Twenty-second. Hell is living without you
I can't find your face in a
thousand masquerades
You're hidden in the colors of a
million other lost charades
In life's big parade
I'm the loneliest spectator
Cuz you're gone without a trace in
a sea of faceless imitators
I can't take another night
Burning inside this
Hell is living without your love
Ain't nothin' without your
Touch me
Heaven would be like hell
Is living without you
Try to walk away
When I see the time I've wasted
Starving at a feast
And all this wine I've never tasted
On my lips your memory has been
stained
Is it all in vain
Tell me who's to blame
I can't take another night
Burning inside this
Hell is living without your love
Ain't nothin' without your
Touch me
Heaven would be like hell
Is living without you
Nights get longer and colder
I'm down and begging to hold ya
On my own and I feel like hell
Is living without you
Hell is living without your love
Ain't nothin' without your
Touch me
Heaven would be like hell
Is living without youNights get longer and colder
I'm down and begging to hold ya
On my own and I feel like hell
Is living without you
Alice Cooper, Hell is living without you, from the album Trashed
She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d had a really good meal but Buffy thought it was at least a couple of days. She couldn’t remember. Everything had started to blur into one long continuous nightmare. Waking nightmare. Sleeping nightmare. Nothing made much sense anymore. She’d woken up this morning behind some office building, in a shed that had heat and a bathroom. Some worker had left the door unlocked and Buffy wasn’t stupid enough to not take advantage of it. So she’d been warm and dry and, hey, sort of clean.
Two days ago, or at least she thought it was two days ago, she’d gone into one of the pawn shops and sold all her jewelry, except for the necklace Will had given her for Christmas. Everything Riley had ever given her, the earrings out of her ears and her highschool ring, all sold. And it still wasn’t enough to get her out of Sunnydale and into San Diego. She’d thought about going to Los Angeles, but she didn’t want any reminders of her father or any one else. She wanted to start someplace new.
Some place where no one knew who she was, knew who Riley Finn was or knew who Will was; so that she could pretend that the baby was Will’s. And that they were separated because of something . . . . anything but what was really keeping them apart.
Buffy rested her head against the wall, her eyes staring down at the small pile of money in front of her. Selling all that stuff hadn’t amount to a whole lot of money. She had two hundred five dollars and eighty-seven cents. The bus ticket to San Diego cost one eighty, which didn’t leave her all that much to use for food. Buffy knew today she had to eat, because she didn’t remember doing it the day before. She was rationing her intake of food, eating only when she was really, really hungry and she wouldn’t go anywhere but that diner where all the old people ate. It was the cheapest place around and the food wasn’t that bad. At least it was warm food.
And none of her friends ever went there. Which was a big plus.
She didn’t want to see any of her friends.
She only wanted Will. The one person she couldn’t have.
Buffy curled around herself, hands clasped in front of her knees and laid her head down on her bent knees.
The ache of missing him got worse every day, every hour.
The tears that were never very far away sprang to her eyes, leaking down her cheeks, wetting the denim beneath her face.
Every time she thought about him, Buffy’s heart hurt a little more. She was sure by now that he’d been released from jail, that somehow he’d posted bail or something and he was safe in his house, but she couldn’t make herself walk passed it to make sure of that. She couldn’t face it if he wasn’t there, if he was still in jail. He had to be safe. He couldn’t be in that kind of hell.
Buffy felt like part of her was right there with him. But a bigger part of her believed the reason why he was there was because of her. It was all her fault. If they hadn’t connected – if she hadn’t started to rely on him, to fall in love with him, he would have been safe. He’d still have his job and his life and he wouldn’t be in that place.
There were noises in the yard and Buffy knew it was time to leave, to head out and go sit in the diner and eat a big breakfast. After that she’d figure out what to do about leaving Sunnydale for good.
He’d spent every night since she’d disappeared looking for her.
