Having convinced Buffy to rest a little bit longer utilizing the irresistible (And according to certain whiny slayer, highly unfair) power of puppy-dog eyes, Willow got down to the bottom floor and did her morning exercises. Having completed them, she went into the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, she carefully manoeuvred a wooden tray with a breakfast of toast and a botched omelette turned into scrambled eggs up the stairs. Buffy devoured her food in less than a minute and then lay down on the bed again, watching Willow finish hers.
"You're, like, the best friend ever," she declared after a while, patting her own belly. If her eyes hadn't drifted shut lazily at that moment, Buffy might have spotted the red-head's bottom lip quiver.
After the breakfast had been eaten, Buffy called home and checked in, getting cleared to stay a bit longer. They showered - separately, of course. How else would they shower? Well, they could always- No! Stupid pervy brain.
Afterwards, they got seated on the living room sofa, where Buffy told the story of the previous night.
"I started out waiting in Xander's garden for a while…"
Buffy shoved her hands into her pockets as she set down the sidewalk heading to Jesse's. It wasn't very far. Staying at Xander's had been a total bust. It wasn't even eight o'clock and his parents were already in a minor coma from drinking. Knocking hadn't roused them and she'd reasoned that they wouldn't notice Xander either, even if he did show.
She stopped walking abruptly and went rigid. Someone was running across the street towards her. The figure passed under a streetlight and she realized it was Giles.
"Buffy," he greeted her between desperate gasps for breath. "There is a situation. It is imperative that you come with me."
Buffy cocked her head to the side with a blank look on her face.
"It is what that I go where?"
"There is a ritual performed by a master vampire marking one of his minions." He showed her a mark which made Buffy think of Mercedes cars.
"I've done some research on this place and found out that there's a vampire - a very old one called The Master - trapped beneath this city. He must be attempting an escape. My source told me that they plan to hit that god-awful club from the other night."
"Oh. Okay."
The guards who usually stood outside The Bronze not rejecting under-age people were nowhere to be seen and the doors were shut firmly.
Buffy gave them a glance and shook her head in the direction of Giles' expectant look.
"I'm a slayer, not a terminator. I can't break this down."
She heard him mutter a few very British curse words, and then he reached out for one of the bobby pins she had in her hair, fiddled with it and put it in the lock. A few seconds of awkward manoeuvring later, a click issued from the door and it opened up.
"You're telling me about that later," she mouthed at him, sneaking inside with her stake at the ready.
Ten minutes later, she staggered across the floor trying not to trip on the many bodies.
There had been a stag party of some sort here and every single guest, including the caterers, the band and the stripper, were dead.
Buffy had managed to take down the grotesquely large and powerful vampire orchestrating the massacre, but many had gotten away. Xander and Darla hadn't been present, as far as she had seen.
Giles had gotten beaten up badly in the tussle and she had dropped him off at the hospital before moving on.
At that point, Willow had wondered aloud why Buffy hadn't gotten herself checked out, too, and blushed furiously upon being told that the slayer had been worried about her.
They visited the Watcher later that morning, Buffy donning sunglasses and a lot of make-up to cover the bruises, and received his very reluctant blessing for Willow to be allowed to eventually help out with the slaying. The word "eventually" seemed to be key in that discussion, but it was better than a no.
He also promised to attain some heavier weaponry in light of recent events. Willow and Buffy left the him with wishes of a speedy recovery.
Promising to come by later that night, Buffy took off in the direction of her house, leaving Willow to return home in solitude with nothing but her thoughts for company.
As those weren't particularly happy thoughts, she tried to keep busy, first with homework, then food and some more exercising. But when her body ached and there was no more schoolwork to be done for the week, the thoughts came sneaking up on her. Xander, gone… Jesse, twisted into something monstrous, something so far removed from the sweet boy she had known all those years. She thought back on happier times, having movie nights with the both of them, or raging at Cordelia for whatever evil she had been responsible for that particular week.
With tears running down her cheeks, Willow fought to push those thoughts away. There were more important things to devote her attention to just now, like helping Giles and Buffy. After carefully wiping her eyes, Willow started up the computer and got started. She found a basic explanation on making Molotov cocktails, which would definitely be useful. There was also something about hair spray, but she didn't have time to investigate that one properly before the doorbell rang. For a moment she thought of the night before, but the sun was still up. Rubbing her red puffy eyes, she walked to the door.
