Roman Prologue – But Eros Died

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy (Grrr...Argh).
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: Thank you.
Spoilers: Season 4.
Author's Note: Warning: I offer this here and now. You know who I am (Or you should, I'm so likeable) and you know what I do (Or you should, it's so likeable) either way, I say now. The Gloves are Off. Be prepared.
Pairing: Willow/Buffy

Summary: But secrets have consequences.

I wake up a long time before she does. The sun was still coming up when I was wrested away from my dreams. I always wake up early. Despite the working hours of long days and longer nights, I always wake up early. When things are really hard I blame whatever it was that chose me for this role. I think that it...they...want me to have as little peace as possible. Normalcy is not an option, relationships...the idea is laughable. They also go after any rest I might have, any escapes I might acquire from dreaming. That's what I think, they don't want me to dream much. I get just enough rest to be fully functional and then I wake up. No additional slumber, no respite. Just enough. When things are all mean and terrible I honestly believe that that's why I always wake up early. It's probably for the best, that way I don't get too attached to my dreams. It's hard to do that if you don't have many.

I've woken up before her, though I haven't moved. Not an inch. A leaf was blown free from the branches about ten minutes ago and it landed on my face. It rests on my cheek right now, wobbling as small breezes flow over it, me, us. It itches but I don't move to brush it off, to scratch the itch. I just stay still. I let her sleep, as long as she doesn't wake up I don't have to do what I know is right. I can put it off, just a little longer.

If I roll my eyes as far as I can I can see the blood on her face. I'm lying fetal, with my head in her lap, the blood on my hands is hard to miss. It's sorta in my face. It's on my face too. I can't see it but I can feel it crack and flake off in the morning rays.

The tip of my tongue snakes out and I lick a bit of the dried stuff off and taste it. It, my tongue, does it by itself. I didn't mean too. Really. I don't mean to close my eyes and lick my lips a second time. I don't acknowledge the tingle running along my spin. I don't enjoy it. I really don't. I don't. Not at all.

It's blood. Stolen blood taken by ...things. Unnatural, twisted mockeries of life, pantomiming the living. They don't deserve to exist they have no place here, in this world. Someone has to fight them, to destroy them and that's me. I try and live, but I'm just pantomiming that like they do. I look at Willow again.

She's covered in blood too. Her face, along her jaw, smeared across her cheeks but she's smiling. Leaning against the tree, my head in her lap, eyes closed. She's smiling. I have no place in her world.

It's my fault that she's ...stained. This time she just happened to be around; what about next time? It could be them or... Control. We have to have control. Always, always, have control. If we lose control it might not be them who makes Willow bloody; it might...

I've thought this over carefully. This is the right way, it's not the painless way because there is no such thing. It's what has to be done. I believe that. I have to.

The sun finishes rising above the horizon. The light looks the color of peaches. Birds have woken up, starting their day. Involving food and young, and their mates. Mama bird and Papa bird, getting up together and flying around, looking for food. Food for their little ones.
A nice Disney thing. Cute family of birds.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see a squirrel poking its head out of a whole in a tree, wondering if it now is a good time to start looking for nuts and other goodies. A small pool of light has managed to work its way through the leaves in the branches. It's resting on Willow's lap. Right where my hands are too. It's warming my hands. My hands are warm in the sunlight.

I stretch carefully, roll my head and groan just loud enough. With a grossly exaggerated yawn I sit up. As I move the ground snaps and rustles, dead leaves crackling and shiftering underneath my weight. I put extra 'oomph' behind the gesture when I lean back, resting my weight on my elbows. I make sure one of them bumps into her leg in a not so subtle nudge.

"Mmm..." She moans and shifts her head. Her eyelashes begin to flutter and I can see her eyes moving underneath. Here it comes, we've shared a bedroom so long I know her sleeping habits like ...well...pretty well.

Making sure I'm not looking at her I put my hand to my head, as if I have a headache.

"Like I got hit with a truck. Not by, with. Somebody picked up a truck, and beat me on the head with it repeatedly. What happened last night?"

"What?" I hear her ask. I can tell, from her voice, how shocked she is. The question was breathless and weak, like someone saying something while getting punched in the gut. I grit my teeth while clenching my hands into fists. The pain of my nails biting into my palms helps me focus. I put an embarrassed smile behind my response.

"I mean, what happened? Cause I don't remember a thing. Last thing I recall was...a bar I think." I sniff. "Why do I smell like a roasted marshmallow? My hands feel caked, what the heck is th-" I let my voice catch.

