"Wait! Wait up, guys!" Buffy shouted to the retreating garbage truck as it pulled away in a disgusting sour-smelling fog. "Don't you want your garbage?!" But the truck was gone, turning away down the street.
Tears threatened to cloud Buffy's eyes.
Not fair.
So not fair. She sniffed wetly, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead. Oh my God, it really is all too hard.
Something damp seeped through her jeans and she glanced down at her leg. One of the sacks had leaked something wet and slimy and revolting, staining the denim an orangey-brown.
Anger flared, alongside a craving to just dump the bags there on the sidewalk, abandon everything and go and find Spike. Maybe put her fist in his eye and start a fight before her mouth found his, before her nails clawed his back to shreds and his hands fisted in her hair. It felt wrong and sick and twisted and all the bad things she knew sex wasn't supposed to be, but it was the only thing that kept the too-much-ness of it all on the fringes. Stopped everything from drowning her.
Stopped her feeling too much for him too… put a hold on those tell-tale heart flutters that were just waiting to be noticed…
Her heart clenched at that last thought and Buffy closed her eyes—don't even go there—taking a breath and letting everything wash out of her, like a circuit overloaded, plunging her emotions into numbness.
Dead inside. If I can't be dead outside, I'll be dead inside…
She trudged back to the house, dragging the garbage bags behind her across the grass, and left them messily heaped at the back door.
"Hey Buffy," Willow beamed from behind a mug of coffee, handing a stack of envelopes to her. "Brought the mail in. Looks like mostly bills. How come grownups never get any fun mail, huh?"
"Oh yes. Bills." Buffy nodded, feeling some resentment breaking through her veneer of disassociation. "All these bills that I have no money to pay, no matter how hard I work, how many extra shifts flipping burgers I take. Bills, bills, bills." She shifted through the envelopes angrily, not meeting the furrow-browed look Willow was cautiously giving her.
"Can I get you a coffee?" Willow lowered her mug and headed to the coffee pot. "You seem all Buffy stressy," she said with an unconcerned smile like Buffy just needed some caffeine to shake off her funky mood.
Buffy sighed, more bitterness filling her lungs at Willow's gratingly chipper demeanor. "No, I'm fine, I just didn't sleep well, that's all."
But her mouth didn't say those words. Instead, it disobeyed, moving on its own.
"Of course I'm stressed!" she nearly shouted, stalling Willow's hand as she reached for a coffee mug. Buffy blinked in shock even as more words vomited out at her, uncontrolled and without permission. "I'm working double shifts at a stupid burger joint with a cow on the hat! SOMETIMES TRIPLE! And then after that I patrol, and after that, I slave away cleaning this house that NO ONE ELSE HELPS WITH, I mean honestly you'd think I live alone, right?! Being all with the single parenthood, what with the amount I'm struggling with here?! You wouldn't think I lived with my best friend who is more than capable of getting a job and paying one of these stupid bills!" She waved the envelopes, unable to stop her arm from practically flailing them under Willow's face. "I mean, hey why not a water bill!? You showered this morning, right!? I didn't! Or an electric bill!? Because personally, I don't remember the last time I had a free couple of SECONDS to watch TV or listen to some music, or even use a hairdryer! Not that I need to, because again with the not having enough time to even shower!"
She panted, finally having her mouth back to herself again after her screaming lecture, shivering as she watched the blood drain from Willow's face.
"Oh my God," she stuttered, shaking. "Oh… Willow- I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry I don't know-"
She was cut off by a crushing hug, the air leaving her lungs all in one go, as Willow wrapped her arms around her.
"Buffy, I didn't think," Willow mumbled into her shoulder. "I've been all… ugh so out of it with the whole Tara thing, and then before with the magic thing and the bringing you back thing and I just haven't- I didn't-"
"I know, I know- I didn't mean-" Buffy gulped, blinking back tears that were already spilling.
"No, I didn't mean." Willow pulled back, wiping her own tear-brimming eyes, "I-I'll sort it out, I've been so-," she waved a hand to indicate the not-with-it-ness of the last few weeks, "-I'll find something. Pay one of those bills. From now on mega helpful roommateness."
Buffy nodded, sniffing down more tears as she dumped the envelopes on the counter. "Ok."
"I'm glad you told me," Willow said, squeezing Buffy's arm. "Screamed at me. It's not good to bottle up."
"Yeah," Buffy huffed in agreement, staring at the bills in her hands, creased now from being clenched in a tight fist. "Lost my cool a bit."
"Buffy uncool? Impossible," Willow chided with a small—still slightly shaken–grin that brought a chuckle up from Buffy's still-tight lungs. "Coffee?" she asked with a gentle punch on Buffy's arm.
Buffy bobbed her head wearily. "Definitely."
She eased herself onto a kitchen stool, feeling suddenly, catastrophically weak.
What the hell was that?!