Buffy was waiting outside with a shopping bag and a brave stab at a smile. "Hey," she said softly. "You OK?"
Shaking her head no, Willow stepped aside.
The bag proved to contain soda, snacks and a silly romantic comedy. They did not discuss vampires, death or fighting at all that night, but rather enjoyed it as any other two teenage girls might have. It felt good to know that they could spend time like that, too.
About an hour in, Buffy had consumed most of the snacks single-handedly and sat back contently. Slayers must have some sort of crazy metabolism, Willow concluded, because there was no way anybody could eat like that and maintain that figure. Unless they did that throwing up thingy Harmony did, of course, but she'd seen no evidence to support that theory so far.
Towards the end, Buffy had drifted off with her head resting against Willow's shoulder. Her hair smelled good - inviting. Not that she tried to smell it or anything. It was a pure coincidence. An accident, even. Really!
Though she had to admit how tempting it was to just fall asleep cuddled up there on the couch next to a warm human body, Willow knew she was just being needy, and thought it might be awkward if it happened a second night. Buffy hadn't mentioned anything about a sleepover, either, so Mrs. Summers would probably worry. Gently, she prodded the blonde's shoulder until she woke
"Whuh?"
"You fell asleep."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't drool on ya."
"S'OK, I- I uh- I didn't mind."
They shared an awkward grin, and Buffy stood up. "Er…I'll be going home, then."
She hesitated, then leaned in and gave Willow a quick hug, and left.
After cleaning up the living room and forcing her tired, protesting body to do the work-outs, she went upstairs and fell into bed, where she lay for hours, tossing and turning. What little sleep she did get was disrupted and thoroughly ruined by a continuous stream of nightmares.
Sunday passed in a haze and Buffy didn't call or visit. Even though she was bored out of her mind, Willow thought maybe the blonde needed some time alone and chose not to bother her. Then Monday arrived and school with it. At least it meant a break in the monotony and a distraction from thoughts she didn't want bouncing around in her head.
She didn't share any classes with Buffy until just before lunch that day, and assumed that was when they'd meet. The blonde surprised her, though, by ringing her doorbell in the morning with her schoolbag ready.
"Hey," she said awkwardly, an uncertain smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Hey," Willow replied with about as much bravado.
"I thought… Maybe you'd want company?"
Did she? Willow thought about it for a moment. Not that she'd say no to Buffy, but did she really want company? Yes, she decided. She not only wanted, but needed it. Nodding and forcing a smile in hopes of calming the blonde who must have taken her earlier pensive expression as a bad sign, she grabbed her bag from under the coat-rack and locked the door.
"What's up?" Buffy turned her head to face Willow and her question. They were halfway to the school, and the blonde had been stealing glances every now and then, sometimes with a smile, but had not spoken up until that point.
"Er -Walking with you?"
Right, damn it. Real smooth talking, Rosenberg. There really had to be some topic to have an actual conversation about. Something to delay the inevitable realisation that she was in fact a geek with nothing really interesting going on - oh: idea!
"Have you heard from Giles?"
"Yeah, he was supposed to show today."
"That's good. How're you-?"
"Fine, fine," she said dismissively. "I heal fast, don't worry about me."
But she still did. Even if she didn't dare to admit it.
They had finally reached Sunnydale High and both went quiet as they made their way through the mass of chattering students.
Now that they weren't alone anymore, they couldn't talk about vampires, death or mayhem. Generally, Willow would've thought of that as a good thing, but she wanted to keep the conversation going, to not be the boring bookish girl nobody really liked or noticed. But what mundane topics did they have to discuss, really? Make-up? She wore none. Clothes? Complete clueless. Boys? In light of recent revelations, definitely not. She wasn't interested in any of the things girls her age were supposed to be. She was good at the academic part of life, though. Was there some topic there they could dive into? The French revolution? Probably not…
What also confused her was why she felt the urge to impress. With her old friends it had been more casual. Maybe it had been different when they met; she had been so young she honestly couldn't remember anymore.
Busy with her thoughts, she did not see the fashionably-dressed girl heading her way, fully expecting her to move, and with a thud, they both fell to the floor.
"Hey!"
Oh, dang. It was Cordelia, and she had on reflex tried to grab onto something break her fall, managing to topple a trash barrel and it's content over her new - and presumably expensive - dress.
