Plesant angst...lol...wonderful!
Silverna <silvernawolfe@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Made From Demon
by Silverna
(silvernawolfe@xxxxxxxxx)
This is a stand-alone romantic fic.
DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own Buffy and
Co. Grizzle, Argh!
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: Set just after the show, post-Chosen. B/W
* * *
Buffy sat alone in the backseat of the bus, staring
out the dust-smeared back window, staring back towards
the past. Sunnydale: home of the hellmouth, now a
giant crater, yawned and smoked. The bus started up;
launched forward with a roar. Buffy clutched the top
of the seat and stared as they rumbled away. There it
was, Sunnydale revealed for what it truly was,
receding as they pulled away from it, away from
everything she'd lived for during seven long years of
trial and pain.
"Goodbye," she whispered, stretching out one hand palm
up on the window, in a
kind of
farewell forever. She
watched as the crater got further and further away,
until she had to squint to see it still. She watched
through the dust stirred off the road by the bus,
obscuring her view. She watched when she couldn't see
it any longer. She watched it on her mind's eye.
"Freaky huh?" said a familiar, well-beloved voice.
She'd know that voice in her sleep. She'd know it in
the midst of the most adrenaline-pumping slay. She'd
know it when mostly unconscious, as the precious owner
of that voice lifted a bullet out of her chest by
magic alone. She'd know it when it spoke into her mind
telepathically, telling her it planned to destroy the
very world.
"Willow," she whispered, as she stared blindly out the
window.
"Buffy," said Willow, and she felt her best friend
sitting beside her, resting a gentle hand along her
shoulder blades.
"It's over," said Buffy, staring.
"I know," said Willow, and h
er voice
was shaking with
something. Relief? The shock of it all? Buffy finally
managed to turn her head and saw that Willow's face
was wet with tears.
"I just, y'know, never thought it would be. That it
could be," choked out the witch. Her green eyes were
large with imploring Buffy for something, something
important to them both. Buffy could see that, but she
couldn't see what she should say.
"It is," she said instead. "We're here. Hell froze
over. You did great with the major mojo, Will, you
really came through for me. Big guns blazing."
"I'm scared," said the witch, and her lip was
trembling. Buffy shuffled to face her bodily,
accommodatingly, and felt Willow clutch at her hand.
The slayer looked down at their joined hands. This was
familiar when nothing else was.
"Me too," she admitted and she winced as she heard her
voice crack. "The big unknown...what happens now?"
"Anything could," said Willow, and l
ooked
down at
their hands too. "Anything you want." She looked up,
face white, eyes afraid. Buffy smiled reassuringly.
Willow usually looked like that when she was about to
do something very brave.
"Like what?" teased the slayer. "We move somewhere
monsterless?"
"Could be," said Willow nervously. "Or we could even
go to a karaoke bar. Or hey, a Cher concert!"
Buffy groaned theatrically. But she was still smiling.
"Or," said Willow, babble-mode activated, "we could
start a Christmas tree farm. Or not. I am Jewish.
Well, maybe we could write a novel of our glory days
and change all the names. Make a bundle. And then we
could tour the world. Or uh, go to London! London's
great, if chilly; you'd really like it, Buffy."
"We could," said Buffy. It was nice to see Willow
acting so...Willowy. Like before Tara.
"We could do anything," repeated Willow, obviously
with something in there that she was trying to
say.
"We could fulfill all our," she looked down shyly,
"wildest fantasies."
"You mean I could visit a cheese factory?" Buffy was
joking.
Willow shook her head. Buffy watched her. So, not
joking then.
"Nope, although yeah, you could, but I was thinking
more that we could do the things we've always secretly
wanted to do. Say what we've been longing to say." The
witch peeked up.
"I secretly want to die," said Buffy. She felt stupid
saying it, this profound and shameful truth, but hey,
she wanted to help Willow out here. And it was just
after the end of the world as they knew it.
Willow stared at her, eyes huge and growing huger.
"You do? Oh! Oh that's bad. Uh, please don't."
"Okay," said Buffy easily. She squeezed Willow's hand.
"I'll try wanting to live."
"Good," said Willow, "good, and you better, or who
knows what I'll do."
Buffy smirked but her eyes were slate grey and
seriou
s. Who
knew indeed?
"I don't want to die," went on Willow, "but y'know
what? I did once, Buffy. After you...after you..." She
stumbled to an ungraceful stop. Her cheeks were
flushing and her eyes were fused back onto their
hands.
"I know," admitted Buffy quietly. Of course she knew
that. Everything that had happened after only made
sense in that one light.
"Then you must also know," said Willow, hands
clutching Buffy's in a suddenly painful grip, "that
I've always loved you." She looked up quickly, all
resolve-face and clearly petrified. "Not just kinda
love."
"No," agreed Buffy. "More." She didn't look away.
