Part XIX

"Buffy," a voice called to her. She recited Spike’s name again and was greeted by a snicker before a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She moaned and turned to her side, forcing her non-cooperating eyes open.

The vision before her was familiar though, in her sleepy haze, she couldn’t quite make it out. Not until the figure put its hands on its hips and cocked its head to the side did Buffy realize who it was.

"D-Dawn!" She screeched and shot up in bed, mortified.

The youngest Summers smirked at the disheveled blonde. "In the flesh," she said wryly before adding, "of course, by what you were saying, I’m probably not the person that you want to see in that condition, now is it?"

The slayer groaned in embarrassment, the reddish hue of her cheeks glowing despite the sun spilling into her room. She was about to swing her legs out of the bed but thought better of it when the evidence of her orgasmic dream made itself known as she shifted her thighs.

"What do you want, Dawn?" She barked though, even to her own ears, it came out more as a guilty squeak.

"Oh nothing," the teen said through her grin. "Just telling you that I was probably gonna spend the day, and quite possibly night, with Janice and Kit. And…"

"Those two are getting along?"

"They have been since graduation," Dawn supplied, annoyed at the interruption. "And you know that, for the past two weeks we've been hanging out."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'. Anyway, I just came in here to tell you that your dreaming of Spike lust has made you late." Dawn gave her sister and much too cheery smile before bouncing out the room.

Buffy blinked in confusion before she glanced at the clock.

7:53.

"Damn," she cursed before throwing the covers off of her. She was supposed to be at work at eight, a goal that was definitely not going to be met. Grabbing her cell phone, Buffy dialed the number to work but the beep in her ear caused her to groan in frustration. Evidently, she forgot to charge the phone.

"This is just the perfect little start to a beautiful Monday morning."

*&*

"So, what do you think, pet?" I ask Rachel. For the past three weeks, we've scoured Sunnydale with two goals in mind. One, to find the right spot to set up another Blue Song, something this hell city needs and, two, to find me a flat so I can get out of the soddin' extended stay motel I've been cramped up in.

Rachel walks around the living room with a pensive scowl, her high heel boots clicking against the hardwood floor. The black leather skirt crackles with each step she takes, her purple blouse accenting her more than adequate--assets. Bloody 'ell, what would Buffy think if she knew what was goin' on in my head? She'd throttle me nice and proper, I fancy.

"What's wrong, Will?" Rachel asks and walks over to me.

"Don't quite know what you mean, 'Night." When in doubt, lie. 'S always been my motto.

"Oh, so that death sigh you just exhaled was nothing, huh?" She asks sardonically and I throw a patented 'Spike scowl' her way--to which she only laughs at.

"Out with it, old man."

"Old man? I'll have you know that William S. Summers, as it has on my license is twenty-eight years of age. Hardly old."

"Yeah, and you and I both know the real deal." She tucks her bang behind her ear and fixes me with that determined gaze of hers that only Buffy can top. "Oh, by the way, your attempts at distraction won't work. You should know that by now."

I smirk at that and lean against the wood-lined walls of the flat and cross my arms. My eyelids flutter closed and I'm greeted with highlights of the past three weeks.

Buffy and I have been taking things slowly. We've been out five or six times since I vacated casa de Summers, each date getting to know a little bit more about each other. Last night had been our latest date. We walked around downtown Sunnydale for hours, talking about the past, present and possible future. At the end of the night, we kissed. It was the first one since that night in the cemetery. Took everything I had to walk away without shovin' her against the door and shaggin' her crazy.

So the past few weeks have passed with me more or less in Rachel's company twenty four/seven. We've gotten a chance to talk about a lot of things, including Buffy and me. Rachel's helped me get a perspective, if you will, on things. The first time Buffy said she was goin' out with Garrett, I had an attack of William the Bloody and Rachel sat there, bemused, as I raved about how I was gonna rip his entrails out if he touched her. Course, being the realist that she is, Night told me, in no uncertain terms that, if anybody had a right to be angry it was Garrett. After a few minutes exposition from her, I shut down, knowing that she was right.

"I don’t know, Night," I tell her truthfully. The thing is, so much is bothering me, I don't have a clue as where to start and I tell her this.

"Why don’t you start with the central problem."

"Okay, Doctor," I reply and slide to the floor. "What do you wager my 'central problem' is?"

"Oh, that's easy," she says and sits down in front of me, "starts with a 'B', ends in a 'Y'."

So we talk and it's just like the handful of conversations we've shared the past few weeks. After about ten minutes, I realize that bein' away from my slayer's eatin' away at me more than I admitted to myself. Two years 'ave changed me quite a bit but, at times, I turn into the insecure William with the Bloody awful poet.

"Will, there is really nothing you can do, you know that, right? Whatever happens is for Buffy to decide. And knowing her, it may take some time for her to make up her mind. If she ever does." Rachel whispers the last part bitterly and I frown at the implications. I know she still loves me and I sometimes catch 'er lookin' at me the same way I look at Buffy. Sometimes I wish that I could be what she deserves but my 'eart's all Buffy's and we both know it. Funny, if the situation were reversed, I wouldn’t care. Hell, I knew Buffy didn’t love me back when we shagged like demons in heat, no matter how much I tried to convince myself. Every chance she gave me to touch her body was another chance for me to convince her that I was someone she could love. Call it weakness, or need to be loved, whatever it was, I took the scraps she gave me. Rachel wouldn't do that, hell, she didn’t on the few occasions we did have a snog-fest goin'. She'd always stop before it went too far and, if it'd been up to me, too far it'd 'ave went. God, I wanted 'er, still do in a way. Guess it's because I know she loves me with a clean slate. She hasn't seen what I'm capable of. She hasn't lived through me tryin' to kill 'er. Makes a bloody big difference. Course the other reason is that, despite everything I did tell 'er, she's never once looked at me in disgust. Never 'ad to worry that I was beneath 'er. Sometimes, even now, I think how much easier it'd be for me if I could love Rachel like I love Buffy.

