“Gotcha!”
“Hey, no fair!” Buffy shouted, gingerly touching her skinned knee. “I tripped!”
“Too bad, Summers,” Angel called out as he ran through the thick grass, chasing William.
At last, he tackled the younger boy, knocking his glasses off. Quickly, Buffy ran over and picked up the glasses, handing them to William.
He took them from her and shoved them on. “I’m it,” he announced.
Buffy placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t wanna play anymore, it’s boring.”
“Stop being such a girl, Summers,” Angel replied, pushing her.
“Am not!” Buffy shouted. “You can’t even jump off the cliff, scaredy-cat.” She stuck out her tongue for emphasis.
“I can!” William boasted as he kicked off his sandals. “Watch me.”
Angel laughed. “No you can’t, Willie. You can’t even jump of the diving board at the pool.”
William’s chin jutted out definitely. “Can too.”
Buffy pursed her lips. “Well, I’m gonna jump too. Come on, Will-yum.” She pulled her shoes off and tossed her shirt and shorts in a pile.
“Well, I am too,” Angel announced, shedding his clothes. The three scrambled up the hill, the hot, lazy sun glinting off their golden skin. They stood on the edge of the cliff, staring down at the lake below.
Buffy felt for each boy’s hand, grasping tightly.
“On the count of three,” she said seriously.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three!”
Noise erupted in the cramped club, booming from the speakers. Buffy nearly covered her ears at the sudden bang of drums.
“You made it!” Willow shouted over the blaring music.
“Yeah, I did,” Buffy replied, seating herself at the small bar.
“Tara will be here soon, and Xander and Anya are at a doctor’s appointment, but it’s almost over,” Willow informed her.
Buffy nodded, surveying the Bronze. It had barely changed. A few new tables and chairs, but it was the same. Possibly the only major difference was the absence of the pimply teenage crowd. From a lone glance, Buffy guessed it was 21 and older.
“Wanna drink?”
Buffy started to shake her head, but stopped. A little drink might be nice, she conceded. “A shot of tequila,” she told the redhead who giggled a little at her choice of drink. As Willow leaned over to order their drinks, Buffy took the opportunity to straighten her thin ribbed tank top, spotting a coffee stain on the hem.
Her sudden departure from LA had meant no packing. She had her bare necessities packed away in her ever-handy tote bag along with two pairs of underwear.
A small glass filled to the brim with a clear liquid slid in front of her, and she readily accepted the shot, tipping back her head and pouring the burning liquid down her throat.
“Wow,” Willow commented in slight awe. “You’re good at that.” It was strange compliment, and Buffy could feel a prickle of resentment. She was the girl who could do shots. Not repair computers, run a shop or teach. Just drink herself into a bitter haze of stupidity.
“Thanks,” Buffy responded setting the glass down. It was too late. The words had hung in the air too long, turning awkward.
“Sorry,” Willow spilt out in a rush. “I didn’t mean it in a mean/drunk way. I just meant…” she trailed off helplessly.
“I know what you meant,” Buffy told the redhead. She tried to make the words sound reassuring, but they came out half-hearted.
Willow swallowed a gulp of her fruity drink. “So are you gonna be visiting the high school? You know, for old times’ sake?”
Buffy shook her head. “A world of no. I still have nightmares about-“
“Snyder,” they said in unison. A burst of laughter came from Willow, and Buffy managed a half-smile.
“God! He was a horrible little idiot,” Willow said, shuddering. “I wonder what happen to him?”
“A giant snake ate him,” Buffy suggested.
Willow snorted. “I wish.”
Surprise flittered through Buffy at the words. This was a different Willow. From the few memories Buffy could recall, she had always been the shy, mousy brain of the class. She liked this one better.
She fingered her empty shot glass as her mind automatically went to him. Would it ever stop?
“You okay?” Willow’s voice was softer than before.
“Yeah,” Buffy answered, clearing her throat. “I just need another shot.”
