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:: Chapter 2: Perfect ::

There are many kinds of silence.

Tara remembered the good kind, like the one she and Willow had shared after their first night. Lost in each other's eyes, foreheads touching, lips meeting in lazy, loving kisses. Craving and reveling in each other's touch, feeling at home in each other's arms… The kind of silence that made you feel complete.

She also remembered the worst kind of silence. She remembered tearfully packing her clothes from their room, hearing Willow's soft sobs from elsewhere. Remembered each awkward, painful silence they shared the next handful of times they met, before Willow had faced her addiction. It was the kind of silence that swallowed you whole if you let it.

But this.

This was a silence that was as loud as screams.

While ears heard nothing, the minds of the Scoobies were far from quiet, as they lay despondently on their seats at the Magic Box. Tara could still feel Dawn's muffled sobs, though the teenager tried hard to hide them. She wanted nothing more than to her hug her at that moment, hold her close and ease her pain, but she knew if she moved a muscle she would no longer be in control of her own emotions. Her nose stung from crying, her eyes complained of tiredness, and yet still the silent tears came, relentless in announcing their presence.

Every few minutes Tara's mind would wander to her again. The way she smelled, the way she tasted, the feel of that perfect skin under hers, the texture of those lips against her own... Her mind would wander, and sobs would break free again, taking control of her body as she shook and whispered that name over and over in harmony with the tears. And then Buffy would come over to embrace her, caressing her hair softly, rocking her in her arms. Like clockwork, Xander would soon follow, his embrace tight and grounding where Buffy's was tender and soothing, and they would whisper to her in breaking voices. And at last, they would all let their silent tears be heard. Dawn would hold her hand through her sobs, seeking and giving comfort. Anya would whisper something about death being a horrible invention, and sniff back her tears.

And they would all cry. They would all mourn, seeking comfort in each other, while all being ill-equipped to provide any.

This time Tara got through about fifteen minutes without letting her mind wander; fifteen minutes of just tears, fifteen minutes of giving her vocal chords some much needed rest. Fifteen minutes of pushing back memories of the love of her life. Instead she thought of practicalities. Thought of what she would wear tomorrow, her classes, tests. Whether they had enough syrup in the kitchen for tomorrow's breakfast… How she planned on getting that nasty stain out of her favorite sweater… Anything but her. Goddess, please, anything but her…

Suddenly, she heard loud, sudden sobs. It was Anya, head in hands, sobbing for what felt like the first time that day. Tara felt a bit taken aback despite herself. She knew the demon was sad – she'd caught her unsuccessfully fighting tears many times that day – but was still surprised at the strong display of emotion. It seemed she wasn't the only one taken aback, as Xander could only stare at her for a few seconds before hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder. The sobs desisted after a minute, thankfully before they could trigger similar reactions from the rest of the group, and Anya struggled to voice herself, "I just. I'll never… We'll never talk again, and I… It was nice talking to her. O-Or arguing, which was frankly far more likely. How-How can I ever argue with her again?" the girl babbled, struggling to maintain her some of her stoic persona, "I just… I just want to talk to her, and now we'll never…", the hint of a sad smile came to Tara's lips, remembering one of their more destructive arguments at the Magic Box that had inadvertently resulted in a complicated troll situation. That did not turn out to be a good idea, as she soon started to recall the way Willow had worn her hair that day, in short tight curls, and how much she adored those crimson locks on her lover…

Fifteen minutes – that was her best time yet.

Buffy had never thought she could tire of hugging her friends. But today, as she held Tara in a tight embrace for what felt like the tenth time in the last hour, she realized this was quickly turning into an exception. She would never tire of hugging her friends, no, but she felt utterly broken by having to wipe so many of their tears, and hold back most of her own. She was sick of feeling this way; empty, as if a part of her had been sucked away like the blood that had once coursed through Willow's veins. Sick of watching Tara break down over and over, whispering for her lover to come back to her in a desperate, broken voice that made them all want to die of the pain. Sick of wanting to go curl up somewhere no one could touch her, where no one could hear her. Somewhere she didn't have to be strong…

The light beep of a phone interrupted the accelerating downward spiral of her thoughts as Tara had begun to calm down. The jovial tune of the device made everyone cringe, a disturbing and all but mocking contrast to the stagnant atmosphere in the room, and as soon as she made sure the shivering girl in her arms would be ok, Buffy made to grab at it. The Slayer all but growled into the phone once she was out of earshot, the aggressive despair clawing at her soul finally having found an outlet. She didn't care who this was, didn't care if they had no way of knowing of the state she was in. She needed a monster to beat. Even after killing the actual monster responsible for this, which she had assumed would somehow help her cope, Buffy still had what felt like endless leftover anger and pain, with nothing to take it out on. And this person, God help them, would have to be the next monster she plummeted.