Peripheral noise of peripheral people on the bus faded
completely from her senses. It was just her and
Willow. In some sense it had always been.
"Buffy?" said Willow earnestly, and it was the biggest
question of all.
"Do I kinda love you too?" Buffy teased. She couldn't
resist. She wasn't
good with
the big pressure and
searching gazes. Willow sniffled, and Buffy relented.
"Do I love you more too?" she said instead. Willow
tensed and closed her eyes. Buffy stared at that
familiar face, elfin, faintly lined now, childish and
wise-woman-of-the-west all at once. She watched as
Willow licked her lips, maybe in anticipation of what
might happen next, and finally, finally, re-opened her
rather unfocused eyes and looked back into Buffy's.
"Will," she said, her gentlest voice, usually reserved
for hurt-Dawn. "I don't know how to tell you this."
Willow froze. Buffy watched her closely, could feel
the witch's hands go utterly stiff in her own.
Willow's eyes were like frozen pools of green-glade
ice now. Any moment Buffy expected them to crack wide
open, and Dark Willow, that other side of her Willow,
to come boiling out.
Buffy sighed, and spoke her answer with certainty. "I
don't love anybody."
"What?" Will
ow's eyes
didn't crack. She un-froze and
looked shocked and maybe a little angry. "You what?"
"Myself maybe," Buffy joked. If only this tension
would break and dissipate. "Well, maybe not terribly
much if recent events are any indication."
"You don't love me?" Willow was hurt. Buffy hated that
kicked-puppy look the witch did so well. "Even with
the best-friendliness and...and...cookies?"
Buffy stared at her. How odd that Willow should put it
that way. Cookie Dough. She felt a wave of deja vu
sweeping over her, and fought its allure. This was not
the time to daydream. This was the time to apologize.
"Sorry," she said weakly. "I didn't mean I don't count
you my best friend in the universe. Just that I don't
have the big love in me. Or much of any love, really.
It's all been booted out to make room for y'know," she
shifted uncomfortably in place, "the slayer."
"Baloney!" said Willow, yanking her hands back to
her
self.
Buffy tried not to miss their warm comfort.
She was noticing that the witch looked very irate and
was being too loud for Buffy's liking. Probably
attracting the attention of all the others. Or of, God
forbid, just Kennedy. "I hate that," Willow was
snapping out. "It's always the slayer this, I have
demon-blood that."
"I do," said Buffy. She shuddered. It wasn't exactly
her favorite discovery about being the Chosen One.
Make that Chosen One of Many now.
"So what?" Willow rolled her eyes. "You're part demon,
and so are hundreds of other apparently normal teenage
girls. Anya was an ex-demon with people blood all over
her everything, but we were her friends. Spike was a
demon, and he figured out how to love someone. You!
Did you ever stop to think about how...how...amazing
that is? Amazing! And what about me, huh? I came this
close," she held her thumb and finger up in
demonstration, about an inch apart, "to ending
the
whole world. The world, Buffy! And I'm just a
miserable excuse for a human being. I have no demon to
blame it on. Nothing but my grief and my soul. But I
notice nobody else we know engaged in world-endage to
slake grief, so I suppose it must be my darn soul.
Must be defective."
"It's not defective," said Buffy, looking everywhere
but at Willow. She felt more stupid than usual.
Willow ignored this. "I can see past a pint of demon.
Doesn't bother me, nuh-uh. To me, you're just Buffy.
You always have been, and here and now, seven years
later and with you a heck of a lot less perky, you're
still Buffy. My best friend. So what about you, huh?
Can't look past my defective soul?"
"It's not defective," repeated Buffy. She felt cold
all over. "I just don't love anyone. I don't think I'm
capable of it."
"Double-baloney!" accused Willow, actually shaking her
(shaking) finger in Buffy's face. "What about Angel
,
huh?
You sure loved him. I listened to you cry and
bemoan his stupid shifty-about soul for weeks on end,
Buffy! Are you telling me you didn't love him?"
"No," said Buffy, feeling helpless to explain
sufficiently, "of course I did. Then. But this is now,
and things are different." She felt frustrated with
the not getting through to Willow. What would it take
so that the witch got with her program?
"And then there were all those times you saved me,
Xander, your mom, Giles..." Willow was ticking her
list off with her fingers. "And you seemed pretty
upset when we got hurt or frightened. You loved us, go
on, admit it!"
Buffy held her hands up. "Hey, I admit it. But now..."
"Now," interrupted Willow, pinning Buffy's evasive
eyes with her own at last. "Now you've saved us all.
Again. Now it's time for you to rest. Gather your
resources. Be the most courageous person I know. Find
a way to regain your faith in your own
humanity.
