Fic: Dying Young

["Megan" <shy_grrl@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Hello,

I'm new to the list. Joined just moments ago. On ordinary days, I'm a 
devout B/F fan. But when my sister proposed this idea of hers, it had 
such nice potential, I had to write something. All of you, who are 
familiar with Twin Peaks, let me know, how you think I succeeded in 
the idea.


***


Dying Young

Author: Megan
Disclaimer: Not mine. All things `Buffy' belong to Joss Whedon and co.
Feedback: Yes, please: shy_grrl@xxxxxxxxxxx
Spoilers: Not much. A little from season one's `Prophecy Girl'. Oh, 
and a bitsy bit from season five, just because I like... well, a 
certain thing from season five :-)
Pairing: Buffy and Willow. Yikes!
Summary: Willow is slowly losing the love of her life.
Author's Notes: A condensed version of a much longer story, my sister 
dreamed up in the summer. An adaptation of the Laura/Donna story line 
from `Twin Peaks'. In order to do this, I had to make an adjustment 
to the Buffy-versum: Buffy's lived her whole life in Sunnydale. Also, 
I took great liberties with Willow. I don't know, if she's even 
recognizable in this story. (But, hey, what do you expect? How can I 
write a B/W story without changing the characters, since there's 
nothing that supports the shippy on the show? ;-))


***


I had known her forever. From kindergarten to high school. We were 
always together. It's weird, how relationships evolve. First friends, 
then best friends, then more than best friends. And then less than... 
more than best friends. Eventually, even less than friends, in a way. 
I hardly knew her the last six months. But I still loved her. I have 
loved her forever.

Buffy Summers. The cheerleader who loved me. Great title for a book. 
Or a movie. It still baffles me, what she saw in me. We were nothing 
alike. I'm a nerdy brainiac, with geeky friends and interests. And 
she is the... was the captain of the freaking cheerleading team! The 
most popular girl in school. With friends like Cordelia Chase.

When we were younger, I understood it. Appearances didn't matter 
then. But from the beginning of high school, I just waited for the 
day, she'd dump me. I dreaded the time, she'd blow me off because of 
an obvious excuse. `Not today, Willow. I've got to... study?'

She did blow me off eventually, but she never stopped loving me. I 
know that now. And she didn't dump me, because I was uncool. She 
didn't dump me because of her popular friends, like I thought she 
would. No, it was much worse than that. Only, I didn't see it at the 
time. The way she sank into darkness. I never tried to save her. 
Cause I was too busy resenting her. Blaming her. Even hating her, at 
times.

All that time she started spending in the library... at first, I 
thought, she actually WAS studying more. Like she claimed to be. But 
her test scores quickly trashed that possibility. They were even 
lower than before. She wasn't studying. She started cutting classes. 
Showing up late, the days she showed up at all. She quit the 
cheerleading team. Started ignoring Cordelia and the rest, even more 
than she ignored me. And where before, that would've made me happy, 
now it only scared me. As did the way her looks changed. She was 
exhausted all the time. Like she didn't sleep anymore. Big black 
rings around her eyes. Cuts and scrapes on her face and arms, from 
time to time.

Drugs, I guess it was. Had to be. And the gangs, that have invaded 
our quiet little town. I never thought, Buffy'd get sucked into that. 
It never even crossed my mind. Until it was too late.


***


"Willow... you worry too much," she smiles, and caresses my cheek 
with her fingers.

I pull away from her touch, and sit down on the couch, "I do not," I 
say forcefully. She turns away, and hides her face, "Why won't you 
tell me, what's going on?"

She doesn't answer at first. Just takes a few steps away from me, and 
breathes heavily. So heavily, I hear her, "I can't tell you, Willow. 
It's... you wouldn't understand," she hurts me again. When she says 
things like that, she feels so distant. Like we're worlds apart. Like 
we're not together, the way I want us to be.

"Try me," I whisper quietly. She slowly turns to look at me. And 
smiles again. She looks so beautiful, when she smiles. She looks so 
young, when she smiles. And not at all worn out, like she usually 
does these days. But whenever she smiles now, I know she's only 
trying to divert my attention. Trying to cover up whatever secrets 
she has.

"Willooow..." she draws out my name lovingly, and starts inching 
closer to me, "There's nothing going on," she says, shaking her head.

And I'm supposed to believe that. When she just seconds ago admitted, 
something was going on. And I believe that. When she just seconds 
later, kneels down in front of me, and stares intently into my 
eyes, "Buffy..." I try to resist the hypnosis. But it's futile. She 
has too much power over me.

