Fic: The Scene (2/2) B/W Strong R

I stop walking.

Willow comes up to me and takes my arm into her warm hands. Nothing feels
real; and yet, at the same time, it feels too real. I see the sleeve of my
coat has a long rip in it, so Willow tears it open. The sound of the
ripping fabric is so loud that I jerk away from her to cover my ears.

"Buffy? Buffy, look at me...." I hear her voice as if she's speaking
underwater. I can barely make sense of her words. "We have to get home,"
She tells me as her hot hand grips my chin making me face her--I don't want
to face her--because it's the mugger's eyes I see staring back at me.

I have to stop the mugger from screaming--I have to stop me from
screaming--from breaking.

"Buffy!" She shouts, and I see my bloody claw just a few inches from her
neck. "Buffy, please, just let me take care of you," she pleads as a single
tear leaks from her eye and tracks slowly down her face. I watch as her
lips keep moving as if she's talking and yet there is no sound. I see a few
strands of bright red hair get lifted up by a cold breeze and carried into
her face. She angrily brushes them aside.

All I can feel is her need, her need for me to forgive her, her need to fix
what she has broken.

Her need for me to love her.

Need, that's all she's made of up of at the moment.

Any gentle thoughts of love are drowned in the deluge of emotion.

Need, want, desire for forgiveness.

My needs for sanity, for space, for just the simple friendship that we once
shared doesn't matter to her. She's the avalanche that rolls down the hill
destroying everything in its path.

I hate her. I hate her selfishness.

I hate me for still loving her. I hate that all I want to do at night, when
the nightmares attack, is to go to her and lose myself in her warmth. I
hate that all I want to do right now is fall into her arms and let her take
care of me.

I can't. I can't forgive her. I can't let myself be weak enough to love
her. If I forgive her, then I'll break. It's all that's holding me
together.

She reaches for my injured arm, and uses her belt to tie the sleeve of my
coat closed. It's not meant to stop the bleeding, just to keep the blood from
falling onto the ground.

"Let's get home before some nasty comes looking for a meal," Willow says
earnestly. The warmth of her hand is seeping through the layers of my
clothing.

"You're warm," I tell her, looking down at her hand holding my arm up to
keep the bleeding down.

"And you're going into shock," Willow tugs on my injured arm to
get me to start walking again. I just stand there. I don't want to go
home. I don't want to let her feel better for taking care of me.

"No," I force the word through lips numb with cold.

I don't want to fall asleep with her hot hands bandaging my wound like we
used to do . . . before.

"Buffy, you're going into shock," she pleads with me as her warmth begins
to seep into my arm. "We need to get you home before you pass out." She
continues trying to convince me to move with her.

Her need is changing flavor. She's becoming outwardly focused. I watch as
her eyes glance around at all the dark shadows; I feel it as her need
changes from selfish to selfless.

It's such a relief not to be pounded with all her guilt that I feel like I
can breathe for the first time since leaving the Bronze.

She's afraid.

But her fear I can handle because she's not forcing it on me.

Her fear is rising up and she squeezes the cut on my arm without knowing it.

The pain that shoots through me is... refreshing.

"Buffy!" Willow yells again to get my attention focused back on her instead
of on the physical pain. I look up at her big luminous eyes. They almost
seem to be glowing in the darkness or are they glowing with darkness? There
is something about them that draws me.

"Please start walking towards home," She begs quietly. I know that she's
really getting frightened that some big bad is out here just waiting to
pounce on the helpless Slayer.

Only I'm not helpless. Neither is Willow. She's just afraid. She is
afraid to use her power, her magic. Afraid of making a mistake, like she
did with me.

I am the constant reminder of her biggest mistake.

The mugger's face swims back into my mind's eye.

"I-I hurt him," I tell her, suddenly horrified at what I did. I turn and
easily pull away from her. "I need to go back; I need to go fix my
mistake." I take two steps and my spider sense flares up. I go into Slayer
mode.

I look around trying to find the vampire, only to have him step in front of
me.

"Slayer," Spike greets me. Then he makes a show of turning to Willow.
"Red." Willow walks up to me and places her hand on my shoulder
protectively. That nearly makes me laugh; now she wants to protect me?

"From the fine smell of Slayer blood, I figured you could use some help."
Spike says, blocking my path back to the alley, where I left my victim.

I hear a relieved sigh from Willow.

"Yes, Buffy was hurt and I was trying to convince her to come home with me
before any vamps...." Willow starts talking again. I can tell by the way
Spike is standing that he expects some kind of fight. Whether from me or from
some nasty, I don't know.