You'll love again." She had reached out to cup Buffy's
cheek, and Buffy found herself leaning against
Willow's hand, helpless against some sort of
magnetic-type pressure. Willow was whispering now, her
face coming in close. "You'll learn how to be loved,
Buffy. Really let yourself be loved for all of you.
You're wonderful, y'know. I've always thought so. You
should let yourself be loved. Allow yourself for the
first time."
"Sounds like a lot of love," Buffy joked, moving back
at last, away from that stabilizing hand she wanted to
keep feeling, soft against her face. She couldn't help
it, this joking and moving backwards. She couldn't
handle scenes like this and the emotional intensity.
She saw Willow's face crumble and her gaze turn
inwards, but Buffy couldn't help it. She felt bad, but
she didn't love Willow now, so there, that was okay
then? Was it okay?
Willow had closed her eyes again, and was le
aning
back
against the seat, arms folded defensively over her
chest. Buffy eyed her. Was she crying?
"This is so not how I pictured this turning out,"
Willow mumbled to her, still with closed eyes. "This
is like a hellmouthy worst-case scenario."
"Hey now," said Buffy, eager to patch things up if
they could be patched. "It wasn't that bad. We're
still best friends."
"In what sense of the word?" Willow sounded
challenging and had opened one eye to study Buffy. The
slayer felt surprised to note that she wasn't crying.
"In um best-friendliness and uh, cookies sense," she
said, and almost smacked herself upside the head.
Again with the stupid cookies.
"So," checked Willow, "that means we're back to
sleepovers, self-disclosure at three in the morning,
and you touching me all the time, with friendly
bear-hugs and shoulder-touches and hair-brushing?"
"Uh, sure," said Buffy blinking. Now that Willow
ment
ioned it,
that kind of best-friendliness hadn't
been ensuing for years.
"Guess we'll have to get a house," said Willow,
opening the other suspiciously-bright eye. "To
sleepover in."
"Um," said Buffy.
"You suck as a best friend," said Willow, now pouting
at her. Buffy wondered if that was anger she was
reading there. Or hurt? Or anger and hurt in a
volatile mix?
"You're not so best-friendly yourself," she found
herself pointing out defensively, and clapped a hand
over her mouth in shock. She so didn't want to go
there! What was she doing?
"Oh, Oh! Is that what this is?" said Willow, now
definitely angry. "This is some kind of 'point out how
me kicking your butt all over the magick box' wasn't
the act of an uh, especially good friend, huh? Huh?"
"Well it wasn't!" almost screamed Buffy, fists
clenching at her sides. Willow could make her so mad!
"Like you letting me cry alone wasn't all with the
g
ood?"
accused Willow, her own fists balling. "When Oz
left and you were Riley-obsessive?" Buffy gasped at
her. Willow was back in her face again, shrieking the
rest of her rant. "And how 'bout when I did the big
gay revelation thing? You just spent less and less
time with me like it was payback or something. And
then you ignored the magic addict thing until it
suited you to be telling me off! You teller-offerer!
Like you weren't doing the exact same thing with a
certain blond vampire! Hello! Wake up and smell the
uh, uh, parallel!"
"You were never there for me either," hissed Buffy,
barely resisting the urge to plant her hands on
Willow's chest, and shove her back away. Hard. The
slayer's voice was low and hard instead. "When Tara
came on the scene you were always with her. Never with
me. And when you selfishly, yeah, totally selfishly
dragged me out of heaven, you were all with the giant
emotional pressure. 'Are you bette
r yet,
Buffy? How
‘bout now? Now? How ‘bout now?' You didn't really care
what I was going through. And then you friggin' tried
to end the world! My God, Willow, that's what the
villains do. The villains that are gonna kill me,
probably one day soon? What were you thinking?! And
you just kept going and going and you wouldn't listen,
and you wouldn't stop..."
"I couldn't stop!" Willow interrupted her. She placed
both hands on Buffy's shoulders in what the slayer
perceived was meant as a calming gesture.
The slayer tensed unbearably and waited. She was
surprised to feel tears on her own face; less
surprised to see them coursing down Willow's again.
"Tara was gone forever," whispered Willow, choking to
a stop.
Buffy eyed her. She had to say it. The words
irresistibly rushed out. "I'm not Tara."
"What am I, blind?" Willow snapped and Buffy fought to
take a calming breath. She was so angry! Not to
mention h
urt at
the awful things Willow was saying.
And cut apart with guilt over the truth behind the
tearful accusations. And filled with compassion for
the woman before her, the weeping woman who had been
through so much and still seemed to have to go through
more.
"I could never forget," said Willow, shaking her by
the shoulders just a little, "that Tara wasn't you."
"What?" gasped out Buffy, too shocked to say anything
else.
"I loved her so much," Willow was crying again,
beating one hand lightly against Buffy's shoulder. "So
much it was like breaking apart when she died. I
needed her so badly. But you ruined it all!"
"I did not," said Buffy, deeply offended now. How
could Willow say that?
