Nov 10, 2004 20:29
So the plan about going to England and visiting my best gal pal? Not gonna happen. John says he needs me because we're getting everything set up to start building the school. He also made it pretty clear that if I was to get called out of town on a family emergancy or something I could kiss my job goodbye.
And I'm not saying that Willow isn't worth a great job. Because she is. But even if I did walk out on the construction biz there's not enough credit on all my cards combined to buy me that ticket.
So it's a no go.
And I feel like I'm letting her down. It still makes me sad to think of her crying over the phone. I want to be there for her.
I pick up my pace as I round the corner and head towards the cemetery.
I'd wanted to talk to Buffy, but I'm not sure how. She'd either tell me I was insane for wanting to jump on a plane or she'd want to go with me and I really don't want to hear either. I know I'm being selfish, but I don't know. I want some Wills time of my own. I love Buffy but sometimes she can cast the look of blame with just a glance. Even if she doesn't mean it.
Great, now I'm thinking in the non-sense language. Good thing I think and speak it fluently.
Besides her and Dawn probably need some time of their own to deal with everything. Not to mention the sisterly bond has been going strong since the veiny Willow face off. I don't want to intrude on that.
So here I am, doing the stupidest thing you can really do walking by the cemetery and hoping I run into a fledgling so that I can stake it with my pent up aggression and frustration. (Okay, sometimes I watch Dr. Phil when I get home early. But he tells it like it is!) Which is made even stupider because I know it's a stupid thing to do.
Idiotic, that's me.
I enter the cemetery, trying to look like it's normal for me to be here...alone...at night...without flowers for a dearly departed. I'm a couple of rows in when I hear the sounds of a fight. I can't really make out the words, but it definitely sounds like someone's in trouble. I take off at a run gripping the stake so hard my knuckles are turning white.
Finally I come to a row of graves that marks the scuffle with one gravestone that's been knocked half off. A figure is getting to it's feet from the ground. It doesn't seem to have heard me considering I've come up on it from behind and my sneakers are strangely quiet in the tall grass. I look around for a victim, but see nothing. Maybe they got away.
God, I hope they got away.
"Alright, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," I say spreading my feet to get a solid stance if it decides to rush at me.
I wait for it to turn around and face me.