Quartering the small town that was Sunnydale in endless circles, his knowledge of the place he now called home had grown considerably. He knew every approach to every school or playground, knew alleyways and empty buildings, abandoned warehouses and homeless haunts. And yet for as well as he knew those places, none of them held the one he searched for.
Will had sketched her onto a piece of paper and he carried it with him wherever he was, unwilling to give up the search until he found her. Most nights he flashed around the sketch to some of the homeless, but there were plenty of nights when he was alone that he didn’t run into another living soul.
Some nights Willow accompanied him, but most nights he was alone and that suited him. He was uncomfortable having Willow with him and he felt compelled to carry on conversations with her. It was easier when she dragged Xander with her and they went their separate ways.
Two nights after they figured out why Buffy had run away, Willow had broken down and told Xander part of what happened. That Snyder had suspended Buffy and she’d run away for her own reasons. His reaction had been remarkably similar to Will’s, which had kind of wigged Willow out, but she figured it had to be the protective nature of both males. The one thing she had kept from Xander had been their relationship. Will had insisted on it.
He was making his slow way through Restfield, the place he started and ended every search, hoping to find some evidence that she’d been there recently, when something caught his eye by one of the crypts.
It wasn’t much of anything really. Just a small piece of paper, ragged and obviously ripped from a larger piece of notebook page.
Will stared down at it, and when a sudden breeze almost fluttered it away, his big black boot stomped down on it. He had no idea how long he stared down at the top of his boot, but when his cell phone rang, he growled in annoyance then answered it.
“Yeah?”
“Mr. S. . . . you. I. . . got a voice mail. She called a little while ago. Where are you?”
He nearly dropped the phone when Willow’s hastily stammered words registered in his brain. “In Restfield. Where’re you?”
“I’m home, was just in the bathroom before getting ready to go out and she called and I missed it and I’m so sorry, but it was her voice and she’s not far and I didn’t know.” Willow couldn’t stop the rush of words from her mouth, until he practically yelled at her.
“Red! Take a breath. Meet me outside the front gate in ten minutes, yeah?” He was already on his way there, his strides eating up the distance, when the memory of the piece of notebook paper flashed in his head. He turned round and grabbed for it, looking down at the words. “She’s been here too. Found something.”
He clicked the phone shut and made another quick circle of the area, then headed for the front gate.
She was going to have to tell him. The pressure of dealing with Buffy’s disappearance and everything else was just too much for her to handle. Willow was going to explode into little redheaded parts, just go kerplooey one day and they’d be looking for her too.
Calling out a goodbye to her as usual oblivious parents, Willow slipped out to meet Mr. Stevenson. Once out her front door, Willow headed off in the direction of Restfield.
He was standing between street lamps, under the ornate sign identifying the cemetery, his eyes watching at shadows when she finally raced up. Without a word of greeting, she handed him her phone.
Buffy’s voice filled his head and Will was hard pressed to suppress his tears. “Hey Wills. Um. . . . wanted to let you know I’m still okay. And I’m trying to figure out where to go. . .some place where me and baby. . . . I guess you know by now about me and Will. I never meant to hurt him. I love him. . . so much. Everything hurts without him. . . . “
The tears he’d been trying to suppress stood out in his eyes and he wiped them away furiously. Willow just stared at him, stunned speechless. Never seen a grown man cry like that. Oh my god. . . this is killing him.
“Buffy’s mother has been calling me. She,” Willow hesitated unsure of what to say when he didn’t react to her voice. “Um, yeah. She doesn’t believe me. I think she thinks that I’m hiding Buffy and that she won’t come to the phone or something when she calls. And Buffy’s still not answering her phone.”
He finally reacted to that. “I know that Red. ‘S like she’s refusing because she’s afraid of finding out how bad things are or somethin’. Dunno what to think anymore. “ Will stared down at the piece of paper in his hand. “Been ten days. ‘M just numb. . . . can’t go on w’out her. Every. . . night. . . . “ his voice trailed off and he made no effort to hide the tears falling from his eyes.
