She kept her eyes on the ring. It was all bright and shiny and smooth. It was the way she thought stars were before she learned how to read and found out they weren’t. That made her sad a little, even if it was cool. But lots of things made her sad. Broken crayons, stolen Barbies, giant Woostock, being alone. Okay, she still had that last one. And she could feeling coiling up in her. Still. Even with Buffy here. Willow whimpered like a kicked puppy and pressed herself deeper into Buffy’s lap.
I’m here now. It’s gonna be okay I promise. I’m here.
Willow wanted to nod. She wanted to say yes to any and everything her friend said because she was her friend and she was Buffy and she always saved her friends. She was the hero of the story. That’s how it went. And she was the hero’s best friend. She was in her hero’s lap listening to her hero’s voice tell her that everything would be okay. She promised. She promised with words.
Faith didn’t use words. And after a while, neither did Willow. Not unless she didn’t have a choice. They did things. Ovaltine and back massages, movies, that case of Harry Potter books and holding hands at just the right moment. Even having sex on their couch tasted like a promise sometimes. This is better. We’re different. Willow’s hand clutched at Buffy’s leg. She’d messed it up all over again. She’s ruined it. Stupid spells and magic and worrying and waiting. She was always left somewhere for someone else to pick up, even when she tried not to. Would they ever feel like that again? Would they get back to place where she was hopping into Faith’s boots just when she walked through the door and gave her one of those looks?
Oh god, a whole week without those looks.
But it was just a week. Just a week. She could do that. And it wasn’t like she was alone. This was the part of the story where the hero saved her. Buffy always knew what to do
“Buffy,” she whispered, sniffling. “What do I do? How…how do I get better?” That was the answer right? She wasn’t sure, and it’s not like how they told you in school where if you don’t know you just cross your fingers and answer C. And she couldn’t get it wrong. She couldn’t. One week, that’s what Faith said. And Willow—Willow had to be something worth saving, didn’t she? Something worth working at? Faith wouldn’t want to keep her, would she? And she wanted her. That’s why she gave her the ring. She wanted her. She had to. “I have to get better,” she whined. “It hurts too much…”
They just sat on that way on the porch, Willow’s head in Buffy’s lap, for a long time. She wasn’t sure how long. How long had Willow been silently burrowing into her? She didn’t know. She’d stopped herself crying long before Willow spoke. The words weren’t much more than a whisper, but Buffy heard them clear as day. She heard them and they broke her heart all over again. The fact that Faith and Willow were breaking up tasted so bitter in her mouth she wanted to spit it out. Willow said Faith made her strong, but all she could see was Faith making her weak. How could such a strong and beautiful person be reduced to this? It wasn’t right. She never would have wanted this if she’d known just how torn up Willow would be. And she wouldn’t have wanted it this way, not ever. She’d just wanted them to want what she wanted. She’d just wanted them to be mature, responsible adults. That’s all she’d wanted. She tried so hard and it didn’t seem fair that they got to be selfish when she gave up everything, lost everything, to the cause. She was aiming for solidarity, not self destruction.
She let a few moments more of silence pass between them. She had to work out in her head an answer. A way to help Willow. How could she fix this? She could feel the sweat and tears that covered her friend, all of the little hairs that liked to frizz out were plastered to her face. And she was clammy in a way that made her seem sickly. Buffy couldn’t stand it. She had to figure a way to get Willow inside. To coax enough energy into her that she might be able to at least take a shower, to get herself cleaned up. It was starting to get windy and Willow was shaking, they needed to get inside soon.
“You will get better Willow,” Buffy’s voice cracked ever so slightly. Maybe Will would be too out of it to notice. “I’ll help you get better.” She meant every word. She was going to make it right. “You need to sit up though,” She propped up the witch with ease, and tried to get her to look into her eyes. Tired to get her to be there, at least so she could figure out what was going on. She wrapped an arm around Willow’s shoulder, to let her know she was there but also to stop her from collapsing back down into a heap. Hopefully she’d be able to get Willow lucid enough to agree to head into the house, or if she didn’t want to go there, if it was too painful for her, get in the car. Get in the car so she could take her to her apartment, take her and help her get better. Something. Anything but just sitting here on the porch with her head on another planet.
“Willow, I need you to be here.” She nearly snapped her fingers in front of her face, but stopped. Even she could see that wouldn’t go over well. “Listen to me.” She tried again to make Willow’s eyes meet hers. When they did, she spoke in a slow and soothing voice. “What happened, Will? Please tell me.” She didn’t want to sound like she was begging, but she was. She was begging for her hand to be grabbed, so she could pull Willow up from the cliff edge she hung upon. “So I can help you. Please?” She tried so hard not to convey her emotion, her desperation, but she could tell that it’d be read on her face and in her voice.
This Is A Test 