Chapter Four: Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
Buffy wipes the blood from the slight gash in her forehead with the back of her hand. It had been a relatively easy fight for her against the four, whatever kind of demons she had been taking her aggression out on. She hadn't been in a mood to find out what species she was busy killing and they had been a little too busy fighting for their lives, if the futile scuffle they had put up could actually be called a fight, to tell her. One of them had manage to get in a lucky shot with a swipe of its powerful, thickly muscled tail. Maybe later on she would go through Giles' books and find out what they had been before she turned them into the equivalent of demon patties.
Seeing Tara had really gotten to her, more then she thought it would have. Being around people at that point had been a risky proposition. She had felt her guilt rising with every second that she had been in the room with her. The gentle witch was still one of the few people she felt true responsibility over not saving. It wasn't the same kind of remorse she felt when some random stranger got turned into vamp chowder. This was true guilt.
Inside her mouth she chews on her lower lip, her sharp incisors slicing into the soft flesh. The wound wasn't large or very deep but it was still enough to draw a few drops of her blood.
If she had been on her game the previous year the nerd squad never would have even become the minor annoyance they had managed to achieve in her live. They would have been dealt with when they first reared their ugly little geek heads. No muss, no fuss. Warren never would have become that big of a threat. Katrina never would have died, Tara never would have been killed, Willow never would have tried to destroy the world. So many things she wouldn't have had to feel guilt over if she had just taken care of the problem when it first showed itself.
Buffy was not the kind of person who handled guilt well. It was one of many emotions she handled rather poorly. She tended to internalize everything. Churn them up inside of herself, allowing them to build until they metamorphosed into something entirely different from what they had been originally. The usual result was rage, a blinding white hot fury she was just now learning how to channel into her fights. Much to the chagrin of the demon community.
You know, if you actually talk to somebody maybe you wouldn't feel like a shit all the time, her little inner voice informs her sagely. It had been doing it all day. Make a statement then stay quite for a time before making another. Seldom did any two go together. Most were pretty inane from what she could tell and had little, if anything, to do with what she was thinking. This however was one of those that had quite a lot to do with what was going on inside of her head.
And just who would you have me talk to, Xander? She asks herself sarcastically.
She could almost hear the snort as her inner voice responds, please I did say talk right? Not beat the crap out of. You have got to start paying more attention.
Pay more attention to myself, she scoffs.
You could do worse couldn't you? Besides you already agreed talking to Anya about Lurky was a good idea and who suggested that. Huh, huh, huh, go ahead tell me again. Just who suggested that? The voice gloats still sounding for all the world like Dawn when she won an argument with Buffy. Plus mom, whose idea was that.
Fine. I could do worse then listening to the little voice in my head, Buffy admits wondering if that made her clinically insane. After all most people who claim to hear voices usually wound up on the six o'clock news proclaiming Satan ordered them to kill their classmates. Does that make you happy?
Ecstatic. It answers her sounding as if it was in fact extremely happy. Buffy shakes her head as she continues walking down the alley, Spike's duster swishing around her legs. The entire experience taking on an extremely surreal quality. Now you just have to actually talk to Anya, the voice points out, you know without the killing, maiming, or otherwise threatening her.
As long as Xander isn't around I think I can hold off on the evisceration of my friends, she responds pulling a fresh pack a cigarettes out of her pocket along with Spike's lighter. She frowns wondering how she had gotten that back. The last time she had seen it was night before, just prior to her running up to Giles' bedroom. Its a question she puts out of her head as she rips open the cellophane wrapping, pulls out one of the cigarettes, and places it between her lips before flipping the zippo open and lighting the unfiltered end.
Inhaling deeply she can almost feel the shock as the voice nearly shouts, you're smoking? Since when did you start smoking?
Since...
Buffy growls internally silencing the voice inside her head. She walks between the dingy brick buildings in relative peace and quite for the first time all day. At least inside her skull quite reigns supreme. Outside the world was still moving forward as fast as it always was. Cars speed by, horns honking. The t.v. blares from an apartment somewhere nearby. The machines from a factory a few streets over whir and whistle, clank and clang as their operators push them harder then they should be pushed. Noise was all around her and as long as she could focus in on that she could silence the voice inside her skull.
Dawn however curses herself for not being able to hold her tongue, metaphorically speaking. She should have known when Buffy had started smoking. Its not like it was that hard to figure out. The aroma, the taste of it was a reminder of Spike. It was how she was keeping him fresh, maybe not in her memory, but the feel of him along her body. It would also explain Buffy's sudden fascination with hard liquor. She just hoped her older sister hadn't taken to drinking pig's, or worst yet, human blood.
For the first time Dawn was truly frightened not knowing if Buffy would be able to lock her away, somewhere in the back of her mind, and keep her there for the rest of her life. She didn't want her life to end up like that, trapped as nothing more then a discarded voice inside her sister's skull. She hadn't asked to be put here, she didn't want to be here, but she sure as hell wasn't just going to be shoved aside like yesterday's news. She was here and she wasn't going away any time soon from what she could tell.
