March 13, 1998
If only. If only Wesley had insisted on walking Buffy home that night. If only Wesley had not gotten the bright idea to take Buffy ice skating. If only Wesley had waited another day to scrye for the demon, let Buffy have a day off and spend a quiet day at home with....
"Please, Mister...Pryce, is it? Sorry, Wyndam-Pryce. Please, make sure Miss Summers knows that there's nothing she could have done to help her mother. The aneurysm was so small, almost undetectable. No one could have known."
"Yes, I will. Thank you, doctor."
If only she'd not had to face that alone.
"Wesley, what...what happens now? To me?"
"You mustn't worry about that. The Council will see that you're legally placed within my care. You've been through enough. I'm going to make sure your life isn't disrupted further."
Disrupted. Could he have sounded any more callous? Wesley shook his head and unpacked another box of clothes. Buffy had been scared, grieving, and he'd made it sound like her mother's death had been some...some inconvenience. Stupid.
"I mean, c'mon Wes, the Council is paying for the rent, and your apartment is so tiny. And I've got all this extra room. And...it's really quiet up here at night. Plus, it would make training easier...."
So here he was, moving into Buffy's mother's old bedroom. An unusual arrangement for a Slayer and a Watcher, but Buffy had become so withdrawn in the month since her mother died. Wesley was grateful he had the chance to better keep an eye on her.
There was a soft knock on the door.
"Come in."
Buffy pushed the door open and padded in, still pajama-clad at three in the afternoon. "Hey. I brought you some sheets. I mean, I'm sure you have your own sheets, but people always offer their guests sheets...." She bounced on the balls of her feet and ran her hand over the linens.
Wesley smiled and took them from her. "Thank you."
"So...I'm gonna take a shower, and then we can train?"
"Of course."
Buffy had thrown herself into training with a vigor and enthusiasm he'd never thought possible for her, at least when it came to something that wasn't shoe shopping. She'd even volunteered to pull out of public school and be home tutored, just to devote more time to training. He was fairly certain she'd have given up their occasional trips to the movies had he not insisted.
Still, all told, she was handling the situation admirably.
***
The small radio bleated out the latest Third Eye Blind single as Buffy stepped into the shower, hissing when the hot water hit her skin. She hoped Wesley didn't mind the music cranked up so loud, but she needed it. Showers were really the worst. Showers and those minutes between getting into bed and actually falling asleep. Any other time, she could find something to do, keep her mind off her mom. But showers...when she was stuck in there with just her own thoughts....
So, music. For showers, at least. When she was going to sleep, she was kinda trapped. Nothing to do but lay there and feel like her ribs has knitted themselves into a heavy ball in her chest while tears stained her pillowcase.
Sometimes, if she couldn't sleep, she'd go and make herself a cup of tea. If Wesley was still up, or if she'd accidentally woken him up, he'd join her. God, Wesley had been so great. Taking care of all the funeral arrangements, letting her cry and vent, agreeing to move in. It was weird, she thought, turning off the water and reaching for a towel. It was like, somewhere along the way he'd stopped being Mister Fussy Watcherman and started just being her friend.
He was still totally fussy though.
Yesterday, he'd inexplicably rearranged the cupboard where they kept the drinking glasses and mugs. Everything was now grouped in some order Buffy guessed was largest to smallest, though she had to admit that wasn't a given. After all, he had his weapons cabinet arranged by alphabetical order of the demons each weapon was most effective on.
Which didn't exactly do her any good when she just wanted to know where to put the long sword with the green handle.
Living with him was turning out to be an interesting experience. He'd always tried so hard to be all business, even when he was taking on their outings. But it's hard to be a stern Watcher when vegging on the couch watching Dawson's Creek with your Slayer.
Yeah, Wesley definitely did his best to make things better for Buffy. It wasn't his fault it felt like nothing would ever be enough to make her happy again.
***
"Where are you going?"
Wesley watched as Buffy ran her fingers through her wet hair.
"We're out of milk and bread, so I'm gonna run to the grocery store."
He couldn't remember the last time Buffy had gone out in public without her hair somewhat styled, without a trace of makeup.
"I'll come with you."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I think I can handle going to the grocery store solo."
Can you really? "Yes, I know, but I could use the fresh air."
"Wes, it's like ten degrees out." When he continued to stare at her, she shrugged. "Get your coat."
The sun had already set by the time they entered the Food Emporium, and Wesley found himself blinking against the glaring fluorescent light.
On the five-block walk to the store, Wesley had done his best to keep up a constant stream of chatter. Buffy'd mostly nodded, occasionally throwing him a monosyllabic answer. But Wesley wasn't going to give up so easily.
"Well." He rubbed his hands together and smiled at her. "Where shall we begin?"
"Uh...fruits and vegetables first, I guess."
"Splendid!"
She looked at him. "Wesley, it's just fruit."
Buffy pushed the cart while Wesley selected the food. Though she made a few efforts to smile at his jokes, he could tell she was largely lost in her own thoughts. Finally, he stopped in front of the ice cream freezer.
"What do you think? Chunky Monkey?"
She shrugged. "Whatever you want. You like black cherry, right?"
"Yes, but we can get two cartons. It is on the Council's dime," he winked.
"Yeah." A wan smile. "Yeah, sure, Chunky Monkey."
Pulling the freezer open, Wesley shook his head. He would give anything to make Buffy feel better.
***
"Man, I don't know how people drag groceries up three flights of stairs without Slayer strength," Buffy said as they reached the landing.
"I imagine there's a reason why there are countless fast food places in the immediate vicinity."
"Point. Aw crap." Buffy put the bags down in the hall and sighed. "The super said there weren't gonna be any more homeless people sleeping in the hallway. Hey!" She started to walk over. "There's a shelter over on -- oh, god...."
"Buffy, what is it?"
When Wesley got closer to the body, he realized what he'd assumed were rags were intestines, pulled out of the young woman and strewn about her corpse. With a shaking hand, he removed the piece of paper stuffed into her mouth.
You're cordially invited to take your rightful place as my pet.
The warehouse, tomorrow at sundown.
The farther you run, the longer the trail of bodies will be.
Kakistos.
Up next: Chapter 11 - Before I Come Undone