Healing
by: Gileswench
Rated NC-17
Date: 12/30/01
Spoilers: Through Wrecked
Summary: Everybody's broken; it's how you deal that makes you who you are
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Buffy/Giles, W/T, X/Anya, Oz/Leah, some B/S but not in a happy way
Category: Angst/Romance
Distribution: If you've had my permission in the past, you have it now. All others, ask and ye shall receive.
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue.
WARNING: Issues of physical/sexual abuse, addiction, character death...but it ends happily.
Dedication: To L who unleashed this particularly intense plotbunny on me. To Rari who held my hand in the darkness and got me through to the other side. To my Bunnykins of Doom who awarded me my angst wings for this one. And to little Wednesday, just because.
* * * * * * *
A battered blue van came to a halt before the wooden sign that announced: Welcome To Sunnydale. The driver climbed out and stood before the sign for a moment. He looked up and down the street as if in search of something. At last he shook his head and got back in the van. Moments after it had turned down a side street, two girls walked past the spot where it had stopped.
"It was hard," the redhead admitted. "I mean, there I was with no working pen in the middle of the lecture where we're being given pretty much everything we need to ace the final, and I wanted so bad to just majick one up for me, but I didn't. No majickal pens for Willow."
"Good for you, Will," the blonde said. "I know it's been hard, going cold turkey, but it's really best this way. And why is it called 'cold turkey' anyway? If you're not using the turkey, why does it matter if it's hot or cold?"
"Beats me. I don't see anything. Are you sure it went this way?"
Buffy shrugged.
"I'm not sure of much of anything. Except that it's getting late and I hate losing a vamp this way."
"Maybe I could try to locate it, y'know? Just this once. In a good cause."
"No, Will. No majicks. You said you wanted to quit, and I'm going to bully you into doing just that."
"But...bad majicks. This is good."
"Will, you've forgotten where the line is. No majicks. Period. You do remember what happened the last time you cast, don't you? If you've forgotten, take a look at Dawn's arm. The cast won't come off for another couple weeks."
"Thanks for throwing that in my face. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"
"None. We know you're sorry. We accept you're sorry. We're trying to help you. I don't want sorry; I want to know my sister is safe with you."
"Right, 'cause I'm the dangerous one. Y'know what? Find your own vampire. I'm going home."
With that, Willow turned and left, walking swiftly down the street. Buffy watched her go in frustration.
"Will?" she called. "Will! Come back! Dammit!"
She kicked a car parked at the curb. Her foot dented its door.
"Oh, great. Now how do I explain to their insurance company that I did that with my toe?"
"Why explain it at all, Pet?" came a sardonic voice at her side.
"Go away, Spike."
"Oh, not in the mood to play tonight, are we? Come on, it's not as if you've got anything better to do."
"Really? 'Cause I thought maybe tonight I'd count the stripes in my wallpaper. That would be better."
"And you wonder why nobody gives a crap about you! God, you're pathetic! You even drove off junkie Witch girl there. Even she doesn't want to be with you."
"We had a fight. We'll make it up."
Buffy wished she could sound more convinced of that.
"Will you? Well, I'm sure a few hearts and flowers will work with her, just like it has with all your other mates. Speaking of which, what do you hear from Giles, lately?"
"Shut up, Spike," the Slayer growled.
"Oooh, sombody's a might tetchy about that. Hasn't called, has he? Then again, why would he? You weren't good enough to keep Angel, or Parker, or Riley happy, so why would anyone think Rupert would be any happier with you?"
"It's not like that! He...we...I never..."
"Never got a leg over? Just as well. We'd probably have had to bury him the next day. Kitten likes it rough, and the Watcher might break. Pity, though. That would have been a good laugh."
"You want a laugh? Do you? What about Drusilla? You couldn't even keep a psychotic bitch on your leash."
"I wouldn't say that; I got you, don't I?"
With a furious yell, Buffy hurled herself at the vampire. Her fists and feet flew at his face, his chest, his knees in a rapid-fire ballet of violence. Spike returned her fury blow for blow until he had her pinned to the hood of the car she'd dented.
"Told you you had nothing better to do."
"Let me go," the Slayer gritted out.
"Make me," he taunted.
As if compelled, Buffy wrapped her legs around Spike's hips and rubbed herself against him. She could feel how hard the fight had left him. She wrenched one hand free of his grasp and used it to pull down his zipper. A second later, the sound of ripping cloth filled the air, and she was down one more pair of panties.