"OhMyGOD!" I shriek, holding my hands in front of my face. "This is blood? What happened? How did...did I hurt anybody? Oh God! What have I ...what's happening?"

"Buffy, shhhh..." She says quietly. I still have my back to her. Now this will be really hard.

I turn to look at her, and open my eyes real wide. Like I'm seeing her bloody face for the first time. I gotta make it look good.

"What?" She says again, bringing and hand to cheek, brushing off some flakes of dried blood.

"What happened Willow?" I demand. "What...where did this all come from? My hands are coated with blood, your face...your..."

Now I brush my fingers against my lips, I feel some blood I missed crumble underneath my touch. "My...my face." I breathe. I don't try and make my voice sound trembley, that would definitely give the game away.

"I'm covered, drenched...soaked..." I take in deep breaths, wonder if I fake it too well, will I actually start hyperventilating? Would certainly lend authenticity to the performance. "...in blood."

I look at her. I look Willow in the eyes. She's hurting. She's hurting terribly, I can see it. Oh I so much want to make it better. It would be so easy, so easy to just take her in my arms, repeat the kiss from last night. We could laugh it off. Some sort of fogginess of the ol' brain cells and now I remember everything. How terrible it was, how funny it was, how...how wonderful it was. We could go back to the wonderful. We could go back to it and never leave.

No! It wouldn't be wonderful. Yes it would; but it would be taken from us. Ripped, stolen, beaten, crushed. Used against us. It's better to just let...just let...let it die. It's better.

Say that again Summers. Say that over and over again. Maybe it'll be true eventually.

Willow is going numb. Her features are setting into her flat face. She's hiding herself. Trying to escape. She's gotten so good at that. I'll make it easier. I'll provide a distraction.

"Willow!" I say fiercely, slamming my palms into the tree trunk on either side of her head. "We're waking up in the middle of the woods. I look like I just ran through a butchers shop that was on fire, you look like an extra from the next Hellraiser movie. Now I don't know what's going on here-" I look away from her, I look down at my lap. I take several deep breaths, act hurt and upset. It's easy. Far easier than I thought it would be. Maybe because I am hurt and upset, though not for the reasons I'm giving. "You know what happened. Please. Please Willow. I'm scared. Tell me what happened."

I watch her carefully. I watch her blink rapidly, she's trying not to cry. Pulls it off too. I made her cry. I made her want to cry. I made Willow cry and it's all my fault and I can't even ask her to trust me, because I'm lying to her. I'm doing this all on purpose. To my best friend! To ...to...I love her.

"Okay Buffy." she says with difficulty. Her voice sounds husky, like something is stuck in her throat. Probably a sob. I know how she feels. "Okay. I'll tell you what happened. Sit back. This is going to take a while."

Her eyes start a bit. Of course I hurt her, not in the way the question implies but I hurt her. Just now. My fault. On purpose. My fault. It's for the best.

"No." She says quietly, a whisper. Her eyes flicker to her lap where her fingers are clenched together so tight her knuckles are white. I pretend not to notice.

"No you didn't hurt me." She sighs. "Okay, um... you were at that bar drinking beer with some guys..."

She tells me what happened. She tries to gloss over the vamp kills but I make her tell me everything. To explain all the blood on my face, my clothes, underneath my nails and between my teeth.

"I didn't have a stake did I." I say flatly. I run my fingers through the leaf cover on the ground. Taking comfort from the quiet rustle.

Willow twists her fingers in her lap, playing with them, studying them intently. I know why. She went through this last night. Comforting me when I had realized what I had done and been terrified by it. At the violence, at the blood, at how much I had relished every second of it. The combat, the screams, the feral, animalistic fury and purity of that act.

A tingle rushes along my spine and my tongue wants to lick my lips again in search of more blood, I can feel the urge. I fight it. There isn't any more anyway. I licked it all off. I could lick her face. That would solve all the problems. I'd love her, have her and get ...get...

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. This is why I'm doing this. This is why I'm putting us through this. Because...Oh God.

"Well..." She stammers. Shaking her head slightly, she shrugs. "At first yeah. But not afterwards. I mean, well, you realized and were really horrified. Upset an' everything. You took off at warp speed, I had to chase you." She smiles slightly. "That wasn't easy. Thought I had busted a lung."

"Mmmhmm." She nods looking away again. "At this tree. Used a little magic to track you down." She looks up the trunk. "See? You can still make out the...er...handprints where you climbed up."

