Scenes from the Rest of the Their Lives, Scenes III-V

["bighotvirgo" <BHV@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

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Buffy, the Vampire Slayer and all characters therein belong 
solely to Joss Whedon,UPN, Mutant Enemy, et al, not this author. 
This story was created purely for fandom purposes. No copyright 
infringement is intended. 
Song lyrics from "Let's Be Still" by Yo La Tengo, from the album 
Summer Sun (2003). Song lyrics from "Walking after Midnight" by 
Alan Block and Don Hecht, 1956 Acuff-Rose Music, Inc., Lyrics 
quoted for entertainment/fandom purposes, no copyright 
infringement intended. quoted for entertainment/fandom 
purposes, no copyright infringement intended. 
Please do not repost anything without my permission and if 
permission is granted for reposting, reposts must include 
complete credit and disclaimers for use of copyright materials


Scene III

"Let's be still, be still for awhile
There's no place I wanna be
Lose our way and sit side by side
Passing time so carelessly, so carelessly

Find a spell and hope no one tells
Time goes by unendingly, unendingly"


Swimming was good, the big sky was good, and sitting by the 
pool for hours at a time in the sun was good, watching the light 
play on the mountains on the edge of the horizon was good. 

This was what Buffy knew for certain and without realizing it, had 
come to depend on. She'd come here to the New Mexico desert 
since right after she and the others had closed the hellmouth, 
after losing Spike and Anya, too many others, Sunnydale itself. 
On good days, she told herself it was the Buffy Summers version 
of monastic meditation. On bad days she told herself she was 
hiding out, an emotional cripple, a loser, lazy, at loose ends, 
shellshocked, ignoring her destiny. On really bad days she 
cried, screamed, slayed the punching bag, raged at the sky at 
night, or sometimes simply stayed in bed all day, wanting 
someone to hold onto. 

Most days were neither good or bad and on these days Buffy 
tried to keep quiet, be still, take things at face value, make it 
through each day till the shadows started to lengthen. 

And on those evenings, when she had made it through he day, 
the big sky was good, was sometimes pink, sometimes orange, 
sometimes gray. Swimming was good, the sunset was good, 
sitting by the pool for hours at a time was good, the mountains 
fading to black at the edge of the horizon was good. 

-----

Every once in a while, she bought groceries, talked to the others 
on the phone, sometimes watched a little tv in the evenings. She 
had no idea what moving on with the rest of her life would entail, 
but for now, this was pretty much all there was. 

She'd been here long enough that the days, regular, good, bad, 
very bad, and all permutations in between, had begun to run into 
one another. For the first time in longer than she could 
remember, the slayer was able to truly rest, to sit and do 
nothing, to empty her mind, to sit with what was in her heart. And 
so far, what she had found there really didn't surprise her.

-----

On this afternoon, after being woken by her intense dream, she 
sat by the pool,. as usual. Her cell phone was on the table next 
to her. She'd called Dawn, Giles, Xander, Willow and Faith. The 
first three were fine, surprised to hear from her, and didn't seem 
to be in any peril, though Dawn was having an argument with her 
"evil" roommate over painting their dorm room. Buffy hadn't been 
able to speak to Faith or Willow but from what the others had 
said, both were fine, working together with the team to locate the 
new Slayers awoken by Willow's spell. 

So, maybe the spidey sense was a false alarm. It definitely didn't 
seem to be vamp or demon related. She'd had a few mild 
vibrations since she woke up, but not as strong as the first one. 
Deciding to let it go for now, she'd had a sandwich, taken the first 
swim of the day, and had opened a bottle of wine. 

She got up and walked back to the pool steps , easing down into 
the warm water, walking out to the center, her arms held out in 
front of her as the water deepened, then swimming slowly over 
to the shady side, holding herself afloat with her arms hooked 
over the tiled edge.

