All The Same
Here's a post-series Willow fic, written for still_grrr.
The prompt scene was the Scoobies bringing Buffy back at the beginning of season 6.
All The Same
This is the first time she’s been alone in eight days.
Twenty days in, and they still hadn’t found the right ritual. They’d figure it out soon, though… right?
Xander has been sitting next to her every chance he gets - gripping her hand like a lifeline. Willow’s not sure whether it’s supposed to be a lifeline for her, or for him… and she suspects he’s not sure either.
Dawn, meanwhile, gave her a list of tasks that urgently needed to be done, by Willow, as soon as possible.
(ITEM #1: MAKE A BIG POT OF COFFEE FOR EVERYONE.)
They’re trying not to admit they’re worried about her, but it’s not hard to tell. Since it happened, there have been so many meaningful glances in her direction that she probably would have noticed even if she wasn’t on edge.
Giles had accepted Buffy’s death months ago, and even Xander was starting to give up - but she wouldn’t. No way. She’d work it out. She would and she could… even if no-one else was good enough.
And yeah… she’s been telling everyone that she’s fine, she’ll be fine, hair still red, no problem, not on edge at all, just generally sad…
…but, in fact, there’s been a fair amount of edge - inside her brain.
(ITEM #9: CALL MY DAD - PHONE NUMBER IN THE ADDRESS BOOK ON THE DRESSER - AND LET HIM KNOW WHEN THE FUNERAL’S GOING TO BE.)
A whole lot of edge, actually.
So it’s probably good that they’re watching her.
They wouldn’t tell Dawn, or Giles, or Spike. No use getting their hopes up… or getting them worried. And when Buffy came back, it would be a nice surprise, and they’d realise that they didn’t need to worry about the spell, because Willow knew exactly what she was doing. And, if they were going to realise they shouldn’t have worried, then why let them worry in the first place? Much easier not to tell them. And they’d be happy when the spell worked, anyway.
Not that they’re watching her now. But then, they don’t know she’s here.
(ITEM #18: REORGANIZE FAITH’S TRAINING SCHEDULE SO SHE CAN HAVE TWO DAYS OFF, AND PRINT OUT THE REVISED ROSTER.)
She just… she needs some time to be quiet.
All week, her nerves have been knotted in a big bundle of tense not-fixing-it and letting-things-keep-going, and what with that and the grief, and Xander holding tight to her hand, and everyone talking in hushed voices - but all together, one big pile of hushed voices talking over the top of each other - and telling everyone she’s fine and not going to snap, and making herself not snap, continuously, for eight days…
…well, it’s exhausting. She needs to get out, for at least a moment.
(ITEM #24: FIND SOME EXTRA VASES TO PUT ALL THE FLOWERS IN.)
Dawn was still putting on a brave face in front of everyone. But Willow had heard her crying, in her bedroom.
Giles has called them, at lunchtime, every day since the funeral.
He’s got a reason for calling - every time, a new reason - but, somehow, ringing Xander to talk about a new group of Slayers will mean he has to talk to Willow for a few minutes as well, and ringing Faith to discuss Hellmouth activity ends up with him discussing it with Willow too, and when he calls Dawn about her college course, he has to spend most of the phonecall asking Willow how Dawn is going, exactly…
She gets why he’s doing it. She can’t tell him that - the sheer thought of trying to say what she’s wanting to do and still not doing it is overwhelming, and leaves her breathless - but she understands.
One day she’ll tell him that.
She wasn’t being selfish, or anything. It wasn’t like she just wanted her friend back. But everyone needed her - Xander, Dawn, Giles… the whole world needed Buffy back. And if it was for the whole world, it had to be a good thing to do, right? After all, if it wasn’t the right thing to do, Willow wouldn’t be doing it in the first place.
Willow reaches the grave, and stands there looking at the inscription for a minute.
(ITEM #45: REVISE ALL YOUR FRENCH VOCAB READY FOR NEXT YEAR’S CONFERENCE.)
“Hey, Buff,” she says softly.
The grave was grown over in grass, already looking old and forgotten. So sad and hopeless. But she was going to make it all okay again.
Kennedy has never lost anyone before - not really. Her parents, her brother, her best friends from high school, her new pet hamster, her occasionally-black-haired girlfriend… all alive and healthy. So she doesn’t really get it.
(ITEM #60: HELP ME GO THROUGH MY CLOSET AND DECIDE WHICH CLOTHES I SHOULD THROW OUT. I’VE BEEN MEANING TO DO THAT FOR MONTHS.)
She’s been good, though. Apart from some very frequent trips downstairs to beat up one of the punching bags, she hasn’t done much. She hasn’t tried to make it better, or tried to make Willow talk about it all. She’s just been nearby, offering Kleenex and milkshakes as required, and waiting to see what happens next.
And yeah, she’s watching too.
All of them, trying to make sure that Willow’s okay and not about to do something stupid - and it would be stupid, really really stupid, just because it feels like a good idea doesn’t mean it’s not the wrong thing to do - while she sits on her hands and tries to make sure she’s okay, too.
