Chapter 25
Willow?”
The redhead looked up. Her face was flushed and glistening from the tears; eyes bloodshot, lids red and swollen. It was evident she had been crying for a while.
“What happened?” Buffy asked concerned.
Willow’s lips opened and closed a couple of times, but no words came out. Instead, she gasped, her breathing becoming rapid and laboured.
“Willow, calm down and tell me what happened.” Buffy said, reaching for her and trying to lead her toward the couch.
“Tara…” She finally managed to breathe out.
“Tara? Your roommate?”
Willow nodded.
“S-she’s…” She blinked wildly, trying to push back the tears while she took quick breaths of air. “Oz was…”
“Oz?” Buffy’s eyes widened in fear. “Did something happen to Oz?”
Willow shook her head vehemently. She tried to speak, but the knot in her throat made it impossible to voice out words. The confusion in her mind, the difficulty of forming coherent sentences only serving to heighten her anxiety – her breathing became shallower and more accelerated.
“Willow? Are you ok?” Buffy asked when she noticed her friend’s gaze become unfocused, her skin more flushed.
“Get a paper bag.” Spike stepped in.
With a frown Buffy looked over her shoulder to see him stand up and cross the room with large ground-eating footsteps.
“What?!”
“She’s hyperventilating! Get a bag, something she can breathe into.” He ordered. When she didn’t move he added: “Now!”
Buffy immediately went into the kitchenette, opening all the drawers looking for a bag.
“Hey, Willow?” Spike, who now stood in front of the redhead, called wrapping his hand around her arm. “Just try to relax. Breathe slowly.” He said in a soothing voice.
“I can’t find a bag.” Buffy shouted from the kitchenette.
Her eyes widened when she saw her best friend’s body go completely limp and the only thing that stopped her from dropping to the floor was Spike.
Putting one arm around her back and the other behind her knees he lifted her and carried her to the couch. Frightened, Buffy quickly trailed behind.
Spike laid an unconscious Willow on the sofa while Buffy came to kneel next to it.
“Oh my God! Willow! What happened?”
“It’s ok. She just fainted.” Spike assured her.
“Just fainted? That’s not ok!” Buffy snapped. “Is she breathing? Willow, wake up.” She shook her friend.
“She’s going to be fine. She’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”
Wide eyed Buffy stared at him, willing him to be right.
“Trust me. She was just too nervous, she was hyperventilating and she didn’t have enough carbon dioxide so she fainted.” He explained calmly.
Buffy frowned, confused and scared.
“Since when do we need carbon dioxide?” She distinctly remembered from Biology classes that carbon dioxide was bad, not good.
“Carbon dioxide keeps the blood vessels-” Before he could finish the sentence Willow began to stir. Within seconds her eyelids blinked and it was evident she was regaining consciousness. “There. See.”
“Willow?” Buffy muttered in a low voice, her attention completely focused on her friend once again.
“What happened…?” Willow mumbled a bit dazed.
“You were hyperventilating and you lost consciousness for a couple of seconds.” Spike explained with a comforting voice. “But don’t worry. You’re gonna be fine, if you just relax, ok?”
Willow nodded, swallowing dryly.
“You thirsty?”
Another nod.
“I’ll get you a glass of water.” Spike said walking to the kitchen.
“Are you ok?” Buffy asked caressing her friend’s hand.
“Yeah, I think so.” Willow replied hoarsely.
“Here you go.” Spike handed her a glass of water and sat on the coffee table, watching her sit up straight and take a sip.
When she finished the three sat in silence for a few seconds.
“Are you calm?”
Willow nodded.
“Think you can manage to tell us what got you so rattled?” He asked, tilting his head.
Willow pressed her lips together tightly, taking a deep breath before speaking:
“Tara…”
“Your roommate?” Buffy asked.
Spike’s eyes narrowed for a second when he detected a hint of hesitation before the redhead nodded.
“I got home tonight and… um…” She swallowed hard before adding: “She was gone.”
There was a pause, Willow’s gaze became distant for a second, as if she was watching a scene unfold in front of her, before she shook her head and focused on the glass she held in her hands.
“We had a fight this afternoon.”
Another pause.
“A big fight.” Her trembling hand came up to wipe away a tear that streamed down her right cheek. “She missed all of our classes together. I looked for her all over the campus but I couldn’t find her, so I figured she was back at the dorm. When I got there…” Her voice trailed off as the knot in her throat tightened and once again her breathing became erratic.
