Twenty-first. She’s a little runaway
Gossip needn't be false to be evil
there's a lot of truth that shouldn't be passed around.
Frank A. Clark
My sweet sixteen
Oh runaway child
Oh sweet sixteen
Little runaway girl.
Billy Idol, Sweet Sixteen, from the Album Whiplash Smile
Your eyes make a circle
I see you when I go in there
Your eyes, your eyes...
If you walkaway, walkaway
I walkaway, walkaway..I will follow
U2, I will follow, from the album Boy
Buffy wasn’t in their first period class, which was math. Xander hadn’t heard from her at all, not since before school started again. Mrs. Summers had called looking for Buffy and sounded like she didn’t believe her when Willow said she hadn’t seen her.
Willow was adding up the facts in her head and she wasn’t liking the answer.
Her best friend was missing. She didn’t know the first thing about the guy Buffy had met, and all she had to go on was the cryptic weepy message on her voice mail.
Trying to be nosy without being nosy, Willow spent her time in computer science hacking into the school records. It was relatively simple really, once she figured out the system.
And there it was. Signed yesterday by order of W. Snyder, a notation in Buffy Summer’s permanent record that she has been suspended for excessive lateness and un-excused absences. What a jerk.
Quickly, Willow printed out the page and erased what she’d done from her screen, before one of the other kids saw what she’d done. The real question was, what to do with this information now that she had it.
Had Buffy and her new boyfriend run away?
Will hadn’t slept much at all. In fact he’d fallen asleep on his couch with the cell phone clutched in his hand, hoping that she would call him, like last time and that he’d be able to go pick her up. From wherever it was that she’d run too.
He’d go to Tijuana if that’s where she was.
Las Vegas.
San Francisco.
Hell, I’d fucking follow her to . . . anywhere.
But the phone hadn’t rung and the battery was dangerously low.
He went through the motions of getting ready for school, idly noting the dark circles under his eyes as he brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is finding her.
All his hopes were pinned on her hiding out at Willow’s.
She was so cold.
Cement was good for blocking out the wind, but it did nothing to help contain her meager body heat. Her back was sore and her butt ached from hours spent sitting in an awkward position. She’d been afraid to lie down, afraid someone would come along and find her, so she’d spent most of the uncomfortable night crouched inside the tunnel, her head resting against the concrete wall.
Buffy woke with tears in her eyes and a pressing need to pee. The sun was barely over the horizon, and it was far too early for the bathrooms of the public park to be opened, but maybe, if she was careful, she could sneak into the diner and use the one there.
Stumbling and tripping over her own cold numbed feet, Buffy crab-walked away from her tunnel. So not sleeping there again tonight, not if I can help it.
Waiting carefully beside the diner she and Willow had eaten in just before Christmas, Buffy watched all the old people shuffling in and out. Hunching over like one of them, she snuck in behind an old couple, heading straight for the bathroom. The warm moist smell of freshly disinfected tiles coupled with the constant early morning nausea nearly crippled her when she opened the door. The need to pee was immediately replaced with the need to vomit and she barely made it through the first stall before the cramping started.
She hadn’t eaten much at all the day before – snagging a banana as she fled the house after fighting with her mother – and her belly was void of anything nourishing. Green bile hit the back of her throat and Buffy gagged, trying to hold back, but the urge to let it out was stronger.
Tears dripped down her still cold cheeks and she hiccupped a couple of times, trying to get some air. She slumped down onto the floor, her head resting against the steel door behind her. I’m so tired. . . . I want this all to be . . . I’m so damn tired. I just wanna lay my head down and sleep. . . . oh god, Will.
She was tempted to say something to Xander, but when he didn’t detach himself from Cordelia at any point during their lunch break, Willow changed her mind. She didn’t want any word of this getting out to anyone, at least not someone she could trust. And she really wasn’t sure about Cordy. Oh, she was nice enough, and she’d stuck up for Buffy a couple of times when the other kids were being really nasty, but Willow thought this was a bit more than just sticking up for someone. Besides, she didn’t know if she was even on the right track. Buffy was gone yeah, at least she thought she was, but she could have just not gone home last night and she could be asleep right now in her own bed.
Willow hoped that’s where she was. She really didn’t want to think about Buffy running away with her new guy. . . even if she did say she loved him.
Nibbling on her lower lip, Willow was walking quickly into Mr. Stevenson’s English Lit class when his voice caught her attention. He was clearly agitated by something, since he kept running a hand through his hair and he was gesturing emphatically with his other hand while he talked with Mr. Giles. Maybe. . . . . . could they be talking about. . . nah, Willow shook her head, realizing that she was probably the only one that knew Buffy was missing, because even Mrs. Summers thought Buffy was staying at her house.
