After All, Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Yes,  Joss Whedon and Co. still own them.

Author's note: I can't give you the warning I would like to give you without giving away the essentials to this chapter. Unpleasantness is going to happen. If you find you're attached to any of the characters(Buffy/Faith/Willow) please stop reading now.

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After All

Chapter 8

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Buffy seemed to be doing well in her new life.

At least she was getting used to it. Making do. Getting by. At least, she seemed to be. Most of the time. Except when she thought about her old life. Then, things didn't  go so well.

She seemed to have a natural affinity for teaching the trainee slayers. They at first, seeing her diminutive size, thought she couldn't be for real. A few rounds with her taught them differently. By their third session together, they began to wonder exactly how they got along before she was there to teach them.

Even though she was head of the training department, she insisted on teaching some classes herself. Mostly those who were more along in their training. The ones who ' knew it all' already. They soon found out differently.

Buffy threw herself into her work. She seemed to relish the responsibilities, and kept taking on more and more  work. She often spent a good portion of  her free time working. In short, the ex-mall rat, prom queen, cheerleader became a workaholic. With little time to socialize. Or to think. And she liked that part best.

Because when she had time to think, to ponder her past, to dredge up her memories, the pain all came rushing back. Full force. Like a 20 pound sledge to the stomach. She couldn't let it go. She couldn't move on. So, her way to deal was to bury it, push it deep. Keep herself so busy she fell into bed, exhausted. Not much of a life. But it's the life she had.

She'd started running in the mornings. At first, she told herself it was to get herself back into shape. Then, she told herself it was to keep in shape. The real reason was, she was running from her feelings. Cleveland wasn't far enough from San Francisco to escape how she felt. The pain was still too real, too close. She started running, hoping if she ran long enough, far enough, fast enough she would outrun the feelings. She could stop hurting. That the act of firing up her blood and heart would somehow burn it out of her. Do I need to say it never really worked? No matter how fast, how hard, how long she would run, it was still there. In the quiet moments when she was alone. When there was nothing else to keep her mind busy, her body busy.

So, that was her life. Wake up and run. Eat breakfast standing up, then shower, and off to work. Work through lunch, taking 5 or 10 minutes to eat when she could find the time. Then work through early evening. Grab work, bring it home. Work until her eyes were hot, her body exhausted, then bed. Sometimes, TV, for the mindless zoning out. If she didn't have enough work to bring home, she would go out and patrol. On patrol, she was a quick, deadly and efficient killing machine. She no longer mocked the vampires or demons. She just dispatched them. It was beautiful in form, deadly in efficiency, and joyless.

More and more, she desired nothing but to become a machine; well tuned, efficient and without feeling. But like any finely tuned machine, all critical systems had to be maintained. While her body was prime, and her mind was sharp, and her concentration was dead on, her emotional structures were badly out of tune. Dysfunctional.  The things that made her unique as a slayer, that made her The Slayer, were slowly breaking down, misfiring, failing her. Most importantly, she no longer seemed to care.

Rupert Giles watched her, as he had for so much of her life, and was concerned.

He was instrumental to creating the Cleveland Training Center, and had passed the day to day administration of the Watcher's Council to subordinates, so he could personally be director of the new Center. He'd missed being 'in the field' and the stress of  reorganizing the council had worn on him. He needed a change. When the idea for the American branch of the training center had been approved, he jumped on the chance to run it. It would put him closer to the field, and still allow him to maintain contact with the council when he needed it. Not perfect… not the old days, but closer than he'd been in awhile.

He'd aged somewhat. He had gray now in his hair, mostly at the temples. The lines on his face were etched deeper. But his eyes, though needing the aid of glasses, were still piercing and observant. And what he was seeing in Buffy was troubling.

The one thing he'd so admired in his former charge had been her ability to lead with her heart. She always put her heart, her caring, before all else. Some had seen it as a weakness in her; to him it had always been her greatest strength. But now, she seemed … different.

Where before she'd been brave to the point of impetuous, she was now more calculating, more cautious. She still had the sense of responsibility for her charges, but now it was more a safety thing, than genuine concern. Her fighting style was superb. There was no question of that. She worked daily on her technique, and it showed. But , it wasn't all about technique. What made her special was the heart she put into her fighting. That had distinguished her, made her rise above. And that was missing.

