Chapter 26: Pills

Buffy wasn't sure which she noticed first upon waking up; The thumping headache, the strangling sensation or the warm body draped over her. Judging by the strength of the headache, she guessed it was probably that one first.

The material that had draped itself around her neck and surrounded it a few times, effectively creating an accidental noose, was getting more and more uncomfortable. She must have tossed and turned all night to have gotten into quite the state she was in right now, she fumbled at the material until it became loose and allowed it to slide off her, the corner of the duvet hitting the floor.

To a normal human being, it hit the floor with little more than a murmur, but to the original slayer, it hit the floor with an almighty thud. Grasping her head in her hands, she whimpered, had she been hurt during patrol last night?

Sitting up with more force than intended, and after the room stopped spinning, Buffy noticed the almost empty vodka bottle lying close by. She searched for the lid and placed it back on top, propping the bottle back upright, not that there was a lot of liquid that could spill out anymore anyway.

Why couldn't slayers have better alcohol control? Why couldn't she hold her alcohol? Is it something someone has to learn how to do? How to drink responsibly? Before she started creating drinking awareness campaigns, Buffy remembered that there was another factor on her list – A warm body draped over her. Taking immediate comfort in the fact that it was warm, and therefore not a vampire... Unless it was a vampire on fire. No that would probably be hotter.

Looking over, Buffy saw her younger sister sprawled on the carpet. Her arm outstretched, fingers clutching Buffy's leg, nails slightly digging in, but not painfully so.

Dawn's eyes were ruby red, and swollen, her mascara was beyond a panda, and had turned into more of a battered wife look. Her t-shirt was looking more baggy than it used to, and Buffy realised just then, that she hadn't been paying any attention to Dawn recently. What with what had happened to Willow, she just wasn't taking care... Willow.

Buffy remembered why she had started drinking last night, why she found herself strangled in Willow's bed sheets, and why she was in Willow's room.

"To get the bed ready for Tara!" Grimacing at the volume of her own voice, she cringed. "Ow! Shit." She whispered afterwards.

Tara was somewhere, bed-less, probably feeling unwelcome when Buffy hadn't returned. Had Tara really come back? Was it just a drink-induced dream... Nightmare... Dream? Had she left, walked out of the house, gotten herself killed again? Been alive for a couple extra hours just to be rejected and get killed by a vampire. Wow Buffy would have a hard time with karma if that had happened.

She jumped to her feet, in full slayer elegance... Honest.

She moved carefully so as not to wake Dawn, she could probably do with a few more hours looking at the state of her. In the early morning sunlight that was forming through the curtains, she could see how pale her sister's skin had become. When was the last time Dawn had gotten out of the house? Pulling the duvet downwards, Buffy draped it over Dawn's slim form, and left the room. She pulled the door, and closed it shut, careful to mute the click as much as possible.

Buffy popped her head into her own bedroom, checking to see if Tara had gotten some sleep in there instead but her bed was still made from the night before, and nothing else had been disturbed. Stepping into the bathroom, Buffy pushed the door to and sat down on the toilet seat, her head in her hands, she massaged her temples trying to reduce the pounding.

Regrettably standing up she conjoined her hands under the cold water tap, capturing the pouring liquid and splashed it onto her face. Rubbing the cooling water into her eyes, was somewhat relieving her headache. Buffy reached into the medicine cabinet, something that was crucial in a house with a slayer, and pulled out a pack of aspirin...

Taking up refuge on the toilet seat once more, Buffy individually pushed each aspirin pill out of the foil packet and let them fall to the floor. When one strip of eight was emptied, she grabbed another and repeated the action until there were no more to empty.

Pulling the beaker, she used for rinsing after brushing, she filled it with cool tap water. A pill was placed on the tip of her tongue, and followed by a small sip of water. One-by-one the pile of pills got far smaller, after swallowing the final aspirin, Buffy returned to the medicine cabinet. Pulling out a prescription bottle of codeine, she ripped off the lid and tipped all the pills into her left hand.

