A ticking watch.
The whir of the tires.
The unsteady breathing of her mother.
Buffy closed her eyes tightly against the sounds, as if not being able to see
would shield her of the pain of hearing. She turned her head toward the
window and stared out as the ground flashed by the door. Her mother cleared
her throat and Buffy glanced back over as Joyce began to speak.
"You need to..."
"Mom." Buffy cracked the word like a whip. "Didn't you agree? Didn't you
say you would try to help by not talking about it?" Her voice was tired,
stressed, reaching a breaking point.
Her mother's voice was sharp, but compassionate at the same time. "Buffy.
You need to get tested. For..." Joyce choked for a moment and then went on.
"For pregnancy, for sex.. Sexually transmitted diseases."
Buffy's face hardened and she gave a nonchalant shrug. "My period is due in
about a week, so if I'm late I'll just get a home test. And my system has
built up immunity to... the other sort of thing."
Joyce looked at her sideways. "What?" she asked faintly.
"My immune system. I mean, if I weren't the Slayer, I could see the sense in
it, and I'd be all over it, but Mom. I *am* the Slayer. Haven't you noticed
that I don't get sick lately? Giles explained it all to me a couple of
months ago. The longer I go being the Slayer, the more immunity I'll build
up against natural illnesses. I'm not a regular girl." Buffy crossed her
arms over her chest.
Joyce spoke up a minute later, hesitant, cautious. "Aren't you, though?
Right now, I mean? ...Until your powers come back?"
Buffy closed her eyes again, in pain. couldn't fight, couldn't save herself. My fault, my fault, my fault. Her
voice in her head screamed and Buffy clutched at her ears suddenly to block
it out.
Calming down, she cast an ashamed look to her mother, whose hands were
holding tightly onto the steering wheel, the knuckles turning slowly white.
Buffy licked her lips. "Yeah... I guess I am."
Her mother's turn in the direction of the clinic was expected.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel prowled around the library angrily, helplessly. He growled in fury and
kicked a chair, which immediately broke and tumbled to its side. Giles
watched him silently, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. "Angel?"
"Fuck them," Angel hissed through bared teeth. "Fuck them both. I could
kill them now and not care. I could kill them and feel good."
Giles nodded; finally they had something to relate with, though he hated what
led this union to appear. "As could I." His eyes darkened, narrowed. "I
could kill them just as easily, and I'm meant to help preserve humanity, even
the less than innocent kind. But where is the humanity in those men?"
Angel sat down heavily in a chair at the table and buried his face in his
hands. "I want to kill them, Giles. I want them to die. To die at my
hands. I want... I want them to know how much pain, how many consequences,
how much remorse accompanies you once you..."
"Once you what?" Giles prompted, his breath held.
"Once you regain your soul," Angel continued miserably. "How much torment
fills your mind when you have a conscience, what the knowledge does to your
heart. I want them to..."
Giles interrupted in a hard voice, completing Angel's thought. "Suffer."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xander chased her through the quiet parking lot, rushing to get to her, at
least to walk her to her car. He caught Cordelia by the arm and spun her
around to face him, somehow not surprised when she struggled against his
grip.
"Let me go!" she shouted. "Xander, get your hands off of me, or so help me
I'm gonna..."
His eyes sparked and he gave her a small smile. "I'm gonna what?" he said,
parroting the words that led to their first kiss.
She looked up at him with teary eyes. "What do you want?" she asked softly,
resigned.
"I want to know what happened to you, that you know so much about...
About..." He couldn't finish the sentence; it was too hard a word to get out
over his tongue.
"Rape?" she suggested mildly. "Sexual assault? Forced intercourse?"
"Your indifference doesn't fool me, Cordy. Not now. Not anymore," he
muttered in a low voice. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight, and she
trembled against him, allowing him to pull her into his arms for a moment.
"It was years ago, okay? And I told Buffy nothing but the truth. I'm never
going to be healed. Neither is she. Not really. You can move past it, but
it's always going to be there, reminding you, shaming you. It's not..." Her
voice was thick with tears. "It's not possible to really heal, I don't
think."
"Yes it is," Xander murmured into her hair, stroking her back tenderly.