Now all she had to do was figure out how Buffy was silencing her. It was one of many things the young girl didn't know and had to figure out if she was going to have a shot at keeping herself from being trapped in the dark recesses of her sister's mind. How her sister had been able to cut her off, why she couldn't rifle through Buffy's past memories, why she couldn't assert more control while Buffy was awake.
The entire situation was beginning to piss her off like nothing ever before. Then again she had been relatively pissed off ever since her sister had up and left her in Faith's care, not that Faith wasn't good at taking care of her, she was. In fact she had been extremely conscientious of her, almost too meticulous in her care.
Then just as she was adjusting, becoming comfortable with the concept of having no family anymore, of being an orphan. She was here, ripped out of the life she had started building just for herself and shoved inside Buffy's skull without being given the slightest chance to prepare, resist, told what was going to happen, or why it was happening. She felt violated on so many different levels she couldn't think of anything to describe it. She imagined it was like being raped only it was her mind that had been violated instead of her body.
Was she so connected to Buffy that wherever she went Dawn was forced to follow, only when Buffy had died she had lived on after her. Nothing she could think of made sense to her and the harder she tried to grasp hold of something the quicker it slipped through her fingers. Like squeezing a wet bar of soap, it would constantly pop out of her grasp and she had to scramble to hold onto the thought before it to slipped away from her.
What had happened to her body. It was a constant, troubling thought that her mind kept returning to. Was her body still alive. Even now in some strange alternate reality. Was Faith in some hospital room standing vigil over her body at some distant point three years in the future, an alternate timeline, or reality. Had she simply ceased to be, herself and all the memories that came about because of her simply gone, stripped away now that she was no longer there to hold everything together.
To anybody watching the slayer as she strode down the dank alley she look like the determined young woman that she was. Each stride caring her towards a destination nobody with enough common sense to avoid playing golf in the middle of a sever thunderstorm would dare attempt to impede her from reaching. Those that paid close attention to her as she strode past them would see something that would give even the densest man from stepping in her path reason to pause. Her eyes flickered between a light hazel to a solid aqua. From one eye to the other even within the same eye, without any discernable pattern.
Xander reaches over groggily, groaning in pain, as he attempts to answer his ringing telephone. His attempts hindered drastically by Anya's sleeping form draped over him. It still amazed him, eleven hundred years of raining blood and gore down on men the world over, yet Anya slept as soundly as any baby he ever saw. With nearly ten times as many years inflicting cruel, viscous, even torturous deaths as Angel, Xander had thought she would have spent an equally greater amount of time brooding as the dark vampire had.
Not that he thought that was physically possible giving the time restrictions, after all there were only twenty-four hours in a day, so trying to fit two hundred and thirty hours of brooding into a day was impossible. He thought Willow could figure out some mathematical equation that would work but he didn't really want to consider it.
Only Anya didn't brood, not even a single instant. She remained surprisingly guilt free. In fact, not only could she spend long hours recounting one horrifying tale after another without the slightest hesitation or flicker of remorse, she often did. He was still trying to break her into the entire concept of television, but her favorite genre happened to be male evisceration. A subject matter he found highly disturbing. Although recently she had taken an interest in porn, but she viewed more as instructional videos then entertainment.
Finally, after possible a dozen rings, he manages to grab hold of the receiver and bring it to his ear. "Hello," he mumbles sleepily into the mouthpiece.
"Xander," Buffy growls into the phone she holds to her ear.
"Hey Buffster. What's..."
"I need to talk to Anya," she cuts in not wanting to spend anymore time then absolutely necessary communicating with the man on the other end of the phone.
Xander shakes his head, "Wish I could Buff, but she's sleeping right now," he informs her.
Buffy suppresses the growl she feels rising in her chest as she patiently suggest, "wake her up then."
"I don't think you understand the folly of that statement," Xander barks a short laugh. "Trying to wake her up before she's had her full eight hours is like trying to dig your way to China. The more you shovel the deeper you get but your never gonna get there," he states sagely.
"Fine what time is she going to wake up?"
Xander blinks at the rough tone of her voice, "around noon or so."
"Have her meet me at the expresso pump by one," she orders.
"You sound a little tense, Buff. Is everything okay?" He inquires concerned for her welfare.
"Everything's fine," she snarls. "Just make sure Anya's there on time. And Xander, make sure she comes alone," she finishes with a hint of warning in her voice before she hangs Anya's telephone up.
She had come to the ex-vengeance demon's apartment hoping to find Anya alone. After knocking for nearly a minute she had come to the conclusion that Anya wasn't home which meant she had probably spent the night at Xander. Not wanting to see Xander, and not having change for a payphone, she had simply snapped the lock and entered the apartment. It wasn't like she was a vampire and needed to be invited in.
Dialing Xander's number she fervently hoped that it was Anya who answered the telephone because she didn't not want to deal with Xander on any level. Unfortunately her luck was holding true to form and he was the one who picked up the phone. She could almost feel her skin crawling just from the brief conversation she'd conducted with him.
