Willow:
I push the huge mound of Chinese food on my plate around
with a fork. I am yet to eat any of it, excepting a few grains of rice. The
truth is I am really not hungry, all this worrying makes for a great diet plan,
shame I won't actually be alive to see the benefits. Tara touches my arm
gently, urging me to eat something, anything. Smiling wanly at her, I scoop up
a mouthful of sweet and sour chicken, even the strong spicy sauce managing to
taste like ashes and cardboard, and force myself to swallow. Tara looks
satisfied, leans her forehead against mine briefly, then returns to her barely
touched meal.
The room, although filled with people, is virtually
silent. Everyone – with the notable exception of Angel – is occupied with their
take-out lunch, but glancing around I notice more people pretending to
enjoy the food than there are actually eating. In truth the silence comes more
from despondency and awkwardness than anything else. Xander, who came home with
Buffy after her visit to the hospital this morning, seems to be the only one of
us with any good humour at all. His face still bright red from the burns and
his voice a little croaky, he is perpetually trying to crack jokes and smiles
in order to lighten the mood a little. The only reason for his silence now
being the fact that Anya is busy indulgently feeding him beef chow mein
straight from the cardboard container after hearing his dual complaints that
hospital food is totally gross and his hands are all bandaged up so he can't
hold the chopsticks.
Buffy
on the other hand seems to be a whirlwind of nervous energy. She keeps flitting
from one end of the lounge room to the other, nervously asking if everyone is
doing all right and checking to see that we all have our favourite Chinese
dishes, which she made a special effort to buy for us all. She seems wound-up
to the point she will snap, her face set in a perpetual frown as she studiously
avoids any contact at all with either Riley or Angel, whilst the former keeps
trying to catch her attention and the latter hides away in the shadows in the
corner. Eventually, running out of useful tasks to complete (like offering
drinks, or clearing away empty take-out boxes) she looks about to be drawn into
a tête-à-tête with Riley, so anxiously calls attention to our extended Scooby
gang meeting.
"Hey,
uh, guys – is everybody okay?" A deathly silence greets her question, broken
only by Xander's waving arm and mumbles through a mouthful of food. "Okay,
great," Buffy adds under her breath. "Now I talked to Giles this morning – "
"Is
he going to be all right?" I interrupt quickly, unable to bear the possibility
of something…someone else to worry about.
"He's
going to be fine," Buffy reassures me, the first genuine smile I have seen her
give all day breaking out on her face. "He just needs a little recovery time
that's all."
"Well,
that certainly is the best piece of news we've heard in a while," Wesley,
interjects in a quite, diplomatic tone.
"Prepare
yourself for another one," Buffy adds in a slightly shaky voice. "Giles thinks
he's come up with a way of stopping this thing."
"Y-you
mean reversing the effects of the ritual?" Tara asks hopefully.
Buffy
nods. "It's a slim possibility, but Giles says that the casting of this ritual
will have upset the fabric of the Hellmouth, so it's going to be unusually
unstable for this coming week – "
"You
mean before it rips open and swallows us all?" Anya interrupts.
"You
might want to be more with the 'glass half full' philosophy, An," Xander
reminds his girlfriend gently.
"Anyway,"
Buffy continues, ignoring Anya and Xander's exchange. "With all the
supernatural disturbances and stuff, we could be in with a chance of sealing
the Hellmouth shut permanently."
"Meaning
Sunnydale will no longer be the international tourist destination for vampires,
demons and general apocalypse-causing fiends?" Riley asks, brightening
somewhat.
"Yeah,
if we can actually pull this off," Buffy confirms.
"How
exactly are we going to do that?" Angel enquires quietly, an
electricity-charged glance passing between him and Buffy.
She
shifts uncomfortably. "By sacrificing all the demons that cast the ritual in
the first place into the Hellmouth and performing their spell backwards.
Whereas they wanted to fully open the Hellmouth, hopefully we should have the
opposite effect and close it."
"Sounds
simple enough," Riley says with a large grin.
"S-so
the world isn't going end?" I ask in a small voice.
Buffy
shrugs, not looking particularly happy at the news. "I guess not."
The
collective sigh of relief uttered is almost audible. Then suddenly all the chatter
people have been suppressing spills forth. Xander is loudly congratulating
Buffy, maintaining he'd always known that 'the Buffster and her SuperSlayer
powers would find a way out of this'. Wesley and Angel are discussing battle
strategy, with Riley trying desperately to contribute to the conversation.
