The Road Home
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.
A/N: Hey, I'm so sorry that the last chapter took so long. I crashed my computer, see. Here's another one for you all to evaluate. Thanks so much for the reviews!
26. On the House
Buffy woke up with a throbbing head and a frown. Automatically, she stretched out her hand to grab the person lying next to her and frowned deeper when her hand met air. She rolled in the direction and promptly fell off the couch and onto the carpet in Willow's living room.
Rubbing her head, Buffy sat up and looked around, confused. A soft white comforter was entangled about her body and not the satin sheets of her bed. Looking around, she realized they were close to dawn and she wondered why she was in Willow's home. And suddenly, she remembered what had happened last night.
Instinctively, she pulled the blanket around her and curled into a foetal position. She closed her eyes tightly against the tears, forbidding herself to show any kind of weakness. And curled like that on Willow's floor, Buffy fell asleep again.
Tara stood in the doorway, watching Buffy sleep. She had a pencil in her mouth and a worried expression on her face as she watched her friend. Willow came clambering down the stairs, soon, tying up her damp hair in a scrunchie and stopped when she saw Tara standing that way.
Buffy had come to them last evening with tracks of tears mixed with mascara down her cheeks. Willow and Tara had comforted her, asking no questions of the crying blonde. Soon enough, though, the story had come hiccupping out in bits and they'd been able to understand that Buffy and Will had a fallout. After they had calmed her down a bit and Tara had given her some of her magical chamomile tea, Willow lent Buffy clothes and she'd fallen asleep on the couch, still crying silently.
In the late morning light, Buffy looked almost angelic. Wrapped in white, her golden hair like a halo around her pale face. But her forehead, creased heavily with lines, her puffy eyes, her protective position and tearstained cheeks made her seem a lot more mundane. More real, capable of pain; not the figure of ethereal grace and conduct she projected before others.
Willow thought it was frightening.
She went and slipped her arms gently, softly around Tara. Tara relaxed and leaned back into Willow. "I'm worried," She said quietly.
Willow nodded. "So am I."
That seemed to be all they needed to say. They stood together in silence, wondering where to go, now.
Will came into an empty house.
He looked in the living room, in the kitchen, in the dining room. He went upstairs and checked in her room. He looked in the bathroom and the guest rooms. He went to the attic, where he found sweet baby pictures, but no Buffy. He even looked in the basement where he was greeted with the unneeded sight of Pontiac eating his latest at kill. Coming back to the foyer, his fingers touched his lips as he wondered where she was.
He heard a noise outside. Approaching the window, he looked out and, vaguely, through the hedge he could see the girls getting into Willow's car. He sighed, letting the curtain fall back into place, wondering, again, where Buffy was. If she'd felt anything like he had after their fight, she wouldn't want to be alone. Of course, he'd spent the entire night touring L.A.'s bars with Clem, but Buffy... where could she go?...
A horn outside made his eyes widen as something in his mind clicked. Rushing to the dining room, from where he could see Willow's driveway better, he pulled away the curtain and watched as Buffy stepped out into the noon sun, hair pulled back tightly in a high ponytail and sunglasses on.
She hesitated, for a moment, looking around from the top of Willow's porch steps, almost as though she expected something. But then, after Willow honked her car horn again, Buffy moved towards the car.
"No..." Will whispered, his fingers tracing her shape on the glass beneath his hand. "'Lizabeth!" He ran for the door and flew out of it, sprinting to the next house to stop her from leaving.
But he was too late. The car disappeared around the corner, leaving Will alone in the driveway.
"Oh, come on, mopey girl! We came for fun! Remember 'fun'? It's what you do when you're out with yor friends!"
Buffy smiled. Willow, carrying a beer in one hand, was dancing wildly before her, attracting attention and people. She laughed as Willow made a particularly mad dance move, but shook her head at the same time. "Let me mope, Wills. Just a little while. I promise, when I'm done moping, I'll come and dance with you and your," She jabbed a thumb behind her shoulder, "entourage."