Picking up the first pill with her index finger and thumb she stared at it under the light, holding it above her head she said a one person toast, "To Willow" biting back tears, Buffy placed the first codeine pill on the tip of her tongue and swallowed it down dry. Repeating the action with each and every pill until both her hands and her medicine cabinet were empty.

Collapsing to her knees, Buffy allowed the tears to stream. She called to Willow over and over, careful to do it quietly enough that it would not wake Dawn, but loud enough that it would reach the ears of her dead best friend.

"Why Willow?!" Buffy inhaled through the snot and tears, "God I miss you."

Her fingers clawed at the floor, desperate to feel something comforting and real. Rolling onto her back, she simply stared at the ceiling and let the tears fall.

Realising after a while that she probably shouldn't lay on her back, because it was likely to make her vomit, she climbed back to her knees. Spotting an old magazine in the bathroom rack, Buffy pulled it out and immediately flicked to a page like it was destiny.

Within the page held a single full page simple advert. A photograph of an open pack of cigarettes was crossed out in red, and above in large black font, it read, 'Just Quit!'

Despite what was happening, and what Buffy was doing, she laughed out loud. It began as a scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation, but soon turned into hysterical almost maniacal laughing.

She repeated the advert lines over and over, "just quit, just quit, just quit." Grabbing her make up bag, and sifting through it, she shouted up to the skies, "I am quitting fuckers!"

Removing an eyeliner pencil from her bag, she wrote her final goodbye on a magazine advertisement that may or may not have been sent from the powers that be.

Rubbing the cooling water into her eyes, was somewhat relieving her headache. Buffy reached into the medicine cabinet, something that was crucial in a house with a slayer, and pulled out a pack of aspirin...

She lifted her head and stared at the other pills that lived in the cabinet, the sheer number and range that were available was quite disconcerting. She seized each packet and bottle and threw them to the bathroom floor, kicking and stomping them until they were no longer any use to anybody.

Shutting the cabinet door, she stared into the mirror.

Taking a long hard look at herself, she started to notice the signs of a hard life on her face. Dark circles hung low under her eyes, the sockets more hollow and further back than ever before, her skin so pale that she looked ill with the lack of sunlight, her cheekbones more prominent from weight loss, even the shine that used to sparkle in her eyes had disappeared and been replaced with a shadow.

Right there and then Buffy had an epiphany.

She had killed herself once before, right now, it was time to live.

Buffy jumped the stairs three at a time, each time landing more gracefully and silently than the time before. Stopping at the very bottom of the stairs, her eyes were immediately drawn to the sofa that had changed everything last night.

After they all knew what was going on, she'd have to apologise for completely breaking down like that... Or maybe she wouldn't have to, maybe she didn't need to, maybe they'd just understand.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Buffy looked at the sofa again checking that it didn't actually contain anybody in the present. No one was there, she let out a sigh, what if it had all been a dream? Or what if Tara wasn't here anymore? Buffy ignored her thoughts that could send her into a catatonic spiral and instead dragged her feet into the kitchen, attempting to maintain the same level of optimism she had ascertained a short while previously.

"Hey."

"Hi." Buffy returned to Faith, a little more hostility in her voice than planned for.

Faith sighed at the aggression being thrown her way already, and continued pouring the coffee for Buffy anyway. Slamming the mug down on the counter where Buffy had taken a seat, and then returning to her own with a coffee refill also.

Silence hung in the air, leaving everything awkward and aggravating. Eventually Buffy broke the silence.

"Where's Tara?"

Faith swallowed loudly and placed her mug back down. Of course Buffy wanted to talk, it would be weird if she didn't. But it was probably going to turn into an awkward heart to heart with violence, and she really didn't feel like getting beaten up today. Although a fight sounded amazing, too much time spent shut away from the night made Faith a bad bad girl. Just ideally, the fight wouldn't be with anybody fighting on the same side as Faith... Ya know, the good side.

"Basement."

Buffy stood immediately, her stool creaking on the floor as she moved.