She sighs again. "So I...er...found you and talked to you for a bit. Tried to calm you down, told you that you were still you. That I liked you and that it didn't matter what you did what you did. Because...well...because..."

"... you're my best friend!" She finishes with a horribly painted on smile. I don't notice it. I don't let myself notice it. I don't notice the forced lips pulled back over teeth, or the shimmer in her eyes. I don't...I won't... I won't see them!

"And, well, I guess you believe me cause you came out of the tree, and...uh...well, we fell asleep." She finishes lamely. Looking back at her hands. I don't say anything for a while. We just sit in silence. Eventually she pulls her legs up and wraps her arms around them.

"What? Oh. This?" She giggles a bit, scratching some of the dried blood off with her fingernails. "You...er...well when you came out of the tree you...uh...got kinda frisky."

"Frisky?" I open my eyes real wide and say the word slowly. Filling it with unsaid dread.
"God Willow, I didn't kiss you did I?"

"What?! No no...Ha ha ha ha..." she says. She says 'ha ha ha', doesn't actually laugh. She SAYS it.

"No no, of course not." Willow somehow manages to turn a sob into a hiccup. A sound being twisted sideways, forced and wrenched asunder than swallowed. "That ...that would be silly wouldn't it. You kissing me I mean. Gah, no...silly."

"Very." She nods studying her kneecaps. She's blinking about twice every second.

"You...uh...just pushed me over and sniffed my neck a bit." Willow says. Sliding a fingertip around and around on her kneecap. Not looking at me. Watching her finger go round and round.
"That's all Buffy. Just...just sniffed my neck a bit."

"Sniffed your neck?" I ask with a grin. I'm trying to lighten the situation. I figure if I can manage to get her going on autopilot it might hurt less. Then I realize that autopilot requires the events to have actually happened and since they didn't, it probably won't happen.

Willow smiles back at me tentatively. "Yeah. Just a little sniffin' and you curled up in my lap and went to sleep. I did too." She finishes with a shrug.

"Of you?" Willow's brow furrows a bit. She starts biting at her lower lip, thinking. "I...think I should have been." She finally replies. "But I wasn't."

"I was ...I was some sort of bloodthirsty animal." I protest weakly. This would be so much easier if I could feel guilty about something.

She smiles at me softly and her smile reaches her eyes. "No." she smiles wider. "Not an animal, just a very thorough protector. That's why I wasn't afraid, I'll never be afraid of you."

My heart is pounding so hard and the walls over it are buckling. Love is not soft, it's hard, strong and sharp. Mine is beginning to break me down, to take me over, to grab her and hold her close, kiss her, love her, be with her and I can't let that happen. I just can't. She's doing this so easily too. She doesn't even know it but just by being Willow, she's breaking me down.

I stand up and brush my pant legs off. "C'mon." I say holding out my hand to her. "There's a hot shower calling my name and I don't want to miss it."

Wordlessly she accepts my hand and I pull her to her feet, then we turn and head back for the campus.

The walk is long and silent, I let Willow act as the guide since I'm supposed to not remember how I got where I am. We take the long way home, walking around the park.

"Is that where...uh...Is that where the vamps were?" I ask pointing to one of the iron fences marking the boundaries of the park.

Willow simply nods and heads off in the opposite direction expecting me to follow.

I know Willow. She...is...was? my best friend. She doesn't give her heart easily but last night she gave it to me. She didn't know how I'd respond, she didn't know whether I would respond in kind or turn my back on her. She took all the risks. Willow was incredibly brave last night and thought she had won.

She's doing a good job of hiding it. Her back is straight, her head held high walking with a brisk, sure, step. Like everything is right with the world. The rising sun burns on the horizon in front of her, the light giving her hair a look of true flame. She pauses, stretches her arms over her head and arches her back. There's a quiet 'crick' sound of bones and muscle sliding back into place and she resumes her pace; just a little ahead of me. I think she's humming a tune.

Willow won't say anything about what happened last night. I'm sure of it. Not that she doesn't want too but she's not that brave. She did it once, she couldn't do it again. She's already lied about what really happened and that will add to her inability to say anything. Also I'm not acting in any way that could lead her to...think...that maybe...she could. Being...I'm being...good ol Buddy Buffy. There's nothing here...for...for her to see...maybe Lover Buffy.

I will not feel that tingle in my eyes. I will not acknowledge the itch behind my lids. I will not cry.

Even though I'm using what I know of her against her. Even though I'm lying right in her face, depending on her insecurities and weaknesses in my favor. Even though I'm committing crimes against someone I love I will not cry. I'm going to force myself to live a lie, and I will do it with a smile on my face.