Cordelia and Anya have found something new to argue about and Tara is trying to
calm them both. But registering Buffy's miserable expression, something ill
fitting to the considerably raised hopes of the situation, I pull her to one
side and demand (one of a best friend's most valued privileges) to know what
the matter is.
Her
frown deepens even more and instead of the brush off and declaration of 'I'm
fine' I was expecting, she grips my hand tightly, tears springing in her eyes.
"I really need to talk to you, Will."
We
quietly head upstairs to Buffy's room for a private heart-to-heart, the only
person that notices our escape being Angel, who flashes me a pained and knowing
look, piquing my curiosity as well as my concern. I knew it would be only a
matter of time before Angel's return affected Buffy somehow.
Buffy
shuts her bedroom door behind us and collapses on her bed, head in hands. I
move to sit down next to her, my arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"I
made such a mess of things, Will," she sniffs.
"Is
this about Angel?" She nods in response and I continue. "Oh, Buffy, what
happened?"
"We,
uh, well, I sort of…told-him-I-loved-him," she runs the words together, choking
back a sob. "Then we…"
"You
didn't!" I interrupt incredulously, anxious over what she is going to confess
next. Angel is still definitely still Angel, I'm sure. I mean I think I would
have noticed if he was an evil psychopath trying to kill everybody. I certainly
noticed when it happened to Spike…
Buffy
shakes her head. "We would have though, if…if Riley hadn't phoned up at like
that exact moment." This time her sobs do come out and she is crying full force
on my shoulder over her twisted and impossible love life. Vague memories return
of previous times spent with Buffy like this, comforting her in her despair over
Angel.
("I
can't breathe, Will…")
"Shush,"
I try to comfort her. "Everything's going to be okay, you'll see." When her
weeping has subsided to little snuffles, I get up the courage to question her
further. "What did you say to Riley?"
She
shakes her head helplessly. "I didn't. I'd just told him I'd meet him here. He
wants an answer today."
I
just look at Buffy in complete confusion. "An answer to what?"
Her
voice breaks once more as she tries to reply. "His marriage proposal."
"Oh,"
is all I can think of to say. "Don't you know what to tell him?" I finally add.
Buffy
laughs bitterly. "No, I do know what to tell him – that's the problem. I know
what I want to tell him, anyway. I just think 'I'm sorry I can't be your
wife Riley, because I'm still in love with my vampire ex-boyfriend' will go
down very well."
"You
meant it then," I ask. "When you said you loved him?"
She
fixes her eyes on me with the most intense, fervent gaze I have ever seen.
"More than I've ever meant anything in world."
"But,
I thought…I thought that you were over him…"
"I'm
not sure I'll ever be over him," she replies sadly. "You must know what it's
like – I mean, with Oz."
I
think about this for a minute. Am I totally over Oz? Does part of me still love
him and will love him forever? The more this question weighs on my mind, the
more I conclude the answer is yes. Of course he's always going to occupy a
special place in my heart – but only a small place. I am with Tara now, I love
her, she is the most important person in the world to me and I'd thought that
this is what it was like for Buffy and Riley too. "I-I don't know, Buffy." I
eventually answer. "Maybe…"
She
frowns. "There's no maybe here, Will. I've tried to forget. I've tried to move
on with my life, to love someone else – but I just can't. I can't do it
anymore."
"Have
you talked to Angel about any of this? What does he say?"
Buffy
twists the bedcovers beneath her hands. "That he loves me too. But it's not
that simple…things between us are just so hard. I mean, there's the curse and
sunlight and children and the whole separate cities thing. Plus Riley… I just
don't know what to do."
"You
should talk to him, Buffy," I try to comfort her, at a loss of what I can say
or do to make things any better. We all thought she'd put Angel behind her,
that maybe she'd grown out of him or something, learnt to let go and move on,
to pursue more sensible relationships. But apparently not. And I'm not sure how
I feel about that. I used to think that what they had was romantic – movie love
– but this isn't a movie or some tragic romance novel, it's real life. Buffy
can't go chasing after a dream like this, she has enough other problems to
face.