"Sorry," Willow murmured, not meeting the other girl's eye as she got to her feet with Buffy's assistance.
She could see Buffy offer her hand to Cordelia, too, and that the brunette scoffed, ignored it, and stood up to tower over Willow in all her terrible glory.
"Not that I expect a loser like you to understand, but this is Prada!"
"S-Sorry."
Willow glanced to her left and to Buffy. For help? Maybe. The blonde looked wary and on edge, her steely eyes fixed on Cordelia.
"Sorry's not gonna cut it, pasty-face."
The brunette took a step forward, and went to grab Willow and that seemed to be the step over the line. The events following in response to that happened very quickly.
Buffy moved in between them, grabbed Cordelia's hand and twisted it painfully around behind her back with supreme ease. She leaned in close.
"Walk… the hell… away." The tone of her voice was dangerous, pure venom, and for some reason, it sent chills down Willow's body. Of the very, very wrong and inappropriate kind. Confident that her message had sunk in, the blonde let go of the cheerleader with a light shove.
For just a moment, Cordelia actually looked scared. Then she recovered, sneered at the two other girls, and stomped off. But not before giving Willow a scanning once-over. One that, judging by her triumphant expression a moment later, must have glimpsed her current state of mind.
Anyone with above average observational skills would have seen it, had they not been too busy staring at either the uncrowned queen of Sunnydale High or the one who had challenged her. Willow snapped her gaze away from Buffy, but the damage might already have been done. Cordelia had not said anything, but there'd be a reckoning of some variety, sooner or later, that much was certain.
They went off for their separate classes a little while later and the day continued without much happening on the side of interesting. There was some whispering going on, probably about what had happened earlier. Willow never got close enough to make out any words, but Buffy seemed to hear it just fine judging by the way her fists clenched every time it happened.
Issues with the Cordettes aside, the day progressed pretty much like any other. Classes to attend, things to write down, homework to bring home and complete.
During one of their shorter breaks, which they spent outside in the sunny courtyard, two policemen came by. It seemed that Sunnydale's finest had finally thought the disappearances worth investigating. Sharing a darkly significant look, the two girls began to give their matching stories about not having seen either Xander or Jesse since that night at The Bronze. Buffy went on to mention that she had heard the two of them talk about pulling a thunder road.
She did a good job with the lie they had thought out together and the cops seemed to buy it. They thanked Willow and Buffy for their time and cooperation and left.
Since their schedule hadn't really permitted it, they hadn't visited Giles during the day. They had seen briefly him in the corridors, though, where he had told Buffy in a hushed whisper that the gear had arrived. This meant that as soon as they had finished their last lesson of the day, they hurried over to the library.
Unfortunately, they had to wait for two hours for the rest of the people to clear out. Giles had a theory about the principal disapproving of swords in his school library, and Willow felt that it didn't exactly qualify as crazy-talk to claim that.
When they were confident that they were alone, The Watcher unlocked a sort of cage (Why there was a cage in the library, Willow didn't want to speculate on) and pulled a haphazardly placed table-cloth aside from a chest to reveal the weapons the Watchers Council had supplied them with.
Now, having had two best friends who were boys, Willow wasn't a complete novice as far as swords were concerned. She obviously had no idea how to use them, but names and origins had stuck to her mind just like most things did.
The long, slim curved blade Buffy immediately reached for, she knew to be of Japanese origin - a katana, most likely. It gleamed menacingly in the sunlight, and the slayer quickly began to dance across the library, slashing through the air with grace few other living creatures would be able to mimic. Willow stared at the display with many emotions mixing in a blend of confusing impulses she needed to quench.
Eventually she picked a weapon for herself, a long sword. It felt good in her hand, somehow. Felt right. While she supposed the weight would be a problem at first, she would get used to it. The hilt was large enough for her to grasp two-handed if she wanted to. Since Giles had not been able to get wooden swords for practicing, Buffy decided to give Willow a hand-to-hand session instead.
"The first thing you'll have to remember," she declared, walking back and forth across the open space and looking very intimidating, "is that it takes about half a second for a vampire to snap your neck."
"This means that you ought to stay as far away as you possibly can," Giles supplied.
"Yup, we wanna keep that pretty little neck of yours from being nibbled on. By vampires, at least."
Willow blushed and Giles gave his slayer a scathing look.
