Eliana (1)
(a continuation of Gratuitous Shower Scene)
Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Questioning
Willow snuck another glance at the pamphlet. She had plucked it off the rack in front of the Queer Rights League's office at UC Sunnydale. Her mom had plenty of books on the subject. Only, Willow had a fairly good idea that her mother's usual indifference to her daughter's life wouldn't apply if said daughter asked to read them. Sheila probably had them wired with alarms just in case she needed to be Understanding and Supportive of Willow's New Lifestyle. It would be almost exactly like the time Willow had asked about the tingly feelings she got "down there sometimes". There had been slideshows, and earnest discussion, and speculums. The Big Gay Discussion might involve a visit to San Francisco. That wouldn't be so bad because they might visit the Exploratorium again. But, no. If Mom had been in Israel in 1948, the Hagannah would have surrendered and opted for Uganda.
Lesbian. Bi. Questioning. Willow liked labels, and folders, and neat flowcharts rendered in colourful markers and highlighters. Only writing down "lesbian" seemed more like a big red rubber stamp headed right for her forehead. Bi? That could be binary. It was just that when Willow had applied various images of women along with men in a solitaire game of "Anywhere But Here", like an allergen test--and boy howdy, did she understand now Xander's steadfast position on Amy Yip and water parks--there was less "on/off" than a continuous spectrum. So, analog. A rainbow? A spectrum? Where did she fall onto it? Or perhaps she might be questioning. Although, was it multiple-choice in the sense of "what is unlike all the others"? Or it might be an essay question. Maybe all for the best to assume her sexuality at the moment was a quantum waveform in an indeterminate state. As long as it remained unobserved, her exact status could remain in a Heisenbergian state of non-resolution. Which begged the question: which would be better, the cat alive or dead?
Argggh. This was even worse than preparing for college applications. Especially since she was hopeless on the extra-curriculars.
Giles walked by to shelve a book in the Restricted Stacks cage. Willow hurriedly hid the pamphlet under the stacks of demonaries and bestiaries on the table in front of her. Sunnydale High's library was skewed that way. Plenty of copies of Tobins. Material on gaiety? Not much beyond one lone copy of Harriet the Spy and manuals on teen sexuality that dated somewhere from the fifties. Willow suspected the influence of Snyder there. Listless, she paged through the musty tomes for information on invisible creatures. Surprisingly few matched up to what she had encountered in the shower room last week. Ghosts usually were accompanied by a sharp temperature drop, either by presence or touch. Most invisible demons were less touchy-feely than consume your brains through your nostrils. Succubi-- Willow gingerly tugged apart two pages. Um. Xander had definitely spent time over this one. Willow stared at the woodcut. Oh. Cavorting. In multiples. And combinations. She snapped the book shut.
"Hey, that was the good part," a voice said in her ear.
Willow managed a tiny squeak before an unseen hand clamped over her lips. She suddenly wanted to be in her bedroom: doors locked, floor seeded with mousetraps, a bug-sprayer loaded with talcum powder and a stake hidden under the covers.
"Now, this," the girl with THE HANDS said as a coil of thin wire wrapped around Willow's neck, "is to keep you quiet so you don't scream. Incentive. It's piano wire, by the way. I figure you read Watership Down. Remember the scene with the rabbit and the snare?"
Willow nodded very slightly. Behind her, Giles continued doing librarianly things.
"Up." The noose guided her like a leash up the steps flanking the small rise up to the main stacks. "You're doing great."
"So glad I'm getting better at being the hostage," Willow said. The tall shelves of books cut off the small amount of sunlight that came into the library.
"You've had practice, huh." The invisible girl spun her about, garotte still snug around Willow's neck. "Glad you lost the Osh Kosh B'Gosh look, Willow."
"Must make it easier," Willow replied, not at all happy she had felt safe enough to return to school in tights, a skirt, and sweater. "Access. So you can ra-ruh-ruh--"
"Not into that," the girl said, leaning against Willow, and oh thank G-d there was denim and flannel there. Layers were good. Lots of layers. "I was a little, uh, crazy back there in the showers. Cordelia and the other spoiled brats put me on edge, and then there was you, and-- We got off on the wrong foot."
"And this is the right one?" Willow said, incredulous.
"I need you to notice me," the girl said. The noose tightened far past the point of comfort. "Because, heh, I had a lot of trouble with that even before I went Claudette Rains. I bet you don't even know who I am."
