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Shanna
shannalynn9064@yahoo.com
The ride back to Sunnydale was the longest form of living hell Willow had ever experienced.
"If they come near you again, Wills, I'll...I'll..."
"You'll what, Xander? Take on Angel?" Buffy rolled her eyes.
"Well, at least I know I can take Spike. One chip plus vampire equals a stakeable vamp. He'll be one liiiiitle tiny dust pile when I get through with him. There won't even be enough left to vacuum up." Xander held his index finger and thumb close together to indicate how much of his least favorite bleached blond vampire would remain.
Anya looked in the rearview mirror, and caught a glimpse of Willow with her forehead pressed against the window, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Who's up for a road trip song?" She cheerily offered.
Buffy glared at the former demon. "One more rollicking chorus of 99 Bottles of Beer, Anya, and I won't be held responsible for my actions."
Xander was not to be distracted. "I still don't understand how you, of all people, could fall for their lines of crap, Wills. You're smarter than that. I'm just glad we got there when we did. I can just see it now. One day the bleached blunder or Deadboy loses control and sucks you dry. What the hell were you thinking?"
Buffy glanced out of the corner of her eye at her silent best friend. She saw Willow's face reflected in the window. Two silvery tear tracks stained her cheeks as her eyes remained tightly closed. Her shoulders rose and fell with quietly controlled deep breaths. It was taking everything for her to hold her sobs in, Buffy realized. She met Anya's worried gaze in the mirror.
"That's enough, Xander," the Slayer quietly whispered. She reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Willow's trembling shoulder.
"What? I'm just saying..."
"Twenty Questions? Now that's a fun game, and you were so good at it Buffy," Anya enthused while trying to shut up her boyfriend.
"Why don't you guys want to talk about this? I think this needs to be talked about." Xander glared at his girlfriend, then finally glanced over his shoulder. He stumbled to a halt, seeing the pain and sadness clearly etched on the redhead's face. "Wills, I'm sorry," he continued in a softer voice, "but honestly, how could you even think about..."
"Xander, enough!" Buffy glared at him, and pulled the girl into her arms. "That's enough. No more right now," she finished quietly. She felt arms circle her waist, and felt her friend's tears dampen her shoulder. She stroked Willow's hair gently, and tried to lend comfort to the heartbroken girl.
Xander faced front again and thankfully held his tongue for the remainder of the trip home.
~~~*~~~
It was a somber group that entered the outskirts of Sunnydale. Willow stared blankly at the sign welcoming all weary travelers to their happy little Hellmouth. She would be home soon, and she could crawl into her bed, pull the covers over her head and never, ever, ever come out. She was tired, her eyes were scratchy and swollen from crying, and she could really use a tissue. More than any of that, though, she felt stupid, alone and empty.
Xander had been right. What had she been thinking? That two gorgeous men would fall all over themselves for little ol' Willow Anne Rosenberg? Didn't high school teach her anything? Didn't Oz's desertion serve up a perfect lesson on a silver platter? No man wanted her. Yep, crawling into her bed and remaining there indefinitely was sounding better and better.
When they arrived at the dorm Xander got out to help unload the trunk. Willow took two small bags while Buffy hefted the larger suitcase. The redhead turned to walk into her dorm and found herself face to chest with her oldest friend. She didn't look up at him, and wasn't ready to meet his eyes. She felt a soft kiss on the top of her head, and his arms encircled her for a quick, but heartfelt hug.
"I'm glad you're home Willow. I missed you," he whispered.
She felt her eyes tear up, and after briefly returning the embrace, she spun and hurried into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the entry hall. Buffy followed at a more sedate pace, calling her thanks over her shoulder to Anya and Xander.
By the time she reached their shared dorm room, Willow was already in her comfy gown, an oversized nightshirt that once reached mid-calf, but after excessive washing and drying, had been shrunk to just above the knee. It was fluffy, orange, and just what the redhead needed to comfort her. She grabbed her shower caddy and towel.
"I'm going to grab a quick shower before bed," she murmured.
As she walked toward the door, the Slayer's hand reached out and grabbed her arm. "Wills?"
Willow squeezed her eyes against another wave of tears. "Please, Buffy. I just...I just want a shower."
"Yeah, I get that. But if you need anything...anything at all. To talk, or not to talk. Chocolate or a shoulder to cry on, well, I'm here for you. You know that, right?" Buffy looked at her best friend, worry evident on her face.
"Yeah, I know. Right now though, all I want is to take a shower, and then to crawl in bed for a couple semesters."
"Whatever you need, Will. I'll be here when you're ready to talk."
Willow sighed softly. "Thanks, Buffy. Ummm, shower now." She wiggled her way out of the Slayer's grasp and exited their room. She shuffled down the hall to the bathrooms and climbed into an empty shower stall.