The consequences of what could happen ...I... no. There will be no such things happening; I won't let them. I'll protect her. I'll always protect her and doing these things, these monstrous things, will make it that much easier.

Yeah, that's it Slayer, justify what you're doing. C'mon, let's do it. Give it your best shot. Oh I've got one, yeah, we'll like this one. Ahem...'You love Willow so much, that you're not going to love her'.

We reach the dorms, it's still too early for anyone to be up, not that many would be with it being a Saturday morning. We're careful anyway. Darting up the stairs, around the corner into our room...which looks pretty messed up.

I take in the chaos that my communion with the wild side rough. The television knocked off the shelf, the shelf itself scattered with ...stuff. Clothes all over the floor, if those torn rags can still be considered clothes and... oh nuts.

"I'd forgotten about those." I mumble taking in my 'cave paintings'. It slips out, quiet, but slips out before I can realize I'm saying it.

If she heard me, if Willow overheard, no...no she couldn't of, she's next to her bed, picking up some of my mess. Bent over, busy, humming to herself, still humming. Humming with the birds that are singing outside. The clock radio starts beeping, I jump. Willow nonchalantly reaches over and flicks it off because we're already up n'everything. She's still humming.

"You say something Buffy?" She turns and looks at me. There's ...something...no. No, just my imagination. She's speaking normally.

I force a smile to my face. I better get used to doing this. Gesturing in the direction of the 'artwork' I roll my eyes. "Nothing important. Just noticing my contributions to the art world."

She glances at the 'paintings' and than looks away. "Oh." She replies, bending back over to resume picking apart the assorted chaos.

I stare at her for a bit. She's bent over, on her knees, reaching under her bed trying to grab something. Her eyes are squeezed shut in the effort. Whatever it is is probably just out of reach. Isn't that always the way?

"Uh...listen, I'm going to grab a quick shower, get all this...uh...stuff offa me okay?" I say. I can't believe how lame I sound. Like I'm asking her for permission. I even shrug and look away from her. Not that she can see me with her eyes squeezed shut.

"Okay." She mumbles, now her teeth are clenched. "I'll just...stay here...c'mon you little...and try and get this...almost got it...sock."

I grab my toiletries, towel, bathrobe and various soaps. "So...I'll...just be right back then." I murmur heading for the door.

The water is hot and clean as it pours from the showerhead. As it runs off my body it turns red, and brown. It's still hot but no longer clean as it twirls down the drain.

I take the shower gel, squeeze a dollop onto my sponge and wash my skin clean. I do it effectively and without thought. All my thoughts are inside. Fighting. Reinforcing new walls and defenses. I cannot let the pain out. I cannot let the want out, I cannot let the need out, I cannot let the tears out. I cannot let the love out.

The water is hot and clean as it pours from the showerhead. As it runs off my body it stays clear; free of muck and grime and blood. It's still hot but no longer clean as it twirls down the drain.

I dry off, put on my robe. Stand in front of the mirror. Start to comb my hair. Let it drip dry today. No need to be fancy. Just going to be normal looking Buffy today. No need to make myself look extra nice. No need to surprise a special someone with extra effort on my own appearance.
Nope. None at all.

It rattles in it's cage. Deep in my mind. Roars and screams. Claws at the bars trying to force its way free. Won't be denied, will not be refused. Primal, all powerful, destroyer of empires, heroes, demons, dynasties, families, children...

No. Don't let it out. Don't acknowledge it. Focus on the hair. Think about brushing your hair.

That's it. Easy, long, comfortable strokes. Feel the bristles on your scalp? See the straight, orderly rows in your hair. Long and straight and clean. Isn't that nice? Isn't that right?

Turn my head slowly to the left, watch my eyes follow me in the mirror. Nope, no lines there. Turn it back the other way, keep my eyes locked with my reflection. Face it directly.

Can't tell can you Mr. Mirror. Can't see the storm inside can you. Nope, all's quiet on the western front yes? No monster inside you screaming in your head is there. No feelings threatening to burst free, tear down your world. No tears ready to flood outwards and never stop. Nothing at all here is there. Just the monster in the mirror. Us.

I open my mouth. My lips part and I can feel the cool air whipping over my lips as I breath. I close it again. Don't say it. Bad to say it. Hurt more, not less. Can't say it. Won't say it.

Just one. I'll say it just this once. Universe now knows. Just the universe; and her. The Monster in the mirror. If she's still there after I head out the bathroom door I don't know. It's okay though, I have my own monster on the inside.