As she floated, smelling desert sage, sunblock, and chlorine, 
watching the sun climb higher, she reflected on how she got 
here to this sunny quiet place. She thought back to that night, 
somewhere in Arizona, when she'd started to cry and couldn't 
stop. 


Scene IV

"I stop to see a weeping willow crying on her pillow
Maybe she's crying for me
And as the sky turns gloomy, night winds whisper to me
I'm lonesome as I can be
I go out walkin' after midnight
Just hopin' you may be
out there walkin' after midnight
searchin' for me"

They were still on the school bus, several days after the fall of 
Sunnydale. They had been heading slowly eastward. After 
getting the necessary medical attention for the wounded, there 
was no real plan other than to leave it all behind them. 

It was Andrew who had noticed. Everyone else was asleep. 
Patsy Cline's greatest hits drifted back from the front of the bus, 
the signal that Xander had wheel duty. Buffy remembered 
struggling up from out of a nightmare of the final fight, choking, 
weeping in uncontrollable heaving shudders. Andrew had been 
sitting behind her. She must have woken him up. After a while, 
he had leaned over the back of the seat, and, somewhat 
tentatively, started patting her shoulder, trying to soothe her. 

She remembered leaning back, gulping, trying to catch her 
breath, desperately trying to get ahead of the sorrow pouring out 
of her, outrun it, get away from the hurt. Andrew slid his bony 
arms over the seat and around her shoulders. He didn't say 
much, just held her, rocking and patting. He wasn't Spike,
wasn't Angel, wasn't Mom, wasn't Willow, but he was there. 
Buffy knew he was scared of her, with good reason, but he was 
there, surrounding her in scrawny tenderness, quietly giving her 
what no one had given him probably not even once this entire 
wretched year. 

Thankfully, Xander hadn't stopped the bus, though he could 
probably hear enough to know someone was crying. Those first 
few days, they had all cried. Except her. 

Buffy's sobs lessened in time but more than an hour passed 
and she was still crying quietly, not able to stop the tears
entirely. She felt Andrew reach backward with one arm, still 
holding her with the other, rustling in his backpack, then he 
passed her a clean, folded t-shirt to wipe her face. He gently 
removed the damp, snotty pillow she had in her arms, turning it 
over and giving it back so she could cry into the dry side. Then 
he produced a bottle of water, popped the top open for her with 
a whispered "There you go." 

She took a few swallows, gave it back to him, managed to get 
out a shaky "thanks," before more tears welled up.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she murmured, pressing the t-shirt against 
her swollen eyes. "Andrew, I'm so sorry. For everything."

"Hey, no need, it's ok." He smoothed her hair back as
she finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes. She couldn't 
believe she had fallen apart in front of him, much less in his 
arms. 

Andrew patted arm her in short little strokes, his nervous 
awkwardness resurfacing as Buffy seemed to be righting 
herself. "Hey, you want a soda? Or something? I think
Xander's got some chocolate up front..." 

He gave her an encouraging, spastic, little nod, grinning as he 
mimicked a "deep breaths" motion. Buffy met his eyes again. 
Jesus, she'd fucking held this kid hostage. 

That small trigger was all it took to open the floodgates back up. 
The slayer suddenly felt a fresh wave of full throttle anguish 
clawing its way up from inside her chest, doubling her over. 
>From somewhere detached, outside of herself, she wondered if 
she was becoming hysterical, or perhaps possessed. Whatever 
this was, it was growing and it was going to be bigger than her 
very soon, and she was officially freaked out.

"Andrew, I need Willow," she choked out.

"Willow. Sure. OK. Willow. Be right back." Buffy tried to
sit up, hang on, concentrating on watching Andrew. He stood 
up, swaying slightly with the motion of the bus, moving up the 
dark aisle, leaning over seats, trying to locate the redhead. Buffy 
numbly realized he was probably terrified of waking the sleeping 
witch. 

