed down right away.

Closed down and locked away, because right now we're physically 
touching and there is something about Buffy that lets her know what 
other people are feeling, some part of her slayer sense that she 
can't cut off, sort of like Oz's sense of smell.

"What?" she croaks out, then pulls away from me when we enter the 
kitchen. I think my grief on top of hers is just too much for her to 
handle. I try not to take her distance personally. But, it still 
hurts.

I lock that away, too. I'm here for Buffy, whether she knows it or 
likes it, or will accept it. I have to try. 

I gently reach for her shoulder and turn her around to face me making 
her look me in the eyes so she can see and understand that I have to 
help her. 'Just for tonight, just let me help you!' I try to tell 
her with my eyes because I know that if I said it out loud she would 
be embarrassed at the very least and totally reject our friendship at 
the worse.

Buffy always, always, thinks she has to be the strong one. The hero.

When I know I have her full attention I pull the envelope that has 
the pills in it out of my pocket. Keeping her eye contact I gently 
place two pills in her hand.

She glances down and then back up at me in surprise. Its like her 
eyes are searching my face, for what I have no idea, but I guess she 
finds her answer. She slowly, looks away towards the back door of 
the kitchen and nods. It feels like she can't admit it, but I think 
she's a little relieved.

I don't stop to think about it, I just get her a glass of water as 
fast as I can.

After she takes the pills, I'm momentary at a lost as to what to do. 
My whole reason for being here was to get her to take them and now 
I'm at a lost or maybe I am lost?

"Well, I guess I need a shower." She says and turns to leave.

"I guess," I say to make small talk. I don't know what to do; I'm 
confused by her surrender, her lack of fight. I admit I'm reeling 
and bit more than a little afraid that she accepted the sedative so 
easily.

She stops at the door to the dinning room, "um Willow?" Buffy asks 
without turning around, "Would you mind staying tonight? Like old 
times? We could have a slumber party?"

I'm in shock; or maybe more shock? I find that for about the 
millionth time I don't know what to think, so I stumble in answering 
her. "Yeah, sure."

This causes her to turn around and face me, to start with the 
apology, "that is if you and Tara don't..."

I have to cut her off, "Buffy! I would be happy to stay with you, I 
mean here." I correct hoping she didn't catch the goof.

She nods and turns back towards the stairs, but I think I hear the 
her whisper, "with me was right the first time, Will."

The End