Disclaimer: I do not own any characters portrayed or mentioned in the following story. They all belong essentially to Joss Whedon. Cynthia belongs to me, and is in no way related to Olivia.
Spoilers: None, except in the first paragraph, which contains mild spoilers for: Nightmares, Gingerbread, Tough Love, The Weight of the World, The Gift, Bargaining, and Older and Far Away.
Notes: Text in //these// are italicized. I'm sorry if Willow seems a little off. I've never met anyone addicted to anything, so I don't know how she should act. Plus, I have a better grip on her character before she started college and dating Tara and everything, so... that's why she acts like that. Hope you enjoy.
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She wasn't really one for panicking. She didn't panic when she couldn't de-rat Amy at first. She didn't panic when Glory brain-sucked Tara and made her a crazy five-year-old. She didn't panic when Buffy went catatonic after Glory took Dawn, nor during any of the subsequent repetitiveness of Buffy's thoughts. She hadn't panicked when she saw Buffy's lifeless body laying there among the rubble after their ultimate fight with Glory. She didn't panic as the coffin holding Buffy's body was slowly lowered into the ground, and dirt was tossed onto it (although it did bring back memories of Giles saying that was his greatest nightmare, looking at Buffy's headstone.) She didn't really panic so much as lose hope when she thought that her spell hadn't worked and Buffy wouldn't be coming back. And she hadn't panicked at Buffy's birthday party when no one could get out of the house, even when Anya was bullying her to do magic. Willow Rosenberg wasn't one to panic, even if she didn't know exactly what to do. She was level-headed (most of the time), used common sense, and remained fairly calm in the face of a crisis, even before she'd had a lot of experience.
Perhaps she was panicking now, as she rifled through the drawer of her nightstand, looking for a specific piece of paper she'd only had to use once before. Perhaps she was merely overwhelmed by what was happening. It didn't matter. She was going to go through with this, whether it was a very level-headed thing to do or not.
She punched the necessary numbers into the telephone, silently promising Buffy she would pay for the call herself, somehow.
She was getting antsy as she waited for someone on the other end to pick up, fidgeting with the cord and continuously glancing at her door, almost expecting someone to come in and demand to know what she was doing, who she was calling, and why.
On the sixth ring, the phone was answered. "Hello?" a feminine voice said, and Willow's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. She pushed it aside and said, as politely as she could through her not-panicking, "I need to speak to Rupert Giles." She almost added 'right away' when the woman didn't immediately comply, but held back, knowing she would only be being rude.
A moment of muffled voices and shuffling of the receiver, and then a familiar male voice said, "Hello, this is Rupert Giles."
Despite wanting to remain calm, Willow couldn't help but cry in relief, "Giles! Thank goodness!" ((Oh no, that's not going to worry him at all,)) she thought wryly.
"Willow? What is it?" he asked, indeed sounding worried. Willow immediately apologized. "Sorry, Giles, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just . . . "
"Willow, the mere fact that you called me at all has me worried. //Something// had to've come up to get you to call long distance." He paused, then asked more softly, "Is it Buffy?"
"Yes!" Willow cried, then cringed at how that sounded and instantly contradicted herself. "No. I mean," she floundered, feeling so much like when she was in high school. She sighed, willing herself to calm down. "I mean, it's about Buffy, but Buffy herself is alright . . . I think. I'm not sure, actually, but she seems alright." She mentally growled at herself. She wouldn't blame Giles if he had a heart attack, thinking something monstrous had happened to Buffy. "Look, I'm not really thinkin' too clear right now, so bare with me, 'kay?" She sighed again. "Buffy is fine, as far as I can tell, mentally and physically . . . well, kinda physically . . . rrr! See, I don't want to tell you, 'cause it's really Buffy's to tell, but . . . something Hellmouth-y has happened to her, and she's . . . got a condition. A life-altering condition, but not necessarily a bad life-alter. You know?" she asked piteously at the end, having given up on trying not to alarm the older man.
On the other end of the line, Giles gave a brief rueful smile. "No, actually, I can't say as I do, but that's alright." He thought about the last time he had spoken to Willow over the phone while in London. "Does this, ah, life altercation require my presence?" He wasn't sure if he wanted it to or not. He missed them all terribly, but, against all odds, he was enjoying his stay in London. Still, for all the acquaintances he had now, and the peaceful flow of his life, at times, he could swear that he was only on an extended vacation from Sunnydale. No matter how much of a life he gained in London, he never truly let himself stop being Buffy's Watcher. This was most likely because deep down, he didn't want to. Despite what he told her about his reasons for leaving, he could never indeed let her go. She would always be his Slayer. His Buffy.
"I don't know," Willow squeaked. "I think . . . I think in the next few months, Buffy's gonna have a lot to cope with, and adjust to, and . . . well, your presence would help, a great deal. I'd wager." Giles couldn't quite hold back his smile at Willow's not-quite-innocent words. She thought he should come back, even if Buffy didn't. He frowned at that thought. "Willow, does Buffy even know you're calling me?"