He knew something had happened in San Francisco. He didn't know what. She didn't say. But knowing her as he did, caring for her as deeply as he did, he could see and feel the pain she carried. In his way, he gently tried to get her to come out of her shell. To tell him what it was that had hurt her so deeply. But she'd resisted all his efforts, and he was in the dark about it. For the longest time.

It wasn't until one night when he was working late, that he found out. He passed her office on his way out, and noticed that her lights were still on. This wasn't unusual. She often worked late into the evening. As if she didn't want to go home, and only left reluctantly. On impulse, he decided to pop in and say hi. It was when he reached out to knock that he heard it. Quiet sobs coming from inside. He quietly opened the door, and saw Buffy at her desk, turned away. She was hunched over, and her body was shaking. Without thought, he went to her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, her face tear stained, and his heart broke for her. She looked all of 16 again. The side she'd so labored to hide, the vulnerable little girl, had come out. He gently lifted her and gathered her in his arms, and she lay her head on his chest, sobbing and crying her broken heart out. He held her and caressed her hair, letting her vent the pain and sorrow that had built up to overflowing.

In bits and pieces, it came out. The whole story. Even after all these years, she still could surprise him. When he'd watch her and Willow reconcile on the steps of the mortuary, he never suspected that stronger, deeper feelings would ensue. He suspected that Buffy had also struggled with these feelings, and just when she was ready to deal with them, it had all blown up in her face. She walked away to spare the woman she loved the pain she now carried like a wound. A wound that still was raw, even after more than a year.

He knew that there was nothing he could do. Like any good father, he wanted to spare his child hurt. But this was one of those situations that he couldn't do anything but listen, comfort and lend support. This was something Buffy had to deal with. He would've done anything to spare her this pain. But he couldn't; no one could.

She settled into his embrace, drawing comfort and strength from him. Gradually the tears subsided, and she looked up at him, giving him one of her genuine smiles… one he hadn't seen for a long time. Drying her tears, she gently broke the embrace, feeling a little embarrassed. She turned, and without a  word left the office.

He watched her go, and was again reminded of how much a part of his life she'd been all these years. He removed his glasses and cleaned them, reflecting how fuller his life had been because of her. Returning his glasses to his face, he switched off the lights and left the office.

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Buffy began to receive strange calls.

Well, actually, they were strange messages on her machine. Or non messages, actually.

She tended to monitor her calls. She … often as not didn't feel like talking to someone when they called; rather, would wait to consider a response, then call back.  And she was especially afraid  of certain calls. Calls that might come from the West Coast. Talking to …them … would be just too painful. So, instead of answering the phone, she would listen…then if important, she would pick up, or if not, call back later.

At first it seemed innocent enough. The machine would go on, and then the phone would hang up. Someone got the wrong number. But then they increased in frequency, and length. They would wait through the message, then…there would be a pause, as if they were thinking of leaving a message, then changed their minds. Then the phone would hang up. After awhile she began to think she might have a stalker. It was almost amusing, because she knew she could take care of herself. But it still had a creepy feel to it, nonetheless.

Then came the night they left a message.

She had worked late that evening, and when she got home, she was the message light flashing. She pushed the button, and it played:

" Buffy? Are you there? If your there, please pick up. It's important. Please? Are you there? (pause) I guess not, Ok. Bye." Click

It was like a knife in her heart. The voice was Willow's. She stood looking at the machine for awhile, her heart beating fast. She reached to hit the 'erase" button…then rewound the tape, and played it again. And again. Each time, it made her heart ache, yet it strangely comforted her. Finally, she erased the message, thinking no more about it.

Until the next night. There were 5 messages this time, all from Willow.  The first two were similar to the first. Checking to see if she were there, then hanging up. Then they changed.

"Buffy. This is Willow. Please call, it's important. The number is the same. If you forgot it it's (phone number). Please call(click)"

" Buffy. Haven't heard back. Guess you must be working late. Please call as soon as you get this. It's important(click)"

and then the last call. " Buffy, please. Call back. Very important. Please"

Buffy thought about it a long time. She almost called twice, but stopped herself. She finally erased the messages.