Slowly, she climbs onto the sofa, placing her knees on either side of 
my legs, and leaning her head closer. So close, our noses briefly 
brush against each other. She draws back just an inch, and opens her 
mouth, "I'm the strong one, Willow. Let me worry about you," she 
says. And kisses me. 

That's her way of winning an argument. When she kisses me, all 
sensible thoughts disappear from my head. Not that there were many of 
them left, after that stare. She could win our arguments without 
saying a word. She just talks for my benefit, I think. Giving me some 
delusion of power.

When she brings her hands on either side of my head, tilting it 
backwards, and pushes her tongue into my mouth, I don't even remember 
what we were talking about anymore. It couldn't have been anything 
important, since she's still kissing me. And that's really the only 
thing that is important. That, and her body slowly grinding against 
mine, "Buffy..." I moan, when she ends the kiss, and moves her mouth 
down, on my neck.

"Buffy?" another voice calls.

This one comes from outside the living room. It's a younger voice. 
It's her sister's voice. It brings with it, an unwelcome 
interruption. She groans quietly, and raises her head on my 
shoulder, "Go away, Dawn!" she shouts, right next to my ear.

I wince from the painful sound, and start to wriggle under her. She 
doesn't move at first, but when I lightly push her, she agrees to 
roll off of me, and sits down on the sofa. She's looking at me, a 
little confused, but half her attention is devoted to the sister, so 
she doesn't object.

The ten-year old girl appears in the doorway, and smiles when she 
sees me. I don't find a reason to smile back, "Hi, Willow!" her 
sister chirps overly exited.

"What do you want, Dawn?" she irately gripes.

The younger girl is taken aback. Her eyes flip between the two of 
us, "Oh, you were... I didn't mean to..." she starts to 
stutter, "I'll go!" she says, and hightails out of the room, the same 
way she came in.

She smirks after her sister, and then turns towards me, "Where were 
we?" she huskily whispers.

"I was just leaving," I say, and jump up from the couch.

She grabs my hand, and stands up too, "What?" she demands to know.

I pull my hand free, and put a few yards between us, before daring to 
answer her. If she's at touching range, she'll only hypnotize me 
again, "I'm going, Buffy," I say, glancing at her, but quickly 
looking away again, "You can't just kiss me, and expect everything to 
be okay. I'm not five," I say in a rare burst of determination, "If 
you want me, you're gona have to give me all of you."

I wait a few moments for her answer, and then follow her sister 
example, and make a run for the exit. When I'm almost out, she 
decides to talk, "I can't tell you," she says, and I stop to 
listen, "You're just gona have to trust me, Willow. This is the only 
way."

I stand quietly for a while in the door way, "Then there is no way. 
For us," I say, and leave.


***


I was so selfish. I didn't see what was happening. I only saw how all 
it affected me. Me. ME! I should've stopped to look at the big 
picture for a second. Should've looked at her. Really looked. Every 
time she refused to tell me, I took it personally, and got angry at 
her. I didn't see how much it hurt her, to not be able to tell me. I 
see it now. I see her eyes in my mind. I see such pain in them. And I 
only added to it, with my childish behavior.

How could I be SO stupid? I've always prided on my intelligence, and 
when it came to the most important thing in my life, I acted like a 
moron.

We fought and made up a million and one times during that six months. 
We'd go a week without talking to each other, sometimes without even 
seeing each other. And one day, she'd appear knocking on my door. 
Looking devastated. Half dead. And crying her eyes out. And I'd let 
her in, and comfort her. And love her. Because, what else could I do?

I would hold her in my arms, and wait for the tears to stop. And wait 
for her to fall asleep. Sometimes she did, and I'd lie down next to 
her, and imagined everything was okay. That she didn't have some 
secret double life, away from me.

A few times, I staked out her house, and tried following her, when 
she went out in the night. Cause I'd figured that much out. If she 
didn't sleep at night, she had to be doing something else. Sometimes 
she headed straight for the cemeteries or the parks. But a couple of 
times, she met up with this tall dark man, and they'd leave together. 
And I thought my heart would break. I could never keep up with them, 
though. She slipped away from me every night. But the last.