Curling his fingers into a tight fist, Will pushed away from the cemetery gate. “G’on home pet, ‘m gonna keep looking.”
Shaking her head in defiance of his command, Willow trailed after him. “I think I have an idea.”
“You think you have an idea. What’s that Red?” He walked ahead of her, his head down,
watching the pavement go by underneath his feet.
“Before Christmas, when you suspended me for fighting with Harmony, Buffy and I went to this diner. . . . near the senior citizen housing project. And, maybe she’s over there?” He stole a quick glance down at her and he caught a glimpse of the very hopeful expression on her face. Will didn’t have the heart to squash her enthusiasm, since his spirits were at a very dangerously low point. Why did she call Willow and not him? Was she afraid of him rejecting her? What was. . . why is she so afraid to call me?
“All right, we’ll try this place.” His tone was devoid of any hope at all, believing that this hunch of hers, like all the others, was just another dead end. Will fought new tears, his own worries overwhelming him, drowning his thoughts.
They were quiet on the rest of the walk, each one of them wrapped up in their own thoughts. Willow was certain Buffy had been in this diner, she knew it with a certainty that was nearly chilling in its intensity.
Not surprisingly, the place was nearly empty, only a couple of people sitting in booths and a few of the staff hanging around. Willow tugged him toward one of the waitresses, babbling a bit at him, urging him to take the sketch out and show it around. Giving into her entreaties, Will handed over the drawing, fully convinced this was just another dead-end.
“Yeah. She’s usually in during the morning.” Glancing down at the worn paper in her hands, the dyed redhead snapped her gum and called out to one of her co-workers. “Gina! C’mere and take a look at this.”
The aforementioned Gina came over, trailed by one of the busboys, and both of them nodded their agreement. “She was here this morning.”
“No. It was after lunch today.” The busboy corrected her in broken English, his accent making it difficult to understand. “She come in today when I was coming to work.”
Willow beamed at them, gratitude lighting her features. “See?! I knew she would be in here. I knew it! Thank you so much.”
Finally finding his voice, Will asked, “any ideas where she might be staying?”
The three shared a look, and before they could hesitate, Will continued, “she’s been missing for ten days. She’s my. . . . she’s . . . I just need to find her, so anything you can tell me would be a help.”
Gina shared a look with the busboy and she shrugged. “She’s been in a couple of times lately. Always looks like she’s been crying and she always orders soup and hot chocolate.“
The busboy broke in, saying, “she get sick alot.”
“Yeah, she’s pregnant.” Will had heard enough. “Look, she’s my girlfriend. She think’s I’ve been arrested for something stupid and she thinks its because of her. So she ran. I need to find her.” Grabbing a pad from one of the girls, Will wrote down his cell phone number “If you see her. . . please. Call me. Don’t say anything to her, just call me.”
Skeptical looks greeted his request, but Willow added her assurances. “Its true. It’s a long story, but her first boyfriend dumped her when she told him she was pregnant. And Will and Buffy fell in love and believe me its love. He’s out every night looking for her and she’s insane-o girl for running away.” Glancing at the faces ranged about her, Willow realized she was babbling and stopped. “I’m sorry. I get like that when I’m nervous. Just please call. Or hey, you can call me.” Willow snatched the pen and pad from William’s hands and wrote down her name and number. “There. Please?”
The first waitress shared a look with her co-workers, then said, “if we see her, one of us will call you.”
“Thanks.” Will couldn’t speak, emotion closing his throat. So close. So bloody fucking close. She’d been there today. She’s still in Sunnydale. . . . still close. The need to find her and bring her home was clawing in his guts, twisting them until he was nearly in physical pain.
“C’mon Red, let’s get you home.” Guiding her out the door, Will headed straight for her house, eager for once to continue the search. He had something to go on. . . a sign. A glimmer of hope, which had been all he’d needed.