The
cynical, self-centred part of me is almost angry at her. She has a great guy
who really, really loves her, who wants to marry her even, and she's going to
crush his feelings, to push him away from her just for some starry-eyed notion
of forbidden love. They've barely even been reunited forty-eight hours and
already she's weeping uncontrollably over Angel. Doesn't she realise that
things will only get worse from now on, that they can't help but hurt one
another? Doesn't she know that she's supposed to be the strong one right now,
the one that everybody else gets to rely upon, not the one who's falling apart
herself?
Ashamed
of my self-centred thoughts, I stroke Buffy's hair softly. I've been here, in
the depths of despair over lost love and I know how it feels. She will get
past it in time, it's just seeing Angel again that's brought back all the old
confusion and pain. I know I'd be pretty much a mess of Oz just suddenly turned
up with no warning. All Buffy needs right now is a little compassion and a
clearer vision of the situation. "Maybe you should wait a few days before
making any rash decisions," I suggest tentatively. "You know, see how you
feel."
Buffy
looks up at me, a surprised expression on her face and is about to say
something, when abruptly all the colour drains out of her face and she doubles
up in pain.
"Buffy?"
I call after her concerned, as she rushes across the hall to the bathroom.
Following close behind, I stand over anxiously as she vomits in the toilet.
"Are you okay?" I ask when she's stopped retching.
"Guess
I shouldn't have had those spicy prawns, huh?" She tries to quip, but it is
obvious there's something more seriously wrong than just some bad Chinese food.
She splashes water on her face, whilst I try to convince her to see a doctor.
"It's
just stress – " Buffy begins to reassure me, before being interrupted by a loud
commotion from downstairs.
Angel:
Wesley's voice is droning in my ear, talking about battle
plans and strategy and how to lure all the demons to the Hellmouth so that they
can be thrown in, but I'm not really paying any attention. My thoughts are all
occupied with Buffy and what passed (and didn't pass) between us this morning,
which naturally also brings Riley to the forefront of my mind. It doesn't help
that he is sat barely a yard away from me, eagerly conversing with Wesley,
whilst trying not very hard to disguise the dirty looks he keeps flashing in my
direction. I am torn between the desire to leap up off my chair right this
minute and tear his head clean off his shoulders in a jealous rage, and the
guilt that keeps me steadfastly rooted in place, wishing that the ground would
just swallow me up right now.
The guilt wins, which considering my tormented soul and
my propensity for brooding, shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Despite all
my possessive feelings over Buffy the fact remains that she doesn't belong to
me – in fact she never really did in the first place. These are human
relationships I'm dealing with here, not twisted vampire ones. People aren't
like demons, they don't own one another, they don't have claims of blood
or life, they are merely with each other because they choose to be. And
Buffy is with Riley. She chose him; she made promises, gave reassurances,
accepted him into her life and gave him her body. They called one another
partners, lovers, formed a mutual bond and this morning Buffy and I desecrated
that bond.
Maybe my language is dramatic here, my sentiments
overstated. All Buffy and I really did was admit to feelings that had existed,
unspoken, for over two years. Then we shared a few illicit kisses, nothing
compared to what routinely goes on in many modern relationships. But my views
aren't exactly modern. I was raised Catholic in eighteenth century Ireland and
some of those old, strict teachings still remain with me. I am well aware of
the irony and the double standard, considering the many pleasures of the flesh
I have indulged myself in over the centuries. Even when I was human, drinking
and debauchery were two of my favourite pastimes and upon more than one
occasion I can admit to seducing a married woman.
But this is Buffy and somehow with Buffy everything seems
different – purer. When we slept together on the night of her seventeenth
birthday it was the first time I had ever made love not just had meaningless
sex. Then it was about worship and adoration, paying homage to every inch of
her perfect and exceptionally beautiful body. Every time I lay my hands on her
skin, or my lips on her lips, it's like being allowed to touch a little bit of
heaven, and the idea that this has been done illegitimately or deceitfully
sullies the experience somehow. With Buffy everything should be right and true
and perfect, and this morning wasn't at all.
However much I may hate Riley Finn (and I do, with a
passion only a two centuries old evil demon could muster), I still feel bad
about what I have just done to him. He doesn't deserve to have the woman he
loves cheat on him with some other guy. I know that if Buffy and I were
together and if someone else as much as looked at her lustily then I would want
to slice open his stomach and rip out his intestines. And this is a feeling I
know intimately from experience, though fortunately one I have never acted upon
(otherwise I'm sure I would have eviscerated Xander several thousand times over
by now). Something else I am also acutely aware of is how I would feel if the
tables were turned, if I had just asked Buffy to marry me when she turned
around and announced she didn't really love me and incidentally when I phoned
her up this morning she was actually in bed with her ex-boyfriend. Given this
situation I imagine I would probably be walking out into the sun the next day.