That's when she caught me spying on her. She demanded I stop it, and 
I started arguing in a jealous rage. Cause she'd been sneaking out at 
nights, and meeting up with this guy. She said, I didn't know what I 
was talking about, and that it wasn't like that. She said, I couldn't 
come out at nights. Practically screamed at me to stay home. She 
said, I would never see her again, if she caught me outside again 
after dark. And I yelled, FINE! Cause I didn't want to see her ANYWAY!

And then we made up again. For the last time.


***


There's a knock on the front door. It's seven o'clock in the evening, 
and I know it's her. Come groveling back again. This time I'm adamant 
to stand my ground. I won't let her manipulate me again. I deserve 
better than this. I deserve to be trusted.

I open the door. It is her. But she isn't groveling. She's fidgeting 
nervously. Hands me a bouquet of flowers. I gape at her, and accept 
the gift with shaky hands, "What's this?" I ask her.

"For you," she says, "I'm sorry."

I expect her to jump into one of her trademark apologies, about how 
she didn't mean to hurt me, and didn't mean to shut me out, and how 
she needs me. But she doesn't say anything more, "That's it?" I 
blandly reply.

"Pretty much," she says, and nods, "Except, that it's gona be 
different from now on."

I still stand at the door, baffled and unable to invite her in. My 
eyes shift between the flowers, and the girl I still love, "What is?" 
I ask her.

"Everything," she quite simply states, and shrugs her shoulders, "Me. 
Us. I won't leave you alone again, Willow."

I stare back at her, and almost step aside, granting her access back 
into my life. But at the last moment, I gather my strength and stand 
my ground, "It isn't that easy, Buffy," I tell her, "You've treated 
me like garbage, these past months. Tossing me aside, whenever I 
haven't fit into your stupid little rebel lifestyle."

My harsh words startle her a little, but she quickly brushes them 
aside, "I know. But it's all over now," she shakes her head, and 
smiles briefly.

Damn. Why did she have to smile? She looks so adorable when she 
smiles. She's like a whole different life form, when she smiles. 
Totally beyond all criticism. If she'd ever stand accused of murder, 
all she'd have to do, is smile to the jury, and the lawyer could 
go, `The defense rests!' And they'd all believe she's innocent. Like 
I do, now.

"So, can I come in?" she again smiles. I shut my eyes for a few 
seconds, trying to block out her beauty. It doesn't work, cause I can 
still picture her. Smiling. And laughing. And kissing. And doing all 
kinds of nice things to me, "Willow?" she says.

Fine. Come in then. It's useless to try to resist her charms. And I 
do think, it's gona be different this time. It feels different. She 
brought me flowers. She doesn't look like something that just crawled 
out of the gutter in search of shelter. She's here only because of 
me, not because of herself. I hope.

I make room for her, and she steps inside my home.


***


She's dead now. They found her lifeless body in the sewers, a few 
days after the school almost got destroyed. Drowned in a pool that 
wasn't more than two inches deep. She was still dressed in the same 
white dress, she was supposed to wear for the dance we meant to go. 
But never got around to.

It was all my fault. All she wanted to do that night, was go to the 
Bronze and party. But then I freaked out over the dead students, and 
didn't wanna go anymore. And she left. To take care of something. And 
because, I was again wallowing in my own pathetic problems, I didn't 
stop her. She left. Even though she promised, never to leave me 
again, she did. And she didn't come back. She won't ever again come 
back.

And I go crazy every day, trying to figure out, what happened. What 
drew her into the night. Where she went, and what she did. And with 
whom. I know she had something to do with the destruction of the 
library. She was connected to the place. And she was connected to the 
vampire-wannabe gang, who go around murdering people, and draining 
their blood. The police said, it happened to her too. That she had 
these puncture marks on her neck, when she was found.

That last night we spent together, she promised to tell me everything 
in time. After the Spring Fling thing, she said. And she would've 
too. She said, it was all in the past now, that we would be together 
forever. But I'm even more alone.

I waste my days with her sister now. We sit around in her room, and 
talk about her all the time. It's funny, how we both knew her so 
well, and still so differently. How we both loved her so much, and 
still so differently. We share stories that are new to the other. And 
we share stories, we both already know. And we laugh, and we cry. And 
even though, she's dead, we still learn new things about her.

She didn't only hide her night life from me, she hid other things 
too. And I'm slowly learning to accept, that I will never know 
everything. She wasn't like others. She was only sixteen when she 
died, and she lived many lives in that time. She was many things. She 
loved many things.

And I was lucky to be the one she loved the most.


< end >

Thanks for reading,
Megan