CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE ALPHA: WILLOW
:Friday, 13th October 2000:
Buffy doesn't notice the hurt in Tara's eyes. She's far too busy, holding an exclusive pity party for one and staring at her shoes. Miss Kitty mews at me, demanding attention, kneading me with her teeny paws. Tara wanted to leave her in the dorm but I thought Miss Kitty would be lonely. I pick her up, pop her into Tara's lap. "Look after Trixie for a moment." Puzzlement crosses Tara's face then she smirks triumphantly as she understands my words. Then she smiles, more genuinely, when she comprehends why I said them.
I contemplate Buffy, recalling her other episodes of withdrawal: after she was drowned by The Master, after she killed Angel. After Celia died? Oh, there's a pattern here: death, guilt, exile. Not this time, you don't, Buffy! But how to convince her? I remember (remember!) all the times she put herself in danger for me. But I wasn't there for those and Buffy KNOWS I wasn't there. And I finally realize what Tara meant when I had that existential freakout in the Magic Box; the present gobbles up the future and poops it out as memories. Even if I had been here all along. I'd still not be in a position to know things for sure. Just remember them.
"You sound like you were a piece of work, Buff." I tell her. Buffy nods glumly. "But you're not like that now."
"I don't know, Will." she says forlornly. "Am I?"
"That wasn't a question, missy! I'm telling you: you're not like that now!" I give her my most basilisky stares. Buffy's being difficult and that makes me cranky.