"Okay Will. Showers all yours." I toss my wet towel with the soaps and stuff wrapped inside at my bed and deliberately miss. It hits the floor with a thud. "Clean that up later." I give it a little jump and butt bounce on my mattress. Can't force laughter. Have to practice on that. I settle for a lazy smile.

She's sitting in the corner, on her bed. Knees drawn to her chest, head resting on her knees. She has her arms wrapped tightly around her legs.

"Willow?" I stand back up and start to cross the space between our bed. "You okay?"

"I'm not stupid." Her voice is muffled a bit by her knees but I hear her plain as day.

I freeze. Not moving, not blinking, all the weight is on my left foot because I was in the middle of a step. A cool breeze blows in from the open window, curls around my leg making my skin sprout goosebumbs as the wet flesh is chilled.

Willow raises her head. Her features are set, quiet. Relaxed even. Almost totally composed. Like she looks when she's studying, well, with all the dried blood still covering her features she'd have to have been studying some biology experiment. When she's studying water isn't coursing down her face. Tears actually, but she's not crying. Crying means sobs, and gasps, and eyes squelched shut, legs shaking, body shaking. Heart pounding in your chest and being very, very cold.

She isn't any of these things. Looking calm, and peaceful. A calm and peaceful person who just happens to have a very wet face. She's not crying. Willow's leaking. Leaking water that's leaving muddy, rusty tracks through the bloody facemask. Water mixed with blood slides down her cheeks, hangs from the tip of her chin and splashes silently on her dress.

"No...one thinks you are..." I reply slowly. I back away and bump into the edge of my own mattress. I don't sit down. A stronger breeze makes the curtains over the window billow out and the blinds rattle.

"They do." Willow says still looking right at me. "They do think I'm stupid. They think they can lie to me, pretend to forget everything that happened on a terrible and glorious evening. They think that telling me they don't remember will put the genie back in the box. They think they can hurt me terribly, and I won't notice. So," she pauses and takes a deep breath. "They must think I'm stupid. I don't know why though."

"It's very confusing." She says clearly audible. "I'm not sure what hurts more. The fact that they think I'm stupid, or that fact that I don't know why they think I'm stupid."

She's quiet for a moment. My stomach has clenched into a tight, acid filled, cold ball. A bottomless, acid filled, cold ball.

"So tell me then." Her voice...is flat and neutral. Carefully, selected. And it echoes around the room. "Why do you think I'm stupid Buffy?"

What gave me away...? What did I do wrong? I ...didn't want to hurt you Willow. I didn't want to hurt anybody! Protect. That's all. Just wanted to protect...keep safe. Arms distance. Things the way they were. Good then, things were good then. Safe then, safe and good. Couldn't we go back to that? I just wanted things to go back to that.

Keep you safe. Keep me safe. Keep us safe. That's all. Really that's all. I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry Willow. Please...please believe me...please...I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything you want, just one more chance, please, I'm sorry.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, don't go...don't go. Please don't go. I can't lose you. Not you Willow. Oh please...no. God no. No no no no no.

Willow's head snaps up and her eyes lock on mine. Her cheeks are smeared with crimson streaks. The blood, having been soaked by the...water has turned bright red again. It got wiped away, a lot of it, most of it is all over her dress now... not all. The pale skin of her cheeks is more visible but she's flushed and the red of the blood on the inside with the still blood on the outside... I try not too, my neck muscles turn of their own violation and I look away.

I'm studying the corner of the room, where two walls and the ceiling meet, I can feel her eyes still boring into me from across the room.

"Okay." Willow says quietly. I hear her feet hit the floor and see her, out of the corner of my eye, walking across the room. Really dusty that corner.

That gets my attention. I look at her. She's standing beside the open door, arms crossed over her chest, she's not glaring at me. There's no sign of anger or hate. She still looks quiet calm, her eyes don't even look sad, though they're still leaking.

I stammer out a half laugh. "W...Willow, c'mon." I giggle a bit. "I...don't know what happened last night, except from what you told me and..."

Willow has never told me to shut up. I hear this little echo, a slight pinging sound like metal under stress starting to part. It's inside my head.

"Faith was a murderous, evil, skanky bitch." Willow overrides my sputters. "At least she was honest with herself though."

"O...okay Willow, jokes over now..." I try again. Part of my mind is screaming at me, telling me to shut the hell up, to tell her the truth, that I'm just making it worse but I don't listen. I never do.