Her ears were only half listening to the unfamiliar, nervous voice at the other end, waiting for an opening to launch into her next tirade. In the back of her mind she came to the conclusion that she was speaking to a hospital nurse of some kind. A nervous, painfully polite nurse that seemed to be apologizing profusely, though whether or not this was just because of her own burst of anger was unclear. One thing that was clear was that she really didn't really care to find out. Reddened eyes narrowed and a dry mouth opened in preparation for a final outburst, but before a sound could come out, Buffy found the tables had been turned on her with the utterance of just a single sentence. And it was now her eyes that were open wide, and her mouth wider.

The body was gone.

While the cordial voice on the other end continued to apologize profusely, advising her to hold off on funeral plans while simultaneously assuring her that this was sure to be a simple mix-up, Buffy's ears heard nothing but the one word.

Gone. The word seemed so the familiar to her ears. She tested it in her mind again, struggling to understand what it could mean in this context. Gone… The body – Willow – gone. Gone? How… How could she be gone? Did she poof off into pixie dust? Walk out the door naked? No. No, of course... It was all starting to make sense to her now, she was so stupid; it was obvious… Of course Willow was gone, she was certain they'd covered that already when her heart had stopped. Right, Willow was gone. Obviously. How was that a new development? Willow was gone. Tara had been murmuring as much into her shoulder for the past hour. It was obvious. But… that was Willow. And this was… The body. The body was gone. The body wasn't meant to be gone, was it? That wasn't what bodies did. They didn't go places. Where would they go? Wasn't that the whole point of dying? Willow was gone, and without Willow her body couldn't be gone. Shouldn't be gone. But it was.

Distracted by shock and tear-induced headaches, for the first few heartbeats it all just didn't make sense to Buffy Summers. She didn't want it to make sense. It couldn't make sense; she wouldn't let it. The universe couldn't be that cruel, could it? No, of course not, so it didn't make sense. But of course to the Slayer deep insider her it had all been clear from the start. To the Slayer it was obvious. The blood running down Willow's chin, which they had assumed to be the result of her rekindled magicks; the smug look on the monster that was responsible; and now the call from the morgue about the body. It all made sense. It had always made sense. The Slayer had always had the answers, and all Buffy had needed to do was accept them. She could have done this earlier, let this new, malicious form of grief reopen the scabbing wounds of her heart slowly, but delicately. But it was too late for that now. Now the revelation – confirmation of what the Slayer had known, but Buffy had denied – came at her like a violent tear through her heart. It was a deep, jagged incision looking to kill, and Buffy felt her body jerk as if in response. The weakening of her knees and stinging of her nose made it alarmingly obvious how quickly she was nearing the limits of her composure...

Idly hanging up on the nurse in the middle of yet another apology, Buffy purposefully closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, which ended up being more of a shuddering gasp instead. She took in another, and finally forced her feet to locomote across the Magic Box, promptly walking into the store's private bathroom, and dry heaving whatever still remained in her emptied stomach. She was unpleasantly surprised to find that there still quite a bit left for her to regurgitate, but she supposed that her body would somehow always find something to vomit at a time like this, just like Tara's tears seemed to continue to form out of nothingness, long after they should have run out.

It took several more heaves, most of them fruitful, before Buffy finally found herself in control of her body once more. She sluggishly cleaned herself up, and mindlessly stared into the mirror for a few long moments, before her mind made the connection between mirror and reflection, and from reflection to Willow. She took in another shaky breath, and steeled herself to face her friends once more.