Suddenly, the wave of grief broke over her and she had to bury 
her face in the pillow, rocking back and forth as the emotion held 
her down, lost in the undertow.

"Buffy. Buffy? Oh sweetie. Oh! Come on baby." Willow. Cool 
soft hands on her back, her neck, stroking her hair. "Buff?" 

She looked up to see Willow swaying above her in the aisle. 
Something snapped, and with an agonized sob the slayer 
launched herself wildly at the witch, pulling her close. "Will! 
Oh, Will...It hurts. I can't... Oh God Will!" Buffy was up on
her knees in the seat, wailing, clutching, clawing, holding on for 
dear life. 

Willow tried to calm her, but Buffy was suddenly beyond reason, 
pulling the witch off balance, struggling against the pain. Her 
arms pinned at her sides in Buffy's death grip, Willow fell back 
into Andrew. A few others in the group, awakened by the 
outburst, were starting to stir, turning to locate the source of the 
noise. 

"I'll get Kennedy," Andrew whispered. 

"I'm here, baby," Kennedy loomed out of the darkness
behind Andrew. "Don't worry, she's just hysterical. Want me to
slap her?"

"No!" Willow and Andrew hissed in unison, then Willow 
whispered, "Get Faith." 

"Already here, Will." Faith pushed Andrew toward the front of
the bus. "Go. Get the map. Find a motel. Help Xander get us 
there. Tell him not to stop the bus. Kennedy, back off."

"No way! Willow needs..."

Faith put her hand on Kennedy's chest and spoke evenly, quietly. 
"Willow needs to help Buffy, Kennedy. You need. To. Back. Off. 
Go help Andrew and Xander. Don't make me ask you again." 

Kennedy moved back and let Faith around but remained 
standing in the aisle, silently, arms crossed. Dawn stood in the 
aisle behind her. 

Faith maneuvered around Willow from behind, bracing her, then 
trying to peel the hysterical slayer off so the witch could move. 
"No!" Buffy shrieked in panic and lashed out, which gave
Faith the opportunity to grab her arm and the opposite wrist. 
Freed, Willow sat down and slid back against the bus window, 
then reached up for Buffy, who was now blindly struggling with 
Faith, all the while wailing, sobbing. 

"Buffy! "B! Stop this! Look at me!" Shaking Buffy's
pinned arms, Faith finally got through. Buffy slowed, tiring, 
losing the fight against the immense grief. As her held fell 
forward, Buffy's forehead rested against Faith's.

Everyone else was awake now, watching them locked together. 
Dawn and Kennedy standing in the aisle, the rest of the 
passengers craning their necks back to watch.

Faith tried to catch her breath, resting against Buffy but not
letting go of her yet. 

"Breathe with me, B. C'mon. Slow. Deep. Breaths. Will's
right here, but you have to breathe for me first. Cmon B, take a 
deep slow breath. Let's try just one, whaddya say?" 

Buffy raised her head, hiccuping now, struggling to follow one 
breath all the way through but then her mouth twisted, and her 
face collapsed as the tears claimed her again and she dropped 
her head onto Faith's shoulder. 

"We're here. We're all here. Will too. She's right
behind you," crooned Faith. " And I'm gonna set you down, but 
please, B., take another deep breath for me, OK? C'mon babe. 
You can do it. " 

Buffy willed the breath through her, hitching a little as she 
inhaled, then held it, hiccuped, then released it and gulped in 
another, then one more. Suddenly, she felt her body sag against 
Faith in complete defeat. She felt Willow reach up and take her 
weight as Faith eased her down, whispering "That's my girl. 
Just breathe. You're doing good." 

Then Willow had her, wrapping herself around the slayer, 
rocking her, murmuring, comforting, stroking her arms, her hair, 
her forehead, as Buffy let herself whimper and cry. 

Faith stood over them for several minutes, catching her breath, 
using her body to keep the others from seeing, allowing the 
slayer and the witch some privacy.