Giles watched his nephew trudge across the parking lot toward the building, his shoulders slumped and his gait lurching, as if he were just drunk enough to care how he looked. If he didn’t know him better, Giles would have thought Will was drunk. But he knew differently. Or he hoped he did. Something had happened in the last two weeks that had Will reeling, off balance and distracted and it was beginning to affect his work.
Not that any of his students were complaining. In fact they were noticing the strain also. Just the other day, Cordelia Chase had stopped him in the hallway asking him if he knew what was wrong with Mr. Stevenson. Her comment about him being unusually quiet had sparked a bit of concern within him and since then Giles had been watching him. And he didn’t like what he was seeing.
Heading over to him, intent on intercepting his only living relative, Giles watched while Willow Rosenberg walked up to him. Her hand on his arm startled Will, although they stopped walking to converse quietly, their heads close together. Will said something to the student, who shook her head and then, with a sad look back at him, she left Will standing there alone.
His head was bent and just by the bow of his shoulders Giles knew something was very seriously wrong. Giles was at his side before Will had a chance to move on and just at a quick glance his suspicions were confirmed. “Will?”
Tired and red-rimmed eyes shot up, pain and loss clear in the blue depths. Rupert nearly staggered from the emotion swimming in his nephew’s eyes and he instinctively reached out a hand to grasp Will’s forearm.
“What’s wrong?”
But all Will did was shake his head, clearly unable to trust his own voice.
“Will? You have to tell me.” Then realizing how pompously imperious he sounded, Rupert relented a bit. “Something’s wrong, I can see it. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Nothing. I’m tired is all. Not sleeping well.” They both knew it was a partial truth, both men knowing that Will was the world’s worst liar.
Peering down only slightly to meet his gaze, Rupert stared into eyes so very like his sister’s. “You know Will, I’d do anything to help you. You just have to trust me. I’m not going to betray your trust.”
A snort of disbelief was his answer and an angrily mumbled, “can’t bloody trust anyone. Too many people know already.”
Giles blew out a breath. He knew it was. . . . he hadn’t wanted to believe Jenny’s suspicions, but since the girl was suspended two weeks ago, Will had been increasingly distracted and although Snyder had suspended her for only five days, it was now the twelfth day of her absence and Giles was beginning to suspect the pregnant teen wasn’t ever coming back to school. Taking a huge chance, Giles said very quietly, “it’s the Summers girl isn’t it?”
Will didn’t dare look at him, but a tensing of his jaw and the muscle flexing by his temple was all the confirmation Rupert needed. Thinking quickly, and without much regret, Giles said, “I don’t want to know the particulars. So don’t give me details. Just answer a couple of questions for me.”
The two men stood there, neither one looking at the other and Will had the sinking feeling that he was about to be suspended, despite his blood-ties to the other man. Couldn’t have the pair of them losing their jobs over this. But once more, the old man surprised him, by pulling on his arm, leading him away from the building. “She’s missing, isn’t she?”
At the simple nod of his head, Giles let out a deep breath, at the same time uttering, “oh dear god. How long?”
“Twelve days.” It was all Will could trust himself to say.
“Bloody hell.” Giles rubbed the side of his nose, dislodging his glasses. Resettling them correctly around his ears, he thought for a few more moments. “Go home Will, get some sleep. You’re not doing anyone any good this way.”
“Have to keep going. Can’t. . . . just give up.” He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, fisting them to keep from throwing a punch or shaking his fists at heaven.
“No. Today’s Wednesday. Go home. Take the rest of the week off and just get some sleep. You look like something I’d throw out with the trash.” Further throwing caution to the wind, he said, “I’ll help you look tonight.”
Will lifted his eyes, tears swimming in them, tears he wasn’t able to hide any longer. “Her bloody mother thinks she’s hiding at Rosenberg’s. Doesn’t . . . hasn’t filed a police report. And I’ve no standing to do it.”