Willow, grinning uncontrollably, said, "You promise?"
"Yes," Buffy chuckled, "I promise."
"Okay, then," Cheerily, Willow grabbed Tara's hand and said, "Let's dance, Tara!"
"Wait, you go, I'll be there in a second." Tara freed her hand from Willow's, also smiling wide, and looked at Buffy. "Can I sit with you?"
Buffy rolled her eyes and shifted on the cushiest ouch in the entire club. Tara slipped in next to her and the two watched Willow dance with a fond sparkle in their eye.
Suddenly, Tara declared, "I'm moving in with Willow." She turned to look at Buffy, waiting for her reaction.
It didn't come. Buffy, never taking her eyes off the dance floor, smiled genuinely and said, "That's excellent. What about your practice?"
"Oh, you know, the University wants me to work with them for the rest of the year and if I'm good, I'll become a professor. It's like being on probation for a job you didn't apply. I was surprised they chose me to work on this project."
Buffy looked at Tara with a light frown. "Surprised?" She echoed. "Why?"
Tara shrugged. "I'm not that good."
Buffy made a noise that sounded like something between a snort and a sigh. She said, drumming her fingers against the white trousers she wore, "You're too modest, Tara. You're an amazing psychiatrist."
"Psychologist."
"Whatever. The point is, you're really good and you should know that. Use it to your full, get everything you need. That's how you survive in today's world."
Tara looked at Buffy. "What about you?"
The drumming stopped. "What do you mean?"
"You said we should live up to our full potential. Doesn't that apply for you, too?"
"I am living it up."
"Not financially, Buffy. Tell me: when was the last time you painted anything?"
Buffy was silent.
"See? This is what I mean. When'll you start painting again?"
"I have everything I need."
"Creative satisfaction?"
Buffy bit her lip. Hard. As a trickle of blood oozed down her perfectly painted lips, she stood up. "I'm going to get a drink." She declared. "Want anything?"
With a sigh, Tara stood. "No, that's okay. I'll go dance with Willow for a while."
Nodding, Buffy headed to the bar. Slipping into a high stool, she said to the counter girl, "One martini, please."
The dark-haired girl chuckled. "Sure you can handle it, Shorty?"
Frowning, Buffy looked up at the remark. "What does that mean?" She demanded.
The girl took a deep look at Buffy and nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Heartbreak." She announced, pulling out a glass and filling it with Buffy's drink. "Here you go." She handed it gently to Buffy, giving her a smile that seemed not to belong on her face: it was too honest and nice.
Buffy took a sip and watched this female bartender, who was now leaning her arms on the counter and regarding Buffy openly and interestedly. "So," Buffy said, trying not to choke on the hot liquid down her throat, "What's your name?"
The girl pointed to her chest. Buffy looked and saw a nametag. "However, since you don't have one, you'll have to say it." Faith said.
"Buffy."
Faith grinned. "Nice name, B."
Buffy smiled. "Thanks." She tuned her attention to the glass between her fingers and sighed. "Bottoms up," She muttered, putting the glass to her lips and swallowing the entire thing down.
Buffy thumped the glass back to the counter and winced. "Ew." She complained, "Who even drinks all this!"
Faith let out a loose laugh. "Sorry, B. Wasn't sure you could handle it." She looked at Buffy again in that penetrating way of hers and said, "I've got something for you to try."
Pulling out a long crystal vase, Faith poured an amber liquid into two glasses. Buffy picked hers up and sniffed it, trying to tell if it was bitter or not.
"Drink it, B. You'll love it. Trust me."
Shrugging, Buffy took a sip of the liquid and her eyes widened. "Wow!" She said. "It's sweet!"
"Mm hmm," Faith said, sipping hers, too. "It's a Mexican tequila. Very different from the usual stuff."
Buffy grinned and grabbed the glass, draining it in one go. "More!"
Faith rolled her eyes. "You're going to get all knackered out, B." But still, grinning all the way, she poured the blonde another glass and settled into her stool for another tale of heartbreak.