"I told you I loved you last night." Willow says. "Not friend love, love love. I said I loved you, I offered you my heart and you accepted it. You said you loved me back. We kissed." Her voice drifts away for a second, a small smile tugging at her lips. She's not looking at me anymore, she's looking through me. Remembering.

"We kissed." She murmurs. "It was wonderful. That's how I got the blood on my face. Not because you sniffed my neck; you told me you loved me and kissed me. You remember that don't you."

"Okay...jokes over..." I try and smile, there's another slightly louder screech of metal being forced in my head. "Kissed? Us? C'mon Willow that's just...wow. Major wiggins give-"

"Don't you dare say that!" She's in my face, screaming in my face. Now she is crying. Screaming through, no sobs. Tears and screaming words. I scramble backwards onto my bed, trying to get some space between us but she follows after me, I'm pinned between the wall and Willow.

"Don't you use that word." She hisses at me. Her lips are so close. I could just twitch my head and we'd be kissing again. I remember it; our kiss from last night. It was wonderful.

"That's my word." She snarls. "Wiggins is my word. I made it up, I used in high school, you just plagiarized it. It's my word, my invention. Don't you dare say, you no longer have the right!"

Bend, screech, twist, shatter...roar of triumph, or release. It's free. Oh God...it's free.

And now I'm crying. My hand of it's own violation tries to reach up to cup her face but she slaps it away.

"What did you want Buffy? I gave you everything, what more could you possibly want?" I can't see her face. The ...water...something in my eyes is...just a red ...blur. Right there in front of me.

"I...I...wanted...wanted to be ..." I try and get some more space between her and me. Pushing against the wall. The plaster begins to crack.

Willow's hands are on my face an instant later. Restraining me, as if...Willow couldn't stop me from doing what I wanted. Yet, now, I can't move. The sensation, soft...so soft. Electric ...I ...I can't help myself...can't...do anything but...lean...

Her touch hardens, she's wiping away my tears with her fingers. Mechanically, in a brisk, efficient manner.

"So you can see me." She explains still cleaning my face. "You have to be able to see me."

I can see her now. Willow crouches in front of me on my bed. Between my legs on her knees. Her fingertips brush against my cheek one last time. The sensation, despite the set of her face, the stillness in her eyes, is one I can't help but savor.

"No." She cuts me off leaning back and putting her hands in her lap. "You haven't answered my question. What do you want?"

"That's not a good enough answer Slayer." The word, the title of what I do lashes across me. She didn't hiss the word, or snarl she just said it and it's like a whip; an accusation. She takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment and then releases it with an audible sigh. "Tell me what you wanted. Tell me about that desire that was so strong and powerful that you were willing to betray me. To stab me in the back."

"But you did." She counters. "You thought about it. You planned it. You premeditated on your actions Buffy. You chose to hurt me. For what?"

She leans forward slowly as she speaks, the words are calm again. She has control of herself and of me and as her lips, I can't stop watching her lips move and shape the words, get closer and closer to me my breathing catches in my throat.

"Safe, I just want to be safe. I want things simple! Just...be someone like everyone else! I can't do that though can I? I have to be some defender, some stupid bitch who was chosen, yay look at me Willow! I won some fucking cosmic lottery!" I wave my hands in the air, a deeply sarcastic cheering gesture.

"I get to live every single night terrified out of my mind," I continue. I do what I can though, put the best face forward then. I fall in love, but whoops! That doesn't work out because he's dead. He's a vampire. Lucky me. I do stupid things, stick with him anyway. Then I get to kill him. That at least should have been easy what with him turned into a monster but no, I don't even get that. He comes back, right before I can do the deed he comes back. So I get to look him right in the eyes, seeing everything I cared about die in front of me. By my hand Willow! By MY hand!"

I slide down the wall, curling up fetal. Knees to my chest, arms wrapped around my legs. I keep talking.

"I got over that, I dealt and moved on. I always thought I was better than them. Yes they were ridgy, fangy, slimly bloody monsters but not me! Not the Slayer! I used weapons, I was efficient and clean. Until last night."

"I wake up this morning and the first thing I see is my hands. They're just coated in blood. You know what my first thought is though? Not 'how'd that happen?' or 'Gosh, I'd better wash my hands' no. Not anything like that. The first thing that pops into my head when I see my bloody hands is 'I wonder what it must taste like!' Do you understand me Willow? I wanted to drink that blood! I did drink it, I licked it off my lips and I liked it!"

I clench my teeth against the mixed wave of desire and nausea that assaults my stomach. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.