All in all, it hasn’t really left her much time to actually grieve.
The four of them sat around the grave in a circle, and she arranged the spell ingredients carefully in front of her. She was going to fix it all. And she was ready for anything.
Then, this afternoon, Kennedy sat down on the bed and observed, “You’ve been getting more stressed out every time I’ve seen you today.”
“Is this the part where you give me a motivating pep-talk and tell me to work on my positive energy?”
“No… this is the part where I cover for you while you sneak out the window and go do what you’ve gotta do.” She picked up a magazine and lay down on her stomach to read it, legs swinging above her. “Have fun.”
So, Willow ended up here.
The power, flowing through her… the energy… the incredible feeling of controlling these huge forces… she could do anything… anything at all… it was going to work…
“How’s everything going, up in heaven?” The question sits, still, in the air as Willow watches the grave and tries to think of something else to say.
(ITEM #81: TALK TO KRISTEN - SLAYER ON SQUAD FIVE - AND EXPLAIN WHY WE DON’T USE FLAMETHROWERS WHILE ON PATROL.)
“Everyone down here’s okay… sort of. Dawn’s coping. Um… she’s going back to college after this weekend. So, that’s… good.”
The cemetery is so quiet.
She called out again and again to Osiris, determined that she wouldn’t fail. She was going to remake the world into what it needed to be - whatever it took.
It would be so easy - so easy to raise her hand, speak the words, and change everything. She could do it. She knows she could.
She could have it all.
“Xander’s put off his trip to China until he finds someone to run your squad… Faith called dibs on all your weapons… and… um… your dad flew in specially for the funeral, and Dawn had to tell him that all the girls were from your college sorority… and…” She swallows, hard. “We miss you, Buffy.”
One simple decision, one moment of letting herself do it, one chance…
Kennedy really shouldn’t have let her come.
…and then a motorbike wheel broke the urn. And for one awful moment - a moment that lasted hours - she knew it hadn’t worked at all.
Except that she needs to be here. She does. And Kennedy knew why.
Her fingers are itching to do something. She curls them into her palms, determinedly.
“The thing is, I want to bring you back. I’ve been wanting that all week.” Willow pauses briefly, and then continues, “So, you know what? I’m going to leave you there. I am. Because… because it’s the right thing to do.”
She blinks back tears, and stands, watching the world as it continues doing what it does.
“But you know what, Buff? If I was going to do it for anyone… it’d be you.”
(ITEM #103: DRINK LOTS OF WINE, LOOK AT OLD PHOTOS OF SUNNYDALE, HUG XANDER… AND REMEMBER.)
The prompt scene was the Scoobies bringing Buffy back at the beginning of season 6.
All The Same
This is the first time she’s been alone in eight days.
Twenty days in, and they still hadn’t found the right ritual. They’d figure it out soon, though… right?
Xander has been sitting next to her every chance he gets - gripping her hand like a lifeline. Willow’s not sure whether it’s supposed to be a lifeline for her, or for him… and she suspects he’s not sure either.
Dawn, meanwhile, gave her a list of tasks that urgently needed to be done, by Willow, as soon as possible.
(ITEM #1: MAKE A BIG POT OF COFFEE FOR EVERYONE.)
They’re trying not to admit they’re worried about her, but it’s not hard to tell. Since it happened, there have been so many meaningful glances in her direction that she probably would have noticed even if she wasn’t on edge.
Giles had accepted Buffy’s death months ago, and even Xander was starting to give up - but she wouldn’t. No way. She’d work it out. She would and she could… even if no-one else was good enough.
And yeah… she’s been telling everyone that she’s fine, she’ll be fine, hair still red, no problem, not on edge at all, just generally sad…
…but, in fact, there’s been a fair amount of edge - inside her brain.
(ITEM #9: CALL MY DAD - PHONE NUMBER IN THE ADDRESS BOOK ON THE DRESSER - AND LET HIM KNOW WHEN THE FUNERAL’S GOING TO BE.)
A whole lot of edge, actually.
So it’s probably good that they’re watching her.
They wouldn’t tell Dawn, or Giles, or Spike. No use getting their hopes up… or getting them worried. And when Buffy came back, it would be a nice surprise, and they’d realise that they didn’t need to worry about the spell, because Willow knew exactly what she was doing. And, if they were going to realise they shouldn’t have worried, then why let them worry in the first place? Much easier not to tell them. And they’d be happy when the spell worked, anyway.
Not that they’re watching her now. But then, they don’t know she’s here.
(ITEM #18: REORGANIZE FAITH’S TRAINING SCHEDULE SO SHE CAN HAVE TWO DAYS OFF, AND PRINT OUT THE REVISED ROSTER.)
She just… she needs some time to be quiet.
All week, her nerves have been knotted in a big bundle of tense not-fixing-it and letting-things-keep-going, and what with that and the grief, and Xander holding tight to her hand, and everyone talking in hushed voices - but all together, one big pile of hushed voices talking over the top of each other - and telling everyone she’s fine and not going to snap, and making herself not snap, continuously, for eight days…
…well, it’s exhausting. She needs to get out, for at least a moment.