Crossing the floor she exits the room without a backward glance. She still had nearly three hours to kill before she was suppose to meet Anya. Or to be more precise she had three hours that she could kill demons in before she was suppose to meet Anya. She should be able to get a few decent slayings done in three hours.
Giles sighs in exasperation. Spike was driving him up a wall. He had thought the vampire was a nuisance before, but he was finding out just how wrong he had been. That had barely been the tip of the iceberg as far as how annoying the platinum blonde vampire was capable of becoming. At least while he was chained up in his bathtub, with the threat of imminent staking hanging over his head if he didn't cooperate, Spike had been somewhat diligent in the dollops of information he doled out. Now with that particular threat having been taken away, and the vampire practically being given a free run of things, he took an almost sadistic amount of pleasure in making Giles dig for what he wanted he wanted to know.
"I already told you every bloody thing that happened," Spike growls as he takes the box of Wheat A Bix out of the cupboard over the stove.
"It doesn't make a bit of sense," Giles groans as he stirs his tea. "Are you..."
"Yes I'm bloody sure," Spike growls cutting off the watchers question as the microwave chimes letting Spike know his mug of blood was done. "I was bloody sure the first time I told you and I was bloody sure the tenth, and the twentieth, and I'm bloody sure this last sodding time I told you."
Giles shakes his, "tell me again. Exactly what happened, what was said just as they said it," he insists.
Spike pushes down his urge to snap the watchers neck just out of principle as the man continued to harass him. "Sodding hell," he growls moving into the pallor, "you're worst then a bloody chit you know that?" He questions settling down on Giles' still broken couch. "When are you going to get this thing fixed, got this nasty little spring that pokes out... Or better yet get a better one all together. There's this nice one down over at the landfill I was thinking about nicking for myself once I got a place of my own but if you want it we go down and get tomorrow night."
"Spike," Giles growls.
"Fine if its that bloody important to you," Spike replies sprinkling a handful of ground Wheat A Bix into his blood. "They finally managed to get Timmy..."
Buffy sat in her normal seat of Professor Welsh's class with Willow in the chair next to her. Her mind however was anywhere but on the class she was now attending. If it had been she might have noticed the furtive glances both Professor Welsh and her T.A. Riley Finn kept shooting in her direction.
Her mind was careening from one subject to another with zephyr like speed. Foremost on her mind was herself. She needed to know what had happened three years in the future to make her break apart like she had. There was an evil inside her that was so dark it consumed all light it came in contact with, yet there was something innocent overwhelming her as well.
It seemed to Buffy that the two entities were vying for control of her body. Possible without even being aware of the other one's existence. Almost like a split personality. One normally doesn't even know the other exist. Only this time it was the bad personality that didn't know about her good half, although if what Spike claimed was true she didn't know if good was exactly the right term for her other self's other side.
There was dominate side, which for Buffy seemed to be the evil, cruel, malicious side of her personality. Only that didn't really fit with what Tara had said. At her worst she hadn't done anything that was outright evil. She had done stuff out of anger and pain true, but nothing that could be construed as true evil.
Then there was what Tara had said about herself. About the conflict raging inside of her, between her head and her heart. Her first instinct told her that it had been about Spike but there was nothing to that line of thought. Neither her head nor her heart wanted Spike, so there had to be something else going on.
There was Faith still in a coma. She felt guilty over what had happened between them, but in the end Faith had made her own choices and was now suffering the consequences of her decisions. She still wishes she had known how to fix their tentative friendship back when it had shattered. She had tried, but it had been a halfhearted attempt at best.
And then they had killed Finch. True Faith had been the one holding the stake but she had been in the alley as well. In a court of law they were both equally responsible for his death. If only she had tried harder to reach her, but she had her own problems to deal with at the time and extending her hand just a little bit further had been more then she was willing to do. It would have meant excepting more of the responsibility of what had happened that night.
The question still pounded at the back of her skull, what was she going to do when Faith woke up. She was going to eventual, Buffy knew that despite what the doctors said to the opposite. It was like the old adage said, whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, only it was more so where slayers were concerned.
So Buffy was left with a difficult quandary. What to do with Faith? She didn't want to fight with her sister slayer, but she couldn't just let her run rampant doing whatever she felt like. The best she could hope for was that Faith woke up with a clear, I don't hate the world, attitude and wanted to pick up their friendship where it had fallen apart. Then hope her friends would simply accept Faith back with open arms as well. While she was busy pulling off those two miracles she figures she could find a way to end global hunger and then bring peace to the world. She thinks the last two would probably be the easier of the two to accomplish.
Her eyes look up as the bell rings picking out another one of her many problems. Riley Finn the nice, normal boy from Arkansas or Kansas or someplace equally dull sounding. The T.A. who has been showing a lot of attention to her lately. She still needed to figure out where she stood with him.
Did she have feelings for him. He was after all why Angel had left. So Buffy could have a nice normal life while she wasn't out killing demons at night and averting whatever apocalypse was rearing it's ugly little head that week.