'Course, bein love's bitch like I am puts a damper on that whole idea.

"It ain’t gonna be easy, Will," Rachel says, putting an arm around me. I jump at her proximity, unaware that she had moved closer to me. "If you think that’s the case, well, then you might as well give up now. But if you think there’s a chance that she does love you, does want to be with you-if you think it’s worth it, then you will hang in there." She cups my face with one hand and kisses me on the corner of my mouth. I see the tears brimming in her cheeks but before I can say anything, she gets to her feet and dusts off her skirt.

"I like it," she says and her eyes survey the expanse of the flat. "What with a few days shopping, this place’ll be quite posh." She smiles down at me and I return it before getting to my feet.

"You know, I think you’re right." We walk through the rest of the flat, taking mental notes here and there. It’s a two bedroom flat, one master, one guest, and both have their own baths. At the back, adjacent to the master bedroom is a right decent study.

"This would be a perfect library or your very own Fortress of Solitude, you know, for writing." She throws it out so casually that I have a mind to ask her to repeat it before it rings in my mind.

We finally finish the tour and end up in the kitchen, leaning next to one another against the island, staring out the wall-sized window of the living room. I smile as the sun bathes everything within reach in what had once been instant death for me. The whole place caters to the sun, the light shining in from all angles and, the more I think about it, the more I believe that, subconsciously, I wanted it that way. I never really sussed out how much not being able to stand in the light had bothered me during my exile into night. But for the last two years, I bath in the light every chance I get. Nothing like making up for lost time.

"I think she’ll like it," Rachel’s voice cuts through my remembrance and I look at her in question.

"Buffy," she reiterates, "I think she’ll like it." I can only smile at her observation. She’s right, Buffy will like this. Sun in every room, workout room, rather nice sized kitchen (though I’m still rather wary of her cookin’) and all the other amenities of a cozy lil’ home away from home. "I know I do," she whispers and I flinch at the longing in ‘er voice. I shake my head bitterly before walking out the kitchen and into the main room. I want to scream at the world, tear the ‘ead off anyone and anything right about now. As much as I want Buffy, as much as I want to make ‘er ‘appy, it tears at my ‘eart that Rachel’s in so much pain.

I stare out at the window, blind to the beauty of nature. Rachel’s arms wrap around my waist and her breasts are crushed to my back, her cheek resting on my spine. After a few seconds of feeling her chest rise and fall against me, I match her breathing like I had done those first few weeks when she would calm me during the worst of my nightmares.

"Will, don’t" she whispers as the first tear falls down my cheek.

"Can’t ‘elp it, pet. ‘S just so bloody hard." There is nothing for several minutes save for the synchronous workings of our lungs. Finally, I whisper, "Why does it ‘ave to be so painful?"

"Why does what have to be so painful, sweetie?"

"Love." Her body tenses against mine ever so slightly and I can almost hear her mind tossin’ the question back and forth.

"It’s not love that’s painful, William," she replies softly, "but the long road in finding it, that’s the bitch." I chuckle softly at that but sober immediately.

"So what is this I feel, if it’s not love?" I ask and can’t keep the sardonic tone from my words.

"It is love, you idiot," she replies and pinches my sides. "But it’s not your love that’s making you hurt here." Her left hand moves up my body and pats my chest. "It’s that shoddily constructed road that’s the problem. More ditches and bumps than a country back road. You’re still on that road, Will, searching for that special place two people find when they are both crazy in love with each other."

"So I’m still surfin’ that pesky rainbow, huh? Waitin’ to get to that soddin’ pot o’ gold?"

"Something like that."

"Oh, that’s just peachy, innit?" My words are sour and Rachel flinches against me. She sighs deeply before grapping me by my shoulders and turning me around. I’m shocked when I look at her and see the tears cascading down her cheeks.

"No, Will, it’s not peachy," she says, her voice eerily calm. "It’s hard, it’s disgusting and it’s unfair. There will be times when you just want to quit, just scream to the world, sod it all and go on your merry way. Sometimes you’ll look at that special person and wish that you’d never met them, or you’ll damn them for making you feel that way. At times you’ll be bitter, angry and resentful towards them, especially if they don’t return your sentiments or aren’t as quick on the uptake."

I shiver at her words and the truth that they represent. Everything she’s said, I’ve felt towards Buffy. How many times had I been this close to leaving for good? How many times had my emotions carried my thoughts away from me and allowed my demon to whisper in my ear-"she doesn’t love you, she never will. Not like this. Take her, while she’s sleep. Make her like us and then she will be by our side for eternity." More often than I’d like to admit, that’s for bloody sure. So many times I wanted to belittle her, bring her down to my level, hurt her with my words, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I loved her. I loved her then, when she was a right bitch to me, using me then discarding me. And I love her now, the new Buffy, the one that’s still breaking through that shell of hers that’s been in place for so long.

I open my mouth to speak but the glare of the light across Rachel’s irises stops me. It doesn’t take long for me to recognize the pain behind those beautiful eyes-it’s been my constant companion my whole bloody existence, it seems. It’s everything she’s been telling me these past few minutes. I turn away, unable to see the pain in her eyes-pain that I’ve caused.

"You’ve never asked me to love you, Will," she says and I look up at her. It’s eerie how she sometimes seems to read my mind but I should be used to it by now. But I’m not. Two years of livin’ with her and she still surprises me.