As her breathing slowed, Buffy heard Willow whisper, "Thanks 
Faith. I think we're ok here." 

Faith leaned in, her hand on Buffy's cheek. "See, B? We all
got your back." 

Calmer now, Buffy sniffled, and managed a nod, but knew if she 
looked up into Faith's eyes that she would lose it again. 

Faith straightened up, and gave a mock salute. "Captain 
Rosenberg, I now remand the prisoner to your custody," then 
turned on her heel, moving back up the aisle, restoring calm and 
order to the darkened bus.

"Back to sleep folks. Move along, nothing to see here," the dark 
slayer sing-songed. "She's ok, Dawnie, promise. Return to your 
homes, people. Kennedy, I'm warning you. Sit the fuck down. 
We've reached our cruising altitude, folks, you may now resume 
the use of personal electronic devices. Lieutenant Harris that 
plasma core's back on line. Full speed ahead to the Motel 6 
quadrant. And how is that that motel search coming, Uhuru?"

Quieter now, Buffy rested against Willow, listening to Faith's
riff. Turning her head a little, she looked up into the redhead's 
eyes and gave her best crooked attempt at a smile to reassure 
the witch. 

Willow held her glance, steadying her, breathing with her. 

Self conscious, Buffy broke the silence between them, looking 
back toward the front of the bus. 

"Faith rocks." 

"Yeah, she really does. Now. Not so much before, but
now..." 

"Will?" Buffy sniffled. 

"Yeah?"

"I'm really scared." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I feel
like somehow, in a dream, I've opened some major trauma 
floodgate. This crying stuff, it slows down but then it keeps 
coming back. I can't seem to control it. Even after Mom,
Angel.. it wasn't this bad." 

"Then don't try to control it." Willow rested her chin on
Buffy's shoulder. "You mom, Angel, Spike, all of it, it needs to 
come out. Maybe the reason it wasn't as bad in the past is that 
you never really slowed down enough to feel it all. You couldn't 
really." 

"OK." Buffy moved forward slightly "...but...Will?" 

"What?"

"I'm afraid someone else will die. If I stop and cry." 

Willow leaned forward, moved both hands to either side of 
Buffy's face, gently tipping the slayer's head back against
her shoulder. "Not going to happen, Buff. I promise you." 

"Cause Faith's got it all under control?"

"Cause of that and cause of the new slayers, and of everything 
else that's happened. That time is over now. Sunnydale is over. 
It's all going to be different than it ever has been."

"No more weight of the world?"

"No more, I promise. And hey, my hair turned white, so I'm
not kidding around here. You can take it to the bank, missy." 
Willow glanced at Buffy's face, checking for some sign the slayer 
was getting the message.

"I'm weightless?" 

"Completely. The world's first weightless slayer."

"First living weightless slayer."

"Well, yeah, right." 

"So what does a weightless slayer do exactly?" Buffy was 
calming.

"You float a lot, let things happen around you, let other people 
handle it. Weigh in, delegate, consult. Maybe some gardening, 
napping."

"Rest on my laurels?" The slayer managed a sniffling giggle.

Willow took a deep breath, relieved. "Yeah, you're the Slayer 
Emeritus." 

The two sat for a while, watching the night outside the bus 
windows. 

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

Buffy's voice was smaller again. "This is real, right? You're
not talking to me inside my head or anything? And I'm not dead. 
I am alive, right?"

"We're both here, with everyone else, completely outside of
your head." Willow placed a kiss on Buffy's temple, and the 
Slayer leaned into it, closing her eyes.

After a few seconds, " 'Here with everyone else' meaning 'alive', 
right?"

"As previously discussed, see under "living weightless
slayer, taking it to the bank, et al. Besides, you've been dead 
before, and as I recall, there was no crying..." At this point Willow
trailed off, beginning to cry herself. 