He was nice and polite and tall and beefy and had the cutest little, aw shucks mam, smile that she had ever seen. A few undisciplined locks of his sandy blonde hair had a habit of falling in front of his eyes, forcing him to brush them back out of his way, when he dipped his head just right. In a word, he was exactly what has always made those little butterflies flutter in her stomach, caused her knees to go weak with desire.
Only he was as boring as a math exam and had the personality of popsicle stick. Plus there was something about him, a little tickle in her spider sense that warned her of danger when he was nearby. She truly wanted a normal relationship but she knew she had to be careful. Anybody that she dated was eventually going to get sucked into her world and that was something she didn't want to happen to anyone.
"So what did you think?" Willow asks gathering her books. Her voice finally breaking through the haze Buffy's thoughts had created as she realizes her friend has been talking for quite some time and she hadn't heard a single word she's said.
"It all sounds good to me," she responds hoping the blanket statement covers whatever the witch had said. Willow looks at Buffy with a slightly bemused expression marring her face and Buffy can tell the witch knows her friend had missed her question. "Sorry. I just had a lot on my mind," she apologizes lamely knowing it sounds lame even as she said it.
Willow rolls her shoulders slightly as she stands up, "yeah well with dissociative future self on loose if you didn't have a lot on your mind I'd say you were in a deep case of denial."
Buffy gives Willow a light smile as she stands, "thanks for the vote of confidence," she states her voice full of mock anger.
"Hey what..."
"Ms Summers," Professor Welsh interrupts them from behind her desk. "A moment of your time please," she request patiently.
Buffy gives Willow one of her I don't know looks with a shrug for added emphasis. "I'll catch up with you later," she tells her.
"The Expresso pump for a late lunch?" Willow suggest.
Buffy nods, "sure. See you then," she agrees as she turns around to face one of the harder professors she's had in her first semester.
She watches nervously as Welsh passes a thin handful of papers to her, "is this your report?" She demands in a voice devoid of anything remotely resembling human emotion.
Buffy takes the photocopied papers and glances them over flipping quickly through the pages. "Well it's not the one I turn..." She fades off under Welsh's unamused glare. "Yes," she admits with a small voice not knowing if its a good thing or a bad thing.
The hard professor nods her head, "it was an excellent report. Well thought out, clear, decisive."
"Really?" Buffy questions clearly surprised, she had done the actual writing of the report in just over four hours having Willow proof read it the night before class and making the necessary changes that morning.
"Really Buffy," Welsh agrees with just the ghost of a smile. "Granted it could have been fleshed out a little better, but overall it was a very strong paper. You made convincing, even valid arguments for all your points," she continues picking up her soft leather briefcase. "I'd actual like to get together with you sometime to go over some of your more radical view points."
Buffy beams ecstatic with Professor Welsh's praise, "sure. Whenever you want," she says putting the decision of when to meet entirely in the professor's hands.
"Riley will set something up," she answers. Looking at Riley she adds, "sometime early next week. Monday or Tuesday."
Riley nods his head giving Professor Welsh a curt, "yes mam."
"Good," she remarks. Nodding her head slightly to Buffy she says, "have a good afternoon Buffy, and I'll be anticipating our meeting."
Buffy returns her nod with a nervous little smile, "I'm looking forward to it too," she replies weakly. Welsh then whirls around leaving the lecture hall at a brisk pace. If Buffy didn't know better then she would think that professor Welsh couldn't get away from her fast enough. Then again she didn't know better.
Riley clears his throat from behind her reminding Buffy that she wasn't alone in the room. She turns around slowly buying herself as much time as she can to come to some decision concerning the handsome, if exceedingly dull, graduate student. Could she use him. Was there enough chemistry between them for a solid relationship to be built on, but how was she suppose to build a relationship that's going to last when she doesn't even tell him about largest part of her life. The part that everything else is built upon.
As she finishes turning around, tilting her head up to look at his well chiseled face there's a disturbing look spoiling Riley's otherwise sculpted features. It was there and gone in a flash, but for an instant he had been looking at her as if he was trying to dissect her. The fact it was there in the first place, let alone that Riley was able to hide it so quickly, sent a chill up spine.
"So anytime that you could squeeze me, late morning early afternoon, that would be great," she says trying to keep her voice light so Riley wont hear the tension his gaze put there.
He flips open a voluminous day planner, "let's see," he mumbles softly. "How's Tuesday at two fifteen?" He inquires looking up with his best farm boy smile.
"Sounds great," the tiny slayer agrees with forced cheerfulness, "Tuesday. Quarter after two. Got it," she says with a tiny fist pump. "Gotta go," she says turning quickly.
"Buffy," Riley's pleading voice stops her in her tracks. Scrunching her face up slightly she curses her too nice nature before smoothing her features and turning back around to face him. "Look I'd just like to apologize for the other night," he says sounding sincere. "Its just... It caught me off guard, and you have know idea what I'm talking about do you?" He questions reading her confused expression.
"To be honest I haven't a clue," she says confirming his statement.
"Window, wedding gown. You getting married to some guy you called Spike," he says hoping to trigger her memory.
"Oh that," she breathes out softly.
Riley nods, "that."