"I'll stake my heart on it."
"Your heart?"
Xander pulled away from her an inch and smiled softly at her. "Yeah. My
heart."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow and Oz drove to her house in silence until they reached her curb. She
started to reach for the door handle and then stopped, turning to look at
him. Her eyes misted over and she looked lifeless, dull and sad. "Things
will never be the same, will they?" she whispered.
Oz shook his head, took her hand. "No. But things change all the time,
Baby. Things haven't been the same since ever. You gotta count on the
changes. Sometimes that's all that's gonna get you through, I think."
Willow leaned over and brushed his lips with hers. "Thank you."
He looked surprised. "For what?"
"Being you. Being you in the way that only you can be." A shining tear
spilled out and trailed down her cheek, creating a glimmering path on her
skin and Oz reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. She caught his hand
as he pulled away and kissed it, kissed her tear away so that it wouldn't
soil his fingers and then lifted her trembling mouth to his for a longer,
deeper kiss. After a moment, she broke off with a cry.
"What is it, Will?" he asked, disturbed by her pulling away so abruptly. She
shook her head and he took her chin in his hands, lifted her face so that she
would have to look at him. "What is it?"
Her voice shook. "B- B- Buffy," she choked through her tears. "Sh-she's my
b-best friend and I c-can't help her. Oh, Oz. Why can't I help her?" Her
voice was that of one in total despair, and Oz slid his arms around her,
holding her close, petting her hair back from her wet face soothingly.
"Shh... She doesn't need your help right now, she wouldn't take it. She
needs your support, Honey, and that's what you're best at giving," he
whispered into her neck.
She mumbled something unintelligible and shook against him, the trembles
wracking her body like they would never stop.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Both the counselor and the doctor spoke to Buffy about what she should do in
a situation like what had happened, but every time they opened their mouths,
she would close up, turn her face to the wall, tighten her lips and not
listen. She didn't want to listen. She couldn't listen.
It was daylight when they got out of the clinic. Buffy, other than her
outward physical injuries, had been given a fairly clean bill of health,
though there had been some vaginal tearing that might scar later. Buffy
shuddered when she heard that, and she found herself asking in a small voice,
"Does that mean I can't have children someday?" Though children were
something she had said she had never wanted, the idea that she wouldn't be
able to have them if she so chose terrified her.
The doctor assured her that she would, indeed, be able to carry and deliver
healthy children one day, and, seeing Buffy's small vulnerability, began
speaking again. But Buffy, having heard all she needed to know, turned her
head to the wall again and stopped listening.
Closing her ears. Not hearing. She was getting good at it.
On the way home, a few stray tears slid out from under her tightly closed
eyelids and she found shivers encompassing her. With a look of unconcealed
concern, her mother braked quickly, and pulled over to the side of the road.
"What is it, Honey? Tell me." Joyce took her daughter's hand, but it
remained lifeless and cold in her grip. She began to panic. "Tell mommy
what's wrong, Sweetie! C'mon, Baby, tell me what's happening!" she cried out.
And as suddenly as the tremors started, they turned into laughter, helpless,
hysterical laughter and Buffy launched herself into Joyce's arms, laughing
and crying at the same time. Joyce stroked her hair, her back. "Tell me,
Baby," she quietly commanded.
Buffy shook her head against Joyce's shoulder. "I... I'm the Slayer," she
whispered.
"Yes, Buffy, you are," Joyce encouraged, relieved that her daughter was
finally coherent again. "The Slayer. Yes."
"I would-- I would die for people. I would give up my life for a woman I met
on the street. That's what I do," she mumbled, tears streaming out of her
eyes and into the cloth of Joyce's sweater. "I save them. I save them.
But..."
"But what, Buffy?"
Buffy's voice cracked. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't. That same woman I would
die for so that she would live... If she were being... if she were being
raped, I wouldn't give that up so that she wouldn't be. I couldn't. I
*couldn't*, Mom," she whispered feverishly.
Buffy's mom let out a low, pained moan, the sound of ultimate grief and
horror. Her tears fell onto Buffy's dirty hair and disappeared.
"I know, Baby," she whispered. "And I wouldn't want you to."