Quietly she slipped inside the classroom, taking her seat in the back, next to the one her best friend used to occupy.
Will spied the familiar dark red hair of Willow Rosenberg gliding through the hallways, heading for his classroom, and he needlessly reminded himself to find out what, if anything she knew. But at the moment he was focused on his discussion with Rupert, who was detailing for him, for the first time, what he’d observed of the physical condition of Buffy when she’d met with Snyder. He’d been far to angry to really hear what Rupert had said to him in the bar the night before. Angry and worried. Now he was more worried.
Bruised left cheek. Bruises on her lower arm, and around one wrist. Teary-eyed and visibly upset.
Sounded to him like she and Joyce had finally had the confrontation that had been brewing for weeks over the money the Finns offered. Somehow he didn’t think Buffy’s wishes or wants on that matter were being taken into consideration. Thing was, he could understand both of their points. For his own part, Will was with Joyce on the matter, but not for any reason remotely resembling Joyce’s.
He wanted Riley Finn out of her life. Forever.
He didn’t want her, or the baby, to have any ties at all to him. But he doubted Buffy was ready to hear his reasons why.
He wanted to claim them both. Wanted both of them to have his name, be his family. Hell, half the time he didn’t even think of the baby as Finn’s. The baby was Buffy’s and Buffy was his. Plain and simple. So if Buffy was his, the baby was his. Maybe not biologically, maybe not where science was concerned, but in his heart was where it counted. He just had to convince her of that.
Nodding once at something Giles said, Will waved him off and headed into his classroom. He was determined to find out, before the day was through, if Willow knew anything.
Will had barely closed the door to his room, when he’d started speaking. “Miss Rosenberg, please see me after class.”
Willow looked up sharply, her eyes wide and scared as she saw the fierce look on Mr. Stevenson’s face.
The sound of the door opening and the shuffling of feet roused her from the fitful sleep she’d fallen into. For a long moment, Buffy had no idea where she was, her eyes wild and scared, taking in the industrial green door and the glaring white tile. Oh. Right. Bathroom.
Getting to her feet, she stretched, trying to work out the sore and stiff muscles, but her body wasn’t happy with her choice of sleeping locations at all. She ached all over, the cold seeping into her bones, settling into her stomach. Buffy faced her image in the mirror. They’re dark today. Old. Haunted. Almost lifeless. She ignored the other signs of her predicament, choosing to only focus on her eyes. They look tired. Dull. Just like how I feel.
A deep sigh escaped her and she ducked her head, unwilling to face her image any longer. Can’t see if I don’t look. Cupping her hands, Buffy drank the tap water, swishing it around her dry mouth. She could feel the icy water sliding down her throat and tensed in anticipation of the belly cramps she was convinced were about to start. When they didn’t happen, she cupped her hands again and drank as much as she could. She swore she could almost hear the water sloshing noisily inside her and a slight smile crossed her features.
Okay. Water was good. How’s about maybe some chicken and stars soup, baby? Campbell soupy goodness. And crackers. Fishing into her pockets, Buffy scrounged up twenty-two dollars, enough for some soup and something warm to drink. That’s enough for now. Then I’ll try and find someplace warmer to sleep.
“You wanted to see me?” Willow stood away from his desk, her books clutched tightly to her chest, confused wariness filling her eyes.
Will looked up at her from his chair, unsure about how to approach this. He knew the girls were best friends, knew if Buffy had confided in anyone it would be the petite redhead in front of him. Just how much she knew was the question of the moment. For now, he was going to play this as cool as he could. Which would probably backfire on him at any given moment.
“I did.” Gesturing to one of the desks, Will said, “have a seat.”
“Is this gonna take long? Coz I have a class this period.” Willow bit her lip, realizing she sounded like a brainless twit.
“I’ll write you a pass.” He got up from his chair, unable to remain sitting. All right old man, get on with it. “Yesterday Principal Snyder suspended Buffy Summers. That isn’t what. . . . Miss Summers was supposed to meet me for mentoring and she never showed. Have you spoken to Miss Summers since yesterday?”
He was the world’s worst liar. He knew that. Couldn’t lie worth a damn. Was so bad at it that he’d long ago given up trying, but apparently he’d lied well enough this one time, because Willow bought his garbled explanation.
“She left a voice mail, but I can hardly understand what she’s saying. Its weird because her mom called me last night asking me if I’d seen Buffy and so when I said no, I don’t think she believed me. Coz I so wouldn’t have believed me. I sounded totally lame-o girl. I should’ve faked an accent or something like that.
“Faked an accent? How would that have helped?” Will was staring at her, complete confusion and disbelief on his face.