"Of course I--I--" Willow's fingernails scrabbled at her neck. "Ahh---aggggg--"
"Ooops." The garotte slackened. Air, welcome air rushed into Willow's lungs. "You might say we had a great summer together."
"I--I notice. Definitely with the noticing." Willow stealthily grabbed a fat grimoire from the shelf behind her. "You're, um, very present and now."
"It's like I don't exist." The girl giggled. Trembled against her. Distracted, good, just raise the grimoire high and one mighty thump-- "I went home to my parents', nearly got run over a dozen times by cars because they can't see me. And they turned my room into a guest bedroom, and none of my pictures are on the wall, and why won't anyone talk to me? Is there something wrong with me?"
Willow held the grimoire high over the frantic, invisible--
Girl. Who was crying on her shoulder.
Not a demon vampire robot ghost.
A living human girl whose breath was warm against Willow's cheek and hey, don't get sidetracked, missy! Just hit her.
Oh, darn it.
Willow awkwardly patted the girl's back as she sobbed into her shoulder.
+++
"Tissue?" Willow proffered a box of Kleenex
"Thanks." The tissue floated in mid-air. The girl honked into it. "This apology didn't go the way I wanted it."
"Usually, you send flowers," Willow said, "instead of saying it with strangulation."
"It-it's just been four months of this," the girl said. The carpet on the floor of the stacks darkened. Huh. Bodily fluids became visible when they left her body. "A-and every time I try to get someone to hear me, they just think it's voices in their head. Heh. Like the ones in mine."
"Voices." Willow licked her lips and glanced at the grimoire. "What do they tell you?"
"Oh, nothing really bad." The girl hiccupped. "Well, sometimes I think it would be funny to sneak into the bedroom of someone like Cordelia, that miserable cunt, and take along one of those vials of sulphuric acid from chem lab, and hold it over her face, all night, then leave it on her nightstand with a note saying someone was there and could have burned her face off any time I wanted to--"
"Bad thoughts!" Willow gulped. "Although it'd be really funny if someone replaced her bottle of shampoo with Nair. Not that I'd ever think of that."
"That'd be cool." The girl laughed. "I can't believe I'd, uh, hurt you, like--"
"Rape me," Willow said quietly. "That's what you did. It wasn't about the sex. About the power."
"Crap." A thump against the shelves behind the girl. "I'll leave you alone."
"Not a good idea," Willow said. Mentally, she had been reviewing several of Mom's psychology texts. "People are social animals. You have to be part of some kind of pack--although, not the possessed-hyena kind, those are dangerous--or else you lose touch. Which is really damaging, because touch is good. Touching. And feeling. Touching a-and feeling--"
A shuffle. Pressure in her lap. Jean-clad legs straddling her.
"H-hey," Willow stammered, discovering her arms pinned to her sides by this really good-smelling and warm and this was Stockholm Syndrome wasn't it and um. "Did I say I wanted touching? I-I thought we agreed on boundaries."
"Did you know you're beautiful?" came a whisper in Willow's ear.
"Boundaries and consent and--" Willow blinked. "I am?"
"Yeah." The girl's HANDS framed Willow's cheeks. "People should notice. I did, even if you didn't. So, unless you tell me not to, I'd really like to kiss you."
"Oh." Willow shivered. For some reason it was harder to breath than when the garotte had leashed her. "And if I say no?"
"Then I go." The girl chuckled, a little of her mania coming back. "Only, you won't know what it's like to kiss a girl."
"Th-this argument is more," Willow said, wriggling a little, but not too much, "compelling than I thought."
Must be like vampires, Willow realized, when lips soft lips touched hers. One implied invitation and voom! Only with vampires there was more pain and ravaging and exsanguination. This was more like. Slowly, Willow's arms rose to embrace her unseen partner. Like. Curved around a slim body clad in flannel and denim. Underneath which soft warm girl skin, Xander had once told her to imagine everyone in the audience was naked under their clothes, to help her with her fear of public speaking, which had just made her pass out during her bat mitzvah when she had tried it, and. Oh. Tongue. There was tongue. Where had that come from? The girl's HANDS stroked down Willow's fuzzy sweater. Which seemed much thinner than when she had put it on this morning, the girl's fingertips leaving trails of warmth that lead right into Willow's belly like the funny tingling feeling she had first gotten when Xander had snuggled against her while watching Princess Bride when they were kids in their footie pajamas.