The whir of the tires.
The unsteady breathing of her mother.
Buffy closed her eyes tightly against the sounds, as if not being able to see
would shield her of the pain of hearing. She turned her head toward the
window and stared out as the ground flashed by the door. Her mother cleared
her throat and Buffy glanced back over as Joyce began to speak.
"You need to..."
"Mom." Buffy cracked the word like a whip. "Didn't you agree? Didn't you
say you would try to help by not talking about it?" Her voice was tired,
stressed, reaching a breaking point.
Her mother's voice was sharp, but compassionate at the same time. "Buffy.
You need to get tested. For..." Joyce choked for a moment and then went on.
"For pregnancy, for sex.. Sexually transmitted diseases."
Buffy's face hardened and she gave a nonchalant shrug. "My period is due in
about a week, so if I'm late I'll just get a home test. And my system has
built up immunity to... the other sort of thing."
Joyce looked at her sideways. "What?" she asked faintly.
"My immune system. I mean, if I weren't the Slayer, I could see the sense in
it, and I'd be all over it, but Mom. I *am* the Slayer. Haven't you noticed
that I don't get sick lately? Giles explained it all to me a couple of
months ago. The longer I go being the Slayer, the more immunity I'll build
up against natural illnesses. I'm not a regular girl." Buffy crossed her
arms over her chest.
Joyce spoke up a minute later, hesitant, cautious. "Aren't you, though?
Right now, I mean? ...Until your powers come back?"
Buffy closed her eyes again, in pain. couldn't fight, couldn't save herself. My fault, my fault, my fault. Her
voice in her head screamed and Buffy clutched at her ears suddenly to block
it out.
Calming down, she cast an ashamed look to her mother, whose hands were
holding tightly onto the steering wheel, the knuckles turning slowly white.
Buffy licked her lips. "Yeah... I guess I am."
Her mother's turn in the direction of the clinic was expected.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel prowled around the library angrily, helplessly. He growled in fury and
kicked a chair, which immediately broke and tumbled to its side. Giles
watched him silently, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. "Angel?"
"Fuck them," Angel hissed through bared teeth. "Fuck them both. I could
kill them now and not care. I could kill them and feel good."
Giles nodded; finally they had something to relate with, though he hated what
led this union to appear. "As could I." His eyes darkened, narrowed. "I
could kill them just as easily, and I'm meant to help preserve humanity, even
the less than innocent kind. But where is the humanity in those men?"
Angel sat down heavily in a chair at the table and buried his face in his
hands. "I want to kill them, Giles. I want them to die. To die at my
hands. I want... I want them to know how much pain, how many consequences,
how much remorse accompanies you once you..."
"Once you what?" Giles prompted, his breath held.
"Once you regain your soul," Angel continued miserably. "How much torment
fills your mind when you have a conscience, what the knowledge does to your
heart. I want them to..."
Giles interrupted in a hard voice, completing Angel's thought. "Suffer."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xander chased her through the quiet parking lot, rushing to get to her, at
least to walk her to her car. He caught Cordelia by the arm and spun her
around to face him, somehow not surprised when she struggled against his
grip.
"Let me go!" she shouted. "Xander, get your hands off of me, or so help me
I'm gonna..."
His eyes sparked and he gave her a small smile. "I'm gonna what?" he said,
parroting the words that led to their first kiss.
She looked up at him with teary eyes. "What do you want?" she asked softly,
resigned.
"I want to know what happened to you, that you know so much about...
About..." He couldn't finish the sentence; it was too hard a word to get out
over his tongue.
"Rape?" she suggested mildly. "Sexual assault? Forced intercourse?"
"Your indifference doesn't fool me, Cordy. Not now. Not anymore," he
muttered in a low voice. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight, and she
trembled against him, allowing him to pull her into his arms for a moment.
"It was years ago, okay? And I told Buffy nothing but the truth. I'm never
going to be healed. Neither is she. Not really. You can move past it, but
it's always going to be there, reminding you, shaming you. It's not..." Her
voice was thick with tears. "It's not possible to really heal, I don't
think."
"Yes it is," Xander murmured into her hair, stroking her back tenderly.