“See, just like that. I bet that’s how she looked – like she didn’t believe me. I haven’t seen Buffy and didn’t really talk to her. I wish I had because I don’t know where she is. She‘s not hiding at my house and I don’t think she’s at Xander’s because he couldn’t keep a secret, at least not from Cordy and Cordy wouldn’t let Buffy stay with him anyway. And I don’t know where Buffy is or her new boyfriend and I don’t even know who he is, coz she wouldn’t even tell me his name and I think she ran away with him and I know she loves him because she told me and if they ran away where the heck did they go and why hasn’t she called me?”
The more she’d talked the more agitated she got and Will swore she hadn’t breathed once through any of her last statements and he tried schooling his face but it proved impossible. So Willow knew something, just not everything and Buffy hadn’t told her his name or any other distinguishing characteristics, otherwise he had a feeling Willow would have been the one to confront him and not the other way round. He could . . . . his safety didn’t matter right now, only Buffy’s. And he suddenly had a very bad feeling about what had happened.
“Willow, what exactly did she say in her message?” He needed to know what she said and how much she explained to her, before he jumped in with both feet.
“Here.” Willow pulled out her cell phone, punched in some numbers and held it out to him. “Just hit okay to listen to the message.”
Will stared at her, hesitant to listen in front of her. Before he had time to really think or brace himself, he’d hit the button and Buffy’s tear-filled voice sounded in his ear. “Wills? I know you’re not there. . . But. . . I can’t. I’m so sorry. Please. Tell him I’m sorry. Mom freaked on me and now Snyder and then. . . he can’t lose his job because of me. So I’m just gonna. . . . I’ll call you and let you know I’m okay as soon as I . . . know. Figure out where. . . love you Wills.”
It took all of his considerable willpower to not fling the phone or crush it in his hand or rage against the . . . his foot was connecting with one of the chairs before he could stop it and the sound of it breaking against the wall brought him back to himself and he was standing in the middle of his classroom, his chest heaving and his hands clenched and he turned when Willow gasped.
She’d never seen anyone react like that ever. Never seen a teacher get so upset that he’d smashed a chair. Willow stared at him goggle-eyed, her hand covering her mouth, unable to get a coherent thought in her head. “Oh my god. . . oh my god. . . “
His smile was wry and ironic, as he realized he’d just totally over-reacted. He waited, not looking at Willow, getting his temper under control.
The silence stretched out between them, neither one of them entirely sure about how to breach the quiet. Willow was barely breathing, her mind swirling with hundreds of thoughts and thousands of questions but unable to give any of them voice. On the other end of the room, Will was unable to stop the tremors coursing through his muscles and his hands clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles. The muscle in his jaw flexed and Will knew he’d completely lost his temper and possibly blown his flimsy cover story about his involvement with Buffy. He blew out a breath, waiting for Willow to say something.
“Mr. Stevenson?” She finally found her voice, the question sounding very small against the harsh breaths he was trying to control.
“Yeah?” He finally turned his icy gaze on her, his eyes blazing with suppressed rage and concern. Willow eeped, flinching back slightly at his fierce expression.
“Um. I guess she didn’t run away with her new boyfriend, did she?” She was shaking her head, answering her own question, a weird expression on her face. “Buffy . . . she was talking about you, right?”
He sighed, then just nodded his head once, without saying a word. “You gave her the necklace?”
Again he nodded, confirming her guess. “So. . . . so. . . um. . . “
“Look, Red, I was up all night looking for her, so can we not . . .” He caught a glimpse of Willow’s expression and relented a bit. “I went looking for her as soon as I heard about what Snyder did yesterday. Has she tried calling you since then?”
“Nope. Nothing.” Willow watched him pace around, his hands fisted in his pockets. “Mr. Stevenson? Have you talked to her mom?”
“Joyce? No. Giles called and told her about the suspension.” Thinking a bit, wondering just how much Willow knew, he asked, “did Buffy say anything to you about Finn?”
“Um. Well, before or after we dumped all of his stuff on his front lawn?”
His head snapped up to look at her and he fought a grin. “She told me about that. Must‘ve been quite a sight, poor Finn standing out in the middle of the street.” He snorted, then sobered immediately. “No, that’s not what I’m asking, Red.”
“You mean the money they offered her.” Willow shook her head, then continued. “I don’t know much. She wouldn’t tell me about all of it. I know her mom wasn’t happy about what Buffy was doing. I heard them fighting about it on Christmas morning, but Buffy never really wanted to talk about it. So I didn’t . . . I guess I should have asked, huh?”
He was shaking his head, understanding pretty much why Buffy hadn’t really told Willow everything. “Wasn’t an easy situation with them. Bloody stubborn the both of them.”
“So where did you look for her?”
“Cemetery. School grounds. Drove passed your house and Harris’ early this morning. Dunno where else to look.” He leaned against his desk, his feet crossed at the ankles, watching her intently.