"Will, we both know I wasn't supposed to leave." Buffy rocked the 
witch. "Suicide by sacrifice, not in the Powers That Be rule 
book. I cheated and someone had to set it right. I'm just so 
sorry it cost you so much." 

-----

The rest of that night was a blur of tears, snuggling, murmured 
comfort, and snatches of sleep. She remembered listening 
Xander sing along with Patsy, realizing that had the wedding 
gone off, he'd be a widower. Thinking he was still pretty much a 
widower anyway. 

Mostly, she remembered being wrapped in Willow.

And the memories, sensations, images, that followed in the 
wake of the initial tidal wave of grief. At first, the older more 
familiar ones in heavy random rotation:

Pieces of skin from her shredded fingers falling into her eyes 
and mouth as she tried to escape her coffin/Dad's car backing 
out the driveway for the last time ever/Mom's body on the gurney 
in the morgue/Angel's eyes when she killed him/Dawn's nails 
scratching at her in terror as she forced her down the basement 
stairs to be eaten by a demon/the angry whisper of Faith's 
breath on her face when she couldn't force the knife to go in any 
further/ pounding Spike's face until she couldn't recognize
it anymore/feeling Warren's bullet wrenched out of her chest, 
watching it float away, through the air, into Willow's
palm/Xander on his knees, tears rolling off the end of his nose 
as he tried to get Tara's blood out of the carpet/gingerly tracing 
the angry lump on Willow's forehead as she lay in a coma/the 
blood stain widening on Kendra's only shirt/the terrifying sound 
of Giles weeping outside the factory/ the smell hanging in the 
crisp night air after Warren exploded into nothing. 

Then gradually, the new ones came, just blurs still:

Xander screaming/Chloe's purple face/Willow not taking her 
side/Dawn kissing her goodbye after the betrayal/Spike's gritted 
teeth against the burning shaft of light/the smell of their flesh as 
their hands burned/the dull cracking sound of Amanda's skull as 
her body hit the ground/first realizing that Anya wasn't on the
bus. 

The pictures kept coming, too many more to bear yet.

More crying. More snuggling. More sleeping. Then morning 
sunlight. And finally, a hotel looming up in the distance. The bus 
creaking to a stop. Feeling more exhausted than she had ever 
felt in her life, anesthetized, wrapped in a fog, leaden, passive as 
Xander picked her up to carry her. Feeling her head lolling on his 
shoulder as he shifted her weight. Dully noting stray details 
while they waited as the injured were were slowly gathered up 
and carefully maneuvered down the aisle, off the bus first. 
Spike's voice again in her head: We band of buggered. 

Noticing Faith's chin trembling slightly as Kennedy helped her 
pull Robin up. Now they were moving again, Dawn shuffling 
down the aisle behind them, her hands on Buffy's head, making 
sure it didn't hit the bus door as she was carried out into the 
sunshine, Xander's breath on her neck as he strained carrying 
her up some stairs, into a room. Letting him lay her down on the 
pillows, reaching up to hold him close for an instant when he 
leaned down to kiss her forehead. Numbly watching Willow pull 
the curtains shut against the sun. Then she was out again.

Scene V

She woke up. Later. Hours, days, she wasn't sure. She knew it 
was early morning and her chest wasn't full of pain. 

Oh fuck, she WAS dead! Goddamn Willow for lying to her! 

She took a deep breath. 

OK, better. She was alive. Breath was good. It was raining 
outside. There was a television on in the room next door. 
Darkwing Duck. Definitely on the worldly plane. 

She was holding someone. A not-dead someone, a not-man 
someone. Someone who smelled delicious. Willow. Sleeping 
Willow. Curled right up against her, pressed into her. Willow's 
hands, palms up, like two little birds curled against Buffy's 
cleavage. Eyelashes close enough to count. Cheeks. Mouth. 
Red hair fluttering as Buffy breathed against it. Entangled limbs 
and the goose bumps thereon. Impossibly translucent flesh 
mapped with blue veins. Then suddenly, Willow, murmuring 
something in her sleep, turned facing away from Buffy, pushing 
backwards against the slayer, her butt nestling into Buffy's 
thighs.