As Spike stabbed into her, Buffy clawed his back until it bled. The bile rose in her throat as they fucked, hard and viciously. Even as he filled her, Spike hit her until bruises blossomed on her cheek. Giving herself over to the fury, the hatred, Buffy spat in his face.
Anger. Hate. Disgust.
At least she felt something.
*****
The van pulled up in front of a small diner. The driver, a compact, self contained young man, walked into the restaurant and sat at the counter. He ordered a burger and a cup of coffee. The coffee came right away, allowing him a prop until the food arrived. Sitting hunched over his cup of joe at the counter made him feel like a part of the American landscape. What was the name of that painting? The one with all the lonely people sitting miles apart in a diner in the middle of the night? Whatever it was, he was sitting in it.
The clientele was sparse and dejected. Not surprising, considering the abysmal nature of the coffee. If the burger was half this bad, it would be the worst one he'd ever eaten...and that was going some.
He was pulled from his reverie by the sound of a woman's voice.
"Excuse me?"
"Yeah?"
"Could you move your duffel bag? It's in my way."
"Sorry."
He leaned over and shoved the bag further under the counter so the girl had room to maneuver her wheelchair past him. She regarded it with humor.
"Coming or going?"
"Not sure. Could be some of each."
The girl smiled broadly.
"Well, whichever way you're headed, it looks like you're taking plenty of baggage."
"Enough to get by."
"But not enough for me to get by."
"Still, you seem pretty spry with that thing."
"Practice."
"I can respect that."
"Yeah, but will you respect me in the morning?"
"Depends on what you do tonight."
"What's a nice guy like you doing sitting alone in a dive like this?"
"Oh I'm only here in the flesh. See, in my mind, I'm going to Carolina."
"Please! You are so not the James Taylor type."
"I can't hide anything from you, can I? You saw right through my tangled web of deception."
The girl offered her hand.
"I'm Leah."
"Oz."
"Good thing I'm not named Dorothy, then."
"Or Toto."
"I never liked them. So, Oz, where are you headed?"
He shook his head.
"Like I said; not sure. Could be home, could be the open road. Maybe Cleveland."
"Why Cleveland?"
"Never been there."
"That's as good a reason as any, I guess. Well, good luck, Oz. Oh, and I'd stay out of Kansas if I was you."
"Thanks for the heads up."
He watched as Leah wheeled herself out of the diner. A hint of a smile played about the corners of his lips.
He hoped he'd see her again.
*****
Buffy limped into the house. She tried to avoid talking to Xander and Anya who sat in the living room discussing wedding plans.
"Buff? You okay?"
She started and turned toward her friends' voice.
"Yeah, Xand. Fine."
"No you're not," Anya countered. "You have bruises and cuts on you. And you're limping."
"Yeah, Buff, what happened?"
"Really, guys, it's okay. Just a demon. I took care of it."
"What sort of demon?" Anya asked. "Do we need to research? Will there be more?"
"No, really. There was just the one. Average, garden-variety big bad. Nothing to worry about. How's Dawn?"
"Fine," Xander assured her. "Are you sure about this demon? He won't have any friends coming to his rescue?"
"No. I don't think he has any friends...on this plane of existence. I'm gonna take a shower."
Before her friends could grill her any more, she went up the stairs as quickly as she could go. Xander and Anya shared a worried look.
"What's wrong with her?" Anya asked. "Buffy never used to get injured. Now she seems to be like that at least every few days. And then she lies and says it's nothing."
"I don't know," Xander answered. "There's something big going on, though, and I don't think she's gonna let us in on it."
"So what do we do? I don't want Buffy to die again. It would make us all sad, and I'd need a new bridesmaid."
"She won't die, An. I'm gonna do what I should have done the first time I saw this."
"What's that?"
"I'm calling Giles and getting his British butt back here where it belongs."
"What if he won't come?"
"Buffy's in danger. He'll come."
*****
The water was too hot. It stung Buffy's raw wounds as it pelted down on her.
It could never be hot enough. She still couldn't get warm; couldn't get clean.
Despite the pain, despite the anguish, Buffy remained stony eyed. The residual anger had receded, leaving her empty of emotion.
Until the next time she gave in to the hate.
*****
"Hello?" came a groggy voice on the other end of the line.
"Giles? Xander. Did I wake you up?"
"No, no, I was throwing a garden party at six in the bloody morning."