"Sorry," Buffy muttered. "My point is, you should try to move around as much as you possibly can, and use the sword to keep the distance."
Willow took what she hoped would suffice as a defensive stance. Buffy did not seem impressed.
"Thumbs out of your hands, for starters."
"Oh - okay."
Having thought this would be fairly simple proved to be an incorrect theory. She learned quickly, even when it came to this kind of stuff, but other complications arose.
"Try to stand like this." Buffy put her hands just above Willow's hips to try to demonstrate how she should position herself to be able to breathe easier.
Rather than making the breathing easier, it left her feeling light-headed and warm. Where had she learned all this stuff, anyways? Did Giles teach her or was it part of the 'slayer package'?
Whoa. Buffy had moved her hands up to just below her ribs now, and was telling her something that she quite frankly wasn't listening to. This just couldn't get any worse.
In retrospect, she shouldn't have thought that and jinxed it, because it really did get worse. A lot worse.
"So, what've you learned?" Buffy asked almost innocently, sitting astride Willow, who lay helpless on her back trying to keep herself from exploding at all the delicious contact.
"Uh… don't mess with a slayer?" God, was she going to stay there forever? She had to get Buffy off her so that she could get off - get out - of here.
The small part of her head not occupied with the problem of getting away from Buffy was trying to answer the question of whether it was the blonde being so close and on top of her, or being held down by her that turned her on so.
They got to their feet again and Willow tried to take calming breaths.
"We'll have to make you a stake," said Buffy, eyebrows scrunched up in thought. "Mine won't work for you. 'cause unless you're a slayer or have a hammer handy and the vamp lies down all nice and quiet for ya, it won't do the job."
She put her hand on Willow's hip, under the shirt and slid it upwards until she met the ribs. Her touch was warm and soft and Willow's breathing quickly escalated.
How did she have such soft hands? Shouldn't the slaying and stuff leave calluses? Or maybe the slayer healing fixed that? Shut up, brain!
Moving up a little further, Buffy tapped the ribs twice.
"Solid bone, see?" That's why the stakes I have are so sturdy."
"So they won't break," Willow supplied, nodding. It was simple physics, really and obviously nobody liked splinters.
"Yepp." She let her hand slip down a bit and Willow shuddered as goose bumps erupted across her skin and her nipples hardened even more. Thank goodness she was wearing the thick woollen sweater her grandma had made her.
She didn't dare look Buffy in the eye, though.
"Here." Fingers pressed against her solar plexus. "You'll need a longer stake, but this is where you should go for. Up under the ribcage. Or..."
She moved closer. Willow could feel warm breathing against her throat and the smell of perfume made her dizzy. The hand slid to her back.
"Or here. The ribs are thinner at the back. You push with all you weight behind it, alright?"
"Mm." Willow nodded and risked a look at Buffy. She saw the slayer nervously lick her lips and a sudden surge of heat flared through her abdomen and down between her legs. Though the demonstration seemed to be complete, Buffy still had her hand in place. They were so close. Unbearably close. All she had to do was to reach out and-
"How goes it, girls?"
Buffy hastily snatched her hand away and looked over at Giles who had reappeared from the back part of the library. "She's a quick learner," she assessed.
Willow took that as her cue to skedaddle.
"I gotta go - study - and shower - I - Bye."
"We still on for tonight?" Buffy asked before she had time to make it out of there. They had discussed hanging out that evening during math class.
"Sure."
Willow had never been so glad to see the school empty, and that was saying something. Her entire body felt uncomfortably hot and tingly. As she walked past the bathroom, she briefly considered going in there to relieve herself. No- She could wait, just a little while longer.
Once past the door at home, she threw the keys haphazardly on the kitchen table (instead of placing them there gently, as usual), not giving a damn that they skidded off it and onto the floor, kicked her shoes off, and almost ran upstairs.
The walk had taken maybe fifteen minutes, and though she had hoped that time would calm her down, it hadn't. It had been time for her mind to go into overdrive, imagining a new version of the practice session as her thighs rubbed together with each step forward. The moment she was inside of her room, she closed the drapes, jumped onto the bed and started to revisit previous trains of thought.
In her imagination, she had been doing a bit better as they spared, but eventually found herself on her back, with Buffy on top.
This time, though, Giles was away - far away - and the slayer was caressing her arms tenderly instead of just holding her pinned.
