#buffalow

Willow was rather surprised when Buffy came to visit that night. Not because she had climbed up her bedroom window at two in the morning while bleeding openly through the side of her shirt. Buffy didn’t like to go home when she got hurt on patrol, and she usually came to either Willow or Giles to help patch her up. But considering everything, Willow thought Buffy would have probably gone to Giles that night. She’d been spending most of her time with him lately, which made sense, Giles needed someone right now. But Willow had been missing Buffy. Giles wasn’t the only one who lost Ms. Calendar, and Willow could have used her best friend too. 

Not that she said that to Buffy. She wasn’t about to make her friend feel guilty for comforting the person who needed it the most. Still, after they had bandaged the quickly healing wound, and they were both lying in Willow’s bed together, she couldn’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you go to Giles?”

Buffy was looking at her quizzically and suddenly Willow realized what that had sounded like. “I mean, not that I’m not glad that you came to me. You’re always welcome here, of course. Mi casa es tu casa, obviously. I just meant,” Willow let out a breath before continuing, “You’ve been going to Giles’s a lot lately with … everything,” Willow’s voice shook a little and Buffy looked away. “I just thought you would’ve gone to him.”

Buffy shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry him,” she said quietly, still not meeting Willow’s eyes.

“Yeah, I get that,” Willow was frustrated to find that her voice was still wavering on the verge of emotion.

A pained expression crossed Buffy’s face. “God, now I’m worrying you aren’t I?” She moved to sit up, clearly still in pain. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

“No!” Willow nearly shouted. “You’re not worrying me, okay. It’s just been a long week.”

Buffy looked at her oddly for a moment, before, to Willow’s shock, she started giggling. “A long week,” she said, still laughing as she slowly leaned back against Willow’s pillow again. “That’s one way to put it.”

Willow still didn’t find any of this very funny, but Buffy’s laughter was infectious, just like the rest of her, and Willow found herself laughing along with her. It was strange, really. It felt like it had been a lifetime since Willow had anything to laugh about. She didn’t really have anything to laugh about now, but it still didn’t surprise her that Buffy had been the one to bring it out of her. Buffy had a way of making her feel, and to feel brighter than almost anything else.

When their giggles finally subsided, Buffy met Willow’s eyes, her expression somber once again. “So,” she said, trying and failing to sound chipper. “How are you doing, with, y’know … everything?”

Willow sighed and shook her head. “Not great.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Willow looked over at her friend, who looked so tired and so sad, and she thought for a moment that maybe she shouldn’t say anything else. Buffy didn’t need to deal with Willow’s pain on top of Giles’s and her own. But Willow needed to talk to someone who understood what she felt. Xander and Oz, even Cordelia, tried to be sympathetic, but none of them had had much of a relationship with Ms. Calendar, not like Willow had, and for better or worse, not like Buffy had. And certainly she couldn’t talk to Giles - only Buffy seemed to be able to do that. And even if she could talk to him, Willow still didn’t think she’d be able to really say what she felt. He was the one who loved her, and Willow knew that her grief was nothing compared to his.

She had to talk to Buffy, she realized, or she wouldn’t be able to talk at all. “It’s just,” she began, her voice once again shakier than she would have liked. “There have been people I cared about who have died before. I mean, classmates, and Jesse, of course, but I didn’t know him for that long, and he was always more Xander’s friend than mine.” She looked over at Buffy who was staring at her attentively, her expression unreadable. “But Ms. Calendar,” Willow sighed. “She was one of us. She was a part of the gang. And she was teaching me about computers and technopagan stuff. It’s just different. It feels different this time.” Willow paused, not really knowing what else to say.

“I get it,” Buffy said. “It’s different when it’s someone who’s a part of your life.”

“Yeah.”

Buffy met her eyes, her expression as serious as Willow had ever seen it. “You know it’s going to happen again, right? With me?”

Willow didn’t know what she had expected Buffy to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “What do you mean?”

Buffy looked determined as she continued. “I mean you’re going to outlive me,” she said confidently, as if she was just stating a fact. “And I just want you to be prepared for that.”

For a moment, Willow was completely at a loss for what to say or feel or think. When she finally regained some composure, she realized that she was angry. “What the hell are you talking about, Buffy? Why would you even say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Buffy said, sounding resigned more than anything else. “The oldest slayer on record was like, 25. Most slayers don’t make it past 20. I mean, technically I didn’t make it past 16, and next time I probably won’t be revived by convenient CPR, y’know? It’s just how it is.”

Of course Willow knew this. She had known it since Buffy died the first time. But there was still a part of her, deep down, that believed Buffy was special. She believed that Buffy would somehow manage to survive regardless, that she would do what no slayer had done before. She had already survived death, and if that wasn’t a sign, Willow didn’t know what was. And until that very moment, Willow had been convinced that Buffy believed that too. But apparently she didn’t. She thought she was going to die, soon, and she seemed all too accepting of it.