"Rachel," I start but she shushes me with a finger to my lips before drawing me down into a kiss. The love and frustration that rises from her lips and tongue as it enters my mouth knocks me breathless. Her hunger and passion match my own as I return the kiss and, despite the burgeoning lust that builds with each thrust of tongue and nip of teeth, our hands remain passive against the other’s waist.

We break apart simultaneously after several minutes, both gasping for air and we lean our foreheads together. My mind is racing with anticipation of the possibilities as well as guilt. Not only do I feel like I’ve cheated on Buffy but that this kiss will somehow ruin what Rachel and I have built. The thought of that sours the taste in my mouth but not enough to overpower the jasmine flavor of her lips.

"I love you, Will," she says after drawing a deep breath. "I think I’ve always have, from the first time I saw you outside my apartment. And I will always love you."

"Rach…"

"No. Let me say this. Like I said, I will always love you…but I-but I know that our paths aren't going in the same direction and I accept that. I know that someday I will find someone else whose heart won’t already be taken and I will take that same jumbled road with him until we get to our special place. But I will never forget you and I will always be here for you. And now that you’ve got your place, it’s no reason for me to stay. Will, don’t try to talk me out of it, you know it’s the best thing."

"Do I?"

"I’ve held out when you’ve wanted to do more than just kiss for too long. What happens if Buffy does something that hurts you and I’m here with you, comforting you? How long until my resolve breaks and we do something that we can’t take back? As much as I do want that, it would break my heart even more afterwards because I know that you would look at me with regret for doing it. I’m strong, Will, but I don’t know if I could handle that.

"I know it sounds like I’m running away but I need time away from you. Besides, you know I’ve been away from the Blue Song for way too long. Two trips there in three weeks isn’t enough and as good as Damon is and as much as I do trust him, he can’t run it like you can."

"Or you," I whisper.

"Or me," she concedes with a smile. "The point is, Will, is that you have Buffy here for you and, during those times of turmoil with you guys, Willow and Dawn will be there for you."

"But it’s not the same," I pout and she laughs. The sound of her laughter breaks the somber mood and we gaze at each other, so much left unsaid between us, yet we’ve never needed words. We’ve always clicked.

"Okay, ya big baby. But you know I have to go."

"Doesn’t mean I ‘ave to like it."

"I know. It will be hard, on us both, especially since we’ve spent pretty much every hour of everyday together for the past two years. It’s gonna take some time getting used to."

"But…" I stutter. "But what if Buffy doesn’t want me? What if our paths aren’t meant to cross and I end up goin’ at it alone?"

"Will, you’ll never be alone so long as I’m around. And besides, your paths do cross." She kisses me on the cheek and walks toward the door. I stand there, feet immobile as my mind races with so many ifs and buts. There is so much I want to say to her while we have this time alone but the only thing I can think of is…

"How do you know?" She stops at the door and turns towards me. Cocking her head to the side, she fixes me with a lopsided grin.

"Call it a woman's intuition. Trust me, Will, you and Buffy will find your special place. And it will be better than anything you’ve ever dreamed of." She gestures to the door before walking out and my trance is broken. Following her out and locking the door behind me, I wonder if she is right-that Buffy and I will find that special place of ours.

*&*

Buffy flopped in the chair, her hair strewn about and her feet free from her heels. She slouched down as far as humanly possible before groaning loudly to the empty house. She had decided that tonight was going to be a night of Buffy-pampering, as she had nothing else to do. Everyone else had plans. Dawn was with Janice and Kit, Willow was going out with Kennedy again, and both Xander and Anya were out of town, tending to matters of their respective jobs.

"Well, I could call Giles," she said aloud and regretted it as the pang she thought had dissipated from his departure flared up again.

Giles had returned to England the week after Dawn's graduation. Even after all this time it still hurt every time she watched him get on the plane. They had had a heartfelt talk about their relationship, Buffy telling the older man in no uncertain terms that she saw him in every was as being her father. He had blushed at that and declared his own feelings for his slayer--the daughter every man could only hope to have. She had cried at that and hugged him tightly, not wanting him to go. He had promised to visit sometime soon and that, when he did visit, he quite possibly could have a surprise for her. The latter had been the only thing that had staved her tears.

Buffy wiped at her eyes angrily, upset with herself for allowing Giles's departure more than two weeks ago continue to affect her. Yeah, she missed him and all but come on, she was twenty-three years old and it's not like he hadn't left before.

It's not Giles that you're upset about is it? A much too smug voice reminded her. Could it be that you're upset that a certain British blonde isn't here with you instead of with that other woman? The voice taunted and Buffy growled as she made her way to the kitchen, stopping in from of the hallway mirror.

"I am not upset about Spike not being here," she said aloud. "Nope, nope, nope. Just some leftover emotion from Giles leaving again, right?" The last part was a desperate plea to the face that stared back at her. But the truth was written in the hazel eyes of her reflection.

It's all about him, the voice said, admit it and then maybe you can get closure in this mucked up love life of yours. And wasn't that the truth? Her love life had always been screwed up and now was no better. Hell, now was much worse than it had ever been before.

Three weeks and she had yet to make a decision. She had spent several lunches with Garrett after he had come back from vacation. They had gotten along rather well and she was thankful for that. She was still tense around him at times, the guilt about breaking it off with him had failed to lessen and she wondered if it ever would.

And then there was Spike. She had gone out with him a handful of times as well. Just as with Garrett, she and Spike had spent time together getting to know one another and it had been going quite well. There was no pressure from him to further things, they had actually started to be friends, something she had never gave him the opportunity to be in the past and it was something that she now regretted more than anything.