Hanging her nightgown on a hook outside the curtain, she turned on the water, and gasped when the first cold droplets fell on her body. The shock seemed to jar something within her. Willow thanked the Goddess that the bathroom was so empty on a Friday night as she leaned her head against the tiled wall.
The water grew warmer and eventually hot enough for her to adjust by adding a bit of cold. As it sluiced down her back, she felt the emotions churning within her mind, within her heart, body and soul. The pain lanced through her, and she inhaled sharply on a sob.
Goddess, she could still smell them on her. She could feel them touching her, in her, loving her. No, not really loving. It was never about love, she reminded herself. They'd been fooled just as she had. Her fingers grazed the latest bite marks from her former lovers. This is what it had been about. Her blood, and only her blood. Never about Willow. Never about love.
Sobs choked her, and she found herself gasping for breath between each. Willow braced her hands on the cold tile, slippery with condensation as hot steam filled the closed-in space. Shoulders hunched, she cried brokenly, letting loose all of the pain that she'd held in before her friends. Yes, she had cried in Buffy's arms, but this uncontrolled release is what she truly needed.
Willow let the memories rush over her. That morning with Angel when he claimed her, and his puppy dog eyes as he apologized. Spike's violent reaction to it all, which lead to the heated exchange in her own room that ended with the blond collapsed on top of her, his mark obscuring the other. Spike feeding her in a way so that she knew she'd never look at a strawberry the same ever again. Waking up with Angel wrapped around her body. Their touches, their kisses, their hugs and snuggles. None of it was real. The words weren't real, and neither were the emotions...at least not on their end.
The redhead slid down to the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around herself as she cried out her grief for two loves lost that she'd never been meant to have.
~~~*~~~
It was late when Spike returned to the Hyperion. Make that early. Sunrise was minutes away. The lobby was dark as he entered, brushing off the last of the dust from the group of vampire's he'd used to vent his frustrations.
"You had me worried, William," Angel's voice rumbled from the shadows.
"Shouldn'ta been. As ya can see, I'm in one piece." The vampire descended the lobby steps and wandered toward the sounds of his grand-sire's voice. He leaned against the front desk and peered across it at his fellow brooder.
"It's quiet without her," Angel sighed.
"Too quiet. I already miss her." He withdrew a new cigarette and flicked open his lighter. The flame flared, highlighting his cheekbones as his eyes squinted against the brightness.
Angel nodded his agreement, and both men stood in silence for a while.
"So how many did you take out?"
"Seven. Don't make fledges like they used to. No bloody challenge at all."
"Yeah."
The vampires let the silence descend upon them again.
"When can we go get her, Peaches?" Spike softly asked.
"When it's time, William. When she's ready to believe. It's late, and it's been a long night. I'm going to bed."
Spike dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it out with the heel of his boot. "Yeah." He watched Angel begin to ascend the stairs. "Good night's sleep. Makes everythin' seem better, right?" He followed the dark vampire up the steps. When they reached the hallway with the doors on opposite sides, Spike looked around awkwardly.
"Guess this is my stop, then. Night, Poof." He turned to enter the room he had shared with Willow before they all moved into Angel's suite. Spike felt a firm hand on his shoulder turn him back to face his grand-sire.
"You don't have to sleep in there, Spike. There's plenty of room in here," Angel offered, nodding his head in the direction of his own rooms.
"Yeah, well..." Spike looked at everything in the hallway but Angel. "Guess it wouldn't hurt...your bed bein' more comfortable than mine and all."
Both men entered the suite and walked into the bedroom. The scent of their earlier interlude with Willow filled sensitive nostrils. Spike closed his eyes against the feeling of loss, and instead concentrated on remembering her breathy moans as she called his name. Angel stared at the rumpled sheet and comforter, and pictured their redhead sprawled across them, flushed with passion.
Spike and Angel stripped silently, and crawled under the covers once they had been rearranged. They each lay on their backs staring at the ceiling.
"Think Red's okay?" Spike asked.
"I hope so. I know she was hurt when she left. What she must be thinking..."
"I know."
They stared at the ceiling for a few minutes longer. Spike's throat began to work, swallowed, and tried to get rid of the burning behind his eyes. "I love her, Sire," he whispered brokenly.
"So do I William." Angel turned his head to stare at the smaller man who was trying so valiantly to control his emotions.
"I can't lose her. I won't." Spike slammed his fist against the mattress. "I just won't! I'm bloody tired of bein' love's bitch. I won't let her go."
Angel reached over and pulled the blond into his embrace. Spike struggled at first, then buried his face in the older vamp's neck, his arms moving to circle his waist, clutching him for comfort.
"We won't. We'll get her back. I swear it."
Angel and Spike shifted into a more comfortable position, with the dark vampire spooning the blond from behind. Both fell asleep with visions of fiery hair and dewy green eyes flashing behind their lids.
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