“Go home Will. Get some sleep.”
Giles pushed him in the direction of his car, prodding the middle of his back gently. “Go on Will. You look dead on your feet.”
A sardonic laugh greeted that last statement. “Feel that way.”
“Then its appropriate. Be careful driving home.”
And then Giles was gone back into the school, and Will was left alone with his jumbled and confused thoughts.
He stumbled into his bedroom, barely removing his boots before his head hit the pillows and without double checking the dogs or his phone, Will fell into a deep sleep.
It was daytime, very early in the morning, and he could hear the faint sounds of music coming from somewhere in the house, the strains of alternative eighties hits echoing in his head and Will groaned, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. But the music was insistent and as his brain started working, he recognized the distinctive voice of Joey Ramone droning away. A wide smile creased his face and Will rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Stretching and getting to feet, Will absently scratched his bare belly, his mind blissfully blank. His mouth was dry, like he’d either been drinking or sleeping open-mouthed and he needed a drink. Following his need, Will headed straight for the kitchen. Only to stop dead at the sight that greeted his barely awake eyes.
Buffy was singing and dancing in the kitchen, flour and eggs and batches of cookies in varying stages of the baking process ranged about his kitchen. The kitchen was warm and smelled delicious, and his heart rose in his throat, his breath hitching at the vision of her bopping around to Joey Ramone and her blond hair piled up haphazardly on top of her head. Her back was too him, and the majority of the kitchen was blocked from his view because he’d stopped dead in his tracks. God, woman, he thought, I love you so fuckin’ much.
A smile curved on his lips and Will restrained himself from speaking because she whirled around to Blitzkrieg Bop and he stopped breathing. She was heavily pregnant, her belly protruding out from her, but she was glowing, the heat from the oven making her face flush. She must have spied him hiding there, because her grin was sheepish and she giggled softy. “Morning sleepy head. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t kitten.” He took a step into the kitchen, only to be brought up short when a high-pitched squeal sounded and the patter of bare feet slapped across the tiled floor. “Daaaaaaaaaddddddddyyyyyyyyy!!! You wakeded up!!!!!!!!!!”
A small body slammed into his legs and Will nearly fell over from the impact. “Hey, slow down princess. You gotta be careful running around like that.”
He bent down to lift the little one into his arms and before he could grab Buffy, the buzzer for the oven went off and she moved to get the cookies out of the oven. But the noise didn’t stop, even after she hit the timer.
Will groaned, rolling over as his brain registered that it had all been a dream. The buzzer was his vibrating cell phone, which was in his pocket. Fumbling for it, Will groggily answered.
There was silence on the other end for so long that he thought he’d dreamed the phone call also, but then very softly, very faintly, he heard a whisper of sound. Every sense went on alert, every nerve pinged with awareness. He closed his eyes, afraid to say anything for fear of scaring her away. He waited, his heart in his throat and tears starting to stream down his face.
“I’m. . . . Will? Are you there? I. . . . I’m so sorry. Didn’t want to get you into trouble. All I do is cause trouble. . . Oh god. Will. . . “ her voice broke on a sob and he couldn’t speak.
He cleared his throat, his own tears making his voice husky and deep with need and love. “Baby. . . please come home. Please.”
But she was gone.
All he heard was dead air.
Beyond a terse greeting and a softly-voiced indication that they were going to search starting in Restfield Cemetery and then head over to the housing developments, Rupert and Will hadn’t spoken a word the entire time they searched.
They didn’t encounter any homeless, but then Will hadn’t expected too; it was a cold and cloudy night, rain threatening and they tended to find whatever meager shelter they could on nights like this. He had no inclination to explain himself, or his actions, or anything about his relationship with Buffy Summers to his uncle. If he didn’t give him anything, there was nothing that Giles could use against him later on. The fact that the man was out with him searching for her was enough. It was more than either of her parents were willing to do. He seriously doubted if Joyce had even bothered to inform her ex-husband that their only child was missing. Joyce didn’t believe it. He’d overheard one of Willow’s conversations with Joyce and the woman clearly, sincerely believed that her daughter was hiding out at the Rosenberg’s, despite Willow’s statements otherwise.