Shaking her head, Buffy walked into the kitchen and scrounged the cabinets for something to eat. It would have been simple for her to order out but being alone was the perfect time to do some experimentation of the culinary variety. She put her fingers to her mouth, pondering what to do when the slight puff of her lips revived memories of the night before.

Buffy snapped out of the memory, her skin flush from the thought of Spike's lips on her.

"Lips of Spike," she muttered and laughed. She remembered the first time they had kissed, under the influence of Willow's spell. She had been so disgusted at kissing her mortal enemy that, for several days afterwards, she continued to remind him of how horrible it was. Of course, she would never tell him that, at night, she would dream that the spell had never ended and that they had gotten married. Not only that but the things he did to her before and after they were married were…

"Not gonna think about that," she reprimanded herself and purposely busied herself with pulling out more cooking supplies. She couldn’t think about that, how good it felt to be in Spike's arms, how right. She didn’t want to let any of that cloud her judgment being that the decision was already difficult enough.

"Yep, no physical influences are needed," she said as she pulled the pans out from under the sink. I need to block out all that orgasmy stuff, make my decision based on, on other things, she thought. That's what I'll use this night for, clear my head, think about what feels right for me and go from there. No Garrett or Spike to influence my decision. It'll be great.

Before another thought flashed in her mind, the buzz of the doorbell drew her attention away.

"Who could that be?" she asked and walked to the front door. Her hand wrapped around the handle and before she opened it, she leaned her forehead against it. "Please don't let it be Garrett or Spike. Please don't let it be Garrett or Spike," she beseeched the door gods before opening it.

When she saw who the visitor was, Buffy staggered back in surprise. Well, it's not Garrett or Spike, she thought dryly.

"Hey Buffy," Rachel said and the slayer picked up a hint of--well, of what, she didn’t know--in the other woman's voice.

"Hey Rachel," Buffy said a bit too eagerly. "Come on in." She moved to the side to allow the brunette entrance. The click of Rachel's heels sounded through the foyer and Buffy closed the door, turning to the woman.

"Sorry, I didn’t call or anything but I, well I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's okay. Not like I was doing anything anyway. Well, except for cooking dinner."

"Oh, cool. So, is Dawn here?"

"Nope, just me, myself and I. Was going to do some experimentation while I have the chance. You know how it is, test the stuff yourself so if it's horrible no one will ever have to know."

"Yeah," Rachel replied and Buffy was warmed by the smile the other woman gave her. "So, you want a test subject?"

Buffy gave the woman a wary look. "Are you sure about that? Cuz, I'm sure Spike or Dawn have told you of my cooking expertise-lessness. I mean, I've gotten much better in the last few years but--well, to be honest, that's not saying much."

"It's okay, Buffy," Rachel laughed. "It's not like I have the title of chef supreme, either."

"Well, just so you know, everything stays between us," the slayer whispered conspiratorially.

"Deal," Rachel replied in the same hushed tone.

"Well, then, follow me," Buffy replied and led her guest into the kitchen. She ignored the tightening in her gut at the woman's presence, attributing it to the surprise of having her solitude interrupted. But as much as she lied to herself about it, her inner Buffy had no trouble identifying the underlying jealousy still present or the tingling in the back of her neck telling her that, after tonight, things would be much clearer.

"Buffy, no!" Rachel shrieked, waving her arms in front of her as she watched the slayer, weapon in hand, speed towards her, the blonde’s eyes alit in determination. She tried to stand her ground but the fierce set of Buffy’s lip had the brunette ducking for cover as Buffy swung the item downward.

Both women screamed when the small flame on the stove rose up, exploding into a column of fire before seconds later a white cloud engulfed it, swallowing it whole.

The two women traded looks with one another and the blonde shrugged sheepishly at the annoyed glare from the brunette holding the extinguisher. The silence stretched between them before Buffy broke it with a simple "Oops."

" ‘Oops’?" Rachel repeated incredulously. "You try to flambé me and the best you can come up with is ‘oops’? Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to throw water on a grease fire?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, perturbed at being treated like a child in her own home.

"God, Night," Buffy said, "would you give it a rest. Talk about Drama Queen." She punctuated that by tossing the pan into the sink

" 'Drama Queen'?" The other woman asked in disbelief.

"What? Is this 'repeat what Buffy says' day or something?" She muttered while cleaning up what was left of the chicken and pan.

"Well, maybe it is. Or maybe I am awed at you referring to me as a D.Q."

"Dairy Queen?"

"You know what I mean, Ms. Kettle." Buffy whirled around and glared at Rachel, who mirrored the slayer, hands on hips style. They stood there, locked in a stare down, before the brunette's lips started to quirk up. Buffy scowled at the woman, making Rachel's façade crack even more until she finally gave it up and bent over laughing.

"You are too funny, Summers," she said through tears, her tone carrying a hint of amused sarcasm.

"That's me, The Quippiest Slayer who ever quippy quipped a quip." That stopped Rachel's laughter cold.

"What the bloody hell did you just say?"

"I said, that's me, funny girl," Buffy replied with a straight face. This time, both women erupted into laughter simultaneously before directing their attention back to the food on the island.

"Well," Buffy said after a moment of consideration, "at least we have salad."

"And potatoes."

"And greens simmering."

"Now all we need is the meat portion of dinner and we'll be fine."

"Well," the slayer said, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the charred dish, "I think the chicken is deep-sixed."

"Too true, Summers, too true." Buffy smiled and continued chopping the potatoes. The past two weeks had been an eye opener for her, not just about her own feelings about…things, but her opinion of Rachel as well.