"Well Slayer, seems to me you can't do anything for the bugger in the alley,
'sides Red there already dialed up help for him. So why don't we just move
along back to Casa'de Summers?" Spike walks forward slowly, his
arms out at his sides as if he was trying to tame a wild animal.

Now that Willow is no longer holding onto my arm, both the warmth and the
pain go away, leaving me--cold--again. A shiver works its way up my spine
and I feel my teeth begin to chatter.

"Buffy." I hear Willow next to me but the tunnel effect is back and I can
barely understand her. She grabs my chin turning me towards her. "I said,
Buffy, you are going into shock. Let me get you home." Her warm fingers
feel so good against my skin that I would follow her anywhere, just if she
would hold me.

Hold me without guilt or pain; just simply hold me. How can I tell her
that? How can I ever make her understand that all I want is her warmth?
That I don't want her guilt over pulling me out of heaven; I don't need for
her to be in pain all the time, all I really want is my best friend back.
The one I could say I love you to or tell her, 'you hurt me or I don't want
to live in this world, but I will, just so I can be close to you.'

"Com'on luv, let me give you...." Spike's arms go around me as Willow steps
back. The spark of fire flares and I am so angry that it burns all the
coldness, all the hate away. The mugger couldn't handle my rage; Willow is
even more fragile. Spike is an acceptable target. Spike is my match....

The first punch knocks him on his ass ten feet away from me. Willow is
horrified; Willow is upset at the violence.

Willow can go or stay, it doesn't matter. In this one moment with the rage
burning a path through me, nothing matters. Not even Willow. Just the fire
inside of me, warming me, waking me up.

"What'd you do that for?" Spike says, rubbing his jaw with his hand, while he is still lying on the ground. He's the only one I can't feel, he's the only one who doesn't
overload me with their wants or wishes to be forgiven. Right now, he's
playing the martyr for Willow. I stalk over to him, giving him plenty of
time to get up and fight, before I kick him in the ribs. I hear the crunch
of three going....

"That's going to hurt in the morning," I pull my leg back for
another kick. He grabs it and twists making me fall. Then he's sitting on
top of me, on my stomach, trying to capture my arms so he can pin them
down.... It's just a simple move to bring my legs up, wrap them around
his shoulders and pull him off of me. I jump to my feet and something human
grabs around me.

I look down, and it's Willow. She's grabbed me from behind, her arms
wrapped around me in a pathetic attempt to keep me from beating Spike.

"Buffy, stop," she orders. And I do stop, because Willow does matter. She
is the only one that can snuff out the flame as if it wasn't there. But she?s
is also the reason there is rage.

"I'm cold," I tell her over my shoulder.

"I know," she answers.

She thinks she has all the answers. She doesn't, I'm cold because I left
the most important part of me in the damp earth when I dug my way out.

"Let me take you home?" she asks and her arm guides me around away from the
bloody corpse that is Spike.

"Ok," I let her guide me through the night.

I have lost the one thing I need--love--that's what I left behind when I
clawed myself out the grave.

There are only two things in the world that can make me warm. One is rage.
The other is love.

"Willow." She stops and turns to me. I can't say it. So she turns back
and we continue towards the house that is no longer my home.

                            ______________________________________________

I lie on my bed in just my bra and panties with a thick blanket pulled up to
my chest. The blanket is made of wool from the 'Highlands' that Giles
brought back as a gift for mom when he went to see the council last month
. . . . No, it was last year. I was dead for 148 days. Nearly half of a year.
Giles went to see the council almost a full year ago. Mom and I were so
worried about Dawn being the Key.

I shiver with the cold. The gooseflesh rises up on my arms as I try to
burrow deeper into the bed and blanket. For wool, the blanket is soft, and
it should keep me warm. I pull it up to my face with my good hand; I don't
want the smell of blood to ruin it. Right now it smells of the two people
that I love the most in the world, the two people that used to mean safety
and love--Giles and Mom.

"Ok, Buffy, let me see your arm," Willow comes into the room and
sitts down by the bed with the medical kit. It should be Giles sitting
there instead. Mom never liked it when I got hurt, so I would always go to
Giles, and he would call her with some kind of excuse. An excuse that she
would pretend to believe, only when I got home the next morning her laser
mom eyes would search for the bandages. When she found them, she would turn
away so I wouldn't see her tears and then ask me if I wanted pancakes... I
never felt so loved.