"Sorry, Giles. I thought it was later...or possibly earlier over there."
"What's happened, Xander?"
The young man hesitated. His mind had been whirling since his conversation with Buffy, and he didn't like the direction it was headed in.
"It's Buffy. Something's hurting her."
"I see, well at least you're being specific. What's hurting her? How?"
"I don't know. All I know is she keeps coming home from patrol with bruises all over and giving us some line about a lonely little demon far from his home dimension who she 'took care of', but keeps on coming back for more."
"Has she described it?"
"No. Nothing. She won't talk. Giles, it's almost like...like she's protecting it or something."
"Are you saying she's letting it hurt her?"
"I don't know what I'm saying. All I know is she won't talk to any of us, and I really don't want to have to recycle that headstone anytime soon."
"It's as bad as that?"
"Please," Xander said softly, "come back. If you don't..."
He didn't have to finish.
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
Giles hung up the phone and crawled out of bed. He was still wearing the shirt he'd had on the day before. At least he'd gotten his trousers off before he'd passed out this time. Sometime in the night, he'd knocked the glass off his nightstand and amber liquid now stained a small patch of carpet.
Ignoring that for the moment, he headed for the shower and turned the taps as high as they would go. As he stood and watched the rivulets of water course down his body, he cursed himself yet again for being so weak. Weak enough to give in to her every bloody whim no matter how insanely dangerous, weak enough to run when her need threatened to drown him, weak enough to crawl into a bottle seeking oblivion because he was so far from her, and now, at last, weak enough to answer her call yet again.
Would he never learn?
*****
The sun shone brightly on UC Sunnydale as one girl walked, and the other rolled her wheelchair, out of class and into the Quad.
"I just don't get it," Willow said sadly shaking her head. "Is it even supposed to be in English?"
"Joyce isn't about sense," Leah told her. "He's about sound. It's all about the music of language."
"Okay, but does it have to be such...jangly music? I don't get it."
"That's because to you words are only about what they say to your head. You're about logic. What do they say to your ear? Your heart?"
"How about the ears in your heart?"
Both girls were startled at the new voice. Leah grinned broadly.
"I don't think you'll find Cleveland here."
"Still a few places around here I haven't seen, either."
Willow found her tongue.
"Oz...?"
Leah looked from one to the other.
"I'm guessing there's some history here?"
"A bit. I wanted to see you, Will."
"Why? Why did you come back?"
"Could we talk?"
"Should I leave you two alone?" Leah asked pointedly.
When neither answered, she blew a frustrated breath.
"When you guys get done talking, I'll be over there."
She rolled herself to a spot beside a stone bench.
"So...you came back to see me?"
"Pretty much."
"Why?"
"I hear stuff on the grapevine. I heard about Buffy. Thought you might want to talk."
"W-what did you hear, exactly? About Buffy?"
"That she died. That she's back."
"Well...sort of...on both counts."
"Did you do it?"
"Which one?"
"The bringing back. I know you'd never kill Buffy."
"Oh, yeah, that, um...yeah. I did. The bringing back. You're right about the not killing Buffy part, I think."
"You think?"
"Well...I wouldn't on purpose. That counts, right?"
"Should you?"
"Kill Buffy? Of course not!"
"No, that's not what I meant. Should you have brought her back?"
"She was dead, Oz. No Slayer. No Buffy. No best friend ever. How could I not bring her back when I knew I could?"
"Okay, I get that. But, was it right?"
Willow's temper flared.
"You sound just like the rest of them! You think I can't handle it, don't you? Well you and Tara and Giles can all have a good laugh now at the arrogant amateur who only raised the best Slayer in history from the dead, and how do you know Leah?"
"Why would I laugh at you, Will? Somehow, I can't see Giles doing that, either."
"No," the girl admitted. "He yelled at me."
"Yelled? Wow. Not often Giles does that."
"So?"
"So...what?"
"Leah. How do you know her?"
"We met last night. I was in her way. She seems cool."
Willow followed his eyes to the spot where Leah sat. She felt an odd twist in the pit of her stomach. The same one she'd felt when Oz had looked at Veruca.
"Yeah...she's in my English Lit class."
Oz nodded.
"Look, I think we need to talk more, but I'm not sure this is the place. Could I come see you? Maybe tonight?"
"O - okay. I live at Buffy's now."
"Cool. Eight thirty?"
"Yeah. That'd be good."
"Great."
"Well...class. I gotta go. Calculus."
