Twentieth. Baby please come home
It isn't what they say about you, it's what they whisper.
Errol Flynn
Trying to squash a rumor is like trying to unring a bell.
Shana Alexander
Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated.
Lamartine
She ran.
Oh god. . He’s . . . we got busted. . . oh what the hell. . How could. . . oh my god.
Tears streamed unchecked down her face as she ran further and further away from the school, away from home.
Please god, keep him safe. Please. . . they can’t do this to us. . . . its not fair. Oh. . God its so not fair. . . its not fair.
She tripped, scraping her palms as she braced herself from landing on her belly. Buffy rolled herself into a ball, sobbing so hard she hiccupped. Why us? Why me? Why. . . .
I’m alone. . . . . No one. . . he’s the only one who cares. . . I need him god, please don’t take him away from me. . . please. I’m begging.
Buffy sobbed harder, her heart breaking as she realized she had no one – her mom had practically thrown her out and now Will. . . . Fresh tears broke out and she wrapped her arms around her knees.
Unaware of the passage of time or even where she was, Buffy cried until there were no more tears left. Numb and lost, she finally stumbled to her feet. It was still daylight and she. . . There was something she should do, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Tiredly she headed toward her house, reeling almost drunkenly forward.
Her mother wasn’t there when she climbed in through her bedroom window. Mechanically Buffy gathered up some clothes, grabbing Mr. Gordo and Will’s tee-shirt in the process. Following a sudden impulse, Buffy dumped the contents of her jewelry box into her backpack and with one final look around, she headed back out the window.
He was really looking forward to his sixth period class. It was the first time in over a week that they would be in the same place. Will wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he knew he was going to have to try and hide his expression – and his reaction to her proximity – but at least he’d be able to see her.
Every confidence he’d shared with Dru, every word he’d spoken about Buffy had been weighted with pure unvarnished emotion. He wanted Buffy in his life, openly, without any threat, without any hindrances. And he’d been deadly serious when he said he wanted to marry her. Will wanted his ring on her finger, wanted every last bit of her, every part. Didn’t matter that she was carrying someone else’s child. That boy didn’t deserve her – either of them. He was willing to walk out, to throw away the best possible gift he’d ever been given, because of. . . . There was no good enough reason to abandon that girl, especially if she was pregnant.
Riley Finn was the world’s biggest fool.
Although if he really thought about it, Will should really be thanking the boy. If Riley wasn’t such a complete and utter fool, Will wouldn’t be in this position. He wouldn’t be in love with her – at least not this soon.
Now where the bleeding hell did that thought come from? Will thought about Buffy, how he felt about her, how he’d first noticed her and wondered if his love wasn’t an inevitability. If maybe this was all destined somehow, like they’d played out this scenario a hundred thousand different times, in as many places and he always, every single time, fell in love with her.
It had almost been instantaneous. The second he saw her not as a student, but as someone other than just a kid and it was practically that very moment he’d fallen in love.
Almost three months ago, she’d exploded into his world outside of school, bringing light and heat to his increasingly cold world. Buffy was warm and golden, human sunshine, firing him up from within, thawing out the edges of his frozen heart.
Buffy was his hope, his future and Will planned on telling her so very soon. He smiled to himself, thinking about the gift he planned on giving her as soon as it was possible.
The bell rang and his sixth period class slowly filed in, while he forced his mind to more mundane matters. He paced behind his desk, purposely keeping his back to the door, in part to prolong the anticipation and in part to try and control his reaction.
Finally the late bell rang and Will turned around. His eyes went directly to the only empty desk in his classroom.
She wasn’t there.
“Will?”
At the sound of his name being called, Will turned around to see his uncle waving him over to where his car was parked. Rupert was clearly agitated, his normally placid features replaced by a set jaw and blazing eyes.
“What’s up?”
“I’ve just spent the better part of an hour beating my head against a brick wall. Fancy having a drink with an old man?” Giles loosened his tie and tossed his briefcase into his back seat.
“Bureaucracy?” At his uncle’s negative motion, Will raised his eyebrow. “So what’s gone so badly that you need a drink at this hour?”
Looking around, Giles said, “get in. We’ll talk on the way.” Giles was quiet for a few moments, then said, “Jenny’s meeting us there.”