And all issues of adultery or deception aside, there are
plenty of other reasons to feel guilty about my abortive tryst with Buffy. We
nearly slept together. I could have lost my soul, certainly I was in no
position to stop without interruption and it didn't seem like Buffy was either.
We were acting purely on feeling, no rationality or logical thought. And we
already know how dangerous those particular feelings can be. By no means do I
want a repeat of the events following the first time Buffy and I gave in to our
carnal desires, because I don't think either of us could survive the
reappearance of Angelus once again. This time I know there would be no
re-casting of the curse – the demon wouldn't allow it to happen – the only way
the scenario could possibly end would be with my Final Death, most likely by
the hands of Buffy, which (especially in the light of her speech this morning)
I think would destroy her.
So, basically, sex between Buffy and I – not a good idea.
This I could probably handle if we were talking any other woman other than
Buffy Summers. I mean in 250 years of unlife, I've had enough sex to satisfy
anyone's quota. I've been there, done that and indulged every imaginable
fantasy (plus a few more, besides). What I'm looking for now is deeper than
simple sex – it's friendship, love, nights spent just holding one another. I
don't want any more solely physical acts empty of emotion. But with Buffy the
sex could never be empty, every touch is magical, every kiss brimming over with
love. With her I have all the things I've being wanting these past hundred
years. And I would gladly take the hugs and the chaste kisses and the shy
handholding, if my body didn't tremble with desire every time I saw her. If my
flesh didn't ache for the feel of hers against it. If I thought I had any
control over the fiery, deep lust I feel for her…
But I don't. Neither of us does. There's something
between us, a deeper chemistry than I've ever felt before, which was why I
left, because of how dangerous it was. And now that I've returned I find it
even more so, Buffy has matured from a pretty young girl to a stunningly attractive
woman. A woman with full knowledge of her body and how to use it. She is
sexually experienced now and no longer has shyness or embarrassment to hold her
back. This time there is no holding back; neither of us has the strength to do
so. And that means we can't be together, we can't start off along a path we
wouldn't be able to follow to its end. More than ever I know how much I love
her, and more than ever I know how impossible our relationship is.
A loud pounding on the door drags me suddenly away from
my train of thought. Automatically, I look around my surroundings for a weapon,
before remembering that it is broad daylight in a suburban street and whoever's
at the door is more likely to be a travelling salesman than a demon. Supposing,
that is, that the two are actually in any way different. Nevertheless, I manage
to locate one of Buffy's spare axes (a little lightweight for my taste, but it
would still do some serious damage) and lurk behind Wesley in the shadows, as
he opens the door, revealing a young man in smart army uniform.
My suspicions raised, I grip the axe more tightly, until
Riley appears from the lounge and his face lights up in a broad grin.
"Graham, what are you doing here?"
I raise my eyebrows as 'Graham' gives Riley a salute,
which the former commando returns. The newcomer then beckons to an army truck
parked in the driveway, from which about five more soldiers emerge.
"We heard there was some action going down – the
electromagnetic vibrations given off by the Hellmouth have been changing
recently." Graham explains. "Thought you might need some help to deal."
Riley invites them in enthusiastically, with apparently
no thought to what Buffy's reaction to her house being filled with army cadets
would be. As one, they traipse into the lounge room, their trained military
observation skills completely failing to notice a vampire with an axe stood
three feet away from them. Remembering my last encounter with this group (when
they attacked me en masse) I keep hold of my weapon and head back to join the
rest of the party, only to find six stun-guns pointed directly at my chest.
"A hostile!" One of the soldiers calls out. "How did he
get in here? Subdue him quick!"
Feeling more irritated than threatened by their
behaviour, I turn away in the direction of footsteps coming rushing down the
stairs. Buffy, looking slightly paler and more puffy-eyed than usual, suddenly
appears, her expression alternating between that of horror and anger.
"What the Hell is going on here?"
To be continued…
A/N ~ Thanks again for all the great feedback – it really
helps with motivation to write these things!