It's finally gone.
That scary, empty look in her eyes.
It took its time leaving. It would show up randomly, like when she was watching TV or reading a book. One minute she would be happy, laughing, the next, she was gone. I covered for her, moving closer, talking loud, "accidently" brush her arm.
The others noticed, of course, but I tried to keep them from questioning her. I'm sure Giles always suspected the truth, but he was the first to stop asking Buffy if she was all right, and even told the others to "stop badgering her." I think maybe he didn't want to hear Buffy's answer.
But long after even Anya decided to let it go, Willow still looked worried and angry when Buffy zoned out, and everyone else pretended not to notice.
After Buffy snapped out of it and was trying to act like nothing had happened, Willow kept pushing, asking what was wrong.
One night, I finally snapped and muttered to her to just shut up. I could see how it stung her; I could count on one hand the number of times I've said that to her and meant it, most of them when we were less than ten years old. I didn't want to hurt her, and I understood why she was so worried. Besides that Buffy's her best friend, it was mainly her idea to bring her back. Will's always been a perfectionist, and, as harsh as it may sound, if there's something wrong with her work, she wants to know about it. To fix it. But there wasn't anything Willow could do. And every time anyone would start questioning, Buffy would get that "deer in headlights" look. I don't think the others noticed; she tried to hide it and keep things light. But I did.
A couple days after Buffy told me, I half-heartedly tried to convince her to tell the rest of the gang, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't. Even I wasn't sure it was a good idea. She told one person, and it was obviously a big relief that she wouldn't have to keep it all inside, but if everyone knew, then she could never get away from the looks of concern and pity. And guilt.
I think the guilt was what sealed the deal. And I guess I really mean Willow's guilt.
I mean, we all share some responsibility, and even Giles would feel bad for not keeping a closer watch, but I don't think Willow would forgive herself. I don't know what she'd do if she knew what we–what she–put Buffy through.
So, Buffy decided not to tell anyone else. And so it was up to me to help her, try to buy her the time and space she needed to–hopefully–heal. I'll admit, it wasn't always easy. Okay, sometimes it was pretty damn scary. Besides the zoning out, there were a couple of times I caught her fingering kitchen knives, standing a little to near the edge of a roof, things like that. She always came up with an excuse, and I don't think she really meant to do anything. Not really.
But mostly my role as confidant included, predictably, a lot of talking. Buffy would come over to my place, or we'd go out, walking, talking, and occasionally slaying. Buffy's butt-kicking abilities didn't seem any worse for the wear, but nonetheless, after a few weeks of being Buffy's only backup, I thought my own slaying abilities were much improved. At least, I mentioned this and Buffy didn't laugh.
We didn't always talk about deep, meaning-of-life kind of stuff (I told her the answer was 42, but she just looked at me funny). We talked about movies, friends, high school, demons. Normal stuff. It was nice. Buffy liked being around me because she didn't have to pretend to be happier or stronger than she was. I liked being around her because she's Buffy.
The rest of the gang started to notice how much we were hanging out together pretty much right away. They didn't ask about it much, though, I think because they noticed, just as I did, that Buffy seemed to be getting better. Decidedly fewer zoning-out incidents, and she just generally seemed happier, and, well, more normal.
Willow did glance at me a few times when Buffy was out of the room, like she wanted to ask, but finally she just seemed to accept it. Dawn, I think, was just happy to have Buffy more there, and never questioned what I had to do with it. Giles, well, he always knows more than he lets on, but anything he was curious about he kept to himself. Tara just seemed happy that we were all happier.
And then there's Anya.
Soon after Buffy and I started spending time together, I anticipated a nasty brawl with Anya. Not because Buffy and I were anything more than friends, but because Anya is very, um, "sensitive" to any hint of neglect. I just hoped there wouldn't be vengeance.
Imagine my surprise, then, when, one Tuesday night, after I had just hung up after talking to Buffy, Anya sat me down and very reasonably explained to me that she was breaking up with me. She was very calm and rational, although she firmly did not let me interrupt and seemed to be holding back tears sometimes. She told me that she knew Buffy and I were becoming close, and, silencing my protest, said that even if I didn't think it was a romantic sort of relationship, she had been around a long time, and knew what was going on. She told me that she loved me, but that she just couldn't handle that kind of pain, and certainly wasn't going to wait around for it. Then she kissed me and left, taking bags that I hadn't even noticed her packing.
So that was that. I think I really did love her, and I still miss her. Lately, I've seen her and Spike together a lot more than is healthy. But if I close my eyes and hum real loud, it isn't happening.
Buffy was genuinely upset when I told her about Anya and me, and I know she blamed herself. But I think I told her the truth when I said it wasn't her fault, and it would have happened eventually anyway. I can't explain it, but even though Anya and I loved each other, I just can't see us together five, ten years from now, happily married with kids and a dog and a picket fence. I don't believe in any of that predestination stuff, but if I did, I'd say maybe it wasn't meant to be.
All I can say for sure is, spending time with Buffy felt good. We got closer than I think we ever were before. She told me things about Angel and her dad, things I'm not sure she ever told Willow or Giles. In return, I think I surprised her with some stuff about my life and thoughts I have that don't revolve around cartoons or comics.
But, best of all, she was healing.
Finally, just in the past couple of weeks, that look in her eyes left for good. I'll admit, there were times when I thought she might never really come back. Like part of her was still buried, and I'd never fully reach her. But she made it, and I think it's safe to say I helped.
She's starting to find joy in the things and people around her again. She's hanging out with the rest of the gang again, just like old times (although I don't think she ever will tell them). Giles is visiting in England right now, but when he comes back Buffy wants to start training again. She and Dawn are close again, and Buffy even remembers to make Dawn do her homework. Actually–this may sound crazy, but Willow mentioned it too–she starting to look happier than she did before. Somehow, she hasn't just gotten over what happened to her, but she's let go of some of the pain of the last few years. If I wanted to sound like a Hallmark Card, I might say she's sort of been reborn.
Last week, when we were at my apartment talking over hot chocolate as usual, she kissed me.
I didn't feel the earth move, and there definitely weren't any trumpets. In fact, it felt natural;for once it wasn't forced or brought on by some ulterior motive. It just seemed right.
Until I spilled hot chocolate on myself and had to make a hasty retreat to change my pants.
Well, maybe next time.
I'm certainly not going to rush any relationship with Buffy; as far as I'm concerned, it's just good to have her back.
On the Hellmouth, you learn pretty quick to not look too far into the future, because there might not be one. Right now we're all alive and together, and that's all that matters.
fin