This is new. The in bed holding of Willow, the in bed smells 
of Willow, unfamiliar changes in the best friend skin to clothing 
ratio. Has she ever felt Willow's unclothed thigh before? Ever 
watched her breasts rising and falling? Well that was a yes. But 
from this angle?

Even though Willow was asleep -- well who was she fooling--- 
because Willow was asleep, Buffy kissed the back of the witch's 
sweet neck. Holding her lips there for an instant, Buffy was 
conscious that she was attempting to sanctify this moment, that 
she wanted to always remember this instant. Waking in a clean 
room, wrapped in crisp sheets, listening to muffled cartoons, the 
steady sound of rain outside. Just her and Willow, spooning with 
Not crying. . No destiny, no future, no past. Not waiting 
for anything, just being there. Still and quiet and safe, alive. 

"Hey." Willow whispered, still facing away.

Buffy suddenly pulled away from Willow's neck, rolling away, 
back against her own pillow, eyes on the ceiling.

"Hey." Faking a yawn. "I have to pee." The slayer struggled 
against the covers to sit up. Every muscle in her body stiff and 
sore, she padded across to the bathroom, making a point not to 
turn on the fluorescent light above the sink. Not surprisingly, she 
really did have to pee. 

When she returned to the bed, Willow was up on one elbow, 
watching her, smiling. She pulled the covers aside and patted 
the mattress. "Here. Come back to bed." 

Buffy hoped the rustle of bedding covered the sharp sound of her 
catching her breath at that invitation as she crawled back into the 
warm sheets, facing the witch. Willow slid an arm under the 
slayer's neck and pulled her into a hug, then releasing her, gave 
her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"So, how do you feel?" 

"Stiff and store, but definitely better. You will note the absence of 
crying and wailing." Buffy self-consciously grinned. "What day is 
it? How long have we been here?" 

"We got here yesterday morning, about this same time. You've 
been out like a light since then." 

"Did I miss anything important?" Buffy felt a rise of panic, quickly 
replaced by exhaustion. 

"Nope, not to worry. Everyone else is pretty much just sleeping, 
watching tv, hanging out in the cafe, swimming in the pool." 
Willow yawned, stretching. "The management seems to think 
we're some sort of youth group. And possibly that Giles is a 
minister." 

The two friends shared a quiet chuckle and Buffy felt herself 
relaxing. 

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Buffy reached out and curls a strand of red hair around 
her fingers. "Sorry to go all psycho back there." 

"Hush." Willow closed her hand around Buffy's fingers. "You 
didn't go psycho. You reacted pretty much according to the 
specs for a standard, living human being who'd just survived a 
hellish battle and lost several people you loved. All after a long 
hellish year full of struggle and pain. Several hellish years, if 
we're counting." 

"So you're not freaked out?"

"Why would I be? I'd be more freaked if you had stayed all stoic 
and emotionless much longer." 

"I just...needed you so much. When I'm broken, you're the one I 
need to fix me." Buffy's words came out in a tumbled rush, full of 
raw emotion, then she was suddenly self conscious again, not 
meeting the witch's eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you, 
Will." 

Willow reached to pull Buffy back to her. "I don't know what I'd do 
without you either." 

They lay there a few minutes longer, listening as the rain slowed 
outside.

Buffy spoke first. "So. I'm gonna have to give you back soon, 
huh?"

Willow gave her a questioning look.

"To Kennedy." Buffy explained, "I'm gonna have to give you back 
soon." 

The witch looked into Buffy's gray eyes and spoke quietly, with no 
trace of teasing. "Not till you're ready."

Holding her glance, the slayer answered just as seriously. 

"OK." She paused. "Then... just so you know... I'm not ready."