Upon first sight Buffy had taken an instant dislike to the other woman, with her fancy silk sweats and too cool sunglasses. She had spent that first conversation trying to intimidate the brunette, a tactic that had worked to some extent. She had also been suspicious of the woman as well, especially when Dawn had produced a crisp hundred procured from Spike. It wasn't until later that Buffy discovered the money had reminded Rachel of the gift Spike had told her to get for Dawn; a platinum cross and chain along with a matching tennis bracelet. That had shut her slayer mouth and induced a disturbing sense of guilty vibes through her.

Guilt notwithstanding, however, Buffy had been determined not to like Rachel.

Two weeks sure do change things, Buffy thought ruefully. Though they hadn't spent that much time together, Buffy had found in the few times they had gotten together--quite by accident, thank you very much--that Rachel was not the bitch Buffy had hoped her to be.

In truth, Buffy had found many similarities between herself and Rachel. Not only was the other woman smart and insightful, she was also sarcastic and witty and, unlike Buffy, Rachel didn’t take many things personally. So, as reluctant as the slayer was to admit it, they had gotten along very well.

Rachel smiled slightly when she felt Buffy’s eyes on her. She knew what the slayer was thinking because, well, her mind was similarly occupied. After all Spike had told her about his relationship with Buffy, the brunette had wanted nothing more than to pummel the slayer, despite 1) knowing everything wasn’t Buffy’s fault and 2) having a fairly good insight on the outcome of a fight between the two of the if it came to that. So, when they had first sat down in the living room, a little over two weeks ago, seeing each other for the first time, Rachel had been surprised that the animosity she had felt towards Buffy was obliterated with one look in those hazel eyes. There was so much love and loss detailed in Buffy’s eyes that the other woman had to quell the urge to hug the blonde woman tightly.

Will would’ve gotten a kick out of that, Rachel mused as she cut up some tomatoes for the salad. No, this trip to Sunnydale had been better than she thought. She had found, in the two weeks that she had been here that she shared interests with all of the ‘Scoobies’, as they called themselves. She and Willow both were interested in magic and computers and she and Xander had the same love of humor. Dawn and Buffy shared Rachel’s love of shopping as well as somewhat volatile mood swings, though Rachel had been happy that they Scoobies had yet to catch her on a bad day.

But the strangest thing was how well she liked Buffy. The blonde had a spunk, a pizzazz about her that Rachel rarely saw in others. Though she was confident and strong, compliment Buffy on something and she would smile sweetly, her cheeks flushing modestly. Yeah, she was headstrong and stubborn and liked a good verbal sparring as much as fisticuffs but, at the same time, she was caring, considerate and would die-had died-for her friends. Buffy Summers was someone Rachel was glad to have met.

Now that wasn’t to say that they would be best friends or anything like that-of course, being in love with the same guy may have been an obstacle-but, yeah, that was pretty much the only issue between them. Despite Buffy’s closed lips on the subject, Rachel knew that the slayer was in love with Will. Head over heels, one hundred-percent, live-and-die-for-you in love. It was something that hurt Rachel and not just because she was in love with Will, too, but she was intimately familiar on how things could end for Buffy if the slayer didn’t follow her heart.

"So," Buffy said, her voice shattering the comfortable silence. "Have you talked to Sp-Will today?" She cursed mentally when Rachel visibly tensed before forcibly relaxing. As well as they had been getting along the last few weeks, Buffy knew that any reminders of Spike instantly put a damper on their camaraderie. She could admit that she was jealous of Rachel’s close relationship with Spike and that Rachel was resentful of Spike’s love for Buffy. That’s why, since that first day in the living room, the three of them had spent only a handful of minutes together, unable to diffuse the tension that choked them as a trio.

"Yeah," Rachel said, her voice clawing over the lump in her throat. "Earlier today. We-uh, we were looking at some things. Places to establish another Blue Song."

"So, did you guys find a place?"

"He did," Rachel answered sourly. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply for her lack of strength. When did it get so hard? Hell, she had lived with Will for two years, most of that time in love with him and yet, talking about him, about his future was harder now than it was when she would stop things from going to far between them.

"Rachel?" Buffy called for the third time and the other woman finally looked at her, her obsidian eyes filled with pain. "Are you okay?" She asked and laid her hand against he bronze arm of the other woman.

Yes, Rachel wanted to lie but the words refused to form. Not until today had his name caused such a deep, bellyaching pain within her. When she had kissed him earlier, Rachel had known if he asked her to, she would have made love to him then and there. Why now, after all the other opportunities had come and gone, did she feel betrayed by her own resolve? Why now did she not care whether or not he looked at her afterwards with blue eyes tinged with guilt? Why was something inside of her screaming to act, to find him and beg him to take her anyway he wanted? She wished so much she had the answer to those questions but said answers alluded her with the ease of a breeze slipping through one’s fingertips.

"So," she finally said, "are you finished with those potatoes?"

Buffy stared at Rachel for several beats, studying the contours of the other woman’s face. And as good as Rachel was at hiding it, Buffy saw the other woman’s sorrow as clear as a mirrored reflection; the same face Buffy saw for nearly a year after she was resurrected. Even now, the pain glanced at her through hazel eyes though she pushed it away. The bitterness that still sometimes nagged at Buffy over it was minute but sometimes--

"Ready," Buffy said, shaking the viscous web of her thoughts away. She dumped the potatoes into the boiling water before putting the lid on the pan. She turned back around and gave Rachel a tentative smile. "So, you wanna go ahead and dish out the salad? We can eat at the table while we wait for the rest of the food to get finished cooking."

"Sounds good to me," Rachel said and used the tongs to divvy up the salad. Two minutes later, both women were lost in their salads, lost in thought and they stared at anything but one another. Buffy took great interest in the ranch dressing that slithered over the lettuce and carrot sprinkles. Something about that little thing drew her in, a deep, burning flame whispering promises of forever to the small-minded moth.