(ITEM #24: FIND SOME EXTRA VASES TO PUT ALL THE FLOWERS IN.)
Dawn was still putting on a brave face in front of everyone. But Willow had heard her crying, in her bedroom.
Giles has called them, at lunchtime, every day since the funeral.
He’s got a reason for calling - every time, a new reason - but, somehow, ringing Xander to talk about a new group of Slayers will mean he has to talk to Willow for a few minutes as well, and ringing Faith to discuss Hellmouth activity ends up with him discussing it with Willow too, and when he calls Dawn about her college course, he has to spend most of the phonecall asking Willow how Dawn is going, exactly…
She gets why he’s doing it. She can’t tell him that - the sheer thought of trying to say what she’s wanting to do and still not doing it is overwhelming, and leaves her breathless - but she understands.
One day she’ll tell him that.
She wasn’t being selfish, or anything. It wasn’t like she just wanted her friend back. But everyone needed her - Xander, Dawn, Giles… the whole world needed Buffy back. And if it was for the whole world, it had to be a good thing to do, right? After all, if it wasn’t the right thing to do, Willow wouldn’t be doing it in the first place.
Willow reaches the grave, and stands there looking at the inscription for a minute.
(ITEM #45: REVISE ALL YOUR FRENCH VOCAB READY FOR NEXT YEAR’S CONFERENCE.)
“Hey, Buff,” she says softly.
The grave was grown over in grass, already looking old and forgotten. So sad and hopeless. But she was going to make it all okay again.
Kennedy has never lost anyone before - not really. Her parents, her brother, her best friends from high school, her new pet hamster, her occasionally-black-haired girlfriend… all alive and healthy. So she doesn’t really get it.
(ITEM #60: HELP ME GO THROUGH MY CLOSET AND DECIDE WHICH CLOTHES I SHOULD THROW OUT. I’VE BEEN MEANING TO DO THAT FOR MONTHS.)
She’s been good, though. Apart from some very frequent trips downstairs to beat up one of the punching bags, she hasn’t done much. She hasn’t tried to make it better, or tried to make Willow talk about it all. She’s just been nearby, offering Kleenex and milkshakes as required, and waiting to see what happens next.
And yeah, she’s watching too.
All of them, trying to make sure that Willow’s okay and not about to do something stupid - and it would be stupid, really really stupid, just because it feels like a good idea doesn’t mean it’s not the wrong thing to do - while she sits on her hands and tries to make sure she’s okay, too.
All in all, it hasn’t really left her much time to actually grieve.
The four of them sat around the grave in a circle, and she arranged the spell ingredients carefully in front of her. She was going to fix it all. And she was ready for anything.
Then, this afternoon, Kennedy sat down on the bed and observed, “You’ve been getting more stressed out every time I’ve seen you today.”
“Is this the part where you give me a motivating pep-talk and tell me to work on my positive energy?”
“No… this is the part where I cover for you while you sneak out the window and go do what you’ve gotta do.” She picked up a magazine and lay down on her stomach to read it, legs swinging above her. “Have fun.”
So, Willow ended up here.
The power, flowing through her… the energy… the incredible feeling of controlling these huge forces… she could do anything… anything at all… it was going to work…
“How’s everything going, up in heaven?” The question sits, still, in the air as Willow watches the grave and tries to think of something else to say.
(ITEM #81: TALK TO KRISTEN - SLAYER ON SQUAD FIVE - AND EXPLAIN WHY WE DON’T USE FLAMETHROWERS WHILE ON PATROL.)
“Everyone down here’s okay… sort of. Dawn’s coping. Um… she’s going back to college after this weekend. So, that’s… good.”
The cemetery is so quiet.
She called out again and again to Osiris, determined that she wouldn’t fail. She was going to remake the world into what it needed to be - whatever it took.
It would be so easy - so easy to raise her hand, speak the words, and change everything. She could do it. She knows she could.
She could have it all.
“Xander’s put off his trip to China until he finds someone to run your squad… Faith called dibs on all your weapons… and… um… your dad flew in specially for the funeral, and Dawn had to tell him that all the girls were from your college sorority… and…” She swallows, hard. “We miss you, Buffy.”
One simple decision, one moment of letting herself do it, one chance…
Kennedy really shouldn’t have let her come.
…and then a motorbike wheel broke the urn. And for one awful moment - a moment that lasted hours - she knew it hadn’t worked at all.
Except that she needs to be here. She does. And Kennedy knew why.
Her fingers are itching to do something. She curls them into her palms, determinedly.
“The thing is, I want to bring you back. I’ve been wanting that all week.” Willow pauses briefly, and then continues, “So, you know what? I’m going to leave you there. I am. Because… because it’s the right thing to do.”
She blinks back tears, and stands, watching the world as it continues doing what it does.
“But you know what, Buff? If I was going to do it for anyone… it’d be you.”
(ITEM #103: DRINK LOTS OF WINE, LOOK AT OLD PHOTOS OF SUNNYDALE, HUG XANDER… AND REMEMBER.)