“Cemetery? Why’d you look there?” Her face was scrunched up in distaste and he almost laughed.
“It’s the only place we can meet, Red, without anyone spying something they shouldn’t. Was the first place . . . .” Thinking better of continuing that thought out loud, Will changed the subject, “yeah, so looked there. Any ideas where else she might have holed up, pet?”
Willow was shaking her head. “Why didn’t she go . . . I mean, you guys are like and so she knows she could be with you and no one would know where she was and she didn’t so I have no idea.”
It took him a minute to figure out what Willow was trying to say and he too was at a loss. “I have no idea. What did she mean about losing my job? What the hell is that all about?”
“I dunno.” Willow shrugged. “Did someone . . . does anyone else know about you guys?”
“No. Well, just a friend of mine, but only the four of us.” Will was wracking his brains trying to figure out what was in Buffy’s head and why she would be worried about him losing his job. “Hold on a second Red.”
He grabbed his own cell phone and quickly scrolled through his address book for Drusilla’s number. He waited, tapping his feet, until she picked up the phone. Willow listened to the one-sided conversation, her mouth opened slightly.
“Pet. Need your help.” There was silence while he waited, then, “yeah, about her. She’s gone missing. Dru. . . . please?”
He smiled at Willow but the expression never reached his eyes. He reached for a pen, but he couldn’t find one and instead grabbed a piece of chalk and started writing on the board. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s her. . . . right. Bloody fuckin’ hell. . . That ‘splains. . . yeah. Yeah, duchess, I’m listening. No.”
The words on the board, coupled with a rough sketch of a tunnel, had Willow staring in disbelief. Whoever Mr. Stevenson was talking to was way strange and knew way more about the situation than she did, because there was lots of little weird things up there. Like names, and while she watched, a pretty sketch of Buffy smiling sadly appeared on the board almost magically and Mr. Stevenson stopped speaking to just stare at it.
“What? Sorry, was thinkin’. Yeah. I said yes, didn’t I? Fuck, Drusilla, jus’ . . . . let it go, I bloody said yes. Yeah. Right. No. No. Keep Liam out of it. No, I’ll find her. Soon as I . . . yeah, the minute I find her.”
Willow was staring, her eyes darting between the board and the gorgeous sketch and his still form. It was long minutes before she realized he’d stopped speaking and was just looking at the drawing he’d done quickly. She was afraid to ask, afraid to break the cocoon of silence surrounding him, unwilling to disturb this moment. She realized, as she watched him that his feelings for Buffy were deeper than she had . . . Willow didn’t think, when she realized Buffy had been talking about Mr. Stevenson all along that he felt the same way her best friend did. But she’d been very wrong about that. It was very clear that his emotions were just as strong as Buffy’s.
“Need you to copy the names and . . . other stuff down.” Was all he said without turning around to look at her, his eyes never leaving the drawing. His hand reached out to touch it, and very softly almost too low for Willow to hear, he whispered, “where are you love? Need you to come home. . . “
Drusilla wiped away the tears she’d been shedding, then hung up the phone. She knew during the reading she’d done for Will on Christmas day that things were going to get rough, but she’d not expected this at all. He sounded lost. There was no way of being certain the information she’d been given was current or . . . Scrambling to her feet and stepping lightly over the toys strewn about her living room floor, Drusilla headed for her bedroom and the tarot deck.
Maybe there were more answers to be found. Maybe she’d be able to shed some more light on the situation and help Will find his sunshine.
“Okay, I copied everything but the drawings.”
It took him long minutes to answer, but Willow waited patiently, her eyes on his profile. “Yeah.”
Will reached out a hand, his finger tracing over the chalk lines on the board, hovering over the image staring back at him. “Some English teacher in Los Angeles got arrested for sleeping with one of his students.” He paused, not looking at Willow, but knowing he had her full attention. “She must have heard something that led her to believe it was us.”
“Oh my god.” He was standing so still, Willow thought for a moment that he’d stopped breathing, but then he sighed deeply and she knew it was just a trick of her mind. “She thought it was you. So that’s why she ran away.”
“Guess so. Just wish she hadn’t panicked.” The dejection in his voice forced her to move closer and rest her hand on his forearm.
“She’s gonna come back. We’ll find her or something. . . but she will come back.”
“I hope you’re right, pet. Can’t live without her.” Savagely he brushed his hand over the simple drawing, erasing her image from the board. Moving away from where Willow was standing, he finally found the pen he’d been looking for earlier and quickly wrote the promised note to Willow. “Here. Go on to class.”
She took it, staring down at it for a moment. “If she calls me, I’ll come right to you.”
He didn’t speak, didn’t even watch as she gathered up her things and left his classroom.
Okay, please be kind, despite the angst in this chapter and leave a review. . . . please?