I'm not looking at her as I'm ranting. All I can see are those weird loops and whirls and spiral in front of your eyes if you press your hands over them. They're kinda funny and fun to watch; you give yourself a headache if you do it too long. I don't care though. I keep my palms pressed over my eyes and I keep talking...screaming...whatever.

"You said you didn't care, fine. I do though. I can't take the risk of losing you. We fall in love, we kiss, go out on dates, laugh, have good times and then one evening...just one time I slip and bang you're gone. And I have to either live without you or track you down and destroy whatever it was that took you from me! To hunt you like a beast and look you right in the eyes as I ...whatever. Shove a stake through your chest, shoot you with a crossbow, cut your head off with an axe. Who knows. I can't take the chance of losing you like that. I can't...I love you too much to ... oh God Willow I'm sorry..."

It's silence just between us though. The rest of the world doesn't respect dramatic moments.

Footsteps out in the hall, a figure stumbles past the doorway, pauses and looks in sleepily with red rimmed eyes. "Coffee" He's muttering. "Coffee."

"You're safe Buffy." Willow says quietly. She's far away. Very far away. "You won't lose me to the forces of evil, or vampyness or anything like that. I promise." I expect to feel her gentle hands caressing me. Some sort of physical act of forgiveness. That's what happens in the movies. I wait and wait and wait. She doesn't touch me.

She pauses, I'm still weeping into my hands, can't look at her, won't look at her. Just crying and crying and crying and crying...

"I just want to be normal." I sob. "Go to school, be with friends, meet the love of my life, get married, get a job. Have two point five kids. I've always wanted a point five kid."

Willow continues speaking, as if I never said anything. "I told you I didn't care. I meant it. You were so scared of a possibility that you chose, over it, a certainty. No, you won't lose me through anything evil, at least by anything Hellmouthy. You won't lose me like that because you've already lost me Buffy."

I didn't want this. Just...normal. I just wanted normal. This isn't fair. Why can't I have normal?

"Willow-" I can't... everything is working so clear. I can see, smell, hear, feel.

The light, morning light, small motes of dust swirling in the air. The itchy material of my blanket. It was never itchy before, why is it itchy now? The cold wall pressed into my back. My foot tap, tap, tapping madly, twitching on its own on my bed. My knee joins in the shaking. Knee and foot, shaking and tapping.

Hear people outside. Walking to the cafeteria. Someone is laughing. Someone is laughing with someone else. Good friends are laughing together. Telling jokes. I can hear them.

Can ...I can smell... so clearly the...shampoo. Rinsed away most of it. Still smell it though, in my hair. I smell like apples. Green apples. Willow hasn't had a shower yet. When she does she smells... I don't know. Lived with Willow for a while now, should know what she smells like by now. Never noticed, never asked. Never get the chance.

Muscles feel so loose. So relaxed. So relaxed, I'm relaxed...almost. Heart isn't relaxed. My heart is pounding. Loud. Getting louder and faster. Hurting so fast, the hurting is ...my heart. My heart is going so fast it's hurting, or the hurting is going so fast that...my heart. My heart is leaving me. Drowning out everything. Can't hear the people anymore, the friends. Laughing friends are gone. Just my heart. Can't see the dust anymore, just can feel my heart, can't feel the blanket itching. Hurting, hurting is eating everything.

Don't go away heart, don't go away. Don't leave me, don't leave me so I can't see or feel or hear or anything. Don't go away heart, leaving me with only ...acid. Acid and my hurt.

"Get your stuff packed." Willow says. "I want you out by the time I get back. I'm going to get some breakfast." The door swings shut with a quiet 'click'.

Time passes, not sure how much. I'm...I'm dressed. How'd that happen? I look on my bed, which is made, I made my bed? There's my suitcase there. It's bulging with stuff. Who's stuff? Oh my stuff. That's right. Willow told me to pack, and I did.

I'm standing in the middle of the room. Between our beds. Everything looks pretty much the same. My dishes are on the counter, clock radio is ticking away the minutes, Mr. Gordo is still keeping my pillow company. Closet is empty though, dustbunnies are filling in the empty space under my bed where my suitcase used to be.

Willow can have my closet space, she...she can get some more clothes, she can use my closet space...get better ...looking clothes.

Her computer beeps. Someone sent her email. A friend sent her some email. Can I send her email?

A tiny click and the plastic numbers on my clock flip over to 'seven, three, oh'.

Stand there for a while. Something happens maybe? If I wait something can happen maybe?