"I'll stake my heart on it."
"Your heart?"
Xander pulled away from her an inch and smiled softly at her. "Yeah. My
heart."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Willow and Oz drove to her house in silence until they reached her curb. She
started to reach for the door handle and then stopped, turning to look at
him. Her eyes misted over and she looked lifeless, dull and sad. "Things
will never be the same, will they?" she whispered.
Oz shook his head, took her hand. "No. But things change all the time,
Baby. Things haven't been the same since ever. You gotta count on the
changes. Sometimes that's all that's gonna get you through, I think."
Willow leaned over and brushed his lips with hers. "Thank you."
He looked surprised. "For what?"
"Being you. Being you in the way that only you can be." A shining tear
spilled out and trailed down her cheek, creating a glimmering path on her
skin and Oz reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. She caught his hand
as he pulled away and kissed it, kissed her tear away so that it wouldn't
soil his fingers and then lifted her trembling mouth to his for a longer,
deeper kiss. After a moment, she broke off with a cry.
"What is it, Will?" he asked, disturbed by her pulling away so abruptly. She
shook her head and he took her chin in his hands, lifted her face so that she
would have to look at him. "What is it?"
Her voice shook. "B- B- Buffy," she choked through her tears. "Sh-she's my
b-best friend and I c-can't help her. Oh, Oz. Why can't I help her?" Her
voice was that of one in total despair, and Oz slid his arms around her,
holding her close, petting her hair back from her wet face soothingly.
"Shh... She doesn't need your help right now, she wouldn't take it. She
needs your support, Honey, and that's what you're best at giving," he
whispered into her neck.
She mumbled something unintelligible and shook against him, the trembles
wracking her body like they would never stop.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Both the counselor and the doctor spoke to Buffy about what she should do in
a situation like what had happened, but every time they opened their mouths,
she would close up, turn her face to the wall, tighten her lips and not
listen. She didn't want to listen. She couldn't listen.
It was daylight when they got out of the clinic. Buffy, other than her
outward physical injuries, had been given a fairly clean bill of health,
though there had been some vaginal tearing that might scar later. Buffy
shuddered when she heard that, and she found herself asking in a small voice,
"Does that mean I can't have children someday?" Though children were
something she had said she had never wanted, the idea that she wouldn't be
able to have them if she so chose terrified her.
The doctor assured her that she would, indeed, be able to carry and deliver
healthy children one day, and, seeing Buffy's small vulnerability, began
speaking again. But Buffy, having heard all she needed to know, turned her
head to the wall again and stopped listening.
Closing her ears. Not hearing. She was getting good at it.
On the way home, a few stray tears slid out from under her tightly closed
eyelids and she found shivers encompassing her. With a look of unconcealed
concern, her mother braked quickly, and pulled over to the side of the road.
"What is it, Honey? Tell me." Joyce took her daughter's hand, but it
remained lifeless and cold in her grip. She began to panic. "Tell mommy
what's wrong, Sweetie! C'mon, Baby, tell me what's happening!" she cried out.
And as suddenly as the tremors started, they turned into laughter, helpless,
hysterical laughter and Buffy launched herself into Joyce's arms, laughing
and crying at the same time. Joyce stroked her hair, her back. "Tell me,
Baby," she quietly commanded.
Buffy shook her head against Joyce's shoulder. "I... I'm the Slayer," she
whispered.
"Yes, Buffy, you are," Joyce encouraged, relieved that her daughter was
finally coherent again. "The Slayer. Yes."
"I would-- I would die for people. I would give up my life for a woman I met
on the street. That's what I do," she mumbled, tears streaming out of her
eyes and into the cloth of Joyce's sweater. "I save them. I save them.
But..."
"But what, Buffy?"
Buffy's voice cracked. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't. That same woman I would
die for so that she would live... If she were being... if she were being
raped, I wouldn't give that up so that she wouldn't be. I couldn't. I
*couldn't*, Mom," she whispered feverishly.
Buffy's mom let out a low, pained moan, the sound of ultimate grief and
horror. Her tears fell onto Buffy's dirty hair and disappeared.
"I know, Baby," she whispered. "And I wouldn't want you to."