“He did what?” Will practically shouted in Rupert’s face, while Jenny watched both men’s reactions. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”
“God, Will, I truly wish I was.” Giles slammed his empty tumbler down on the bar, motioning the bartender for another.
Will clenched his jaw and his fists, anger written clearly on his features. “Fucking wanker.”
“Indeed.” Giles agreed, shaking his head. “I also had the pleasure of informing the girl’s mother. She didn’t take it very well. She was going to leave her job and go talk to her. She didn’t sound very pleased.”
He was so very tempted to tell Giles just how Joyce was likely to react to this news, but he couldn’t, though the effort cost him much. He never noticed the struggle his uncle was going through, that is until Giles’ next words chilled his blood. “I’ve a question for you Will. How well do you know the girl?”
Will froze, afraid in more than one way how to answer that question, but when Giles continued to speak, he relaxed just a little. “Tried to get Snyder to listen to me, but he wouldn’t. I think someone hit the girl this morning. Do you know if she’s still seeing the baby’s father?”
A red haze settled over his vision and it took a considerable force of will for him not to storm from the bar and head right for Joyce and . . . Will had no idea what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty. “What?” Then with a very visible effort to get his temper under control, he continued speaking. “No. She’s not. . . the boy has someone else. The Kendall girl.”
“I see.” Giles stared off into nothing, trying to reconcile what he’d seen this morning with something that made a tiny bit of sense. Will was clenching and unclenching his fists, frustrated and furious tears seeping from behind closed eyes. A vein pulsed in his neck and he could literally feel his pulse pounding and his blood rushing through his veins. He wanted blood. . . . wanted Snyder to pay for what he’d done, wanted to punish Joyce for what she was doing to her own flesh and blood.
“Are you all right Will?” Jenny had been watching him very closely, much closer than Rupert was and she saw more than just a teacher upset about a favorite student. She saw a man who was possessively angry.
“Yeah. ‘M all right.” He was lying through his teeth, but he didn’t care. Giles wouldn’t notice and he didn’t owe Jenny any explanations. He shook his head when the bartender moved to pour him another shot, intoning, “gotta teach tomorrow. Would love to get good an’ pissed just now, but can’t.”
Jenny sipped her drink, her eyes following their movements, especially Will’s as she tried to figure out what was going on – what was really going on with Buffy Summers. There was a speculative look in her eyes, but Jenny held her tongue as Will refused a ride back to the school and headed for the entrance.
“I’ve never seen him this upset about a student suspension before.” Rupert mused aloud before turning his attention to Jenny.
No, I bet you haven’t. But then I don’t think she’s just any student.
He went right to Restfield, looking for her. He knew she had to be there. If she was in trouble she’d head there. He hoped she would.
It was six-thirty when he arrived. Too early for their usual meeting time, but he didn’t care. He’d wait for her.
Will started pacing the perimeter of the cemetery, trying to keep his temper under control while he waited for Buffy to leave her house.
Nine-forty now.
Buffy hadn’t shown at all.
Will was really starting to worry. He dialed her cell phone only to get the same message he’d gotten before. She wasn’t answering. The phone went right to voice-mail.
“Willow? This is Joyce Summers, Buffy’s mother.”
Willow hesitated before answering, unsure what Buffy’s mom wanted. “Hi. Mrs. Summers. What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask you if Buffy,” she paused, then started over again. “Buffy hasn’t come home from school and I wanted to know if you’ve seen her.”
The redheaded teenager blew out a breath. “No I haven’t seen her at all. She wasn’t in school today.”
Joyce was unconvinced that Willow was telling her the truth. Something about the tone of her voice or the way the girl was answering her. She knew something. So either Buffy was there with her or she knew exactly where her daughter was. “Just do me a favor. If you happen to see her, please tell her that I’d like to speak with her.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Summers. If I see her.”
Willow hung up the phone, thoroughly confused. Buffy had called her earlier, leaving a voice mail that said she was home sick and she’d call her later. But here was Buffy’s mom saying that Buffy wasn’t home.
Something wasn’t right.
The lights were still on. From his spot behind the big tree in the front yard, Will could just make out one shadow moving around in the living room. The television was on, the blue lights flickering and reflecting against the big picture window behind the sheer curtains. The telephone hadn’t rung and there wasn’t a sign of anyone other than Joyce being home.
Buffy’s room was dark. No lights. No music. No sign of life at all.