"Um. . ." she stalled, and he could just see her looking up and off to the side, trying to think of how to answer truthfully without actually having to tell the truth. It struck him then how well he knew her - and all of the others in Sunnydale - as opposed to his casual friends in Bath and London.
Sighing in that 'exasperated British Librarian' way of his, he said, "I'll be there soon. Do you suppose Buffy can handle her 'life-altering condition' for about another week?"
Willow chewed on the inside of her lip. "Yeah, I think so." She paused, then asked eagerly, "Does that mean you're coming?"
He chuckled. "I suppose it does. But I have a few things to take care of first. Where should I go when I arrive?"
"Um. . . if it's during the day, the Magic Box, but if it's after eight, Buffy's house. Everyone's been congregating here lately, even though Spike's always here, too." She made a noise that could mean disgust, or perhaps annoyance, at that, and Giles picked up on it. "Spike is at the house? Why?"
"Really, I should let Buffy explain all this," Willow said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than normal. Giles narrowed his eyes, smelling a fox in the proverbial hen house. "Willow, why is Spike at the house all the time?"
Willow gave a nervous little laugh. She really was reverting back to her high school days. "Really, you should ask Buffy, but basically, Spike and Buffy are together. I'm tellin' ya, Giles, weird things've been happening lately."
"Yes, I believe you," Giles said. He promised her that he would be there soon, within a week or two. After hanging up, he merely stood there, his hand resting on the receiver. One of the first things he'd thought of when Willow had begun talking was when Buffy had been infected by the demon's blood and could read minds. He was rather reluctant to return to Sunnydale, afraid it would negate the fact that he'd left in the first place. He wanted Buffy to be able to handle things on her own, but if he ran back to her side every time something happened to her . . . he sighed. On the other hand, it had been months since he left, and if the Scooby Gang was keeping up with their average, they had battled many demons as well as gotten into non-demonic trouble as well, never once running to him for help or advice. A selfish part of him was glad that they still needed him.
"Rupert?" He turned, smiling slightly at Cynthia. She tilted her head slightly, enquiringly, but returned the smile. "What's going on?"
His smile turned puzzled and he shook his head. "Apparently. . . I'm taking a trip to America."
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I'm giving you guys fair warning - Real life and my mom might keep me from posting these as often as I would like. I'll try to post once a week, but I can't guarantee anything. The good news is, the further along we get, the longer the pieces are getting.
Spoilers: None, except in the first paragraph, which contains mild spoilers for: Nightmares, Gingerbread, Tough Love, The Weight of the World, The Gift, Bargaining, and Older and Far Away.
Notes: Text in //these// are italicized. I'm sorry if Willow seems a little off. I've never met anyone addicted to anything, so I don't know how she should act. Plus, I have a better grip on her character before she started college and dating Tara and everything, so... that's why she acts like that. Hope you enjoy.
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She wasn't really one for panicking. She didn't panic when she couldn't de-rat Amy at first. She didn't panic when Glory brain-sucked Tara and made her a crazy five-year-old. She didn't panic when Buffy went catatonic after Glory took Dawn, nor during any of the subsequent repetitiveness of Buffy's thoughts. She hadn't panicked when she saw Buffy's lifeless body laying there among the rubble after their ultimate fight with Glory. She didn't panic as the coffin holding Buffy's body was slowly lowered into the ground, and dirt was tossed onto it (although it did bring back memories of Giles saying that was his greatest nightmare, looking at Buffy's headstone.) She didn't really panic so much as lose hope when she thought that her spell hadn't worked and Buffy wouldn't be coming back. And she hadn't panicked at Buffy's birthday party when no one could get out of the house, even when Anya was bullying her to do magic. Willow Rosenberg wasn't one to panic, even if she didn't know exactly what to do. She was level-headed (most of the time), used common sense, and remained fairly calm in the face of a crisis, even before she'd had a lot of experience.
Perhaps she was panicking now, as she rifled through the drawer of her nightstand, looking for a specific piece of paper she'd only had to use once before. Perhaps she was merely overwhelmed by what was happening. It didn't matter. She was going to go through with this, whether it was a very level-headed thing to do or not.
She punched the necessary numbers into the telephone, silently promising Buffy she would pay for the call herself, somehow.
She was getting antsy as she waited for someone on the other end to pick up, fidgeting with the cord and continuously glancing at her door, almost expecting someone to come in and demand to know what she was doing, who she was calling, and why.
On the sixth ring, the phone was answered. "Hello?" a feminine voice said, and Willow's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. She pushed it aside and said, as politely as she could through her not-panicking, "I need to speak to Rupert Giles." She almost added 'right away' when the woman didn't immediately comply, but held back, knowing she would only be being rude.