Xander.
She loved Xander, not girls.
Xander. It was Xander kissing her. His shaggy hair that fell to his shoulders, and the way his Salvation Army shirts bulged ever so slightly by his pert breasts, and Alexandra's lanky slim graceful--
"Wow." The girl snickered in Willow's ear as they lay together when had that happened on the floor. "You must have been thinking of someone really special."
"I--" Willow panted.
"'Sokay. Hotter that way." The girl rose to her feet. "I can be anyone you imagine me to be."
"Need to call you--" Willow shakily wobbled upright. "A name."
"You decide." The girl's muffled footsteps announced her backing away. "Bonus points if you guess my actual name."
"Um." Darn it. No memory. Name name... "Eliana."
"Nice try, but no cigar," 'Eliana' said. "Why that?"
"It's Hebrew," Willow explained, falling back on lecturing just to stop the world from spinning wheeee. "The female form of Elijah. We set a cup out during the Seder while he travels during Pesach. He's supposed to come in through the open door and--"
"I love it." Close presence kiss. Oh. "Now, don't tell anyone. I like being your little secret."
"Kay," Willow said, dazed.
When she came to, Willow was really glad she had chosen a turtleneck sweater. The mark left by the garotte was quite perceptible on her throat. Figures. Most girls get a hickey when they join the Sisterhood of Sappho. She received ligature marks. Wasn't the Hellmouth a bundle of fun? Willow poked her head around the edge of a shelf. Mr Giles waved at her absently from his office. He hadn't heard anything. For that matter, why hadn't she told him there was a homicidal, invisible stalker around? Even Buffy had told Giles about Mr. Mysterious Broody Guy who-- Hey. This must be what Buffy feels like with Angel. Who knew having your own stalker was kinda...neat? And creepy. And a whole lot of other sensations that needed careful cataloging and analysis. And experimentation. Lots of that. Did that mean she needed to kiss a guy as a control group? And--
Just before Willow stepped out of the library, she looked down.
Right. Change of underwear. There was one in the--
Girl's locker room. Next to the showers.
Holding the grimoire over the wet spot on her skirt, Willow rushed down the hall.
Gay, Lesbian, Bi, Questioning
Willow snuck another glance at the pamphlet. She had plucked it off the rack in front of the Queer Rights League's office at UC Sunnydale. Her mom had plenty of books on the subject. Only, Willow had a fairly good idea that her mother's usual indifference to her daughter's life wouldn't apply if said daughter asked to read them. Sheila probably had them wired with alarms just in case she needed to be Understanding and Supportive of Willow's New Lifestyle. It would be almost exactly like the time Willow had asked about the tingly feelings she got "down there sometimes". There had been slideshows, and earnest discussion, and speculums. The Big Gay Discussion might involve a visit to San Francisco. That wouldn't be so bad because they might visit the Exploratorium again. But, no. If Mom had been in Israel in 1948, the Hagannah would have surrendered and opted for Uganda.
Lesbian. Bi. Questioning. Willow liked labels, and folders, and neat flowcharts rendered in colourful markers and highlighters. Only writing down "lesbian" seemed more like a big red rubber stamp headed right for her forehead. Bi? That could be binary. It was just that when Willow had applied various images of women along with men in a solitaire game of "Anywhere But Here", like an allergen test--and boy howdy, did she understand now Xander's steadfast position on Amy Yip and water parks--there was less "on/off" than a continuous spectrum. So, analog. A rainbow? A spectrum? Where did she fall onto it? Or perhaps she might be questioning. Although, was it multiple-choice in the sense of "what is unlike all the others"? Or it might be an essay question. Maybe all for the best to assume her sexuality at the moment was a quantum waveform in an indeterminate state. As long as it remained unobserved, her exact status could remain in a Heisenbergian state of non-resolution. Which begged the question: which would be better, the cat alive or dead?
Argggh. This was even worse than preparing for college applications. Especially since she was hopeless on the extra-curriculars.