Willow hastily unbuttoned her pants, yanked the zipper down and plunged her hand inside her soaked underwear with a blissful sigh.
Dream-Buffy was leaning in closer now, whispering something unimportant into her ear before taking it between her teeth to tug at gently. She changed her position so that she lay on top instead of sitting, their bodies in fuller contact as their lips met in a first kiss.
Back in reality, Willow was already increasing the pace of her rubbing fingers and adding some more pressure.
The fantasy escalated quickly, just like things did back on her bed. Soon, Buffy was positioning her leg in between Willow's, bringing forth some truly delicious friction as the kissing grew more and more intense. Dream-Willow was braver too and let her hands drift down to the other girl's ass, feeling and squeezing it.
She was coming to road's end, quick and hard, fingers slipping quickly along wet flesh.
With as clear a picture as she could imagine of Buffy and herself drawn in her head, naked on the floor, bold as brass, with no fear or regret of what they were doing, she pressed two fingers firmly against her clit, unable to keep a soft series of shuddery moans from escaping her lips as the sweet release overwhelmed her.
It took a while to get down from that high and drag herself off to the bathroom to shower away the sweat, most of which hadn't even been caused by the training.
With the confusing haze of lust gone, things were clearer and Willow felt a bit ashamed. Not of what she had done, but rather of what she had not. She liked Buffy, a lot. There was no point in denying that to herself. But if she couldn't even try to make a move on someone, how was she supposed to have the guts to fight off the forces of darkness?
Buffy arrived at ten that night and over the next two weeks, they eased into that routine: after school they'd study as much as they could until all was clear. They'd train, and then after slaying, Buffy would come over and hang out.
She'd mostly be OK, but whatever minor injuries she sustained, Willow always insisted on taking care of. She worried, certainly, but it was mostly a pathetic ploy on her part to get to touch the blonde and feed her mind's gallery with more detailed pictures for private moments later.
Over the next week, she also found out what it was that people had been whispering about. Cordelia must have been preparing it for some time, because she had pretty much everybody in her little gang with her when she met up with Willow and Buffy, who were arriving together to school as per usual.
"Aww, isn't that sweet," was the first thing she said, smirking at them in a way that promised trouble.
For a moment, nobody spoke, but Buffy didn't seem to have the patience to wait for Cordelia to drop whatever bomb she had hidden behind her back.
"What's sweet?" she finally asked tiredly.
"You two, together."
The two sincerely befuddled looks she received in response to that statement didn't seem to convince the crowd at all, and some started snickering.
Buffy recovered first, staring blankly at the cheerleader. "I think you've gotten confused."
"I think not."
'Oh, witty reply Cordelia. Way to go.' That was what Willow wanted to say. She felt that she should be helping her friend out. It was only her being lied about, after all. They were spot on as far as she was concerned, except when it came to the couple thing. But she just stood there, tongue-tied and flustered.
"No, you really don't think much do you? 'Cause if you did, you'd realize just how far out of my league she is."
Willow stared at Buffy in surprise. Out of her league? Was she crazy? Had she never seen herself in the mirror?
"You can keep denying it all you want, girls," Cordelia said victoriously. "But we all know the truth here."
To be honest, Willow almost felt disappointed that her old tormentor hadn't come up with anything better. Hurtful, true, but so very uncreative.
She couldn't be bothered to contradict any of the talk about her supposed gayness.
Nobody would believe her, for starters. But she also felt that actually lying about the matter was wrong. More so than not confirming it, anyways. So Willow kept quiet. She and Buffy kept to themselves even more these days and the other girl didn't show any signs of caring about the talk.
As for their training, they had moved on to using swords, which thank goodness required less physical contact. That meant, at the very least, that the cold showers worked half of the time to calm her down afterwards.
On the downside, Buffy did manage to look even hotter with a sword in her hand.
Willow both loved and hated that.
Though she was used to her parents spending a lot of time away, Willow had to admit she had started missing having them around after a while. Not that she spent a lot of time with them or that they noticed her much when they actually were at home, but she did all the same. Their return could have been timed better, though.
It was nine o'clock in the evening and Buffy had returned from her patrol with her back really sore. Willow, being the good Samaritan that she was, had offered to give her a massage. And that was how her parents found them: Buffy on her stomach with her top and bra thrown on the floor, and their daughter sitting astride her.