“Just relax.” Buffy soothed her. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t-“
“Some of her clothes were gone.” Willow inhaled sharply before gasping out. “I think she left.”
There was a heavy silence between the three and the only thing breaking it was Willow’s sobbing. Buffy got up from her kneeling position and sat on the couch next to her friend, her arms coming around her for a comforting embrace.
“It’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry.” Buffy murmured, brushing one hand over the mass of red hair.
She wondered why her friend was so upset. She had never seen her like this. It scared her a bit.
Though Willow had always looked fragile, she was probably the strongest of the group. The only time she had seen her cry had been at Jenny Calendar’s funeral. The teacher’s tragic death had shaken the entire student body, but their group in particular due to Jenny’s relationship with Giles. He had been heartbroken, but quickly the sorrow had turned into hate and he became hell-bent on finding the driver that had run her over. He had pressured the Sunnydale police department to the point of almost harassing them, accusing them of laziness and incompetence. No mater how many times Angel assured him that they were doing their best, he still didn’t think it was enough. And in the end… it hadn’t. Till today the case remained unsolved. Just another hit and run victim. Buffy knew that, secretly, Giles still blamed Angel for never finding Jenny’s killer.
She sat there, holding her friend tightly, brushing her hair away from her blotchy face, much like Willow had done less than a year ago with her, when she and Angel had finally broken up and he had announced that he was leaving town.
She remembered being curled up in her bed, her face buried in Willow’s lap as she cried and gasped – her breathing shallow and laboured. She had really thought she would suffocate. But she didn’t, she had slowly cried herself to sleep in her best friend’s arms.
Buffy closed her eyes for a deep breath, pushed back the past and looked down to see Willow had fallen asleep. Brushing away a rebellious red lock, Buffy allowed herself a soft smile.
“She asleep?”
The question startled her and she looked up to see Spike standing next to the couch. She hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten up off the coffee table.
She nodded.
“Good. I better take this then.” He said taking the empty glass Willow still barely held in one hand.
He placed it on the table and gave Buffy an understanding smile.
The silence between them grew thicker as the memory of what had happened between them on that same couch just a couple of hours ago flashed in front of Buffy’s eyes. Immediately, her gaze dropped to the floor.
“Do you want me to take her to the bedroom?” Spike mercifully broke the silence.
“What?” A flushed Buffy asked.
“Red.” He tilted his head toward the sleeping girl. “Want me to take her to your bedroom?”
Buffy seemed to ponder the issue for a couple of seconds before nodding. Leaning down he wrapped one arm around Willow’s back while the other slipped under her knees and with ease, scooped her up. Nothing more than a soft murmur was heard from her as he carried her into the hall after Buffy.
She opened the door and for the first time, he stepped into her room with her consent. He walked over to the bed and stopped for a second while Buffy pushed back the bedding.
He lay her down carefully as Buffy took off her shoes and slipped Willow’s feet under the covers before pushing them over her sleeping form.
Buffy stood over her for a couple of minutes, making sure she was comfortable before walking out and joining Spike in the living room. He stood in front of the kitchenette, leaning against the bar, elbows propped on the shiny surface.
“She seemed really upset.” He pointed out.
“Yeah.” Buffy agreed. “I’d never seen her like that. It was scary.” She walked over to the coffee table picking up Willow’s empty glass and carried it to the kitchenette.
Her eyes avoided him, as unease settled in. He, on the other hand, kept his gaze completely focussed on her, following her as she walked into the kitchenette to stand at the sink.
“Who’s Tara?” He asked turning around to face her, his body leaning on the counter as he watched her busy herself with what looked like yesterday’s dirty dishes.
“She’s Willow’s roommate.”
“She wasn’t in high school with you guys, was she?”
The enquiry came more in the form of a statement than a question, causing Buffy to frown a bit. How did he know that Tara wasn’t in their high school?
“No, she wasn’t. They met this fall, just before college started. I haven’t even met her.” She noted.
“Oh.” He muttered, clearly intrigued.
For a second Buffy could swear she could hear his mind working, digesting the information. Curious, she dared to look up, but it didn’t last long, dropping her gaze back to the dirty dishes in the sink the moment her eyes met his.