I think I was with Mom... I mean, I remember a presence that was Mom. I
think that?s why it was so warm there, because Mom, Grandie, and Ceily
were all there and holding me.

Willow takes my bloody arm in her hands and some of the blood smears the
blanket. Red on white.

"Oh, I'm sorry Buffy! I'll wash it when I'm done. It'll be good as new I
promise." She continues and I think she doesn't know. She didn't know. I
look at the red on white again. Now the blanket will smell of blood and
pain and anger instead of safety and love.

Now I am cold.

She didn't know.

She couldn't know.

Red on white.

Willow is bent over my arm studying it, trying to figure out the best way to
attach the muscle back to the bone.

I'm so cold.

She didn't know.

Red on white. Suddenly, there is more red. The red is growing and soaking
the white through. Little droplets, big circles of red spraying across the
white. Creating a pattern in the blanket like a tie-dyed tee shirt.

I wonder where it came from?

I see my bloody claw. I don't believe it.   I lift it up in fascination.
The rivulets of red dance down my arm from my hand. I wonder at the
brilliance of the color.

Then my gaze is drawn to Willow. Her blank eyes are staring at me as her
blood continues to spray my bed.

I didn't know.

I couldn't know.

I look back at my hand and to make sure what I'm seeing is real. In my
dirty, bloody claw, the same dirt and grime I had caked under my fingernails
when I clawed my way out of my coffin... is Willow's heart.

I hear a gurgling noise and my eyes are drawn to her face.

"Why, Buffy? Why?" I hear her voice clearly. The same question I want her
to answer. The same question I want to ask....

"Why, Willow, Why?" I jerk awake.

"Why what, Buffy?" Willow asks, walking into my bedroom.

                        ______________________________________________

The sun is shining brightly through the window and I look down at my
neatly-bandaged arm. My body feels heavy, weighted, and my mind is fuzzy.
I think if I just rolled over I could go back to sleep.

"Why did you pull me out of heaven?" The words are out and in the air
before I'm awake enough pull them back. Willow stops in the middle of the
room and flinches, as if I just sucker punched her in the gut with Slayer
strength. All color drains from her face as she slowly pivots around
towards me. Her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

"What... how... finally!" She gasps out the words, standing straighter with
each one until she nearly shouts the last. I push myself up so that I'm
sitting and I think the weakness in my body is caused by more than blood
loss from the night before....

"You drugged me!" Now it's my turn to nearly shout at her. The anger tries
to rise up, only I feel disconnected from it. Disconnected from my body.
Disconnected from my life. I don't want to live like this. Who am I
kidding? I don't want to live, period.

"Yes, I did," Willow admits and crosses her arms in a purely defensive
gesture. I just stare at her, trying to get her to turn away or to leave.
I want to be alone, I don't want to talk or try to act normal, whatever
normal was for me, I didn't remember.

"I didn't know I was pulling you out of heaven." Willow mumbles, trying to
stare me down. Why is Willow mumbling if she is also staring at me?
Passive-aggressive much?

Willow never challenges people like this, she never stares. She confuses me
for a moment while I replay our conversation... or lack of conversation.
The drug she used is clouding my mind.

I realize that I'm supposed to say something now. I don't know what I can
say to her. I try to run things through, try to think beyond the fogginess
and can't, so I do the last thing I wanted to do. I'm honest.

"No, you didn't know because you didn't think, you didn't research it," I
accuse, I know that my eyes are hardening, that the Slayer is peeking out,
and for a second I see her eyes flicker away from mine. That moment gives
her away as my words replay in my head. Since when has Willow not
researched the Hell out of every major spell? That means she did research
it and if she did research it that means.... Rage burns away the coldness
and the last of the drug.

I fly out of the bed, I can feel the need to hurt her rise up, it's so
overwhelming. All I would have to do is take two steps and then I could
make her hurt, like I'm hurting right now. She stands there, she just
stands there staring at me, knowing that the Slayer would take that as
threat--she doesn't move or try to defend her actions--I want to feel the
bones in her neck break under my hands. I want my dream to come true, I
want to crush my hand into her chest and pull out her heart. Then stuff it down
her throat before she dies.

And... I see defeat in her sad eyes.

She wants to die, she doesn't want to live. I don't understand.

Words begin to form, pushing back the rage, the need for blood.

"You knew!" I scream at her. "You knew, and you did it anyway!"

She flinches away from my words. Killing her wouldn't hurt her enough,
words have the true power.

I let the tears come, I let the pain I've been feeling show on the outside,
I want her to hurt. And if the only way I can hurt her is by letting her see my
pain, then so be it.