"You know," Buffy said, eyeing the piece of lettuce harpooned at the end of her fork, "as much as I like salads, they do nothing for my appetite."

"Tell me about it," Rachel agreed. "All they do is piss me off even more. Especially if I’m as hungry as I am now."

"Too true."

"I’ll take a nice, healthy steak any day," the dark haired woman continued "and bugger all the calories." Buffy laughed at that before stuffing another leaf of salad into her mouth.

"Well, since neither of us are connoisseurs of steak makage not of the wooden kind, we’re gonna have to make do with this lovely salad."

"And the fries getting the boiling treatment."

"And," Buffy said before standing, "the extra large pizza I’m about to call in with sausage and pepperoni."

Rachel laughed as Buffy walked out the room before calling out to the blonde, "What? No Anchovies."

Her query wasn’t dignified with a response.

*&*

"Now that is a man I wouldn’t mind showing the ropes to," Rachel says to me. After the pizza came, we decided to have a girl's night in, so to speak which, to me, is quite amusing considering our interests lie in the same guy.

"He's alright," I concede. Rachel sits up and stares at me incredulously.

"Colin Farrell's only "alright"? Are you tripping, girl? Did you see him in Daredevil with that leather trench of his? Oh. My. God. Talk about taking a piece out of someone."

"So you gotta thing for guys in leather coats, huh?"

Rachel gives me a lecherous grin before replying. "Doesn’t every girl?"

A brief thought of Angel flitters through my mind before Spike is front and center on the plasma screen in my brain. "You can say that again," I say as I think of the fluid grace Spike always moved with, how his duster always billowed in the wind, curling to his body. Talk about sex on two legs. God, he was hot.

"Who was hot?" Rachel asks me and I gasp, realizing that I said it out loud. "Buffy?"

"Uh, ah…" Great. Tongue-tied Buffy's making an appearance in front of company. "I--I was just thinking a-about this movie. The Matrix! Yeah, and Keanu Reeves. A-and Lawrence Fishburne. Talk about hot. Wow." I fan myself to sell it but I can see by the look in her eyes that she's not buying it.

"Well that's one thing you and Will have in common."

I frown. "What's that?"

"You're both terrible liars." I roll my eyes at her and return my attention back to the screen. She studies me for a few seconds before she, too, is caught up in the movie.

We watch the rest of it in silence but right after the ending credits Rachel grabs the remote and turns it off. I open my mouth to say something sarcastic but the seriousness in her eyes halts my words.

"Rachel? Something wrong?" I don’t like the look I'm seeing. It's filled with a sadness and bitterness that I can relate to.

She puts her thumb to her lips and starts nibbling on her nail. I refrain from repeating my question and soften my gaze so she won't feel so pressured. I wait several minutes, watching her eyes dance across the room. She's debating something in her mind and as much as I want her to spit it out, I've learned quite a bit of patience these past couple of years. I may not be saintly with it but at least I don’t blow my stack when things don’t come quickly.

"I was twenty-one," she says breaking me from my thoughts. Her energetic voice is so devoid of emotion as if she's narrating a special on algae or something equally boring. She traces patterns on the couch with two fingers instead of looking at me but I don’t particularly care. I know how hard it is to tell someone things--personal things. And color me intuitive, but I have the feeling whatever it is she's going to say is very personal.

"I was in my junior year at San Diego State. I was seeing this guy named Jared. Had been seeing him since the second semester of my freshman year. The first year and a half was an on/off thing. Some of my friends joked that we were each other's mutual bootie call but it was so much more than that. I mean, neither one of us wanted to really settle down although we were crazy about each other. It wasn't until a few weeks before the start of our junior year that we got the hint and started dating exclusively. By that time he had started an internship with a marketing firm in downtown San Diego and I had just moved into an off-campus apartment with my roommate of two years. We were together every night, either at his place or mine. Elise, my roomie, teased me about how we screwed like bunnies, though her explanation was decidedly more crass.

"It was like we could see nothing but each other we were so in love. He was my first, you know. Well, maybe not technically, but Bobby Taylor doesn’t count, considering I was seventeen and drunk. But when me and Jared did it, it was amazing. It was two weeks after we first went out freshman year. I know that may sound bad but he said the right things and he had me."

I smile at her through the slight sting in my belly. Although it's been almost five years, I still sometimes slam myself for the whole Parker Abrams debacle. I wipe the memory away and focus on Rachel's words.

"Anyway, like I said, we were inseparable. Everything was going so well. We had our tiffs here and there of course, but nothing major. Everything was fine until we came back from winter break.

"He had gone with a dozen or so marketing students on a trip to LA for about a week for this lecture. Anyway, after he came back, things were different. It was so weird. When we were on the phone, everything seemed fine but when we were alone, it was like he was afraid to touch me. We still held hands and all when we walked through campus but that was it. When I would try to start something, he would go along with it for awhile but stop me before we went too far. Every time I asked him about it, he would throw off some excuse as to why he didn’t want it. Naturally, I felt like he wasn't attracted to me anymore or that he was cheating. The only problem with the latter was that he still slept with me, held me close almost every night. And it was one of those nights that I heard him tell me what was wrong.

"Jared had a beautiful voice, Buffy, and he always sang me to sleep. Well, one night after he thought I had fallen asleep, he starts whispering to me how much he loved me and would never do anything to willingly hurt me. Before I could say it back to him, he told me how sorry he was. How it didn’t mean anything to him, how he had made such a big mistake with her. At that, I whirled on him and was stunned to see him crying. I had never seen Jared cry before. Buffy, his eyes were so huge when he realized I'd heard his apology. As much as I wanted to hold him, I had to know. So he told me.