That part of her life was past. Calling back would only dredge up old feelings, old wounds. She didn't want to do that. She had enough pain. She'd made her choice, and was going to stick by it.

That didn't stop the tears though, or the hurt. But she didn't call back.

And there were no more calls from Willow after that.

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Willow sat in her room, on her bed.

She was dressed very conservatively in a dark suit. Very unusual for her. But this was a very unusual day.

She knew she had to go, it was getting late. The clock already said 10:30, and she had to be there by 11:00. But try as she would, she couldn't quite do it.

She would get up, walk to the door…then her legs seemed to give out on her…and she would have to crawl back to the bed.

The last few months had been tough. Very tough. She'd been stressed, and overworked, and overtired. But she dealt with it. And made it through. But all through that time, in the back of her head, she knew this day was coming. And she dreaded it.

Now that day was here. And she couldn't deal.

But she had to deal. She had no choice. She had to deal.

In a minute. She would deal. In a minute.

Like she'd been telling herself for the last hour. In a minute. I'll get up, go out that door, and get through it.

In a minute.

Finally, gathering her strength, she got up again. And walked to the door.

And left the room.

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Buffy had worked late. It was nearing the end of the training semester, and a lot of extra details had to be taken care of. She was late getting home that evening, later than usual.

As she exited the elevator, she saw someone in the hallway. By her doorway. Immediately, her slayer sense kicked in. She was living on (another) Hellmouth, and there was no telling who… or what… was there. They had their back turned from her, and whoever it  was had on a large coat, and stocking cap.

She approached slowly. As if sensing her presence, or hearing her step, the person turned around. Buffy stopped dead in her tracks.

It was Willow. She was standing there, looking at Buffy. Her face was pale, her expression grave. Her eyes had dark circles around them, and were also puffy from crying. Something was wrong; terribly wrong.

"Will?" Buffy said, the old feelings just kicking in like they'd always been there. They had.

" Buffy" Willow said, her voice quiet, and a little hoarse.

"What is it Will? Why are you here?" Buffy said. She looked around." Where's Faith?"

"She's not here Buffy," Willow said, her voice cracking just a little." She's… gone"

" Gone? I don't understand?" Buffy said, puzzled.

" She…" Willow begins, but her voice is faltering." She's.. passed away"

It doesn't register with Buffy for a second. Then, it hits her. And suddenly, the wind is knocked out of her, like she's been kicked by a horse.

"Faith? …passed away? Oh…god, Will…I'm so…" Buffy says, but Willow interrupts.

"Sorry?" Willow asks, an edge of bitterness in her voice. "Really Buffy?"

" Oh, god Will, of course. I …didn't hate Faith, or you. Honest, Will" Buffy said." Angry, yes. Hurt? Yes. But I never ever hated either of you".

" I hope you'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe" Willow says. " But , it really doesn't matter now, does it?"

" Of course it matters, Will" Buffy says, her voice plaintive " How could you think otherwise?"

" Why, Buffy? Why?" Willow asks, her voice edgy." Why didn't you answer the phone? Why didn't you call back?"

"God, Willow. It was too painful. It…still hurts, Will." Buffy says, defensively " It hurts badly. Still. Hearing your voice cut through me like a knife. I…just …couldn't do it"

Willow softens a little bit, but is still distant. " I guess it doesn't matter now, anyway. Faith's dead." She said, her voice quiet again, she was back in control." Here" She hands Buffy an envelop with her name on it." She wrote this to you. It's in my handwriting, because she couldn't control her hands towards the end" Willow's hand starts to shake." Take it, please".

Buffy takes the envelope. She looks at it, and turns it over in her hands. She looks up at Will.

" It was her last wish, that you have that. She wanted you to read that. I hope you will." Willow says." I have to go."

"Will…please. Don't go. Please stay" Buffy says, pleading with her." Tell me what happened"

" I don't think that's a good idea, Buffy" Willow says." I only came to be sure you got that"

" Please, Will. Please?" Buffy is begging now." I have to know. Please."

Willow sighs. She so didn't want to think about this again. But, she figured she owed it to Buffy.