"Did too," sniffed Willow. "I knew I liked girls
because I liked you, Buffy. You. And when I fell for
Tara, and I gave up the dream of you, well, I could
never re-make the dream as her, the way I wanted to.
Needed to. Sh
e sensed
that, I sometimes thought, or
maybe she didn't. She never said anything. And I tried
and tried," her fists had started pounding again,
tears falling faster, "I tried to have the
world-shaking love of everything with her,"
"That doesn't exist," said Buffy.
Willow ignored her. "I tried, and we got so close, but
I did bad and I cared more about the magic, I wanted
to impress you so badly. To be a big uber witch who
could sl...slay with the best of them and who wouldn't
be told to stay at home all the time. Who could save
you sometimes." Willow looked completely miserable.
"And Tara left me and I loved her so much! And then
she came back and it was like, the greatest thing ever
but then she died, and it's not fair, because she was
innocent. She loved me so much. It was the best thing
that ever happened to me. And you were so cold and so
far away, and you didn't love me, you never did, and
because of you, I couldn't b
e the
Willow that Tara
deserved, so you see, it's all your fault."
"It is not," said Buffy firmly. Of this much she was
sure. Inwardly she was reeling at the revelations,
outwardly she was calm with being in charge. "Will,
you are way too much projecting the blame here. No
matter what you felt, no matter what I felt, it is in
no way my fault that you..."
"What?" Willow interrupted, eyes snapping up to
Buffy's, hands clenching firmly on her shoulders in
sudden tension.
"What?" said Buffy, confused.
"You said," repeated Willow, enunciating each word
carefully, "'no matter what I felt’. As in about me.
You. Felt. Something."
"No," denied Buffy.
"Yes," said Willow, suddenly gleeful in that way the
slayer had only ever known Willow to get. Like a
naughty little girl.
"No way," said Buffy.
"Yes way!" Willow released her to actually pump one
fist in the air.
Buffy folded her arms stubb
ornly and
glared. "I. Feel.
Nothing."
Willow was laughing through her tears. "That's what
you'd like to think, huh? Yeah it is!" She put on a
cave-slayer type voice. "Big strong slayer, me feel
nothing, me love no-one."
"Willow!" Buffy was chagrined. She wished Willow would
stop this...infernal teasing.
"You feel for me though," Willow fluttered her
eyelashes dramatically at Buffy who gasped and leaned
back. "Or you felt before your feelings all dried up
and went poof. Poof! Like magic."
"I think someone's over-extended themselves," griped
the slayer, rolling her eyes and doing her best to
bring this situation back into her control.
"Well, I'm sorry Buffy," said Willow, leaning back too
and regarding the slayer with big solemn eyes. "I
can't be with you, no matter what you might feel or
have felt or maybe, will feel."
"What?" said Buffy, shocked again. She felt like
Willow had punched her hard and it
wasn't a
nice
feeling.
"You have demon blood, Buffy," explained Willow,
shaking her head from side to side. "Or demonic
origins or whatever. And I am a human. Cream of the
universe, just like Xander seems to think. I could
never be with a part-demon hybrid like you." Her eyes
were hard and uncompromising.
"What?" said Buffy. Was Willow playing with her? What
was happening here?
"So," said Willow with dramatic flair, "I guess that's
the end of possible-us."
"The end? repeated Buffy. Her world was whirling
around her head. Her eyes were fuzzing over.
"We probably should terminate the friendship too,"
said Willow, "since we seem to suck so much at it."
"No, don't do that," Buffy managed weakly then.
"You're a good friend. Me, I'm the sucky friend. I
take full responsibility."
"What if I don't want to be friends anymore," said
Willow, looking away.
Buffy suddenly felt desperate. It was strange
.
"No!"
she said quickly. "Don't say that, Will. You take away
your friendship and I'll...I'll die." There, it was
out. She was too far gone to not put that out there.
Willow's eyes were on hers again, irresistibly drawing
her in. "Oh," the witch was saying, far too casually.
"I guess that means you feel like how I said I felt
that one time when you died. Like I'd died too."
"Um, yes," said Buffy, drowning in Willow's eyes.
"So you love me?" guessed the witch.
"I kinda do," admitted the slayer. She actually
smirked a little, the anxiety fading away to some dark
place of herself. She could see again, see where
Willow was going with this.
"You want to be all with the best-friendliness?"
re-checked the witch.
"Forever," said Buffy.
"And if I kissed you?" said the witch.
"I'd freak," admitted Buffy, honestly.
Willow's face fell, but she did sport a sort-of smile.
"Yeah," she said, "you
really
would."
"So I'd better kiss you instead," said Buffy, leaning
over towards her best friend in the universe. She
watched Willow start and swallow hard. The slayer
swallowed hard herself. And leaned in, closer, closer,
and...
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