I step out into the hallway, close the door, reach for my keys. Open the door, grab my keys off the shelf, step back outside. No one is there. Empty silent hallway. Numbered doors on either side stretching the length of the hallway. Behind each one separate worlds, worlds that change every year. Can't I stay in my world?

Grab my suitcase again, walk down the silent hall. Sunlight follows me here. From the windows at each end of the hall, sunlight beams in. Still can see those tiny, floating, carefree motes of dust.

The door opens and she looks out at me, her face looks concerned. Gee am I still crying? Thought I had stopped. "Buffy?"

Now...I know I was outside on the porch a second ago. How'd I wind up in the living room?

She's sitting across from me, leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped together in worry.

"What?" I blink a few times. "Oh...nothing big. I mean, nothing big in...uh...Slayer stuff. Everybody is fine in that regard. No tragic deaths today." I smile. She flinches.

"So...why are you here then?" She doesn't move, just looks at me with mother-worry eyes.

A car drives by the picture window, gray, sedan of some sort. Kinda streamlined. Wow, they're moving awfully fast. Whoever they are should be more careful. Kids play in this area.

"And you packed your bags and came home." Again she says it not as a question, but a statement.

"You have an argument, a fight, with your best friend and you leave your dorm. You call that bad Buffy?" Her worry look has grown, she's frowning slightly but other than that hasn't moved.

"Do you want me to talk to her?" She's not asking really, more like begging. Begging me to let her be some sort of help. Can't though.

"No mom. It...was bad and it'll stay...that way." I sigh, running my fingers through my hair.

Break means tears, tears means pain, pain means tears, tears means talking, talking means explanations, explanations means more bad, more breaks, more pains, more tears.

"Actually I was hoping I could get some breakfast? I...er...didn't have a chance to eat." I say. I watch my foot, it's tapping again. Taping against the armrest of the chair. I clamp my hand over it, try and make it stop. It twitches in my grip.

Mom shakes her head. Barely noticeable, just a slight movement but it says everything. Helpless, worried, scared, loving, helpless. It's all there. She shakes her head just a touch and stands up.

"Alright dear." She smiles down at me. Now I want to flinch. "I'll whip some food up. Sunny side up sound good? With bacon?"

"Yeah." I say, my foot twitches even harder. "Sunny eggs and bacon. Sounds great!"

Mom stands there for a minute. She's trying to work up the courage to say something, or maybe try and figure out how to be supportive. I'll let her. That way she can feel like she's helping; that's she's being 'Mom'.

While I wait some more cars drive by. A chickadee lands on the bushes outside. Looks at me with black eyes and flies off. Wind blows, the branches of the pine outside shake, a few pinecones fall out.

"Give it some time." Mom finally says. "We...you...can talk to her Monday or something. Cool down time is good right? This will work out. You'll see."

I can feel it inside. A bright spot. Stubborn...hot...impatient. It's bright now. Bright and strong and it won't go away no matter how many doubts and fears I throw at it.

Monday. It says. Monday we can fix it. Monday we can say the right things, do the right things, be the right things. Just have to wait till Monday.

It won't stop. Says that over and over and over. It's just going to cause more...everything. I know it. I know it, it ...hope...knows it but it can't, won't stop.

I hear the sizzle of oil and smell the cooking bacon. Mom opens the refrigerator and then a few seconds later I can hear her open the cupboard for some glasses. I can tell, that cupboard always squeaks.

Local Girl Killed In Hit and Run.
Yesterday Sunnydale was again the victim of tragedy. Willow Rosenberg, daughter or Ira and Sheila Rosenberg was struck and killed in an apparent case of hit and run. Witnesses state, early on the morning of Saturday the tenth, they saw the victim crossing the street. She was described as being 'out of it' and 'distracted' therefore did not notice when a gray Buick Sentry came around a corner at high speeds. Despite onlookers warnings Ms Rosenberg did not take heed and was struck head on. The car that struck her did attempt to break beforehand but, after the impact with the victim, drove away from the scene at high speeds before any onlookers could get a look at the license plates. Witnesses describe the vehicle as being fairly new and modern in appearance. No one interviewed claimed to recognize the car. Paramedics pronounced Ms Rosenberg dead at the scene at 8:11 AM, Saturday morning. Police are asking anyone with information on the possible identity of the driver to call them, toll free, at...

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Roman Prologue
But Eros Died

by Mad Hamlet

Copyright © 2004

Mad-hamlet@usa.net

Roman Prologue But Eros Died

by Mad Hamlet

Copyright © 2004

Mad-hamlet@usa.net

Roman Prologue
But Eros Died