Please see chapter 1 for disclaimer and general warnings.
Chapter warnings: for language & sexual references
Buffy would have panicked at not seeing Dawn anywhere in the street, except she had felt her phone vibrate with an incoming message. Checking it, she was surprised to read a text from Faith briefly assuring Buffy that Dawn was with the other slayer and safe.
She had only just read the text and had not gone more than 20 steps out of the house when Willow called out behind her. Buffy slowed, and turned, but continued moving. She felt as if stopping would leave her trapped, although she couldn't face thinking about why that was until she had some space and time, neither of which were easy to come by on an open hellmouth.
Willow walked up to her slowly, and Buffy wondered whether she looked to her friend like some kind of frightened animal, ready to bolt.
"I...can I ask why?" Willow asked, genuinely uncertain of which questions she could ask.
Buffy had begun pulling away from her, unintentionally, when Joyce first became sick and Buffy had started missing classes to help take her to medical appointments, get Dawn to school, run chores for the art gallery and myriad other necessities.
The grief and loss Buffy's death caused all of them meant there was no-one unaffected to be strong and support the others, but Willow wanted to be that person regardless. Wanted to make things right, to have the answer, to be responsible and take care of things in the way she always had.
The knowledge that Glory had come from a hell dimension and had been seeking to return ate at Willow. The terrible things that Tara had experienced while lost in her own mind seemed likely shadows of the horrors of Glory's dimension, caused as they had been by the anti-goddess' abilities.
None of them liked to say it, but they had all wondered at the time if Buffy was trapped in a hell dimension as Angel had been, suffering decades of torment for every minute that passed in their world.
So she had publicly worked toward finding a way for the group to keep on slaying, and privately worked toward a real solution – removing the problem; bringing the slayer back – saving Buffy.
But it had all gone wrong, and Willow still wasn't sure how. She was incredibly relieved to have her friend back, and proud that she had been able to achieve it. And while she felt bad that she had ended Buffy's happiness, she could never understand why Buffy would believe she was better off dead.
Buffy's resurrection was a gaping wound in their relationship that both tried to function in spite of, but neither knew how to fix.
Willow used to feel like she could say anything to Buffy, and like she would understand anything Buffy had to say. Now she didn't know how to ask why her friend would have sex with an animated corpse who had tried to kill each of them at different times and who Buffy had professed to hate.
"I don't know why." Buffy threw a hand up, clearly upset not to have an answer. "I just...I came back and it was like...Groundhog Day. Just the same thing, over and over and over again, after I had thought I was finished. Death and violence and blood and dust. And then Spike was there, and...it seemed like anything was better than constant nothing. Like if you were walking through a hallway that never changed for so long, and then suddenly you had the chance to burn it down." Buffy stared into space, remembering how she had felt when fucking Spike was new and different, not a routine with diminishing returns.
"Did it help?" Willow asked, absorbing what Buffy said for future consideration.
"For a while, maybe. But then it was just another hallway." Buffy wanted to admit she was disgusted with herself, desperately ashamed. But she already knew her friends found the thought disgusting and couldn't bear the thought of Willow transparently lying to reassure her. Or worse - Willow not trying to reassure her.
"And is everything still...a hallway?"
Buffy smiled slightly at the use of her own awkward analogy. "I've finished things with Spike, but with this apocalypse everything's even more about the slaying than usual. Ask me again once the hellmouth is closed?" She asked hopefully, encouraged that they'd been able to have any kind of conversation.
"I will." A shadow of Resolve Face appeared, and Buffy was relieved to see it.
"So you've looked kind of sick lately. Are you okay?" Buffy asked, and they walked together, uncomfortable but determined.
Dawn wasn't sure what to expect from Faith during their date. The entire thing came as a surprise, and given their...accelerated timetable...she didn't know whether to expect first date behaviour, third date behaviour, dating so long you barely keep track anymore behaviour, or something else entirely because Faith may not even know what each of those were.
It soon occurred to her however, that Faith may be just as uncertain. Dawn had been taking some reassurance in the knowledge that Faith would take the lead when it came time for their session and was struck by the idea that in the context of dating, Faith may be relieved if she did the same.