A moment of muffled voices and shuffling of the receiver, and then a familiar male voice said, "Hello, this is Rupert Giles."
Despite wanting to remain calm, Willow couldn't help but cry in relief, "Giles! Thank goodness!" ((Oh no, that's not going to worry him at all,)) she thought wryly.
"Willow? What is it?" he asked, indeed sounding worried. Willow immediately apologized. "Sorry, Giles, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just . . . "
"Willow, the mere fact that you called me at all has me worried. //Something// had to've come up to get you to call long distance." He paused, then asked more softly, "Is it Buffy?"
"Yes!" Willow cried, then cringed at how that sounded and instantly contradicted herself. "No. I mean," she floundered, feeling so much like when she was in high school. She sighed, willing herself to calm down. "I mean, it's about Buffy, but Buffy herself is alright . . . I think. I'm not sure, actually, but she seems alright." She mentally growled at herself. She wouldn't blame Giles if he had a heart attack, thinking something monstrous had happened to Buffy. "Look, I'm not really thinkin' too clear right now, so bare with me, 'kay?" She sighed again. "Buffy is fine, as far as I can tell, mentally and physically . . . well, kinda physically . . . rrr! See, I don't want to tell you, 'cause it's really Buffy's to tell, but . . . something Hellmouth-y has happened to her, and she's . . . got a condition. A life-altering condition, but not necessarily a bad life-alter. You know?" she asked piteously at the end, having given up on trying not to alarm the older man.
On the other end of the line, Giles gave a brief rueful smile. "No, actually, I can't say as I do, but that's alright." He thought about the last time he had spoken to Willow over the phone while in London. "Does this, ah, life altercation require my presence?" He wasn't sure if he wanted it to or not. He missed them all terribly, but, against all odds, he was enjoying his stay in London. Still, for all the acquaintances he had now, and the peaceful flow of his life, at times, he could swear that he was only on an extended vacation from Sunnydale. No matter how much of a life he gained in London, he never truly let himself stop being Buffy's Watcher. This was most likely because deep down, he didn't want to. Despite what he told her about his reasons for leaving, he could never indeed let her go. She would always be his Slayer. His Buffy.
"I don't know," Willow squeaked. "I think . . . I think in the next few months, Buffy's gonna have a lot to cope with, and adjust to, and . . . well, your presence would help, a great deal. I'd wager." Giles couldn't quite hold back his smile at Willow's not-quite-innocent words. She thought he should come back, even if Buffy didn't. He frowned at that thought. "Willow, does Buffy even know you're calling me?"
"Um. . ." she stalled, and he could just see her looking up and off to the side, trying to think of how to answer truthfully without actually having to tell the truth. It struck him then how well he knew her - and all of the others in Sunnydale - as opposed to his casual friends in Bath and London.
Sighing in that 'exasperated British Librarian' way of his, he said, "I'll be there soon. Do you suppose Buffy can handle her 'life-altering condition' for about another week?"
Willow chewed on the inside of her lip. "Yeah, I think so." She paused, then asked eagerly, "Does that mean you're coming?"
He chuckled. "I suppose it does. But I have a few things to take care of first. Where should I go when I arrive?"
"Um. . . if it's during the day, the Magic Box, but if it's after eight, Buffy's house. Everyone's been congregating here lately, even though Spike's always here, too." She made a noise that could mean disgust, or perhaps annoyance, at that, and Giles picked up on it. "Spike is at the house? Why?"
"Really, I should let Buffy explain all this," Willow said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than normal. Giles narrowed his eyes, smelling a fox in the proverbial hen house. "Willow, why is Spike at the house all the time?"
Willow gave a nervous little laugh. She really was reverting back to her high school days. "Really, you should ask Buffy, but basically, Spike and Buffy are together. I'm tellin' ya, Giles, weird things've been happening lately."
"Yes, I believe you," Giles said. He promised her that he would be there soon, within a week or two. After hanging up, he merely stood there, his hand resting on the receiver. One of the first things he'd thought of when Willow had begun talking was when Buffy had been infected by the demon's blood and could read minds. He was rather reluctant to return to Sunnydale, afraid it would negate the fact that he'd left in the first place. He wanted Buffy to be able to handle things on her own, but if he ran back to her side every time something happened to her . . . he sighed. On the other hand, it had been months since he left, and if the Scooby Gang was keeping up with their average, they had battled many demons as well as gotten into non-demonic trouble as well, never once running to him for help or advice. A selfish part of him was glad that they still needed him.
"Rupert?" He turned, smiling slightly at Cynthia. She tilted her head slightly, enquiringly, but returned the smile. "What's going on?"
His smile turned puzzled and he shook his head. "Apparently. . . I'm taking a trip to America."
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I'm giving you guys fair warning - Real life and my mom might keep me from posting these as often as I would like. I'll try to post once a week, but I can't guarantee anything. The good news is, the further along we get, the longer the pieces are getting.