"Her name was Sandra Mitchell and she always had a thing for Jared. She was one of the members of his marketing group that went to LA. Apparently they got liquored up really good and when Jared went back to his room, Sandra followed him. She started putting the moves on him and he kept telling her he had a girlfriend, which she should know that by now but that didn’t stop her. She…she unzipped his pants and…went down on him." The last part is a whisper but I hear it clearly enough. Tears are rolling down Rachel's cheeks although I doubt she even realizes it. I remain fixated on her and she finally continues.

"Oral sex was something I had never really been comfortable with. I did it for him a few times but never thought I was good at it, despite what he would tell me. So naturally I felt inferior if he would do something like that. We had a huge fight--well that's not entirely accurate, considering I was the one yelling and screaming and slapping the shit out of him. The things I said, God, Buffy, he took every bit of it. Never said a word. After I was done, I kissed him with everything I had and when I finished, I told him that was the last time he would ever feel my lips on him. So, for two weeks, I ignored all his attempts to contact me. About halfway through that time, I started getting these stomachaches. Talk about pains in the ass. I just figured that it was from stress."

"But it wasn't."

"You got it. Elise finally convinced me to get a check up. So I went, expecting nothing but a stern warning to get rest and eat right. Imagine my surprise when the Doc to me I was pregnant."

"Wh-what did Jared say?" Rachel looks down in shame and I gasp. "You didn’t tell him?"

"No, Buffy, I didn’t get an abortion," she says, almost reading my thoughts. "And, you're right, I didn’t tell him at first. No, well I did, but--I was so horrible." The tears start up again and she buries her face in her hands. I instinctively move towards her and she shies away but not before giving me a hesitant smile.

"I'm okay, Buffy. It's just that, I don’t know. I--I was so horrible. I told him it was someone else's."

"Oh, Rachel."

"Yeah, crown me the big Bitch. I didn’t keep up the charade long, a few days maybe but it hurt him so bad. Even after he knew, it took him awhile to get over the lie."

"So what happened?" I ask. Spike never said anything about Rachel having a child.

"About my fourth month, I started having stomach pains again. I didn’t tell anyone because I thought it was normal but…" she stops again and bites her thumb. I lay a hand on her leg that is curled underneath her and try to finish for her.

"It wasn’t normal, was it?" She shakes her head. "Rachel? Did you have a miscarriage?" She nods minutely before breaking down into harsh sobs. Without thinking, I embrace her tightly, whispering her to let it out. So involved in seeing to her, I don’t notice my own tears falling until she gently pushes me away.

I wipe the tears away in the same manner Rachel does. She takes several steadying breaths and when she finally calms, her voice is steady though the underlying pain is still there.

"I blamed Jared for it. We were having another fight, nothing big, when I collapsed in pain. He rushed me to the hospital but, by the time we got there, it was too late.

"Everything between us fell apart after that and it was basically my fault. I was short with Jared and he allowed me to be, especially considering what had happened with Jesse."

"Jesse?" I ask and for the first time since we've started talking, Rachel gives me a genuine smile.

"That's what I was gonna name the baby. Works pretty well for a boy or girl, don’t you think?"

"You could say that," I say, grinning.

"Anyway, I just kept punishing him for it. I never said that I blamed him but I didn’t have to. He blamed himself for it. He blamed himself and I did nothing to alleviate his guilt because I was stuck second-guessing my own decisions. That's what hurts so much. The fact that the guilt I felt for what happened, by not telling people of my stomach pains, I put off on him.

"Halfway through the summer, I broke up with him. Told him that it wasn't working out, that I couldn’t be near him. Even as I said it, something inside me was screaming not to do it-that this guy loved me more than anything in the world and I'd be hard pressed to find that ever again. But I was stubborn and blocked out that annoying little voice. So, I moved out on my own and pretty much cut all ties with him. He tried to get in touch with me but I never acknowledged it. I didn’t see him again until two years later. He came into the bar I was working at and when we made eye contact, it was like a rush of emotion passed between us. At that moment, I wanted to get on my knees and beg him to come back to me although I knew I didn’t deserve it. So, I walked towards him and, before I got there, this woman comes in and puts her arm around him. Come to find out it was his engagement party. He had just proposed to her that day. Buffy, I've never felt as lost and alone as I did when I found that out. Of course, I went home sick right after hearing that bit of news."

"Did you talk to him again?"

"Yeah, but not for a few weeks when he came back in. We talked about things, apologized for things in the past. I wanted so bad to tell him that I still loved him but I didn’t. Don’t know what stopped me. And by the way he looked at me he still loved me. Or so I liked to think. But I said nothing and we parted almost friends.

"Since then, I've seen him a few times but we email each other probably once every few weeks. He's still married, has a kid. Lives in Modesto."

"I'm sorry, Rachel," are the only words that come to me. After what she's told me, the words seem so lame.

"Don’t be, Buffy," she says and smiles sadly. "Just don’t make the same mistake."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Buffy, we both know that there are a few things we have in common. Thinking Colin Farrell's a hottie, queens of quip and we're both in love with the same guy." Before I can protest, she holds a hand up to me.

"Don’t deny it, Buffy, I can see it in the way you look at him, the way you tense whenever I mention his name. Trust me, I know the signs."

"But I-but…" Oh, great. Another appearance of the fantastic stuttering slayer.

"But what? Garrett? Oh, I know you love him, too, Buffy. But what you feel for Will, what you two feel for each other is so much deeper than love."

"What are you trying to say? That we're soul mates?"

She smiles ruefully. "Something like that."

"Sorry, but I don’t believe in soul mates anymore," I say, trying to be perky. She doesn’t fall for it.

"You don’t get it, Buffy. It doesn’t matter whether you believe in something or not. Doesn’t make it any less true."