She was going to wait; she had to wait. She had to give them what she had robbed herself: a slow, careful unraveling of the truth. She could afford this much at least. It had to be delicate; it had to be perfect. For Dawn. For Tara… God, Tara. Her heart ached once again thinking of the broken girl. She knew Xander would understand, at least. It would hurt, but he had seen this before with Jesse; he would understand that this Willow wasn't their Willow. She almost trusted Dawn with as much as well. After her brief meddling with resurrection, she knew her sister was starting to learn to accept loss. But Tara... She wasn't sure what remained of Tara now, if there was still something left to break. But she knew how easy it would be to just slip into delusion; to trust and hope that Willow was still there. That somewhere behind unfamiliar yellow eyes, she was still alive. And Buffy had to be the one to ground her, to bring her down from floating fantasies and remind her of the ugly truth, hold her as she rebroke what had just been mended by delusion and hope. That's why... it all had to be perfect.

But as the door to the bathroom clicked shut behind her, and she turned back to the table with carefully guarded eyes, a final piece clicked into place for the Slayer. She tore her eyes from her friends' huddled forms as she approached them, finally realizing the true gravity of their situation. And for the second time that night, Buffy found herself on the wrong end of tables being turned.

What had once been about grief and perfection, was now solely about danger and survival. They were at the Magic Box... She'd known that, of course. But they were at the Magic Box. She stared at the broken faces of her friends – her family – just barely hanging on by a thread. They were at the Magic Box... At a time when the one person who could break them even further could easily enter the Magic Box. Was probably headed for the Magic Box. Would be expecting them at the Magic Box.

They said that family blood always tasted the sweetest…

"Tara?" Buffy's own voice sounded alien to her, coming out as a garbled mess. She desperately cleared her throat and tried again, avoiding her friends' inquisitive glances. "Tara," she whispered softly this time, eliciting a slight head turn from the witch, "can-can you… disinvite a public place?" It was taking every bit of strength in her to get the words out, pausing here and there to fight back the incessant waves of nausea. Too soon. It was all still too soon... God, she needed more time. Time to just breathe.

"Buffy," Xander warned in an unusual tone of solemn anger, unable to understand how she could possibly be thinking of work at a time like this, "for God's sake-"

She shut him up with a single glare, begging him not to question, just answer. She moved that same look, now much softer, to Tara, who had now straightened up to turn to her fully. The brunette softly asked her to repeat herself, a light stutter reappearing in her voice for a moment as she attempted to dry the ever-present tear tracks along her cheeks. "Can you disinvite a…" Buffy repeated with a gulp, her grip on the table so tight she feared she would break a chunk off, "a… vampire from a public place?" She was sure she already knew the answer; utterly sure. But God, she needed this. She needed to ask, needed a second to calm; to strengthen; to ready. Just a second, that's all I need, she told herself. Just a second, to realize she'd have to look at the face she had so recently cradled in her arms, so recently sobbed for, and kill it all over again. Just a second, to steel herself for seeing her again, this time brewing with the inhumane malice that came with losing humanity – the mere thought bringing back memories of Angelus. But she knew, if she separated sentiment from slayer, she knew…

They didn't have a second.

"We need to get out," Buffy exclaimed after hearing Tara's expected answer, promptly ushering them to rise from her seats, her voice firm and authoritative. This was what she needed, she decided. Separate the emotion from the duty, the personal from the professional. A vampire was coming after them, the Magic Box being the biggest target as the only place it could actually enter. A vampire that had control over them, a vampire that Buffy knew she couldn't dust in front of the people that once loved…it. Alone, she could do it. Alone, she could close her mind's eye and ignore the grays in her life. Alone, she could look Willow in the eyes – like she had looked Angel in the eyes – and watch the life leave her face once again. Alone, she had no choice but to do it. But here, she felt like she would sooner collapse in sobs. "I'm serious, guys. We need to leave," Buffy repeated stiffly, watching the surprised but concerned looks on her friends and shooting them all a desperate one in return, "NOW!"

The shout did the job of startling Tara into attention, and Buffy's attempts at steeling herself softened as she saw the wince her yell had produced from the shaken girl. Unbeknownst to her, the shout had also done well to mask another sound that would otherwise have resonated in the shop – a distant bell ringing for the shortest second. After a last moment of confused, grief-stricken hesitation, everyone obediently started to stand up at her command, preparing to head out under the Slayer's orders. Buffy hurriedly grabbed a crossbow from a nearby weapon stash before aggressively pointing at the back doors as the venue for their retreat.