"Still sleepin'." Faith clarified, making Buffy stop and return to her stool.

"Where'd you sleep?"

"Basement. You?"

"Willow's room."

They both nodded at the others answer and silence returned.

Faith knew that she would deeply regret what she was about to say, but she didn't have the heart not to say something like it.

"You can talk to me if you wanna B, I ain't good at knowin' what to say or nothin', but I can listen pretty well."

Buffy simply nodded. Faith continued, despite feeling all kinds of strange.

"I got slayer hearing B, I'm bettin' Blondie down there's got pretty good post-grave hearin' too."

Faith knew that Buffy had no idea what she was on about with the look of confusion and slight disgust painted on her face.

"We heard ya, last night, ya know, cryin'."

"You might have heard me, but it really wasn't any of your business was it?" Buffy practically spat at Faith.

Faith immediately stood, grabbing her coffee mug as she stormed off. In her angered yet extremely short journey to the back yard, she'd managed to crack the handle.

Figuring she may as well just finish the damage, she ripped the handle off completely and threw it to the bushes.

"Demonic mug?" Came a soft voice from behind her.

Faith smirked, unable to remain in the same bad mood all of a sudden.

"Yah." Faith looked down at the mug. "But I got a handle on things."

A light exhale came from behind, "That was bad."

"Yea, well, it's early. Thought you were still sleepin'?"

"Yea, well, it's late." Tara mocked in return.

Faith reached into her pocket and pulled out her pack of cigarettes, flicking them diagonally above her mouth, she caught one between her lips smoothly, it was an action that had obviously been carried out time and time again.

She held the pack outwards to Tara, shaking them slightly in an offering, but Tara shook her head no, happy to just breathe in the fresh air that surrounded her.

Faith placed her broken mug on the concrete patio just outside the door, and sparked the end of the cigarette.

Her first inhale wiped away the tension that hung over her, her anger dissipating into the air, leaving her less stressed and a little less homicidal than a moment ago.

They stood silently next to each other, both just enjoying being outside for the time being. Being locked inside with little action was not what Faith considered a good time. She needed to fight something very soon, before the slayer in her just snapped and attacked the closest thing to her.

Tara was someone who was happy to be either inside or outside, but if she was allowed to choose, she would definitely choose outside just before sunrise. It had been so long since she had seen a sunrise, something which she always found so completely incomprehensible.

A new day beginning for only part of the world, a select few sat looking at the very same view, each one probably feeling the same thing, the same inspiration that comes with the acknowledgment that they all lived to see another day.

She decided that she would have to get up extra early tomorrow and see the sun rise.

If she were able to, Tara would have disappeared for a whole day. Left the Summer's house very early morning and walked the dark streets of Sunnydale, to climb the winding paths of Kingman's Bluff with aching feet. She would arrive just in time to settle on her blanket, and watch the sunrise from the edge of the cliff, remaining outdoors to see the colour of the sky change before the sun fell completely from view.

Then again, Tara was an artist, a writer, someone with a great imagination, and an even greater appreciation of the beautiful things that existed both on earth and those surrounding it. She didn't need to climb and forego an entire day of her life, she could live it right here.

Tara walked towards the grassy patch in the middle of the garden with her eyes closed. Her bare feet took each step slowly and purposefully, bending her toes downwards in order to feel the dirt that lay under the thick and in-need-of-a-cut grass, her calf muscles hard and prominent, visibly flexed with every movement.

She circled a seemingly random area of grass for a while, before stopping and placing her feet in the middle of the circle. She lifted her head and allowed her eyes to drift open, and with her focus firmly attached to a depthless portion of sky, she simply stared.

Faith stood uneasily at the back door, with her cigarette long since extinguished she had no reason to be outside any longer. But she stood entranced by Tara's movements, unsure if she were reminiscing, meditating or praying. All three of the options seemed pretty damn private so she regrettably opted to return inside the house, and face the depressed one.

Before she had done a 180 however, Tara spoke whilst continuing to look at the sky.