So, on their way to the cinema, Dawn confidently reached out and took her hand. She was amused to see Faith stop mid-sentence and snap her head around to look at their hands as if they were possessed.
"I know there's lots of demons and stuff around," Dawn spoke up, partly to save Faith from needing to, "I'll let you go if you need to fight." She smiled and hoped she hadn't made a colossal blunder as Faith continued to look bewildered, holding their hands completely still as if Dawn's may break.
"Date thing, huh?" She asked finally, experimentally running her thumb along the outside of Dawn's hand.
"Yeah. Too weird?"
"No it's...kind of nice." Faith admitted. Five days ago she would never have said it, even to Dawn. But over the last few days she had felt what it could mean to make someone that mattered to you feel good. She wondered if causing that bright look of happiness it seemed to evoke was addictive.
"Who's the guy?" Amy asked, sipping her drink.
"Huh?" Willow asked, tearing her eyes away from Spike, who appeared to be brooding in another corner of the Bronze.
"David Bowie reject you've been staring at." Amy clarified.
"Hm." Willow cocked her head. Without the leather jacket Spike did look a bit Bowie-ish. It was draped over the back of his chair. "Buffy's...friend."
"Sex friend?" The other witch asked, nodding. "She always had good taste."
"Terrible taste!" Willow argued. "He's a vampire!"
"Blood-play? Kinky. Forget about Buffy and Bowie. This place is duller than dirt without magic – let's go see Rack." Amy dropped the suggestion casually, but the need to feel the power Rack offered was intense.
"Why wouldn't she talk to us? I mean, I know we took her out of heaven which has sort of caused what she's feeling, but arguably Glory caused that by making her die in the first place."
Amy itched at the reminder of Willow's power. It was infuriating that Willow didn't realise just how powerful she was. She seemed only interested in discovering and learning new things, how magic could be used to solve specific problems. She almost never considered what it meant that she was more naturally powerful even than Rack, whose unique gift lay in 'trading magic' – tapping into and transferring the magic of one user to another. Those he took from experienced bliss, and those he gave to experienced power. The downside – if anyone could call it that – was to take your turn as a donor.
Amy, like Rack, had very small natural reservoirs but a great deal of skill and subtlety in how to use what she had.
"Wouldn't it cheer you up if we made some changes in here? Got one of those homophobes who threatened you sucking his friend off in front of everybody, or give that bitchy cheerleader over there some sort of embarrassing deformity?" She prompted, trying once more to redirect Willow from the funk she had been in all night.
"I wouldn't want that." Willow frowned thoughtfully, a bit surprised. "I mean he was really cruel and awful but the other night we were giving people things they wanted to do, just without consequences. I wouldn't make someone do something they didn't want."
Amy sighed, thinking that they should have gone to Rack and then the Bronze instead of the other way around. Willow was a lot more fun when the magic was practically crawling out of her on its own. Rather than pointing out that granting some people's wishes had come at other people's expense, she just agreed.
"Sure, you're right. What do you think of the band?"
When Willow turned to look, Amy cast. A direct attempt on Willow's mind would never work, but there were ways around it. Amy knew the spell she chose well, but adapting it on the fly was a bit trickier, and instead of only affecting Willow's drink in the way she intended, she noticed all the bottles behind the bar and the glasses sitting on top of it glow briefly as well.
Shrugging mentally she decided it would just mean the place was a lot more interesting when they came back. A Bronze-full of people with seriously low or even no inhibitions was something she'd like to see.
"That was the worst movie I've ever seen." Faith decided. "But I had fun."
"Me, too. I'm glad I asked you out." Dawn grinned.
"Oh, so I'm not a crap date?" Faith was joking around, but had wondered at different moments if there were things she should be doing and just didn't know about.
"Best date." Dawn reassured her. She slowed down as they approached the door to the motel room, allowing time for Faith to get the keys out of her pocket.
"Here, got it." Faith popped the door and gestured Dawn in, closing it behind them. "So, I know it's kind of crappy..."
Dawn turned to face her, stepped closer and leaned in for a gentle kiss, testing Faith's reaction.
She was mostly surprised, but went along with it, relieved that Tara had introduced her to this whole different type of making out already. She was sure she would have made an ass of herself, something she was hoping to avoid doing in front of Dawn.