BuffyWantsWillow::FIC:: Something New (4/?)

[Pedder <pedder@xxxxxxxx>]

So, I finally managed to get my act together and write something. 
Admittedly, this chapter is shorter than the others, but I guess it's 
better than nothing, right? (don't answer that.)

Author: Pedder
Title: Something New (4/?)
Disclaimer: The BtVS universe was created by Joss Whedon, I'm just 
borrowing the characters for a while. I don't claim any of it, it's not 
mine, I think you get it.
Chapter Summary: A loose reworking of 'Hush' with a B/W angle.
Feedback: Anything, please.
Archive: Go for your life. Just let me know, k?
Spoilers: Only if you're a newbie to the show.

************

I love waking up.

No, wait. Scratch that. I love waking up when I can do it in my own time. 
No alarm, no phone ringing, no Giles shaking me awake after I've fallen 
asleep at the keyboard. I like waking up when I'm in my own bed, all 
snuggled up, and I can come slowly back into the real world. I love that 
sort of waking up, which, fortunately, is what I get this morning.

I stretch and yawn, kicking back the covers in the process. I open my 
eyes just in time to see the door open and Buffy walk in, obviously back 
from the bathroom. The sight of her reminds me that we slept in the same 
bed again last night. We didn't discuss it or anything, it just seemed 
like a given. I wanted her there, she wanted to be there, it was the 
perfect solution to what wasn't really a problem. It's amazing how safe 
and loved I feel wrapped in her arms.

She closes the door behind her and smiles at me. I see her lips move and 
form the words 'Good morning' and I reply with a 'hey' before I realise 
that I hadn't actually heard the words. Buffy seems to realise it at the 
same time and she clears her throat before trying again. When no sound 
comes out her eyebrows crease in the cutest way, and her eyes widen 
slightly in a very controlled form of panic.

'Can you hear me?' she mouths at me.

I shake my head. What the hell is going on? 'No,' I mouth back. This is 
beginning to get scary. 'I've gone deaf!' I try to tell her.

She gets it, and shakes her head. 'I don't think so,' she mouths back at 
me, and I can tell she's automatically slowed her speaking pace and 
started to annunciate more. 'We can't speak!'

We can't speak? This is new.

I hate waking up.

Wait, maybe I haven't woken up yet. Maybe I ate something funny last 
night when Buffy took me out to dinner. Yeah, that's it. I'm just having 
some strange dream, and soon I'll wake up like I want to, warm and safe 
and snuggled up with Buffy. It's all just a dream.

Okay Willow, you've lived on the Hellmouth how long?

Buffy gives me a worried look, and goes to open the door. She looks out 
in the corridor for a second, and then closes the door again. When she 
turns back to me I already know what she saw.

'Everybody?' I mouth at her.

She just nods and moves over to where I'm sitting on the side of my bed. 
Sitting down next to me she pulls me into a fierce hug, and for a moment 
I don't care that I can't talk. After a minute, she eases her hold on me 
and turns me to face her. She's got the most intense look in her eyes, 
and somehow I just know that it's all for me. She reaches up and slowly 
traces her hand softly across my cheek, then moves it around to settle in 
my hair. For a moment she just looks at me, and then she moves slowly to 
brush her lips ever so softly against mine. When she moves back again 
that intense look is still in her eyes, and it's love that shines from 
them so brightly for a moment I'm afraid of being blinded.

It's amazing how much I love her.

I think she was trying to tell me something, because after a minute she 
stands up and she's all business. Something's up, and she's the Slayer. 
It's her job to fix this. Without words, she just told me how much she 
wishes she could stay with me rather than go out to find the cause of 
this problem. It doesn't matter that I'm going with her, there always has 
to be a distance in public.

For now, anyway.