"Funny story that," Buffy says with a false little laugh.
"Really?"
"Yeah," she continue with another fake laugh. "See me and a bunch of my friends were playing a game kind of like truth or dare only in this game you have to convince ten people you know, but don't really know, of a lie that someone else thought up is really the truth. I got stuck having to try and convince ten people that I was getting married to a Billy Idol reject."
Riley smiles with shared as amusement as she giggles again. Shaking his head slightly he asks, "so you win?"
"Win what? Oh the game, no I couldn't convince anyone of that," she answers lightly. Laughing again she goes on in a slightly offended tone of voice, "I mean could you just imagine that, me and someone that looks like Billy Idol and goes around calling himself Spike. I would have to be the greatest actress in the world to pull that off."
Riley's grin widens with her story, "I don't know. You had me pretty much convinced," he admits.
Buffy gives him a lopsided grin, "what can I say?"
"Well you could say you're free Friday night," he suggest amiably. "There's a party and since your not getting..."
"Riley," Buffy cuts in. She couldn't do it. She couldn't use him and she couldn't drag him into her world. It wouldn't be fair to either one of them. "You're a really nice guy and all, but I just got out of one really turbulent, roller coaster of a ride, relationship and I'm just not interested in seeing anyone right now."
Riley blinks, stunned. He had never been turned down that fast before. He had never been turned down period. In his entire life all he ever had to do was open his mouth to ask some girl out and they said yes. "Did I do something to offend you?" He asks his tone of voice betraying his pain, his anger.
Buffy shakes her head, "it's not you," she assures him. "It's me. All me," she says thinking back over all of the people she's dated over the years. "All my relationships end the same way, oh everything starts out great. There's fireworks, and romance. Sometimes dating, by candle light under a starry sky. But then comes the darkness, and the pain. Woe, misery, and suffering are never far behind after that," she continues in a tiny voice. A light whimper escapes her throat, "and inevitable death," she says turning away from Riley. As she begins walking away he can still hear her mumbling softly, her voice fading the farther she gets from him, "a horrible, gruesome, draining, life sucking..."
The door to the mansion caves under Buffy's light knock. Stepping inside the vast foyer she scans the palatial chamber with determined eyes. If she was right, if her suspicions her correct then Jonathen's superstar spell was already underway and the world had been slowly molding itself around him for a long time now. Making him the worlds greatest everything that had ever been.
If not then she would track him down and deliver a massage he would remember long into the future. Without Jonathen and Andrew supporting him Warren would never have had the balls to lift a finger to her. Of course if she ran across Warren he was going to die. That was something both her and her little voice agreed on.
"Jonathen!" She screams at the top of her lungs striding across the polished tiled floor. Sniffing the air she thought she could small the little man. But with how much she wanted it to be him she also thought she was projecting again. "Jonathen! If you're in here and you make me hunt you down I'm going to spend the rest of my life making yours, all twenty-two minute of it, a living nightmare!" She bellows
She hears a soft whimper from above her on the second floor, "I know your here you sniveling little coward. And to think I actually saved your worthless live back in high school..."
You might want to go a little easier on him.
Why, she growls back, he's not making things easy on me.
Like you said he's sniveling little coward. If you were a sniveling little coward and I scream out that I'm going to paint the walls red with your blood would you go out and say, Hi. I'm the person you're looking for, Dawn finishes in her best upbeat voice.
Point, Buffy admits.
Of course I've got a point, Dawn gloats basking in the fact that she's once again proven that she was smarter then Buffy. Or the fact that she wasn't as blood thirsty as her older sister. Now go make nice with the nerd who's gonna spend the better part of his existence being a pain in your butt, before getting gutted by his best friend.
Buffy still hadn't made up her mind about this voice she's patterned after Dawn. It seemed far too independent, but again Dawn herself could be independent at times, most of the time. All soft and meek on the outside but like an iron wall underneath. It was giving her good advice, making her think of things before she did them, acting almost as her conscious would if she still had one.
The fact that it had taken on Dawn's personality was almost a comfort to her. She missed her little sister terrible. Felt guilty about how she had just abandoned her like she did no matter the reasons. Now each and every time she heard Dawn's voice in her head it hurt almost as much as it consoles her. That was why she had to be careful right now. There were certain things she needed to have happen to insure the monks sent Dawn this time like they had last time. If they didn't she was going to have to track them down and force them to make her little sister.
Buffy reaches the top of the landing and looks around a moment before choosing a direction. "Jonathen," she calls out sweetly. "I'm sorry about what I said before when I broke down your door, I'll get someone to fix it, but we need to talk about a little spell you did," she says loud enough to be heard throughout the mansion. "I promise there's not going to be any violence what so ever. We just have to put an end to your spell before some body gets hurt," she says pushing open a door.
"Nobody suppose to get hurt," Jonathen says in a timid little voice from the other side of the a large bed.
Buffy nods stepping into the room, "I know that's what you believe but your spell creates a demon. The more popular you become, the more you force the world to your will the stronger it becomes. Eventually it hurts people you care about."
