Withdrawal Symptoms (2/3: Depression)
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
The second Buffy exited the dilapidated house and breathed in huge lungfuls of fresh air, she began to feel better already. As she walked, the Spike-induced haze that clouded her brain was able to dissipate so that she could think clearly. Yes, she had just spent an entire evening making love to someone who was supposed to be her worst enemy, but that was over and done with now, and the things of everyday living resumed. There were important things to worry about now - namely the fact that she had left Dawn alone all night.
Turning onto Rodello Drive, she paused a moment to examine herself in the window of another house on the street. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were dirty, disheveled, and torn, and her eyes were ringed with the dark purple circles that indicated her lack of sleep. In short, she looked exactly how she felt - like crap. With a sigh she continued walking until she was in her own driveway.
Banging through the kitchen door, she was surprised to see Tara there. "Hi," she said, with a look that clearly stated the question.
"There was nobody here when we got back so I told Dawnie I'd stay with her. I guess we both kind of fell asleep." Now it was her turn for the questioning look.
"Demon," Buffy stated simply, as if the one word explained it all. Which it did, in a way, but certainly not the way that they were thinking. She was the Slayer after all - she was supposed to be killing demons, not sleeping with them in old abandoned houses.
Tara nodded, her face blank, giving Buffy no clue as to whether she believed her or not, as Dawn walked into the room. "Buffy!" she exclaimed. "Where were you?"
"Demon," Tara supplied.
"Oh, are you allright? Is it dead? Is this something we should be worried about? Should I call Xander and Anya?" Buffy laughed, relieved that no matter what, one person would always be there for her. "I'm fine," she reassured her sister. The thought brought a guilty tinge as well, because she was knowingly lying to the sister that had always been so loyal to her, but she quickly shoved it to the back of her mind, concentrating instead on the pancakes Tara was cooking.
"Ooh, man those look good," she said, sliding into a chair at the island and wincing in pain. She had used muscles she hadn't even known she had had last night, which were now screaming out in protest.
"Oh God, what happened? Did you get hurt?" Willow asked, entering just then with Amy in tow.
"Demon," Dawn said, nodding sagely. Willow nodded in return, studying Buffy's state of disarray with suspicion. When her eyes met Buffy's, they clearly said that she didn't believe a word of it. Buffy smiled sheepishly. That was her Will - perceptive as ever.
"Well...I should probably be going now," Amy said meekly. Tara eyed her from across the room, slipping off the oven mitts she was wearing and setting them on the kitchen counter.
"Yeah, me too," she said, refusing to meet Willows eyes. Buffy felt another stab of guilt go through her. Willow had hit a rough patch, and there had been nobody there to cushion her fall. I should've been there, Buffy thought sadly. But I can be there for her now.
"I, uh...yeah, I...I guess so. Uhm...bye," Willow stuttered, watching as both Amy and Tara disappeared without another word.
"I have school," Dawn added, almost as an afterthought. "I'm gonna be late."
"Where's Xander?" Buffy asked. As is on cue, he burst in the door that Amy and Tara had just left through, his shirt only half-buttoned, his shoes untied, and his hair uncombed.
"Oh my God I'm so sorry the alarm didn't go off and Anya left early to go to the shop and I'm so sorry I'm late 'cuz now Dawn's gonna be late and..." Xander stopped mid-babble, realizing that all three women were staring. "Okay, I'll be quiet now," he said. Willow and Dawn exchanged impressed glances.
"Wow," Dawn said.
"All in one breath," Willow agreed.
"Allright, let's get this show on the road. Dawn, go with Xander before you really are late. Xander, you're forgiven."
"We'll see you lovely ladies this afternoon then," he tossed over his shoulder as he hustled Dawnie out the door.
"We'll be here," Buffy assured him. In a few seconds they heard the engine of his car roar to life and peel out of the driveway, hurrying to get her sister to school on time. Meanwhile, she was left in the kitchen with Willow, her best friend since the tenth grade. All in all a normal morning.
Except for the fact that she had just spent the night with her mortal enemy.
"Okay, where were you really last night," Willow asked, getting situated in a comfy chair at the kitchen island. "Don't worry, we've got all day."
Buffy sighed. "Wills, I really don't think you want to hear this."
"Oh, trust me - I do. Now, I know that some of the cuts and bruises could have possibly come from a demon, but this?" She lifted Buffy's hair to reveal a gigantic purplish hickey. Her friend sighed again.
"Actually...that was from a demon, too."
"Buffy, c'mon - how stupid do you think I am? Look, if you want to lie to everyone else, then fine. Not that I'm condoning it or anything, but what you choose to tell them is your own business. But me? Buffy, tell them anything you want, but please don't lie to me." Willow's eyes were shining, and it was then that Buffy realized just how much her friend needed her, and just how much it must have hurt that she kept pushing her away.
"It was a demon," she insisted. With a frustrated huff, Willow stood and turned to exit the kitchen.
"Will, wait - listen to me!" she called.
"I don't want to hear it, Buffy."
"It was Spike." Willow's footsteps froze on the stairs, and slowly, she turned around and re-entered the kitchen.
"Spike?" she asked incredulously. "You left Dawnie home alone all night to go bang Spike?!"
"Will, please don't do this," Buffy begged. "I feel bad and disgusted with myself as it is - don't try to make me feel guilty, too."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Oh, come on - you were out all night, too - don't be a hypocrite."
"I thought you would be home!" Willow exclaimed.
"And I thought you would be at home!" Buffy countered. The two friends glared at one another across the kitchen. "Where were you last night, anyway? And with Amy? You know, I wasn't the only one that was worried - I could tell by the look on her face that Tara - "
"Shut up!" Willow shouted. Buffy jumped back as if she'd been slapped. This wasn't the Willow she had befriended back in high school; the shy, soft-spoken, reliable best friend with the goofy adorable crush on Xander. This was someone completely different.
"You don't know the first thing about me and Tara! It's none of your business, so leave us both alone and go back to boinking the undead. You're good at it, remember?" And with that, she spun on her heel and raced out of the room. Five seconds later, Buffy heard the door to her room slam shut, and she fell backwards into a chair in stunned silence.
Some time later, Buffy managed to brave the stairs and haul her tired body up to her room. At promptly five-thirty, Willow's door opened and she marched down the hallway without so much as a word or a bang on the door directed at Buffy. She knew she should probably go, too - the gang was expecting her. But somehow, she couldn't manage to make herself move.
She was disturbed to find that while she lay there, she was thinking of Spike; of how much better she would feel if he were here with her right now to wrap his arms around her and kiss her shoulder, then her neck, then her mouth...As if by their own accord, Buffy's fingers wandered to the waistband of her jeans. She brushed them across the skin of her stomach, then the small patch of skin between her stomach and her pubic hair, before finally realizing what she was doing.
Disgusted with herself, Buffy leaped savagely out of her bed and tore down the halls and the stairs into the kitchen, where she pulled out ropes and ropes of garlic from the pantry and the staple gun from a drawer near the garage. Back upstairs, she went through her room in a frenzy, first stapling the garlic to every available inch of her wall, then retrieving a bottle of holy water from her closet and using it to soak the wooden windowsill with.
When her room was finally completely vamp-proofed, Buffy collapsed back onto her bed.
And that was when the tears began to fall.