" Alright, Buffy." She said, simply.

"Come inside. Please" Buffy said, opening the door.

Willow entered the apartment, followed by Buffy. Buffy indicated the sofa, and Willow removed her coat and hat, and sat down.

Buffy , watching Willow, was shocked. Willow was thin…sickly thin, gaunt. She hadn't realized it, because of the oversized jacket, but she looked like…death.

" Will! My god, are you ill?" Buffy said, her voice concerned.

"Haven't been feeling well, Buffy" Will said.

" Have you been to a doctor?" Buffy asked

" Doctor can't cure this, Buffy" Willow said, turning away.

Then Buffy knew. It was grief. It was eating her alive. Buffy's heart broke for her friend. Her love. God, she never thought she'd think that again. But it was true now, as it was then. She wanted desperately to gather Will in her arms, to comfort her. But Willow's face said she didn't want that. Not from her. Buffy turned away so Will couldn't see the tears coming to her eyes.

"Tea?" Buffy asked, controlling her voice.

" Yes, please" Willow said, her voice softer, the edge gone." That would be good, thank you"

Buffy busied herself in the kitchen, trying to avoid Willow 'til she could regain control. She managed to conceal from Will  her drying her eyes, and when the water had boiled, made the tea. She brought a mug for Willow and herself.

" It started I guess, around 6 months ago. At first, it didn't seem like anything, really. She had a little problem with coordination. Sometimes she'd get tired quicker than usual. Then the headaches started. Not too bad at first, they got worse. And she was getting tired all the time. Finally, I forced her to see a doctor. She didn't want to, but she gave in finally. All the standard test seemed normal, but the doctor was worried. He ordered a CAT scan.

She had a tumor… about the size of a lime. They scheduled surgery, and removed it. They thought they had it all. It seemed good. For awhile, she was in recovery…but then the symptoms returned. They were puzzled…and ordered another CAT scan. The tumor was back…and larger now. They didn't , couldn't understand it. But the removed it again. It didn't help. It came back again.

We finally, Faith and I, figured it out. Whatever power that makes you heal faster, was working on the tumor. No matter how they tried, they couldn't get out every last cell… and that's all that was needed to bring it back again. After that, Faith refused any more treatment. It was pointless, and painful. She came home.

It…was dreadful, Buffy. As the tumor grew, it pressed against other parts of her brain. Soon, too soon, she was delusional. Often, I had to restrain her. Feeding her…was near impossible. She got paranoid, thought the food was being poisoned. She wasted away Buffy. Finally, I forced an IV drip on her, with a glucose feed. But I had to keep her restrained so she couldn't remove it. And all the time she was crying, and saying awful things, and making no sense. It…" She stops. She needs to bring herself back into control. Buffy takes a chance, and puts her arms around her. Willow doesn't resist, but doesn't respond, either.

"At the last, the last week. She came back for awhile. That's when I was calling you, Buffy. She wanted to talk to you, desperately wanted to talk to you. And you never answered" Willow said, her tone flat.

Buffy feels like her heart is being squeezed. Her remorse and guilt is… near overwhelming.

" That's when she wrote the note. Or, had me write it for her. She wanted so badly to write it herself, but her hands…just couldn't do it… they couldn't hold a pen, or pencil. So, she dictated it to me, and I wrote it."

"The last day of her life, she was lucid, and rational. She was tired, but she tried to make every effort to comfort me. She finally sent me out of the room, saying she needed a little break. I was only gone 5 minutes. I just stepped outside the apartment, to get a breath. I was exhausted, and overwrought. The smell of someone dying, Buffy, is awful. I came back in, and immediately checked on her. But in those 5 minutes, she slipped away. She was gone Buffy. She died, alone. I wasn't there to hold her hand at the end. She died alone!" Willow loses it, her body shaking. Buffy holds her, saying nothing.

Willow recovers herself, and continues. " I would have been here sooner, but I had to take care of the arrangements. It was strange. All those people she helped, all the potentials, no one came to her funeral. I was there alone, with the minister. It was… heartbreaking."