Giles walked by to shelve a book in the Restricted Stacks cage. Willow hurriedly hid the pamphlet under the stacks of demonaries and bestiaries on the table in front of her. Sunnydale High's library was skewed that way. Plenty of copies of Tobins. Material on gaiety? Not much beyond one lone copy of Harriet the Spy and manuals on teen sexuality that dated somewhere from the fifties. Willow suspected the influence of Snyder there. Listless, she paged through the musty tomes for information on invisible creatures. Surprisingly few matched up to what she had encountered in the shower room last week. Ghosts usually were accompanied by a sharp temperature drop, either by presence or touch. Most invisible demons were less touchy-feely than consume your brains through your nostrils. Succubi-- Willow gingerly tugged apart two pages. Um. Xander had definitely spent time over this one. Willow stared at the woodcut. Oh. Cavorting. In multiples. And combinations. She snapped the book shut.
"Hey, that was the good part," a voice said in her ear.
Willow managed a tiny squeak before an unseen hand clamped over her lips. She suddenly wanted to be in her bedroom: doors locked, floor seeded with mousetraps, a bug-sprayer loaded with talcum powder and a stake hidden under the covers.
"Now, this," the girl with THE HANDS said as a coil of thin wire wrapped around Willow's neck, "is to keep you quiet so you don't scream. Incentive. It's piano wire, by the way. I figure you read Watership Down. Remember the scene with the rabbit and the snare?"
Willow nodded very slightly. Behind her, Giles continued doing librarianly things.
"Up." The noose guided her like a leash up the steps flanking the small rise up to the main stacks. "You're doing great."
"So glad I'm getting better at being the hostage," Willow said. The tall shelves of books cut off the small amount of sunlight that came into the library.
"You've had practice, huh." The invisible girl spun her about, garotte still snug around Willow's neck. "Glad you lost the Osh Kosh B'Gosh look, Willow."
"Must make it easier," Willow replied, not at all happy she had felt safe enough to return to school in tights, a skirt, and sweater. "Access. So you can ra-ruh-ruh--"
"Not into that," the girl said, leaning against Willow, and oh thank G-d there was denim and flannel there. Layers were good. Lots of layers. "I was a little, uh, crazy back there in the showers. Cordelia and the other spoiled brats put me on edge, and then there was you, and-- We got off on the wrong foot."
"And this is the right one?" Willow said, incredulous.
"I need you to notice me," the girl said. The noose tightened far past the point of comfort. "Because, heh, I had a lot of trouble with that even before I went Claudette Rains. I bet you don't even know who I am."
"Of course I--I--" Willow's fingernails scrabbled at her neck. "Ahh---aggggg--"
"Ooops." The garotte slackened. Air, welcome air rushed into Willow's lungs. "You might say we had a great summer together."
"I--I notice. Definitely with the noticing." Willow stealthily grabbed a fat grimoire from the shelf behind her. "You're, um, very present and now."
"It's like I don't exist." The girl giggled. Trembled against her. Distracted, good, just raise the grimoire high and one mighty thump-- "I went home to my parents', nearly got run over a dozen times by cars because they can't see me. And they turned my room into a guest bedroom, and none of my pictures are on the wall, and why won't anyone talk to me? Is there something wrong with me?"
Willow held the grimoire high over the frantic, invisible--
Girl. Who was crying on her shoulder.
Not a demon vampire robot ghost.
A living human girl whose breath was warm against Willow's cheek and hey, don't get sidetracked, missy! Just hit her.
Oh, darn it.
Willow awkwardly patted the girl's back as she sobbed into her shoulder.
+++
"Tissue?" Willow proffered a box of Kleenex
"Thanks." The tissue floated in mid-air. The girl honked into it. "This apology didn't go the way I wanted it."
"Usually, you send flowers," Willow said, "instead of saying it with strangulation."
"It-it's just been four months of this," the girl said. The carpet on the floor of the stacks darkened. Huh. Bodily fluids became visible when they left her body. "A-and every time I try to get someone to hear me, they just think it's voices in their head. Heh. Like the ones in mine."
"Voices." Willow licked her lips and glanced at the grimoire. "What do they tell you?"
"Oh, nothing really bad." The girl hiccupped. "Well, sometimes I think it would be funny to sneak into the bedroom of someone like Cordelia, that miserable cunt, and take along one of those vials of sulphuric acid from chem lab, and hold it over her face, all night, then leave it on her nightstand with a note saying someone was there and could have burned her face off any time I wanted to--"
"Bad thoughts!" Willow gulped. "Although it'd be really funny if someone replaced her bottle of shampoo with Nair. Not that I'd ever think of that."