Our friends don't know yet, and I'm good with that. I don't think I could 
handle telling them right now. Buffy might not care what people we don't 
really know think, but she's respecting what I want by not telling the 
gang. I think for her to keep that secret, she has to keep a firm control 
on herself. The last few days she's been relaxing around me, taking my 
hand without thinking about it, holding me close when we walk, putting 
her hand on my leg in class. I think she's had to be careful around me 
for a while now, and now that she's started letting that control go, she 
has a hard time regaining it when she needs to.

I love the affection from her, and I hate that she has to hide it. I'm 
determined that it won't be for long, I just have to wait until Oz isn't 
such a close shadow. I love Buffy, but I'm afraid if we tell the guys, 
they'll assume I'm running to Buffy on the rebound, and they won't want 
to see us get hurt. What they won't understand is that Buffy isn't the 
fallback. She never was, and she never will be. I love her so much it 
hurts, and I think I started to realise it even before Oz left.

She motions for me to get dressed, as she goes over to her closet to do 
the same. There's one person we go to when something weirder than normal 
happens, and since we can't call him, I guess we're going out.

-------------

Walking down the streets of Sunnydale, everything is so different. Over 
to our left there's a man sitting in the gutter hugging his briefcase, 
and down the street to the right there's a group of people reading 
passages from the bible. The bank's closed, but the liquor store is open. 
I never thought that the loss of speech would cause society to just shut 
down like this.

Okay, so truthfully I never thought about it at all, but I have a point. 
People don't really talk to each other much anyway, so why is speech so 
important? Friends should be able to communicate without words, and 
people in this country barely give the time of day to strangers, so why 
the big drama? I'll admit that it's a bit of a shock, but it's not like 
it's the end of the world or anything.

Not yet, anyway. You never know around here.

That's not my point. My point, as strange as it may be, is that I don't 
believe human society runs because we can talk. People who have been deaf 
from birth can't really talk, but they can still communicate. I knew 
exactly what it was that Buffy was trying to say to me this morning. So, 
logically, if everyone stopped panicking and thought about things a 
little, they'd realise that the power of speech isn't what makes us who 
we are. Language is just a modicum to convey our thoughts, feelings, and 
desires. Actually, language is a way to convey what we want and need 
without exposing ourselves. It puts a barrier between our feelings and 
how close we get to other people. It helps us avoid getting hurt, because 
we can brush things off with humour, or deny that we ever felt anything 
at all.

Really, when you get down to it, language is a defence. It's supposed to 
be a tool for communication, but we've gotten so skilled with it that 
it's now used so we don't have to communicate. We use words to say what 
we want without saying what we want. It's strange, but it's the way we 
work. We're hurt so much by ignorant children and insensitive adults when 
we're young that we become instinctively defensive, and words are what we 
use to put barriers between other people and our hearts.

With this loss of speech, Sunnydale shouldn't have shut down like this. 
But now, without the barrier of words, everyone, whether they know it or 
not, is afraid that others will finally see what it is they've been 
trying to hide about themselves. Society has suddenly shut down because 
everyone is suddenly living in fear.

I guess the freak-out factor is helping too.

Maybe I overlooked that. Maybe I just over-analyse. It could just be that 
everyone's in shock over the loss of their voices. I mean, it's not like 
it's a normal occurrence. Even with the selective blindness that comes 
from living on the Hellmouth, people just can't ignore this. When it's 
town wide, it kind of grabs people's attention. And maybe that's all it 
is. I just can't be objective because I'm used to the weirdness.

Still, I think I had something going with that whole communication 
theory. I don't know if it was something that made sense, but since it's 
in my head, I guess it doesn't really have to.

Over to the left there's a guy selling message boards at ten bucks a pop, 
and for some reason, that strikes me as funny. People in this country 
have five modes when something bad is happening. Number one, shut down 
and hope that ignoring the problem will make it go away. Number two, turn 
to religion - doesn't matter which, whatever's handy will do. Number 
three, booze, booze, and more booze. Number four, looting and vandalism, 
possibly with some booze thrown in. And finally, number five, and this is 
America to the core, rampant capitalism. Gotta love those people who can 
take a disaster and find some way to make money from it.