"How could you do this to me?" My voice cracking as my breath starts to
come in great heaving gasps. I can't breathe and I don't want to, as my
knees give out and I fall to the floor at her feet.

"How could you betray me?" I yell as loud as I can, and through my blurry
vision I see her resolve crumbling.

I hear Xander, Spike, and Dawn run into the room.

"Buffy?" Dawn's startled cry causes me to instinctively try to gain control,
only I stop the reaction. I grab onto Willow's legs letting my pain pour
out, as I scream at her.

"How could you!" I scream and scream at her. I imagine that all my pain is
flowing into her. My fingernails are digging in her pants leg and leaving
bloody trails where I cut her and still she stands there, stoic tears
running down her face.

"Buff, back off," I vaguely hear Xander. Then he and Spike are pulling me
away from her. And still she stands there like some kind of statue, taking it
in and accepting all my anger, all my pain at being back! My throat is
hurting from my screaming and my voice is the barest of whispers; Spike and
Xander have somehow pinned me to my bed.

Still, I try to keep screaming, "How could you betray me!"

Dawn has a syringe in her hand and I know what they plan to do. So I
redouble my efforts to squirm away from my captors. What started out as
something to hurt Willow, has turned into more.

I feel the slight sting as Dawn injects whatever it was into me. So I know
time is short, I?ll never have this chance again. I know that I?ve
frightened everyone badly. And I know that I'd been asking the wrong
question of Willow. It wasn't how could she betray me, it was why. The
drug has taken the hysterical edge off and I start to float.

I look up into her tear-streaked face, and ask my question: "Why did you
bring me back?"

And she crumbles. That is the question that causes her to crumble; she
topples forward onto her knees. Spike and Xander climb off me and the bed,
now that I'm no longer fighting them. So I'm able to sit up and slide off
the side until I'm on my knees facing her.

She reaches out and cups my cheek in her hand, then softly brushes a strand
of hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. Willow gives me such a
soft, gentle smile that is so full of pain, of all the pain I just poured
into her... that my heart shatters.

"Why?" my voice is gone, so it's no louder than my breath.

"Because I couldn't live without you," she whispers back and then my Willow
collapses against me and now she's screaming. "Please, please, forgive me.
Please, I'll go away, I will, just please live."

I lean back against the bed and pull her into my arms to cradle her like a baby. I don't know if it's the drug that making me so calm or if it is exhaustion after such a release....

I put my finger over her soft mouth. I need her to hear me; I need for her
to understand. "Will, Willow, shuss." She swallows, once twice. "Breathe
with me, Will," I tell her, taking deep breaths. She follows my lead like
the most trusting child. She looks up with her tear-filled green eyes with
such love.

"Will," I pause. I know I'm going to hurt her, and unlike just a few
moments ago, I don't want to ever cause her pain again. "Will," I begin
again, "I will never be able to forgive you."

She shatters, she's lying in my arms, and she shatters. She slowly closes
her eyes, blocking my only window into her, my only escape route from
myself, so I shake her slightly.

That causes her protectors to take a step forward. Dawn is standing with
her arms crossed at the foot of my bed, with Xander and Spike in identical
poses behind her.

I take Willow's chin in my hand and see Spike tense. He knows that if I
just twist her head, I would snap her neck like a twig. Only I don't want
to now, so I give her the gentlest of shakes. I know I don't have a lot of
control over my strength at the moment, so I try to be extra careful.

Willow doesn't react so I shake her again and say "Will, please open your
eyes, please. I have to be able to see them when I tell you."

Her baby greens blink open. "You already said you could never forgive me?"
And I nod to her.

"That's true, but I do love you." I tell her, watching her eyes intently as
they open wider in surprise and happiness. Her arms wrap around my neck and
I'm pulled down into a small chaste kiss on the lips. I let the other shoe
drop, I have to be honest with her. "Will there's more." I hesitate. "I
still don't want to live."

I hear the collective gasps from the others, like that?s news or something.
My Will, though, she just nods. "I know, Buffy. I know... I'm going to
help," she tells me stroking my arm with her hand.

I shrug my shoulders. I can't believe how calm I am, how cleansing all this
feels. Again I wonder if it's the drug. "I don't know, baby, I just don't
know how."

She accepts the name and she reaches up to kiss me on the cheek. "Then let
me help you, let us help you find out how to live again." Her eyes spill
over with tears once more and I--I can't say a word.

I can only nod and then I'm wrapped in the love of my family.

And I think I might want to live . . . if I can have my Willow.