"Tonight."
"Tonight."
Willow turned to go. She managed a few paces before she gave in to temptation and turned to look. Oz was already sitting next to Leah on the stone bench. He was actually laughing at something she'd said.
*****
The bell above the door of the Magic Box tinkled merrily as Dawn entered the building. She glared up at the cheerful clarion, headed for the tarot table, dumped her backpack on the floor and rested her elbows on the table and her face in her good hand.
"What's wrong, Dawn?" Anya asked. "Did something happen at school? Are you going to be grumpy and scare the customers away?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine," Anya agreed. "Just don't scare the customers."
With that, the shopkeeper went to sell more merchandise.
"Dawnie?"
"Tara? What are you doing here?"
Tara smiled crookedly and sat next to her young friend.
"I wanted to see you. Is that okay? 'Cause I could come back another time."
"No, it's okay. It's just Willow's gonna be here soon."
"I know. I won't stay long."
"Of course not."
"Dawn, you understand, don't you? Why I had to leave?"
"Sure."
"I know you want this to be fixed, but sometimes it isn't that easy."
"No. It's okay," Dawn told her stubbornly. "You don't love Willow anymore just because she did some magic. She told me. Finally."
"Sh - she said that?"
Dawn shrugged.
"Pretty much. I don't get it, Tara. How can you just walk away from someone you claim you love?"
"I do love Willow. But I had to walk away. You don't know what she did to me. To Buffy. To all of us."
"I know she's got a problem, but you don't fix it by just leaving. I need some air."
Dawn grabbed her pack and swept out of the shop. Tara sat and looked miserably at her hands. A moment later, Anya sat beside her.
"Well, that was ironic," the former demon observed. "But she may have had a point until she ruined it by stomping off."
"Not you, too, Anya."
"Not that I don't think Willow needs to be punished for what she did. If I'd still had my powers when this happened, you could have wished that she was turned into a toad or something. Except, she could have wished that about you, too. Scorning is a complicated issue among lesbian couples. No penis. No clear cut bad guy."
"Willow is sick. She needs help."
"Buffy's helping her. Though I think that's sort of a case of the blind leading the blind."
"I thought she was getting better. Dealing."
"Sure, if you call never talking to her friends and letting something beat her up getting better. And letting Dawn spend all her time with sick Willow. I think that's a bad influence."
"What about you and Xander?"
"Right. We should step in and get yelled at when none of this is our fault? We have jobs, and are planning a wedding, and fight evil every night just like Buffy, except we don't have superpowers. There's only so much we can do. We try to help Willow, and she gets mad at us and says we don't trust her, which we really don't right now, but that's beside the point, and we watch Dawn while Buffy takes Willow patrolling and neither of them gets home until almost morning and then they aren't together anymore, and I do my best to make Dawn do her homework when she gets here after school, but she still doesn't like me and Xander takes her side and it's just not fair! It's too much."
By the time she'd finished, Anya's eyes were filled with tears.
"I'm sorry," Tara said. "I - I didn't know it was like that."
"Well it is. And it shouldn't be."
"No, you're right. It shouldn't."
*****
"Would you like something to drink, sir?"
Giles bit back his automatic urge to ask for scotch. He would be no good to Buffy if he was drunk when he arrived in Sunnydale. Bloody Sunnydale. Home of dancing demons and disabled vampires. The site of so many defeats, and so few clear cut victories. The place stank of failure. Or was it the place at all? Giles was dragged from his funk by the repeated question.
"Sir? Did you want anything?"
A gun to blow my bloody brains out, he thought, even as he managed a far less alarming request.
"Tea, please."
He shifted in the narrow seat once again, unsuccessfully attempting to find room for his long legs. Airline seats were all built for anorexic midgets, he decided. Never again, he swore, would he get on a transatlantic flight whilst hungover. Next time, he'd be dead drunk.
*****
Willow smoothed her skirt nervously. 8:25. Oz would be there any minute. Of course he was only showing up so he could tell her that she wasn't smart enough or strong enough to handle majicks. Willow was sick of the chorus. Giles, Tara, Xander, even Buffy had told her she wasn't up to it.
Yeah, like Buffy had any business telling anyone how to deal with their lives.
But to Buffy, Willow would always be the sidekick; second best.
At least she'd always come first to Oz. He'd never judged her. Maybe he was coming to tell her he believed in her when nobody else did. Yeah. That's it. He hadn't told her she was wrong when they met earlier. He'd asked her if she was right. Whole different deal.