Buffy and I exchange and look, and I can tell she's thinking the same 
thing as me. Okay, so maybe not everything I was thinking, but she's 
thinking the same about the guy with the message boards. Her expression 
is half disgusted, half amused, and we stand there for a minute before we 
both suddenly turn and walk over to the guy selling the boards.

Okay, so how sad is that?

Let's not dwell on it. We're suckers, we can't help it.

Right. Moving on.

--------------

By the time we got to Giles', everyone else was already there. Well, not 
everyone, 'cause everyone wouldn't fit in Giles' living room, but Xander 
and Anya were there, and Giles' girlfriend as well. Olivia, I think her 
name is. It's so weird to think of Giles having a girlfriend. And kind of 
icky. I know he loved Miss Calendar, but still, he's Giles.

Plus, I used to have the biggest crush on him.

Over that now, by the way. So over that. I'm now happily in love with my 
best friend. And while there's a strange sense of déjà vu associated with 
that sentence, it's still more right now than it ever was with Xander.

Okay, admitting to my feelings about Buffy has really done something bad 
to my attention span. Three seconds of not concentrating on something, 
and my mind wanders to Buffy.

Hey, Willow? There's this little thing called focus. Can you remember 
what that is?

Oh, shut up.

Xander gives me a little wave, and Giles comes over and gives us both 
hugs. I love Giles' hugs. It used to be weird, since he was a teacher and 
all that, but now it's good. His hugs are really comforting. Not as 
comforting as Buffys, of course…

Willow! Heel!

I think I'm going insane.

I manage to rein in my wandering mind just in time to see Buffy ask Giles 
if he'd found anything. He shakes his head and Buffy points to his 
notebook on the table. Giles just shrugs, and then we're all distracted 
by Xander clicking at us.

Do you have any idea how annoying clicking is? I'm so glad I'm not a 
waitress.

Anyway, Xander stops clicking once he's gotten our attention, and he 
turns the TV up so we can hear it. It's obviously an out of town 
broadcast, because, well, the newsreader can actually speak, so it's a 
bit of a giveaway.

"Sunnydale has been quarantined die to a widespread outbreak of, as 
strange as this may sound, Laryngitis."

That's their explanation?

"While critics are calling it a city-wide hoax, a written statement has 
been issued blaming recent flu vaccinations. No one is allowed in, or 
out, of the town until the quarantine has been lifted."

Well, this is fun.

I didn't even have a flu shot.

Xander starts to yell at the television, or tries to, and it's kind of a 
funny sight with the lack of a soundtrack. Anya just shrugs and leans 
back into the couch, and after a moment, Buffy taps me on the arm to get 
my attention. She indicates the whiteboard still in my hands, and I hand 
it over. I get a smile for it, before Buffy turns her attention to what 
she wants to write. When she's finished, she holds it up for Giles, who 
gives her a puzzled expression. Buffy wipes her sleeve over the board to 
clear it, and writes something else. This time when she shows it to Giles 
he nods in understanding and then moves away to sit down at the table 
where his notes are spread everywhere.

Buffy watches him for a minute, and her expression is unreadable. It hate 
it when I can't read her, and unfortunately, it happens quite often. 
She's had so much practice guarding herself that it's almost an 
impossible barrier to break through. I can tell when she's got the walls 
up, but unless she lets me, I can't see what's behind them. I can read 
her so well when she's not hiding, but when she is… it bothers me that I 
can't see past that wall.

When she turns her attention back to me I can see those walls fall away. 
I don't understand it, but I don't think that guarding her thoughts and 
feelings it something that Buffy does consciously. At least not all the 
time. I think it's reflex, and I'm glad that she's overcome that instinct 
when it comes to me. That means more to me than I could ever express, and 
I wonder if Buffy knows that. I hope she does, or that I can find a way 
to show her.

Without even thinking about it, I reach for her hand. It seems that she 
needed to contact just as much as me, and she gives my hand a squeeze and 
flashes me a grateful look. For a minute she just looks at me, and for a 
minute I forget that I ever could speak.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Buffy mouths three words to 
me. 'Tonight. Town. Chaos.'