“But,” Willow wanted to come up with some sort of a solution. Something that would prove Buffy wrong. She was good at that. But she just couldn’t think of an argument. “But that’s not fair!”

At that, any trace of the controlled resignation that Buffy had exhibited during her confession seemed to disintegrate entirely, and Willow found herself a little relieved at that. 

“Of course it’s not fair,” Buffy said, her voice was quiet but hard. “When has any of this ever been fair? Is it fair that Ms. Calendar died? Or Jesse? Or the other kids? Or Dr. Gregory?” Is it fair that Angel turned evil, or that Merrick-” Buffy’s voice cracked, and she stopped herself, and swallowed. “It’s never been fair, Will,” her voice was almost a whisper. “That’s just how it is.”

“Why are you saying this to me?” Willow found that she was crying.

Buffy, inexplicably, smiled and wiped a tear away from Willow’s face. “I just want you to be prepared. For when it happens. I don’t want you to be surprised or anything. Cuz, y’know, that sucks.”

Willow shook her head and Wiped her tears again, until she finally stopped crying. Buffy didn’t say anything, seemingly content to end the exchange there. But Willow was still angry. She had no intention of losing Buffy any time soon. She had already lost too many people. But not Buffy. Buffy was something else. She wasn’t going to die.

“You’re not dying,” Willow said once she was sure she wasn’t crying anymore. “I’m not going to let you.”

Buffy smiled at that. “That’s sweet, Will,” she said. “But it’s not really up to you.”

It stung a little, whenever Buffy said something like that. Willow knew that she didn’t have the power that Buffy did, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do anything. She was good with computers, and now that Ms. Calendar was … well, now that was more useful than ever. But even she had to admit that hacking skills wouldn’t really save Buffy in a battle. But Willow couldn’t do nothing either. Not after this.

She had a thought, then. Something she would have to look into. She would once Buffy left. She wasn’t sure if her friend would approve. 

They laid on Willow’s bed silently for a few moments. Buffy said nothing as Willow turned the idea over in her head. She was deep in thought when Buffy finally broke the silence. “Willow,” she said, startling her out of her focus. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“When I die-”

“You won’t,” Willow interrupted.

“Ok, but if I do,” Buffy said. “Could you tell my mom about everything? I mean slaying and all that. I know I’m not supposed to, and Giles probably wouldn’t approve.” Her voice was small, and she looked as vulnerable as Willow had seen her. “But I just, I don’t want to die and have her still think I’m some sort of criminal.”

Willow touched her friend’s arm. “Your mom doesn’t think that.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, looking entirely unconvinced. “But could you tell her anyway.”

Willow wanted to say no. She didn’t want to think of hypotheticals. What she would say. What she would do. Because it wasn’t happening. Willow refused to accept it. And she was about to say as much, when she met her friend’s eyes, and she was looking at her so desperately. Willow wondered if this is why Buffy had come to her, and told her these things. Because she wanted to make sure someone would promise her this. Willow wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want that responsibility.

“Okay,” she forced herself to say. “I promise. As long as you promise to try really hard to not die.”

Buffy looked at her so gratefully, and Willow knew she had made the right decision, as much as she hated it. “Yeah,” Buffy said, sounding relieved. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Let’s shake on it.” She held out her pinky.

Willow smiled as she held out her own. She knew this was Buffy’s way of lightening the mood, and it was kind of working. They shook pinkies, and Willow did feel a little better.

Buffy echoed the sentiment. “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore,” she said, gesturing towards the wound at her side. She sat up on the bed, much easier than she had before. Then she stood up.  “I should get going.”

Usually this was when they exchanged friendly and enthusiastic goodbyes. But after the conversation they just had, it felt out of place. “See you tomorrow,” Willow said it almost like it was a command.

Buffy nodded as she walked over to the window. She opened it before she turned back to face Willow. “Thank you,” she said, sounding, to Willow’s surprise, as though she was on the brink of tears.

Before Willow could say anything else, Buffy had already climbed out the window leaving Willow alone once again.

Willow wiped away the last of her own tears, and walked over to her desk, where she kept Ms. Calendar’s lesson plans. Only they weren’t only lesson plans. There were notes in there about magic, and spells. When Willow had first seen them, she had been terrified and fascinated all at once. But it had felt wrong to go through Ms. Calendar’s things for anything she didn’t absolutely need. It wasn’t her place.

Willow knew it was her place now. She had no doubt Ms. Calendar would approve of what she was doing now. Other slayers may not have lived for very long, but other slayers didn’t have Willow on their sides. And maybe right now, she didn’t have the power to help Buffy. But she could get that power.