I open my mouth to say something but I refrain, seeing the harsh truth of her words. I wish it was that easy but it's not. Just another lesson I've learned the hard way.

"Buffy," she says, startling me back into reality. "I'm leaving in the next two days. Going back to San Diego."

"Oh."

"Don’t get too broken up about it, sister," she jibes.

"Don’t worry, I won't," I tease.

"I can't be around him anymore." Her voice is so small when she says it. "I had resisted him at least a half dozen times when we were in San Diego. I knew he was attracted to me, wanted me, but he didn’t love me. He'd told me all about you and I knew--I know he'll never feel that way about me. But I'm tired of fighting, Buffy."

"So what are you saying?" I ask, not liking where this is headed.

"What I'm saying is that, if you don’t give him a chance, or hurt him, then I'll be there. And I won't resist him again."

A part of me is furious at that but I know I have no right to be. I take a few steadying breaths to remove the malice from my voice when I speak. "So you would be with him even if he doesn't…"

"Even if, Buffy. Even if." We are quiet for awhile, lost in our own thoughts when Rachel sits up, grabbing her purse.

"I better be going."

"Yeah," I say and look at the clock. It's quarter to twelve. "Wow, time sure flies when you're having fun."

"Or an intense bonding night." We both laugh as I escort her to the door. When she walks past the threshold, she turns to me and gives me a tight hug.

"Thank you, Buffy."

"But I didn’t…"

"Just for being there. And Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Don’t…don’t take too long. You and Will have been through enough as it is. Don’t make it worse."

"Rachel, it's not that easy."

"No it's not that easy. Nothing good ever is. I know you love Garrett, I do. But, like I said, what you share with Will is something magical. Don’t waste it.

"I know some may think what I'm doing is noble, but it's not. I knew Will would never love me fully and that's why I didn’t want to start anything with him. But I'm tired, Buffy. I'm tired of being alone, of screwing things up. If things don’t work out between you two, then I will be there for him. And as much as you may not want to hear it, he will love me. I'm not naïve enough to think that I would have his whole heart but what I would have, I would make last for the rest of my life. I can't fight what's in my heart forever, Buffy." She pulls away but not before kissing me on the cheek. "And neither should you."

*&*

Buffy watched Rachel pull off before closing the door. She leaned against the solid wood and slid to the floor, the weight of her thoughts almost unbearable.

She closed her eyes and was immediately assaulted by the truth of Rachel's words. The brunette had gone through so much and it was something Buffy could relate to. She knew how past events scarred you for life, making you hesitate when similar situations came across. It was a difficult thing, ignoring the heartache and taking chances. It had been something Buffy had never been good at.

Well, at least her boyfriend didn’t go psycho killer when they slept together, Buffy thought dryly. Despite that, however, the slayer knew that the other woman had been in pain over what had happened with Jared, still was in pain. And it was furthered by Rachel's love for Spike.

The fact that Rachel had stopped anything from happening between herself and Spike after living with him for two years astounded Buffy. Hell, I couldn’t even go two days without trying to jump him, Buffy thought.

Don’t you think that should tell you something? A voice shouted from the recesses of her mind. She jumped from the vehement tone and reprimanded herself.

"Physical attraction does not a relationship make," she said aloud though the words even seemed hollow to her. Yes, she was attracted to Spike more than anyone, ever, but that wasn't why she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. A significant part, yes, but not all of it.

Every time they were together, Buffy wanted to be close to him, needed to be close to him. It was as if a part of her wanted nothing more than for their bodies to meld together, to lose their individual husks and be fused into one. When they had sex, it was as if he couldn’t go deep enough, no matter the strokes. She always wanted more. She had thought that she went to him only to feel alive and, at first, that was true. But the more they were together, the more she wanted him and not just inside her body. She wanted to be able to wake up to him, call him on the phone on her work breaks to say hi, come home to him and have him rub her feet. They were all the things she never really had that she knew he would give to her without a thought but every time those thoughts came to mind, she immediately stomped them down, burying them the only way she knew how. Denial and causing him as much emotional pain as possible. That way, she had convinced herself that, not only was he not the one for her but she did not deserve him. It had been so much easier that way.

"And it almost destroyed us," Buffy whispered to herself as the tears started anew. She thought of all the things that she had said; things she had done to him and the fact that he had forgiven her for all of it. Yet she still didn’t forgive herself and didn’t know if she ever would. Not completely, at least. So where did that leave her?

'I can't fight my heart forever, Buffy. Rachel had said. And neither should you. As the words tumbled over in her mind, Buffy felt something within her, something she had long thought forgotten reach out to her. It was slow at first, stretching through her with a languid sense that said it had forever. Suddenly, it sped up and it burned the slayer to her core. She doubled over in reflex though there was no physical harm to her. The unidentifiable feeling continued to grow until it felt as if her skin was on fire. So many memories and emotions crashed inside of her, one atop of the other, nonstop. She wrenched her hands together, unable to do much more than that. And just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

Buffy opened her eyes timidly; unsure of what she would see. When she saw that she was still in the foyer, she stood up and walked up the steps, not bothering to turn off the living room light.

Her legs felt so weak as she climbed the steps but she trudged onward. The sluggishness passed as she immersed herself in her nightly rituals. Still, she was tired and after brushing her hair, she would sleep.

"Fifty strokes tonight, guys," she said to her reflection and proceeded to brush.

It happened on the twenty-seventh stroke. There was nothing particularly special about the number but it came none the less. She gasped as if all the air was sucked from her lungs, dropping the brush to the floor. She picked up the brush automatically, and when she glanced back in the mirror, it was like seeing herself for the very first time.

And that was when she knew.

TBC…

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