"That'd be cool." The girl laughed. "I can't believe I'd, uh, hurt you, like--"
"Rape me," Willow said quietly. "That's what you did. It wasn't about the sex. About the power."
"Crap." A thump against the shelves behind the girl. "I'll leave you alone."
"Not a good idea," Willow said. Mentally, she had been reviewing several of Mom's psychology texts. "People are social animals. You have to be part of some kind of pack--although, not the possessed-hyena kind, those are dangerous--or else you lose touch. Which is really damaging, because touch is good. Touching. And feeling. Touching a-and feeling--"
A shuffle. Pressure in her lap. Jean-clad legs straddling her.
"H-hey," Willow stammered, discovering her arms pinned to her sides by this really good-smelling and warm and this was Stockholm Syndrome wasn't it and um. "Did I say I wanted touching? I-I thought we agreed on boundaries."
"Did you know you're beautiful?" came a whisper in Willow's ear.
"Boundaries and consent and--" Willow blinked. "I am?"
"Yeah." The girl's HANDS framed Willow's cheeks. "People should notice. I did, even if you didn't. So, unless you tell me not to, I'd really like to kiss you."
"Oh." Willow shivered. For some reason it was harder to breath than when the garotte had leashed her. "And if I say no?"
"Then I go." The girl chuckled, a little of her mania coming back. "Only, you won't know what it's like to kiss a girl."
"Th-this argument is more," Willow said, wriggling a little, but not too much, "compelling than I thought."
Must be like vampires, Willow realized, when lips soft lips touched hers. One implied invitation and voom! Only with vampires there was more pain and ravaging and exsanguination. This was more like. Slowly, Willow's arms rose to embrace her unseen partner. Like. Curved around a slim body clad in flannel and denim. Underneath which soft warm girl skin, Xander had once told her to imagine everyone in the audience was naked under their clothes, to help her with her fear of public speaking, which had just made her pass out during her bat mitzvah when she had tried it, and. Oh. Tongue. There was tongue. Where had that come from? The girl's HANDS stroked down Willow's fuzzy sweater. Which seemed much thinner than when she had put it on this morning, the girl's fingertips leaving trails of warmth that lead right into Willow's belly like the funny tingling feeling she had first gotten when Xander had snuggled against her while watching Princess Bride when they were kids in their footie pajamas.
Xander.
She loved Xander, not girls.
Xander. It was Xander kissing her. His shaggy hair that fell to his shoulders, and the way his Salvation Army shirts bulged ever so slightly by his pert breasts, and Alexandra's lanky slim graceful--
"Wow." The girl snickered in Willow's ear as they lay together when had that happened on the floor. "You must have been thinking of someone really special."
"I--" Willow panted.
"'Sokay. Hotter that way." The girl rose to her feet. "I can be anyone you imagine me to be."
"Need to call you--" Willow shakily wobbled upright. "A name."
"You decide." The girl's muffled footsteps announced her backing away. "Bonus points if you guess my actual name."
"Um." Darn it. No memory. Name name... "Eliana."
"Nice try, but no cigar," 'Eliana' said. "Why that?"
"It's Hebrew," Willow explained, falling back on lecturing just to stop the world from spinning wheeee. "The female form of Elijah. We set a cup out during the Seder while he travels during Pesach. He's supposed to come in through the open door and--"
"I love it." Close presence kiss. Oh. "Now, don't tell anyone. I like being your little secret."
"Kay," Willow said, dazed.
When she came to, Willow was really glad she had chosen a turtleneck sweater. The mark left by the garotte was quite perceptible on her throat. Figures. Most girls get a hickey when they join the Sisterhood of Sappho. She received ligature marks. Wasn't the Hellmouth a bundle of fun? Willow poked her head around the edge of a shelf. Mr Giles waved at her absently from his office. He hadn't heard anything. For that matter, why hadn't she told him there was a homicidal, invisible stalker around? Even Buffy had told Giles about Mr. Mysterious Broody Guy who-- Hey. This must be what Buffy feels like with Angel. Who knew having your own stalker was kinda...neat? And creepy. And a whole lot of other sensations that needed careful cataloging and analysis. And experimentation. Lots of that. Did that mean she needed to kiss a guy as a control group? And--
Just before Willow stepped out of the library, she looked down.
Right. Change of underwear. There was one in the--
Girl's locker room. Next to the showers.
Holding the grimoire over the wet spot on her skirt, Willow rushed down the hall.