"That's not... I never wanted anybody to get hurt," he says sitting down on his bed, shoulders slumped, head hanging limply. He looks back up at Buffy with those sad little puppy dog eyes, "I just wanted to be popular," he says.
"I know," Buffy says placing a hand on his shoulder. She had come here looking to kick his ass or terrorize him but one look in his eyes and the anger she felt at him simply vanished as if it had never been. Even without Dawn's nagging she didn't think she would have been able to do anything to him.
Hey is that my name now, Dawn? Dawn asks hopefully.
Buffy jerks realizing what she had done. She had thought of her little voice as Dawn. She wondered if that was the second stage of developing a split personality. Naming a little voice. As she thought of it she realized she didn't care. If having a little sliver of her sister's personality living in her head kept her closer to Dawn then she'd accept it. Even if it did border on the psychotic. How about Umad? She asks her voice.
She can actually feel a smile crack her lips as her voice answers her, cool. I can deal with being Umad.
Jonathen looks up at Buffy watching her lips move as if she's having a conversation with herself. As he watches her closely he could swear that her eyes shift between two different colors. Her normal light hazel and a soft aqua.
For the first time in a very long time Tara didn't even notice all the other people around her as she sat in the crowded open air cafe Willow had taken her to. Her entire attention was focused solely on her redheaded companion and the conversation they were having. She had finally managed to expand her awareness of Willow to include the sound of her soft, sweet voice with all of the other wonderful qualities of Willow that she could lose herself in.
On more then one occasion she did lose the conversation while Willow spoke. Nowhere near as often as this morning and not for nearly as long but still far too often for her liking. She wanted to hear everything that Willow had to say, wanted to learn her opinions, her viewpoints, everything that made her who she is. More so she wanted Willow to learn everything there was to be learned about her, things she didn't even know about herself. In order to do that she would have to be an active participant in their conversations not just the shy girl who kept her mouth closed all the time.
She smiles as Willow comes to a stop while taking a sip of her decaffeinated strawberry flavored expresso. "Thi-this morning was int-teresting," she says with barely a hint of her normal stutter.
Willow looks up, a little foam on her upper lip that she licks off with her tongue. Tara quickly ducks her head to hide the blush that rises to her cheeks as images of Willow licking something for more intimate flash through her mind. "Just wait," Willow says as Tara takes a sip of her triple chocolate mocha. She could tell that there was something odd going on with Tara, with the way she wouldn't make eye contact or would gaze at her for long minutes while she babbles, or duck her head and hide her face behind her long blonde hair, but she couldn't place her finger on what it was. It would come to her. Eventually she would figure it out. "Once we have are first official scooby meeting and you get to meet the rest of the gang," she says patting the blondes hand.
"M-m-more?" Tara questions as she looks back up at Willow a slight trace of fear in her eyes. Meeting Giles and Buffy, both of them, and Spike had been taxing enough. She didn't know if she was ready to meet any more of Willow's friends. Especially not if they were anything like Spike. He was far from what she would call a normal vampire. A chip in his head didn't explain why he acted the way he did. Why he was nice to her in a I'm still evil kind of way that left little doubt that the entire act was all bluster. Since he was undead he didn't have an aura, at least not one she could read, so it was impossible for her to get an accurate read on him.
Willow nods her head, "it's only Xander and Anya. I'll try to bring you by Xander's parents house some time while Anya's not around."
"You d-don't like A-a-anya?" She asks enjoying the feel of Willow's hand on hers.
"Not like. Somehow that just... She's just Anya. She takes some getting used to," she explains subconsciously rubbing her thumb over the back of Tara's hand. "And I just haven't gotten used to her is all."
Tara smiles at Willow's slightly evasive answer. "I-it's alright if you d-don't like s-s-someone. Nobody is g-going to like everyone all the t-time. It doesn't m-make you a b-bad person or anything, it just means you're h-human."
"But she hasn't... Well okay she has given me reasons not to like her," Willow admits. "It's just that she adjusting to something new and I should be more forgiving and let the past stay in the past but every time I see her its all just right there again."
"It'll w-work itself out. J-just give it a li-little t-time," Tara advises the younger witch.
Willow nods slightly feeling content. "You're probably right."
The Expresso Pump was packed as usual for Wednesday at nearly one in the afternoon. Collage students, along with older working stiffs from among the local neighborhood shops and businesses, fill the little open air coffee shop. The restaurant hummed with conversation as people felt the need to communicate, commiserate, or to simply brag about their accomplishments in comparison to their rivals lack there of.
That was what Anya perceived the entire point of having a conversation with someone to be. It was the process by which one could make another person feel small, insignificant, and worthless while elevating yourself with a minimal amount of effort. Everyone in the cafe however was already previously engaged in the ritual known as chit chat and Xander had told that unless she knew the people it was rude to barge into their conversation. With a petulant pout she glances around looking for somebody about to finish their conversation so she could move in and have her turn at making them feel worse about their lives.