Probably he was coming to offer her handy tips for making sure stuff didn't get out of hand again, like his wolfy side. And she could still help Buffy out with the majicks. Or maybe get out from Buffy's shadow and do good on her own somewhere.
To hell with being a sidekick!
That's for suckers.
Willow Rosenburg was not a sucker.
No siree.
Oz was coming and he'd help her smooth out the couple of rough edges she had left.
Then everybody would see.
She'd make them see.
*****
Xander stared at the gate, unsure what his first reaction to Giles would be. Part of him wanted to be adult and shake his hand, ask him how England had been and deal in a businesslike manner. Another part of him wanted to kick Giles for leaving in the first place when Buffy was already so fragile. He swallowed the anger as best he could.
I'm not my father, he reminded himself. I'm not like him.
He craned his neck as the passengers began to emerge from Customs. After a moment, he realized he was holding his breath. Another moment and he remembered to let it out.
At last, Xander spotted the familiar figure, and found there was a third possible reaction he hadn't counted on.
He ran to Giles, hugged him, and burst into tears on his shoulder.
*****
Dawn knocked timidly on Buffy's bedroom door. She waited a long time for her sister to let her in.
"What's up?" Buffy asked, her face the carefully blank mask Dawn had grown used to in the past weeks.
"I sorta got in trouble today."
She handed Buffy a note from one of her teachers.
"It's totally not my fault."
"Dawn, this says you got into a fight. It says it's the third one this week. Can't you avoid fights?"
"Look who's talking" Dawn grumbled as she folded her arms across her chest. "How many of these notes did Mom have to answer when you were in school?"
"That was different. I'm the Slayer. I didn't have a choice when demons decided to grab a snack on campus. What's your excuse?"
"Sure. Play the Slayer card again. You know, not everything in life is about you and vampires and stuff."
"I know that..."
"You sure about that?"
"Why were you fighting? What was so damn important that you had to hit someone? There's no excuse for that."
"Really? Well, I guess you would know 'cause hey, that's all you do is hit and slay and nothing else exists, does it?"
Dawn turned to leave. Buffy grabbed her arm.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Let go! You're hurting me!"
As Dawn wrenched her arm from her sister's suddenly nerveless fingers, she saw a new expression on Buffy's face: horror.
At least it made a change.
"That's all you're good for now, isn't it?" Dawn raged. "Just for hurting stuff!"
She turned and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Buffy stared at her hand for a long moment before the mask slid back into place.
*****
Giles steered Xander to a coffee bar and sat him down. It was an automatic reaction. Take care of Xander. Take care of everybody else. He ignored the petulant voice in his head that asked when in the hell somebody was going to take care of Giles.
"I'll get you a drink. Don't move."
Xander nodded wearily and slumped at the table. Giles was thankful the tears were over for now. For all his sensitivity, Xander was still a man who seldom lost control of his emotions. If he was crying, things were bad - perhaps even worse than he'd intimated over the phone.
For a moment, Giles' heart constricted painfully. What if Xander's fears for Buffy had been acted on too late? What if she was already...no. He couldn't think that. That would mean he'd failed yet again. That would be one failure too many. One loss too great. It was bad enough he'd had to leave her. At least he'd left her alive.
At last his order was filled and he brought the two steaming cups to the table where he'd left Xander.
"Here you are," he said as brightly as he could manage.
Xander forced a wan smile as he looked at the Styrofoam cup.
"Tea. Just the ticket. What is it with you English types and this stuff?"
"It gives us something to do with our hands in a crisis."
Xander nodded.
"Beats actual emoting, I guess."
Giles stared into his cup without attempting to drink its contents. He looked to see Xander doing the same across the table.
"Tell me," the older man said quietly.
"Not much to tell, except what I already said on the phone. Giles, I know we screwed up bringing her back. Will was so sure...and it was easier to agree with her than ask any questions. I just...I thought things would be better, y'know, with her here. But now I don't know anymore. I feel like I'm watching her die again every day, except it's never over now. And Anya and I try, but we can't get through to her. Okay, so maybe Anya's not so good at this sort of stuff, but she's doing her best. I know it's not exactly my strong point, either, but there's no one else."
"What do you mean, no one else? What of Willow? Or Tara?"