"Oh. Hi, Mom - Dad."
Buffy hastily grabbed a pillow to cover herself up with.
"Hello, pumpkin." Her father sounded perfectly calm, but then again, he always was. She only saw him upset when the Lakers played poorly.
"It's late," he went on, tapping the expensive watch on his wrist. "And a school night." And with that, he and her mother left the room and closed the door behind them, but not before casting her a look that clearly stated that they'd talk later.
"Wow - okay, that was embarrassing," Buffy said, though she seemed more amused than startled.
"Good night, Will." She leaned in and gave Willow cheek a quick peck, then grabbed her clothes and left Willow alone with a rapidly-beating heart.
Getting up on unsteady legs, she left the room in time to hear Buffy say goodbye to her parents, who seemed to be waiting on the sofa. She sighed. This wasn't really how she had pictured their return… Might as well get the talk over and done with.
Walking downstairs feeling as though she was marching to face the gallows, she finally settled on the leather ottoman opposite the couch. Her father spoke first.
"I see you've made a new friend." There was something about the way he pronounced the word friend that was off, though.
"Yeah," Willow said softly, forcing herself to look up at them. Why was she feeling guilty? She hadn't done anything wrong. Heck, even if she had done all the things she spent a great deal of her alone time picturing doing, it wouldn't have been wrong. "She's new in town."
"And?" Her mother, this time. It was obvious what they were hinting at, so she decided it would just be prolonging this very uncomfortable moment to not tell them.
"She was sore, 'cause… 'cause she's trying out for the gymnastics team, and I was just being helpful and massaging out the ache-ys in her back. 'Cause I'm a good friend. Oh!-also, I gave her some Advil. And you noticed that I was fully-clothed, right? We're not - you know - girlfriends."
Her father's smile finally turned warm again, perhaps seeing the humour of the misunderstanding.
"But - " And with that one word, it faded. Willow didn't even know why she had spoken, but suddenly felt she needed to. "I think - I think I'm gay." It felt like a relief to get it out, at last. She sat back and waited for her parents to shower her in their acceptance.
Only they didn't. Her mother stood up abruptly, cast one look at her father, one at Willow, and then left. Her father, whom she had always felt she was closest to, sat in silence for a minute, contemplating something. Was he freaked? Was that why he didn't say it would be alright? That she was his little girl and that he loved her no matter what?
Finally he cleared his throat. "I want you out in twenty minutes."
"But- But- What?" Willow's eyes teared up.
"Twenty minutes," he repeated, his voice hollow and dead serious.
And just like that, he stood and walked away. Almost in an afterthought, he reached into his wallet, fished out a few hundred dollars and put them on the table. For a motel and for food, she immediately understood.
Alone, in every sense possible, Willow sat there stunned. They were throwing her out. Twenty minutes… then what? Would they physically make her leave?
Did it matter? She couldn't stay, that much was made clear - she wasn't welcome. Wasn't wanted.
Willow stared at the money with loathing, almost wishing she could incinerate it with her eyes. But it lay there and she knew she would need it. What else was there? Xander was dead. Jesse was dead, twice. They had seen to that…
"Damn you, Ben Franklin," she muttered under her breath, grabbing the bills in her fist and pushing them carelessly into her jeans pocket.
She spent the remaining fifteen minutes throwing everything essential into her secondary school backpack. (Yes, she actually had two).
Walking downstairs at the last minute, she went into the kitchen, saying her mental good-bye, knowing she probably wouldn't return. That was when she spotted it: her father's bottles of whiskey. Pausing for a moment to find the oldest (and thus probably the most expensive), she finally fished out a bottle of 18-year-old Laphroaig, and took it with her. Once outside the door, she remembered not having packed her toothbrush, but didn't want to go back.
With tears running down her cheeks, she looked down at the bottle in hopes of a solution, uncorked it and took a swig. It was horrible, completely and utterly disgusting, both smelling and tasting strongly of wood. Forcing down the swallow and riding out the wave of nausea that followed, she began to walk down the road. Every now and then she'd take another small gulp of the scotch, reveling in the rebelliousness of it. She only knew where Buffy lived by rough descriptions, so it took her well over an hour to locate 1630 Revello Drive where the mailbox proclaimed "Summers" and the doormat bade her welcome.
Raising the bottle in a toast to the door, she rang the bell.