I nod and squeeze her hand, telling her that I understand. 'I'll go with 
you,' I try to tell her, but she shakes her head.

'Danger.'

It's my turn to shake my head. 'Don't care. With you.'

She hesitates a moment, but then her face breaks into a smile. She nods, 
and I give her a hug before gesturing in Giles' general direction, 
thinking that we should help. Buffy shakes her head, and after a moment's 
confusion I get that she means that there's nothing we could do to help 
right now.

I think Xander and Anya must have worked that out as well, because 
they're both up off the couch and looking at us expectantly. Well, okay, 
they're more kind of looking at Buffy, since she's the leadery type 
person who's not currently wrapped up in a book. Buffy just shrugs at 
Xander's expectant look, and he nods. He makes some strange gesture 
toward the door, and then points at himself, so I'm guessing that meant 
that he and Anya are going back to his place. I don't want a more 
descriptive idea from those two, and Buffy obviously doesn't either, as 
she just nods and waves them away. Xander gives us both a hug, then Anya 
grabs his hand and pulls him out the door.

I turn to Buffy and give her a questioning look. We can't help here, so 
what is there that we can do? I don't really feel like walking through 
town any more than we have too, since we're going to be out tonight, but 
sitting in our dorm room and not being able to speak doesn't really 
appeal either. We could always try to get some work done, but it's almost 
finals, and we've been studying almost non-stop anyway. Well, I have. I'm 
pretty sure Buffy hasn't even opened a textbook.

Buffy smiles at me and takes my hand, leading me to the door. We've 
always held hands before, but I don't think I ever realised just how much 
that contact really meant to me. Even in a situation like this, 
especially in a situation like this, that one simple contact is always 
more comfort and reassurance than I'd care to admit.

Buffy taps Giles on the shoulder to get his attention, and indicates to 
him that we're leaving. He just nods and goes back to his books, his 
forehead creased in concentration. After another smile for me, Buffy 
leads me out the door, and I'm suddenly wondering if being alone together 
without being able to speak is such a bad idea after all.

-------------

Back at the dorm, we're somewhat at a loss for things to do. I know what 
I'm thinking, and I'm pretty sure Buffy's feeling the same way, but for 
some reason we've both avoided eye contact since Giles' place, and 
haven't even tried to communicate. I've been sneaking glances at Buffy 
from across the room for the last ten minutes, and I'm sure she's doing 
her best to avoid looking at me. If I didn't know better I would think 
she was nervous, but why would she be nervous around me?

I mean, even if she's thinking along the lines that I am, she can't 
possibly know I'm thinking the same thing, so it's not like she can be 
nervous about something that's about to happen, because she doesn't know 
if it will, and I'm fairly certain she won't make a move until I do, so 
she's got nothing to be nervous about until I do something, which will 
then tell her that I want what she wants, so there's no need for her to 
be nervous. Unless she doesn't want that, and thinks that I do, and she 
doesn’t know how to turn me down without hurting my feelings. Or maybe 
she doesn't want to turn me down, but thinks I don't really know what I 
want.

I'm so confused.

All right, I'm over thinking this. Over-analysing. She's probably not 
thinking anything of the sort. In fact, for the first time in days, I 
don't have a clue what she's thinking. The only thing I'm sure of is that 
I have to make the first move.

And that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Buffy's sitting at her desk, apparently attempting to study or something, 
but I know that's a front. Buffy and studying is like oil and water. 
They're two very unmixy things, and if she's pretending to study in front 
of me, then she's really avoiding me.

Nah-uh. I'm not taking that.

Moving slowly from my position on my bed, I take the few steps it takes 
to cross the room to her desk, gathering my courage and resolve for what 
I'm about to do. I want this, so much, but that doesn't mean I'm not on 
the verge of turning tail and running out the door.