"Will. What about Willow?" Xander laughed mirthlessly. "If there's one person on this planet as messed up as Buffy right now, it's Will. Tara moved out the same night you left. Some spell Will cast after she promised she wouldn't. And then came the de-ratting of Amy, and a whole bunch of craziness that ended with Dawn getting her arm broken."
"Willow hurt Dawn?"
"Not on purpose. It was an accident. Still. And Buffy still decided to help her. Willow. She's going cold turkey on the magic. It's going pretty well, I think, but she's having a rough time with it. Detox isn't pretty."
"No, it certainly isn't."
"You've seen it before?"
"Yes, I have."
Giles met Xander's eye uncomfortably.
"I know you don't want to hear this, Xander, but things will likely get a deal worse before they get better. Now tell me about Buffy."
Xander couldn't repress a rueful smile.
"She misses you, too, big guy. She's just too macho to say."
"Xander, will you please tell me what's going on?"
"I would if I could. Buffy doesn't talk to us more than she has to. It's weird. Will's the one, really, who she should be maddest at - not that I'm saying the rest of us were right or anything, just it was all Will's idea and she didn't tell any of us what the spell involved - but she won't talk to me or Anya or Tara if she can help it, but she's doing this whole holding Willow's hand while she straightens herself out. It's like Will's pretty much the only person she can see right now."
"And Dawn?"
"It's hard to raise a teenager. Look at all the trouble you had with us and we had actual parents to take us off your hands at the end of the day. Okay, so Buffy was the only one with a good parent, and she only really had one, but there was someone at home to deal with any crap you didn't want to. Dawn only has Buffy, who's too screwed up right now to take care of herself, and is trying to take care of Willow. You see where I'm going with this, don't you?"
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Gee, sorry we didn't tell you what was going on after you decided to wash your hands of us all. Maybe it was something about the way you snuck off - again."
Giles flushed and inspected the contents of his cup. Xander's eyes widened at his own temerity.
"I'm sorry, Giles. I guess I have a few issues myself right now. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, no, I probably deserved it."
An awkward silence grew between the two men. At last Giles cleared his throat and began again.
"You said something was hurting Buffy. Do you know any more about it?"
Xander shook his head as he toyed with his tea.
"Like I said, she won't talk. How do you help someone if they won't say what's wrong?"
Again the silence stretched out between them. This time it was Xander who broke it.
"Tea's cold. I guess we can dump it and head for my place."
He cleared the cups from the table as Giles gathered his bags.
*****
8:29.
Almost time.
Willow tried to calm her nerves with a few deep breaths, but the butterflies kept up their flight formations in her gut.
She looked around the room and groaned inwardly at the number of take out cartons left scattered from the night before. Too late to clean up properly. Buffy had already left for patrol, though, and nobody else was home.
If nobody was there to see, it wouldn't matter if she did just one little spell, would it? And only so it wouldn't look like she and Buffy couldn't handle things on their own. It would be a good thing, really.
No more majicks after that.
She still looked furtively around the room before saying the few simple words of the incantation.
That was better! The room was clean, and nobody the wiser.
"Can't handle the power, my ass," she muttered defiantly to nobody in particular.
Willow startled slightly at the quiet knock on the door. One more quick breath, and she crossed to let Oz in.
"Hey," he said quietly as he entered the room.
"Hey."
Oz looked around himself as he entered the living room.
"Buffy here?"
"No. Patrol."
"Dawn?"
"Movies with Anya."
"Joyce?"
Willow's eyes went wide.
"You didn't hear? She died. Almost a year ago."
"No, I hadn't heard. That must be hard on Buffy. Joyce was a good person."
"Yeah. We all miss her."
"I was hoping I'd see her."
"We could go to her grave, maybe. Take flowers?"
"Yeah. That'd be good. Tomorrow, maybe. When it's light."
"Sure."
"So what else don't I know? How's Giles?"
"He's in England."
"What? Powwow with the Council?"
"No. Gone home."
Oz puzzled for a moment.
"But Buffy's back, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then what's Giles doing in England?"
Willow shrugged.
"Deserting us. Living the life of a swinging bachelor who doesn't have to worry about Hellmouths and stuff even if he is getting a paycheck for Watching Buffy."
"I thought he was fired."
"Oh, he was re-hired when Buffy made the Council shut up and work for her. It was pretty awesome."
"Things have certainly changed."
"Well, that's how it is around here. Gone for a couple weeks and there's no telling what'll happen. Leave for a year and a half and nothing's the same."
"Yeah, I'm figuring that out."
*****