I… I …didn't know, Will." Buffy said, her guilt taking over." I would have come, if I'd known"

" I'm not blaming you, Buffy" Willow said, wearily." I know you would have come. I should have told you. I regret now I didn't"

" I'm so sorry, Will." Buffy says, her voice cracking. She's no longer trying to hide her feelings" I never wanted this"

"I know, Buffy" Willow said, her voice low but steady." Please, read her letter. It was her last wish. It was very important to her"

Buffy, her hands shaking, opens the envelope. She extracts the letter, and starts to read:

B

 

I'm sorry I'm not writing this myself, but … I can't seem to make my hands do what I want them to do anymore. Ah, well. What can I say? Maybe better that Red writes this…me and writing was never best buds anyway.

I'll get right to it, B. I'm sorry. Not about loving Red. Sorry, I can't apologize for that. It's been the best time of my life, and I love her now more than ever. I know, that might be painful for you, but sorry. That's a fact.

But, I'm sorry because you and me… we never got to be the friends I wanted us to be. I regret that . A lot. So much bad stuff between us, B. So much I'd like to take back. To make different. But I can't do that. It's done. I guess, B, when it comes right down to it, I wanted to be like you. I wanted to be you, B. I wanted what you had. Respect, friends, and the whole nine yards. And I never knew what you had to do to get that. Not until , for awhile, I lived in your body, did I know how hard it was to BE you , B. That was my salvation, B. My redemption. I never woulda changed, if not for that. And I can't tell you how grateful I  am.

You and Angel did a lot for me, B. Stuff I can't ever repay. But the best thing you did, was to help me realize it was ok to be me. I could be me, and still be like you. I didn't have to be you, to be like you. It gave me hope, it gave me self respect. All the things I needed to become…better. Thanks, B. I'll never forget it.

My only regret is how we are now. Against each other again. Not that I want to be, but seems that that's what happens with us. I dunno, B. Maybe that's what's meant to be, and we can't change it.

But, for a little while, while we were fighting the First, it was great. You and me, fighting side by side. It meant the world to me, B. I hope it meant something to you, too.

Not much more to say, I guess, B. Except I love you like a sister. And that someday, I hope you'll find it to forgive me.

Oh, yeah, about Willow. It's gonna be hard for her, I know. Please, B, remember what you told me, that morning you left.  " Just take care of her". Please?

 

Faith

 

By the time Buffy has finished the letter, she is openly crying. They are both crying, and they hold each other. So much pain, and so many regrets. We figure we have forever to tell someone how we feel, and are all too often too late. Buffy now has a new burden on her heart. She can never tell Faith how she felt about her, and that is something she will have to live with the rest of her life.

They break their embrace, and sit for awhile. It's quiet. There's nothing to say. About Faith, or to each other. They both know that too much has come between them. What they might have had, was just that. Might have had, might have been. But, now, that's gone. Perhaps forever. The silence becomes uncomfortable, and finally Willow breaks it.

" I have to go, Buffy." Willow says

" You can't stay? Please Will, stay?" Buffy asks, but already knows the answer.

" I'm sorry, Buffy, but no. I can't stay." Willow says. " I have too many things I have to do"

In almost an exact reverse of what happened that morning she left Willow, Buffy wants to beg her to stay, to crawl to her, to make her understand. But she knows that won't happen. More than ever, she senses it's over. Whatever chance they had, was past. Their ship had sailed, and they were left on the dock, separate, alone.

She walked Willow to the door, and on impulse, hugged her. Willow was stiff in her arms, but gradually relaxed and returned the hug. Buffy couldn't help it, her emotions got the best of her. She started to cry.

Willow hugged her, and brushed away her tears. " Buffy, don't, please don't" Willow said, her own voice thick with emotion." It'll just make it harder"

" I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it" Buffy said.

So many things left unsaid in that moment. So many things undone.

" Goodbye, Buffy" Willow said, " Take care of yourself". She had to leave now. Her heart was breaking again.

" Bye, Will" Buffy said. She was beyond feeling. She was dying.

Willow took one last long look at her, then turned, and walked out the door. Buffy watched her 'til she entered the elevators, and the doors shut on her.

She then closed her door.

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TBC

No witty parting shots. This was a hard chapter for me to write. Thanks for reading.