It was after one in the morning when Will sent his uncle home, and though Rupert had started to say something, Will had just waved him off and headed in the opposite direction. It was clear to Rupert that his nephew wasn’t done searching for the night and he doubted that Will would arrive home before daybreak.
The reality of Will’s situation struck him, as he was waiting at a stop light, after leaving him. Will had all the hallmarks of a man in love who’d lost his woman. The grief, the unshaven face, the teary red eyes and the dejected set of his shoulders – all clearly visible to anyone who cared to look. This wasn’t like what had happened when Drusilla had left him or when he’d broken up with any of the other endless parade of women over the years. No. This was how he’d acted when Anne had passed on, when his mother had finally given in to her own grief and illness and joined James.
Oh dear god. Will is in love with her.
And she’s seventeen bloody years old.
Rupert resolved, as far as the district was concerned, to keep this as quiet as possible. The last thing Will needed right now was more interference or heartbreak. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Joyce Summers wouldn’t just roll over and let him be if she found out just how involved Buffy’s English teacher was.
The question for him, though, was this all a one-sided obsession on Will’s part or did the girl return his feelings?
It was four days before Gina saw the girl the strange couple were looking for come into the diner. She watched her sit down at the counter, blowing on her cold fingers and motioned to the other waitress that she would take this order. Without a word, Gina got the hot chocolate ready, then added extra milk and a bit more whipped cream than she normally did. If this little slip of a thing is pregnant, then she needs to be eating better.
Placing the drink down with a smile, Gina waited until the younger girl looked up in surprise. “Figured you could use that.”
“Thanks. Its cold out.” Buffy wrapped her hands around the mug, grateful for the warmth.
“So. Whatcha gonna have today?” Gina leaned against the counter, her eyes watching the wariness in the other, wondering what had made her run from such a good looking man. “Hhmm?? Anything catch your eye?”
Buffy stared up at the waitress, unsure why suddenly she seemed bent on having a conversation with her. “Grilled cheese. And maybe some soup. I’m hungry today.”
Gina bustled off, then was back shortly, a strange look on her face. She leaned closer over the counter, her hand close to Buffy’s. “Listen sweetie. I wanna tell you something, but you gotta promise me not to run off, okay?”
Narrowing her eyes, Buffy hesitated, then nodded her head. “What?”
“Look. Couple of days ago, a guy and a girl came in here looking for you. He had this drawing, it was you. Your face. Pretty good drawing too.” Gina paused, poised to grab the girl’s hand if she made a move to run. “Said you ran away because of a misunderstanding. That you thought he was in trouble because of you. He wanted me to call his cell phone if you came in. But I figure,” she paused one more time, “that you should know he’s looking, in case he was lying.”
Shaken and worried, Buffy stared down at the melting whipped cream. The hot chocolate started to curdle in her belly and all the fears about Will came rushing back. But, maybe he was right? Maybe. . . . “what did he look like?”
“Girl. That man was fine. Gorgeous blue eyes and damn, his face, he was just fine. I was tempted to call hm anyway just to get him to come in again. And his accent. Ooohhh. Yeah, he’s fine.” The other woman’s reaction was so over the top that Buffy couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her.
“Yeah. Will’s a hottie.” The words were out of her mouth and said so sincerely that Gina had to believe that Mr. Hot and Fine had been telling the truth.
“Look, girl, that man looked broken up. You need to go back to him. You’re miserable and he’s miserable.” She stopped talking when her name was called and she motioned to Buffy, “be right back. Don’t go.”