Feeling like a complete criminal and an incredibly dirty old man, Will circled around the house. Eyeing the tree growing right beside her window, Will plotted his route up to her bedroom. Scanning the neighborhood for prying eyes, Will grabbed the lowest branch and swung himself up and into the tree. The window opened easily and without any noise, which didn’t surprise him, since he knew damn well she snuck in and out of this window all the time.
The room seemed, at first glance to be undisturbed, but as he looked closer, the more his uneasiness grew. There was something gone, something missing. Carefully he crossed the floor and pulled open one of her dresser drawers. He snickered to himself, aware of the irony of him heading right for the drawer holding her panties. The drawer was half empty and he quickly checked the next drawer down, finding that partially emptied also. Will turned around, looking for more evidence of the suspicion that was swirling around in his head.
She wouldn’t. . . . Yeah. She probably would.
Heading over to her bed, Will searched around for the tee-shirt she said she wore every night. It was nowhere to be found.
She was gone.
Will grabbed some of her things, stuffing them into his pockets, then headed for the window before Joyce heard him moving around.
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He walked home through Restfield hoping that he’d find some evidence that she’d been there, but there was no sign of her. No sign that she’d been there at all. Their usual spot was quiet and he didn’t think she was hiding in the shadows somewhere waiting for him.
He wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he heard from her.
Once more he flipped open his cell phone scanning quickly to see if she left a voice mail.
No message.
His temper was long gone, though if he came across either Snyder or Joyce, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. He was worried about her.
Altering his steps to take a very long route home, Will started looking for his Buffy.
She was cold and tired, but strangely enough, not hungry at all. Her belly was curled up in tight knots and she couldn’t make the pain go away. There was an ache . . . but it was dull, like she’d run too long or walked too far, and she couldn’t shake the fog that was surrounding her.
Her eyes were blurred from prolonged crying and she curled around Mr. Gordo, huddled into the big cement drum in the playground. It was marginally warmer than outside, at least she was blocked from the light wind that was blowing and she was, thankfully alone. Buffy didn’t want to be near anyone, didn’t want to hear false sympathy or yelling voices or angry words from her mother or anyone else. She wrapped her arms tighter around the small stuffy piggy and wiped her tears on Will’s tee-shirt.
Burying her nose into the soft black cotton, Buffy sniffed hard, searching for his scent. Oh Will. . . . fresh tears soaked into the material and Buffy rocked back and forth, trying to comfort herself.
Please be safe. . . . please. . . . let him be safe and not get hurt in jail. And please, let him get out of jail . . . . if one of us needs to . . . let him be safe.
Buffy closed her eyes, praying silently for him, hoping that he was okay.
It was long past midnight when he finally gave in for the night, in fact it was nearly two-thirty in the morning. He’d been out, searching everywhere he could think of, hoping for signs of her, to no avail.
Restfield was empty. Well, of all living things, anyway.
Sunny Rest Cemetery was also devoid of the living.
No one was hanging around underneath the bleachers at the highschool field.
He’d chased a couple from behind the junior highschool, sending them home, but there was no sign of Buffy.
She wasn’t near any of the elementary schools either.
He’d called her cell phone every hour, hoping that she would answer, but every single time the voice-mail picked up.
Will trudged into his back door, the two dogs trailing behind him, completely dejected. He had no idea where else she might be, but he’d gone past her house twice more, and the last time Joyce had been in bed. If he knew where Willow or Xander or any of her other friends lived, he’d have swung past, in the hopes that she was safe and sound with one of them, but he hadn’t thought of that, at least not until this moment.
He switched on his computer, surfed quickly for addresses, then snagged his keys and headed out one more time.
It was three-forty in the morning when he went passed the Rosenberg’s residence and as he had figured, all their lights were out .
There were lights on at Harris’ and he could hear the television, so Will decided to park the car and take a look around. Some guy was asleep in a recliner, beer bottles lined up on the floor next to him, and Will could only assume it was Xander’s father. No one else was awake, although there was a light on in the basement. He knelt down to get a closer look and saw Xander sleeping on a pull-out couch and it was very obvious he was alone.
So Buffy wasn’t there.
He was at a loss. He had no idea where else she might be. Oh god, sweetheart, where the fuck are you? Don’t you know I’m worried about you? Please god, keep her safe until I can find her. . . .
Please baby, please come home. . .