"Hey now… What's the hurry all about?" And just like that, perfect became unaffordable.

For a second, it felt like the very air around them stood still, the molecules frozen in shock. Five separate sets of lungs held breath in unity, some eyes clamped shut while others widened in either pain, shock, or both. The sound of calm footsteps echoed from the entrance of the Magic Box, each tip-tap of boots a fresh stab to Buffy's heart. Everything in the world stood still as a woman strikingly resembling Willow came into clear view, her body still donning the clothes she had worn in death. No, Buffy reminded herself, hand clasping tighter against her crossbow, Clothes Willow had worn. This is not Willow. This is NOT Willow.

She smiled happily – smiled Willow-ly – except there was an unnoticed twist to her smile. A hint of amusement hiding behind the familiar expression. Dangerous, dark amusement, buried well under familiar smiles and casual tones. "I though you guys'd be excited to see me?" she continued calmly, like she'd just arrived from a long day of classes, a stretch of vacation abroad, or just any old day. Like she'd just been alive; like she was still alive. Buffy felt like the force of her clenched teeth could break her jaw. She waited for a smirk of cruelty to appear on Willow's features, waited for her to break everyone's heart like Angelus had once broken hers. Waited for maliciousness and evil and everything she expected from this stranger in a friend's body. Anything that would give her the strength to see that face disappear into nothingness. But God… God she was just so… Willow.

"Ok, everyone," She was amazed that words could still escape her lips, amazed that her knees were still holding her weight, as her eyes rested on the trail of blood that still covered a side of Willow's neck, seeping into her clothes, "That… is not… Willow." She managed, knowing she convinced no one – not even herself – but also knowing that it had to be said. For the sake of their sanity, it had to be said.

"Aw, come on, Buff…" Willow complained as their eyes met, Willow-smile still in place. Buffy had to lean on a nearby shelf to keep herself stable as the familiar eyes met hers. The vampire noticed the weakness, and for a second Buffy thought she would get pounced right there, but instead was just welcomed with a soft sigh, "Yeah, I'm kind of a mess I have to admit," Willow rolled her eyes in annoyance, ruffling through her hair and battling some of the light tangles that had appeared, "But you have to cut me some slack here, I can't really judge anymore! Mirrors, you know?"

"Goddess…" Buffy heard a whisper, though it was more of a mixture between a wince and a sob, "Oh Goddess, no…" She turned to her left to see that Tara had lost her battle against her knees, landing on the floor with her hands covering her mouth and fresh tears streaking her face. "Willow…" It was more so a horrified cry to a dead lover than a greeting to an undead one, but nevertheless, Willow's eyes turned to her next. Buffy could just see Tara shattering under her gaze, and willed her legs to go to her, shield her from these fresh wounds of grief, but her body defied her.

"Hi baby..." the purred reply came.

A/N: Sorry for ending it there, but there's honestly no better place to cut off in this whole collection of scenes. And it would be far too long if I just kept going...

I have to admit I have some mixed feelings about this chapter, almost entirely because of the phone scene. That whole bit up to the bathroom was unbelievably hard to write (not in the emotional sense), and I'm not fully happy with what I got, but I like it enough none the less. Then there's the Gone paragraph, which I'm not sure if it perfectly portrays the tonal shift and frantic, scatter-brained denial I was going for, or if it just comes off as horribly amateur and confusing writing. And a bunch of other nit-picks I can make (like a million run-on sentences I probably didn't catch)... Ah, well! It's usually my unstoppable inner critic that always drives me away from finishing projects, so I hope you can just take the occasional awkward transition/paragraph with a grain of salt and just go with it.

I'm obviously taking some liberties with the Buffyverse here and there, with the morgue/hospital call and Willow seeming to rise after a mere few hours. I could try to come up with conon explanations for both, but it's really too trivial to be bother with in-story, so just feel free to come up with your own rationalizations. Also, I'm aware I just spent half of that chapter trapped in Buffy's head with no dialogue to speak of, but God I really can't help it. It's fun in there!

As always, a review is greatly appreciated! Even a couple of words help keep me motivated, and get you a little sneak peak. It's a win-win!