"You don't have to go."

Faith walked towards Tara until they stood side by side.

"You psychic or summin'?"

"Not exactly, auras." She briefly explained, expecting Faith to fully understand.

"Huh?"

Pulling her gaze from the sky, Tara looked deep into Faith's eyes.

"I can read auras." Faith's confused face prompted Tara to continue with a smile. "Aura's are kinda like, hm, a visual representation of your soul. Different colours indicate different emotions, plans, um, past acts."

Faith broke the eye contact and instead looked at the extremely interesting grass.

Noticing the awkwardness that had just appeared, Tara tried to reassure the slayer.

"It's not black and white Faith. Your past is there, obviously, and yes it's written in black, but there is a whole rainbow that surrounds you now. The colours are so bright that it's getting harder to find the darkness in there."

Faith stared gobsmacked, Tara knew her past? Tara saw her aura? Tara had seen her aura before? What? When?

"So my soul..." Faith paused, preparing to correct herself, "My aura, was black?"

"Not completely, you're human, your aura could never be completely black, but it was darker then than now, yes."

"When'd you see it?"

"When you and Buffy switched bodies. We met at the Bronze, well, I was meant to be meeting Buffy but um, you know." Tara gestured lamely with her hands.

We met at the Bronze. You were with Willow, I was sat drinkin'. She went to get drinks, and then the look that you gave her, oh shit. I was a total douche to you.

"Look, about what I said that night." Faith scratched the back of her head before continuing. "I know I was a douche. It's just that, well Red, Willow I mean, well she and me din't get on, cos I took her hostage or whatever. And ya know, I was all kinds of fucked up back then, and like I knew a secret. I din't realise that you two were gonna like BE together, ya know what I mean? So yea, I'm sorry 'bout that T."

Tara felt awkward, Faith was apologising for something that had happened so long ago, and she had changed so much since then. So had Tara, what with being dead and all. Plus, what had she said? Tara couldn't remember what Faith had said to her, that would need an apology.

I remember meeting her, knowing that it wasn't Buffy because of the fragmented aura, plus it was too dark to be Buffy's.

Wait, I was there with... Willow?

"Willow... Willow and I were together? Like..." Tara scrunched up her face as if she were unable to admit she were gay.

"Yea." Looking at the change in demeanour in Tara, Faith wasn't sure what she should say. "Apparently, you two were like, soulmates or aurafriends or somethin'. T, I don't really know much 'bout it, you should prob'ly speak to B 'bout it all."

"Buffy isn't ready to talk about her yet."

"How'd ya know T? Someone's gotta 'splain it all to ya. And, I dun't think I can."

"I know because I can feel her mourning from out here. Her misery is literally permeating through the door, and right now, well, right now, I'm a reminder of death."

Unsure if Tara was being metaphorical or not, Faith tried to reach out and feel the misery. Her face became hard-set in concentration, her eyebrows creasing in the middle. Eyes closed tightly, and arms slightly raised.

Tara cleared her throat subtly, and Faith opened her eyes and slapped her arms down to her sides, not realising that she had been trying to do that with company around.

Misery loves company, but reaching out for misery is more of a private matter.

"What're you doing?" Tara asked, a smile forming at Faith's growing embarrassment.

"Was tryin' to feel her misery. I'm still tryin' to get used to the emotional side of crap."

"I don't think it's a normal attribute to have Faith..."

Faith looked at Tara with a face of complete hurt.

"I mean, I don't think humans were meant to be able to literally feel emotions. I think I've just learnt how to do it. I can feel the loneliness and uncertainty that you're feeling, but only because you're so close."

Faith's feet shuffled uncomfortably, Tara changed tactic.

"But I can feel Buffy from out here, she's really hurting. I don't need to be able to see her aura to know that right now, she's barely holding on."

No more foot shuffling, no more looking down at the ground in embarrassment.

Faith had trouble keeping her eyeballs in her sockets at that last part.

"Is she gonna try anythin' T?"