I can see Buffy hesitate before she looks up at me. Most people would 
have missed the slight tensing of her shoulders when I put my hand on her 
arm, but not me. I may be a little obsessive, but I've known Buffy long 
enough to know the signs. Just before she looks at me, I know that she's 
afraid. Afraid of what she'll see in my face, in my eyes. In that instant 
I know that she's wondering if the enforced quiet that has given us all 
time to think without the distraction of discussion of our feelings will 
have changed my mind.

Wow that was a long sentence.

Anyway, she's dead wrong. It's the opposite, in fact. Without being able 
to speak, there's nothing I can do to stop thinking. I can't start a 
conversation with Buffy about what I feel and then get lost in a babble 
fest and make her totally confused about what I'm trying to say. All I 
can do at the moment is look at her and hope I can convey what I need to. 
All day I've been able to see what she's feeling without the benefit of 
words, and I think it goes the other way too. And the minute she looks up 
at me, words aren't necessary. She knows what I want, what I need, and 
there's no more hesitation, no more doubt.

She's frozen in her chair, and I take her hand and gently pull her to her 
feet. Without breaking eye contact, I raise my other hand to her face and 
softly caress her cheek. She gives me a small smile, and I move my head 
forward to take her lips with mine. I release her hand and she wraps her 
arms around me, deepening the kiss and giving me a feeling so intense 
that my knees start to buckle.

Oh… wow… she's amazing.

All we've done is kiss, but just knowing that this time we're not going 
to stop is enough to start sending hot flashes all over my body. Warmth 
suffuses me where our bodies are pressed together, but I want more. 
Clothing has it's place, but that place isn't anywhere close to here and 
now. I tug at the base of Buffy's shirt in a useless attempt to get it 
off her without us having to separate, but even through the haze that's 
settled over my mind I'm aware that that's not going to work. I weigh the 
choices, and decide that I can handle moving away for the few seconds it 
takes to get her shirt off.

Still, I guess the choice was easier made than done, considering the 
strength of the grip that's holding me. I move my hands down from Buffy's 
face and around to where her fingers are locked together behind my waist. 
Without being to forceful I attempt to unlock her fingers, and after 
about a minute or two she gets the picture and loosens her hold.

Moving back a little I give her a shy grin (okay, so I was aiming for a 
smile), and reach out and take the bottom of her shirt in my hands. With 
another smile and wishing that we didn't have to lose eye contact, I pull 
her shirt up and over her head. She raises her arms to assist me, and 
when I look at her, my jaw drops to the floor with her shirt.

God she's gorgeous.

Okay, so I knew that already, and all I've done is take off her shirt. 
And I've seen her in just her underwear before, but for some reason this 
is different. This time I'm allowed to look and enjoy, and damn if I 
don't do that. I don't think there's anyone else in the world as 
beautiful as Buffy is, and for some reason, she wants me. Willow 
Rosenburg, the 'shy little computer geek' as I was so aptly dubbed in 
high school. Buffy Summers wants me. Buffy loves me. If I was ever sure 
of anything, I'm sure of that. I don't know why it is, I just know that 
it's real. Without the protective walls she usually has up, her eyes tell 
me more than words ever could.

She wants me.

She needs me.

She loves me.

And that's all I want, all I need. I'm going to show her how much she 
means to me, and I'm almost glad we can't speak. Words just get in the 
way. I take another step backward, and without breaking her gaze I slowly 
remove my clothing. There's a fire in her eyes that burns with love and 
desire as she watches me, and I have never felt anything so right in my 
entire life. The world falls away, and suddenly I'm lost in her. 
Drowning. I can't breathe, and I don't care. Air isn't important, I don't 
need the blood that's pumping through my veins.

There's only one thing I need.

Her.

*************
--------------------------------------------------------

Sorry. That's chapter 4. And yes, it does end there, and no, I'm not 
finishing that scene. I can't write NC-17 (trust me, I tried, and I fell 
off my chair laughing when I read it). I guess you'll just have to use 
those over-active imaginations that I just know you all have.


Pedder


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