Too stunned to say or do much of anything, Buffy mechanically drank her hot chocolate. If Will was out looking, the other person had to be Willow. . . . unless it was Drusilla. A huge platter of grilled cheese and a golden mound of french fries was placed in front of her and Buffy looked up at Gina’s smiling face. “Um. I ordered just a sandwich.”
“So sue me. I gave you fries too.” Her smile was kind and not the least bit unfriendly.
“The girl with him. Did she have red hair?” Afraid of the answer in case it wasn’t Willow, Buffy played with a french fry before popping it into her mouth. Oh damn. I missed this. . . these are soo good.
“Oh yeah. She had red hair that don’t come from a bottle.” Folding her arms and looking down at Buffy who was absently shoving fries into her mouth, Gina said, “go home. Go back to him. Find out what’s going on before you decide to run.”
“How come you’re so big with the advice?”
“Everyone makes mistakes. Trick is how you fix ‘em.”
With that bit of advice, Gina turned her back and walked away.
Her belly was really full for the first time in days. Gina had fed her, placing a bowl of chicken and rice down in front of her when it looked like Buffy was going to get up and leave. Then she’d gotten her more hot chocolate. And when then that was done, she plopped down a slice of apple pie. Gina hadn’t said another word to her, not about anything. Not the food. Not Will.
Which Buffy was grateful for because she had way too much to think about now.
Her eyes were drooping and she stifled a jaw-cracking yawn. Maybe Gina’s right. . . . maybe I should just go see him one more time before I leave. . . . just to say goodbye.
Mind made up, Buffy took out a twenty and looked around for Gina. She caught the busboy watching her and she started to ask him for her check when he said, in heavily accented English, “all paid missy. No worries.”
Buffy whirled around, looking for any other waitress or the cashier but none of them was around, only the busboy, who just smiled at her, then walked back into the kitchen.
She shrugged, then bundled up before leaving.
Will was listening to the CD Buffy had given him as part of his Christmas gift – bootlegged live Sex Pistols – his mind and heart numb. He was beginning to lose all hope. It had been almost fifteen days she’d been gone and the ache wasn’t any better. He knew it was worse. Drusilla had called around lunchtime, but it was now around four and he was debating with himself about going out now to search for her. He’d been out searching all night until eleven this morning and then he’d come home to try and rest for a bit before going back out.
It’s time. Would rather be out there searching than in here thinking about it. Gonna find her. Gotta find her. I’m drowning without her. Lifting his eyes upwards, Will said a quick prayer and then in a fit of inspiration, he addressed the heavens once more. “C’mon mum. . . help me find her.”
Will grabbed his duster, shrugging it on, then snagged the drawing of Buffy he’d sketched over two weeks ago. Staring down at it, he asked, “where are you love? Why won’t you come home?”
Sighing deeply, Will opened his front door, noting the cold weather and hint of rain in the air. Turning up his collar, Will locked his door and descended the short stoop, his eyes on the DeSoto. Shadows were just beginning to lengthen, nightfall closing in quickly and at first Will thought the darker shadow against the side of the old car was a trick of the light, but then it moved, and he caught a glimmer of dark gold. His breathing stopped and his heart and stomach lurched. Oh please god. . . can’t take this if you’re just fucking with me. Can’t . . . its gotta be her.
On silent feet he moved closer, hoping, praying with every step. Tears streamed unchecked from his suddenly blurry eyes and Will shook them off, unblinking, afraid the shadow would disappear.
Feet. . . . tiny boots. . . jean clad legs. . . Will raised his eyes a bit. . . . oh fuck.
Fuckin’ Jesus. Bloody fuckin’ hell.
She was curled up on the driveway, her head resting by the front wheel well, sound asleep.
Buffy was here.
She’s home.
Will knelt down in front of her, his hand brushing softly against her cheek and let the tears fall once more.
Like I said, gonna be a while before I can post again. . . Lemme know what you think.