chapter three - chocolate and berries

Willow was extremely comfy alone in the sun-filled apartment on the second floor of the arty old building on the Champs Elysees. She'd spent most of the day curled up on the big cushy sofa, cross-legged, breezing through the old issues of Zurban Paris she loved. She also was enjoying, fresh from Lillie's expresso machine, a foamy mocha latte in an over-sized mug, which now rested on the coffee table in front of her, waiting for Willow to take another delightfully luscious sip. She'd baked a double-chocolate layer cake, too, which, fresh out of the oven, was cooling in the kitchen.

This was Willow's happy day, her reward. After weeks of doling out a limitless supply of nightly hugs, reassuring words and ever-ready temple messages, Willow needed a break. She was exhausted. Night after night, she had been the only one able to calm Buffy after the 'big bad' dreams. Willow grimaced at her double entendre about Buffy's beloved Spike, the former big bad of Sunnydale and the featured player in Buffy's nightmares.

Oh, boy, she sighed.

Willow imagined it was living in Paris that allowed her to accept the idea that Buffy had loved Spike – and moped around like she still did. But she would never believe that Buffy had loved him that much. Willow preferred to think of Spike as more of a metaphor for Buffy's guilt for surviving the Apocalypse. No way, Buffy missed Spike the way Willow missed Tara. That wasn't Willow being selfish either, she reasoned. She just hoped her best friend wasn't going through that kind of pain. Better to love less than be destroyed by loss. Wasn't it? She wondered. Then Willow thought about Kennedy.

She could have stayed with Kennedy and traveled the world, reigning in potential slayers from remote, exotic locations for years. Willow was the supreme princess of witches, following her mega-spell that changed the lineage of slayers forever. She could do whatever she wanted. No doubt, she could have remained with Kennedy and seen the world. All the same, Willow left Kennedy on a sunny afternoon standing outside a small café some place in Brazil, stunned into silence by Willow's few, but precise words, "I'm leaving you. I don't love you, and I don't want to be with you anymore."

Yeah, today was Willow's day to concentrate on Willow.

Shit, she cursed to herself as she heard the keys jingle in the front door lock. Looks like time's up. She rose from the sofa, grabbed her half-filled cup, and strolled into the kitchen to dabble some fresh berry icing over her chocolate cake.

Dinner was not going very well. Sure, the apartment looked great, all homey and all. The food looked good, too, and Buffy expected to gorge herself on a big piece of chocolate cake no matter what. However, the tension between her and Willow was escalating with each word that dropped like angry sparks from Willow 's mouth. Buffy didn't want to hear it. She didn't need to be lectured. Not today, not ever. She wasn't in the mood to analyze, research or dissect her dreams. No, not these dreams. How dare Willow imply that she felt guilty about being alive? When had that ever happened?

Oh yeah, there was that time she had been ripped from heaven by her friends and brought back to life, Buffy recalled, angrily. That was Willow's fault. Likewise, didn't Giles say that he and Anya were told by the eye thing that the First manifested stronger than ever because Buffy lived? So, the First was Willow's fault, too. And the First was the reason Spike died. That meant Spike's death was Willow's…Buffy put a full stop to her bulldozer train of thoughts and took a deep cleansing breath. This territory might be better left un-traveled. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to yell.

"Spike died to save us. He chose to stay in the Hellmouth to make certain it was destroyed," shouted Buffy. She didn't look at either Willow or Lillie. She sat staring straight ahead.

"Buffy, I know this is hard. It just might help if you'd admit how you feel," Willow paused and rested her wine glass on the table, and leaned forward in her chair. "Maybe if you could do this, you could move on."

"You've got to be kidding me," Buffy wanted to cry, but instead, she stood up abruptly from the table, pushing her chair to the floor as she rose. "Are you over Tara ? Are you over Anya? Are you over any of them who died?"

"So, it should have been you sacrificing your life instead of Spike," Willow was shouting, and Buffy was long past having lost her patience. She needed to hit something.

"You've died twice to save the world. Now, you want to stop living because Spike decided his breathless body was worth sacrificing to save the world?" Willow just wouldn't stop. Buffy wanted to scream.

"Spike was more than a body. He was more than that – he was, more," Buffy's voice cracked.

"Buffy, he was a vampire. Not a man. Still he showed us the man he wanted to be by choosing to stay in the Hellmouth." Willow was facing Buffy, so close they could almost touch each other. "Maybe you should forgive him Buffy, for leaving you."

That was it. Buffy couldn't listen to Willow any more. She stood up and walked out of kitchen, down the hallway through the front door, before running down the stairs and out of the apartment building.

She needed to find something to kill.

To be continued…