She hated arriving earlier anyplace, especially since regaining her humanity. She always felt so out of place among humans, plus she couldn't teleport where she needed to go anymore. It had really freed up so much of her day being able to pop in right on time. Never having to worry about travel time or traffic, congested or otherwise. No worrying weather your plane was going to fall out of the sky. She was still surprised that had taken off like it had.
Spotting Willow and an attractive blonde girl sitting at one of the tables, holding each other's hand, Anya decides to go over. After all she knew Willow so it wasn't like she was interrupting two complete strangers, only one stranger and one person she didn't much care for. Or at all.
Striding across the cafe to the table the two girls are sitting at Anya grabs one of the cafe's high stools from a nearby table and drags it over to Willow's table ignoring a startled, "hey. Someone was sitting there," called out by dark haired woman she didn't know.
Setting the stool on all four legs, she places her double mocha on the table as she sits down on the stools round, wooden surface. "Hello," she brusquely greets the pair.
Tara takes a look at the strange woman that just sat between them and quickly pulls her hand out of contact with Willow's. There was something very strange about her aura. All her colors were locked in one position, as if they had set so long they could no longer shift and flow like everyone else's. It was the first time Tara had ever seen anything like it.
Willow takes a quick look at Anya sitting down between her and Tara. "Anya," she squeaks alarmed at her presence in the small cafe. She quickly wonders what the ex-vengeance demon was doing here and if Xander was in the area since she never saw Anya without her best friend present. "Is Xander with you?"
Anya shakes her head at Willow's question turning her attention to the unknown girl who was staring at her with an expression of bafflement creasing her brow. "My name is Anya. Xander is Willow's best friend and my boyfriend. We have many orgasms together, Xander and I, not Willow. Although she did cause..."
"Why are you here?" Willow cuts Anya off with a high pitched squeak before she can say anything further. The last thing Willow wanted Tara to hear, at least from Anya, was how she had cheated on Oz with Xander resulting in Anya showing up in Sunnydale to grant Cordelia a wish because of the pain she was in. Casting a quick glance at Tara to check if she was okay she sees that her face has taken on a deep red coloring that shouldn't have been humanly possible. Her eyes were several sizes bigger and looked ready to pop out of their sockets, but she still seemed to be breathing. As far as Willow could tell it was a pretty standard reaction to meeting Anya for the first time.
"Buffy called Xander's this morning saying she wanted to talk to me. Alone. I guess she just wanted us girls to get together to do some female bonding," she states in her normal nearly emotionless, but slightly chipper sounding voice.
Willow takes a deep breath as she relaxes and tenses at the same time. If Buffy had invited Anya then it meant she wanted to include the ex-demon in the group more. That was good. The fact Willow despised Anya almost as much as she had ever hated Cordelia. That was bad.
Taking another look at Tara, Anya asks politely, "so are you Willow's new orgasm buddy?" Willow's mouth drops open as Tara's face brightens by half a dozen shades reaching an almost indescribable shade of lobster red. "Ever since Oz left Willow's been a little depressed, doing bad magic. Causing all sorts of chaos. D'hoffryn even offered Willow my old job as..."
"Hey!" A gruff voice snarls from behind them. The three young girls turn to look at a large man, easily several inches over six feet. He was wearing blue jeans and a black vest that even though it was left unbuttoned it still strained to contain his girth. Both of his arms together looked to be about the size of a large tree, and what hair the top of his bald head was lacking was made up for by his thick goatee. "That's my stool you got there missy," he growls at the thin blonde looking at him with something resembling indifferent annoyance.
Anya waves him off with a negligent flip of her wrist, "go get another one," she tells him turning back around already putting him out of her mind.
"Sir its really..." One of the servers begins trying to bar the large man's path.
He shoves him aside with barely a glance as he stalks forward. "I don't think you understand how things work," he snarls grabbing Anya by the shoulder pulling her around.
An extremely small hand grabs hold of his monstrously large one prying it off Anya's thin shoulder with ease. Everybody gasps as they see the tiny black clad woman that has come to the others rescue. There was a light bruise above her right eye and her bottom lip was split open still leaking a trickle of blood.
Buffy quickly twist his arm applying a small amount of the force she was capable of bringing to bare as she bent his wrist back almost to the point of snapping his hand off at the joint. He quickly drops to his knees as agonizing pain sears up his arm like a flash fire. He gasps for breath but only manages to swallow a minimal amount of oxygen as he chokes on the pain.
"I think it's you that doesn't understand how things work around here," Buffy says far too politely for the fury burning within her. Turning her head slightly she glances over at the three girls before turning her attention back to the thug she has kneeling at her feet. A part of her wanted to hurt him for threatening someone she had considered family for several years, probably always would consider family despite recent differences. Another part wanted him to suffer a horrifyingly slow, cruel, and ghastly demise. The kind of death that would be consider art in some circles. Then there was her little voice cautioning her for lenience, not to let the guy go unscathed, just not to do anything to drastic, crippling or disfiguring, to him, but to make sure he learns his lesson as well.
