Buffy made a short term plan, just to get her through the next few hours. If she was making goals, and achieving them, she could keep her mind from focusing on the events of the day. Graham getting murdered. Abandoning Spike in that warehouse. Making stupid, rash, unprofessional decisions that would no doubt cost her the future of her career. Those thoughts would destroy her.
First, there were three things she knew she needed. New clothes, a cell phone, and a safe place to hide while she came up with a plan other than “panic and cry”.
She stopped at a mall, abandoning her stolen car in the far back corner of the lot with the keys locked inside and a handwritten note that said, “Sorry!”. She made sure all the disks and laptop were secure in her backpack, along with Angel’s gun she’d held on to. She hurried inside and ducked into the first store she saw, quickly buying and changing into jeans and a t-shirt. She then dumped her other clothes in a trashcan, almost fainting at the sight of Spike’s blood on them.
After a stop at an ATM, followed by the purchase of a pre-paid cell-phone, Buffy was hiding in the bathroom at a coffee shop with wireless access, using her skills to search for the address of the one person she knew could help her.
When she found it, she allowed the tiniest bit of optimism to filter in through her all encompassing terror, and she quickly called for a cab. As she waited for it to arrive, she phoned all the local hospitals in search of information on Spike’s condition, but no one would even tell her if someone fitting his description had been admitted.
An hour later, she was standing outside a small, cute cottage in Venice Beach. The sun had set, and Buffy could see candles lit on the windowsill of the house’s kitchen.
One deep, calming breath later, and she knocked on the door.
“Buffy?” the redhead who opened the door said disbelievingly.
“Hi, Willow,” she smiled tentatively. “Long time, no see?”
The woman threw herself forward with a squeal, wrapping Buffy up in an enthusiastic hug. “Buffy! Oh my God, it’s been forever although forever is definitely longer than it’s been but it feels like forever because when you haven’t seen someone since high school and you’re all grown up—“
“Breathing becoming an issue, Will,” Buffy gasped, pulling away from the tight embrace.
“Sorry! Sorry! Come in, please,” she headed back into the house. “God, when I saw you I thought I was hallucinating or something, which I haven’t done since that time in college with the really really potent—never mind.”
Buffy would have giggled, if there were enough good feelings in her to produce that sound. Glad that despite the passing years, Willow seemed exactly the same, she smiled as warmly as she could at her former best friend. “It really has been forever, or it feels like it. I’d ask how you’ve been, but I feel like that’s a stupid question.”
“I’ve been good! But yeah, the amount of necessary catching up can’t really be started by that question. But, before I start rambling again, what are you doing here?”
“I…I really need your help.” Her voice wavered, the pain she was keeping at bay threatening to burst forth the second she began explaining her situation. “I’m in some serious…badness, really, and you’re the only person I knew who could help me.”
There wasn’t even a glimmer of resistance or doubt on Willow’s face. “Of course I’ll help you, sit down, explain.”
Willow Rosenberg was, in the simplest terms, the reason why Buffy was in her current line of work. The two had become fast friends their freshman year of high school, and during one study session on a Sunday night, Willow had offered to teach her friend what she knew about computer hacking. They’d been inseparable throughout their teens, Buffy spending far more time at Willow’s home than her own broken one, learning together how to do complicated, and sometimes illegal, things with a computer. When they’d gone off to separate colleges, they had intended to stay in touch, but of course, life got in the way as it always did. Once Buffy had been approached by the FBI she’d ceased contact with most of the people in her former life, Willow included.
Buffy had done an impromptu search for her friend’s whereabouts just a few months ago, curious about as to what had become of her, and was surprised to find she was the founder of an Internet marketing firm in LA. She’d tucked that piece of information in the back of her brain, and after her insane day, Buffy had known there was only one person she could go to. One person who had the skills to help her, and would use them.
It took almost an hour for Buffy to tell her story, starting with where she had disappeared to after high school graduation. Completely focused on her speech, she entirely missed the widening of Willow’s eyes and her tensing shoulders when she began speaking about Spike, his employees, and her undercover position. Numerous gasps and questions punctuated the most surprising details of her tale, and when Buffy had to describe Spike’s injury, the other girl had rubbed her back comfortingly while she cried. Faster and faster the details of her whirlwind day spilled out, and she began to shake with the intensity of the varying emotions that rose up in her.
“Do you…do you think he’s okay?” Willow asked tentatively, after Buffy finished explaining her ill-advised fleeing from the scene of Giles’s murder and her arrival on the woman’s doorstop. They both knew who she was referring to.
“I…God, I don’t know,” Buffy shuddered, rising from her seat and beginning to pace. “It looked bad, like, really bad. But I called an ambulance as soon as I could…as long as…as long as Angelus didn’t find him.” What would have happened if that atrocity had occurred was so horrifying that her legs almost collapsed.
“Well, I think he’ll be okay,” Willow nodded up and down a few times like a bobble head. “And, he wasn’t mad? That you lied to him?”
“He’d been shot. I don’t think he had the energy to be as mad at me as I bet he is now.” If he was alive, was the rest of that sentence that Buffy couldn’t allow herself to even think, let alone say.
“Oh. Well,” Willow quickly changed the subject. “My excellent deductive reasoning skills tell me I’m helping you open the files on all those disks, right? And, perhaps, figure out a way to get them to the FBI without Buffy getting arrested? General idea?”
“Something like that? Pretty pathetic plan, I know. And eventually there’s the matter of trying to prove I didn’t kill Giles, but I don’t even want to go there until I try and figure out…I don’t know, try to get a deal for Spike, if I can?” Again, the thought of whether or not he’d be alive to even go to jail echoed in her head, and she had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming.
“Well,” Willow said carefully, not sure how much of her own knowledge she should reveal, and settling on secrecy for now. “Hopefully that sorts itself out, and the police figure out all that evidence was planted. And your partner, Gunn, right, he might come to his senses?”
“I hope so,” her voice was quiet, sad. “I can’t believe he would think that of me.”
“He was scared, Buffy. Probably didn’t even know what to think. People do crazy things when they’re panicked.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well! Let’s get you something to eat, and get to work, okay?” Willow smiled.
Buffy nodded and asked for the bathroom. While she was gone, the other woman pulled out her cell phone and dialed quickly.
“Hi, it’s me. Yeah, I really think you need to get over here as soon as you can, okay? We have a guest, someone you know,” She bit her lip nervously as the person on the other end responded. “Yep. That’s our girl. Oh, and bring snacks!”
Willow hung up right before Buffy entered the room, and pasted an innocent smile on her face. “Okay, working time!”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
As always, I am so, so grateful to everyone who's reading, and especially to those who review. Almost 200, wow! It's such a boost to hear that people are enjoying the story. I know a lot of people are reading, so hey, if you've never let me know what you think about "Crystal" before, I'd love it if you'd email or review to let me know! I'm always eager for constructive criticism, too, so don't refrain from letting me know what you think, good or bad. You'll definitely be getting daily updates up through Friday.