‘Why does he have to stare like that?’ She wondered, suddenly becoming aware of just how fast her heart was beating.
There was silence for a couple of minutes. Awkward, long silence that made the faint sound of water trickling in the sink seem booming.
Buffy’s heartbeat accelerated when she washed the last plate. What was she going to do now? No more dishes to wash equalled extra embarrassing silence to endure.
‘Still plenty of dishes to dry.’ Her mind offered and she gladly accepted. ‘Who would have thought I could be happy about drying dishes.’ She wondered as she once again kept herself busy.
In the meantime, Spike watched with interest, from across the counter, as she scrubbed the plates dry.
After a few excruciating minutes, Buffy caved in, dropped the towel, looked up and blurted:
“What?”
“What?” Spike repeated with an innocent look on his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked, propping her hands on her hips.
“Just wondering how we are going to go about our little interlude on the couch.” He answered tilting his head toward the empty sofa.
Buffy’s cheeks became scarlet almost instantly, her eyes widened in panic, gaze erratically alternating between Spike and anything else in the room until it settled on the dishes. She hadn’t expected him to go straight to the point.
‘What was I thinking? This is Spike! When doesn’t he go straight for the jugular?’ Buffy scolded herself for providing him with an opening: ‘Should have just kept my mouth shut.’
Picking up the dishes, she started moving them to their respective cupboards. A shiver trailed down her spine when she heard him chuckle. He wasn’t going to let this go, was he?
‘Well, what did you expect?’ Buffy’s mind bellowed, while her senses remained fully alert to his every move.
“I see the plan to just ignore it, huh?” She heard him ask with an accusing tone.
With no answer, she continued to open and close the kitchen cupboards.
A few seconds passed, before she heard him start to move; soft footsteps indicating that he was making his way around the counter to her.
‘Oh, God, please don’t do this. Please don’t do this.’ She mentally pleaded to no avail.
“Buffy…”
She felt as if a gush of freezing air rushed from her stomach straight to her throat when his voice sounded just a few inches behind her.
Frantically, she continued to move the plates and glasses from the counter to the cupboards, until there were no more left to put away. She panicked. What now? She was stuck between him and an empty counter. Nothing to keep her occupied; no excuse not to face him.
“Buf-“
“What?!”
She interrupted him, turning around abruptly to face him. Protectively, she crossed her arms over her chest, raised her chin high and looked up at him.
They stared at each other for a few seconds and she watched as he tilted his head sideways and narrowed his eyes.
‘Why does he always do that?’ Her mind wondered.
“What?” She repeated hoping he didn’t answer.
When he didn’t say anything, she prepared to walk past him.
“It’s late I’m-“
His hand was instantly on her arm, forcing her to come to a complete stop and face him. Under his intense stare she cracked:
“So we kissed. What’s the big deal?” She tried to sound blasé about it, moving her arms about and successfully releasing herself from his grip.
She quickly moved to the living room with small rapid steps. Spike trailed closely behind watching as she picked up Harmony’s clothes that, as per usual were scattered around the room.
“I seem to recall more than kissing.” He called after her.
“Fine, we made out!” She snapped, picking up the last visible item and standing up straight in the middle of the room, hair dishevelled and a pile of Harmony’s clothes in her hands as she stared back at him. “It was wrong. *Very* wrong!” She pointed out. “It should never have happened and it will *never* happen again. End of story.”
With that she stormed out of the living room and into the Harmony’s excruciatingly pink room. She inhaled sharply when she sensed him following her. Dropping the clothes on the bed she sighed and turned to face him:
“There’s nothing to talk a-“
She had barely time to gasp for air before his lips smashed against hers; his fingers gripped her arms, pulling her toward him. She struggled at first, caught off guard, her mind outraged at his arrogance, but gradually her body betrayed her will. The hands that tried to push him away soon began to hungrily pull at the fabric of his red shirt. Her lips, tightly shut, trying to stop the intrusion, began to soften, parting and allowing their tongues to meet.
‘Not again.’ Her mind cried out at the same time as she moaned into his mouth.
He pressed closer to her, making her lose her footing and causing her to stumble back. She felt her stomach turn, the air rush through her messy hair as her body freefell for a fraction of a second before her back hit the mattress.
Her hazy mind raced a thousand thoughts a second, but the loudest and clearest was a question: ‘What am I doing?’