The first was her, the slayer side of her personality. The second was the residue left over from when the First Evil had infused a portion of itself with her after she had killed Caleb. The dreams it had for the world still filled her head and it's siren like call was almost more then she could bare at times. Right after Spike had sacrificed himself for the world had been the worse for her. The despair had nearly overwhelmed again, but she had fought. Spike had given her the strength to do that at least. Since being back in this time though the call wasn't nearly as bad as it had been three years in the future. Umad was helping quite a bit on the front though. Her little voice was actually extremely good at looking at the entire problem while she was normally to focused on what she wanted to consider the consequences of her actions.
"This is my town," she growls loud enough for everyone to hear. "You continue to live in Sunnydale at my sufferance. Weather I save your life some night or let this town's less desirable resident do what they will to you might just depend on if you've ever pissed me off or not. Can you guess which side of the line you fall on right now?" She inquires even though her voice leaves no doubt about which way she would choose.
That's what you call lenient? Umad questions Buffy unbelievingly.
Would you rather I sent him out of here with a little spanking and telling him to behave or next time I won't be so nice? Buffy grumbles internally as the man mumbles something unintelligible, "I can't understand a word your saying. You're gonna have to speak clearer, or maybe nod emphatically," she suggest.
Umad snorts, I'd rather live in a world where everyone got a long with each other, she answers sadly.
He quickly nods his head emphatically. What fun would that be? She inquires of her more compassionate self as she kicks him lightly towards the exit as she releases his hand. He skids half the distance on his backside. "Then I suggest you get the hell out of Sunnydale before word gets around that its open season on your fat carcass," she tells him as he rises to his knees clutching his throbbing wrist.
Turning her back on the man she faces three stunned faces. She didn't know why she was still surprised by looks ranging from dismayed shock to barely concealed fear on their faces. Even three years from now none of them could even begin to guess at just how strong she was, at how much she had to hold herself back just so she could fit in amongst normal humans and not have her friends looking at her like she was a freak. She was so tired of pretending. She wasn't a normal human and it was time everyone got used to it. "I thought I made it clear I wanted to talk to you alone," Buffy inquires looking Anya straight in the eyes.
Anya blinks as she realizes it wasn't fluffy Buffy that wanted to see her. "I didn't invite them," Anya ensures Buffy. "They were already here when I got here. In fact I was just suggesting to them that it would probably be for the best if they left as..."
Buffy grabs Anya by her upper arm with a vice like grip that Anya doesn't even try to break. Unlike everyone else she knew what a slayer was capable of having witnessed them in action several times over the millennium. Add to it that Buffy was one of the strongest slayers she had ever run across and that this Buffy made her younger counter part look like a rag doll in comparison. She wasn't about to tempt fate and do something that might anger her, at least not while there was nothing to be gained.
"Where are we going?" She asks slightly worried as Buffy practically drags her from the restaurant.
"Someplace private," was the only thing Buffy said. "Someplace we can have a conversation about Lurky without the entire world listening in," she growls softly.
"Lurky?" Anya asks coming to a halt. Only to be hauled forward as Buffy doesn't even notice her sudden stop. She stumbles forward several steps before finally managing to catch herself. "Nobody, and I mean nobody goes to Lurky. Not unless their desperate are insane. What type of a lunatic are you?"
"The kind that's going to kill him."
________________________________________________________________________
Someday I'll Be Saturday Night - Bon Jovi
Hey, man I'm alive I'm takin' each day and night at a time
I'm feelin' like a Monday but someday I'll be Saturday night
Hey, my name is Jim, where did I go wrong
My life's a bargain basement, all the good shit's gone
I just can't hold a job, where do I belong
I'm sleeping in my car, my dreams move on
My name is Billy Jean, my love was bought and sold
I'm only sixteen, I feel a hundred years old
My foster daddy went, took my innocence away
The street life aint much better, but at least I get paid
And Tuesday just might go my way
It can't get worse than yesterday
Thursdays, Fridays ain't been kind
But somehow I'll survive
Hey man I'm alive I'm takin' each day and night at a time
Yeah I'm down, but I know I'll get by
Hey hey hey hey, man gotta live my life
Like I ain't got nothin' but this roll of the dice
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night
Now I can't say my name, and tell you where I am
I want to roll myself away, don't know if I can
I wish that I could be in some other time and place
With someone elses soul, someone elses face
Oh, Tuesday just might go my way
It can't get worse than yesterday
Thursdays, Fridays ain't been kind
But somehow I'll survive
Hey, man I'm alive I'm takin' each day and night at a time
Yeah I'm down, but I know I'll get by
Hey hey hey hey, man gotta live my life
I'm gonna pick up all the pieces and what's left of my pride
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night
Saturday night Here we go
Some day I'll be Saturday night
I'll be back on my feet, I'll be doin' alright
It may not be tomorrow baby, that's OK
I ain't goin' down, gonna find a way, hey hey hey
Hey man I'm alive I'm takin' each day and night at a time
Yeah, I'm down, but I know I'll get by
Hey hey hey hey, man, gotta live my life
Like I ain't got nothin' but this roll of the dice
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night
I'm feelin' like a Monday, but someday I'll be Saturday night
Saturday night __________,all right, all right
Saturday night