Willow motioned for the bartender and handed the empty shot glass over. Seconds later, it was returned, filled with Buffy’s good friend Jose. She went slower on this one. She wouldn’t want anyone to think she was an alcoholic.
All the sudden, Willow gestured to someone over Buffy’s shoulder. “Tara!” Willow shouted over the music. Buffy straightened and spotted a dark blonde walking towards them.
Tara was a shy-looking, curvy dark blonde wearing a flowing skirt and almost corset like top with sweeping sleeves. Nothing Buffy could pull off in a million years, but it worked for her.
“H-hi,” Tara greeted her with a warm smile.
“Hey,” Buffy replied, trying to return the smile. When it didn’t come, she busied her self with another taste of her shot and resisted the urge to gulp it.
“Where’s Anya and Xander?” Tara questioned her girlfriend, pulling up a chair.
“Doctor’s,” Willow answered and kissed Tara’s cheek.
A sting of jealousy zinged through Buffy as she watched the exchange. Why couldn’t she have that? Why did her relationships suck beyond comparison?
“How long have you been together?” Buffy asked, keeping the conversation going.
“Almost seven years,” Willow responded, squeezing Tara’s hand. “We met at UC Sunnydale.”
“Wow.” Buffy was actually impressed. Not many people had that, including herself.
“Yeah,” Tara said, but her eyes were on Willow.
Buffy took the opportunity to gulp her drink, swallowing hard. She had to get out of here. Out of the Bronze, out of Sunnydale.
But as much as she wanted to, the shitty thing was there was nowhere else to go. She’d given up her job in New York to be with Riley in LA. Now, she didn’t have Riley and she sure as hell didn’t have her job.
“Um,” Buffy began, concocting an excuse, “I should probably-“
“Oh!” Tara announced. “I see them.”
Damn, damn, damn. She couldn’t get out now.
Both Willow and Tara stood up to greet the mother-to-be that waddled up to their table followed by the same dark-haired guy from the coffee place, Xander.
“Fuck, I need to pee,” the mother-to-be announced loudly, her hand resting on her rounded belly.
No one seemed particularly shocked by the tactless comment as she shuffled off towards the bathroom. Xander watched his wife go before turning to hug Tara. Buffy, feeling like the tipsy fifth wheel, gathered that Tara had been out of town for the last couple of days for a lecture in Seattle.
“Hey.” Xander had noticed Buffy sitting at the bar with her empty glass. “I knew I knew you. Buffy Summers.” He shook his head. “Man, in high school, I was in love with you. Tell her Wills, I was going to ask you to the some dance in sophomore year, but I chickened out.”
Willow laughed. “You were just intimidated by-“ She stopped herself cold.
A silence stretched between them, blanketing everything with discomfort. Tara looked a little lost. And why should she know what they weren’t talking about? Nine years had passed.
“I’m back,” Anya announced. “And I need a cherry coke.”
Buffy couldn’t even remember this woman and yet she was eternally grateful for her arrival. “I’ll get it,” she offered and ordered another shot for herself and the cherry coke.
When she spun around, Anya was regarding her with curiosity. “You look different. I like your hair, did you dye it?”
“No,” Buffy answered. “Undyed it.”
“Same,” Anya said, holding up a shoulder-length lock of brown hair. “I liked my blonde better. So did Xander. It worked better for Naughty Nurse.”
She really wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Um…okay.”
Xander chuckled nervously. “Ahn,” he spoke gently, touching her hand.
“Oh right.” Anya gave a dismissive wave. “You don’t like me talking about us and sex.” She sat down on the barstool and grabbed her drink. “Anyway, I would’ve kept it, but my OB/GYN advised me to not dye my hair while pregnant.”
“She also told you to cut back on the cherry cokes,” Willow added with a mother-like frown.
“It’s a craving,” Anya whined with a pout. Her pretty black blouse flowed over the volleyball-sized bump in her belly as she leaned back into the bar. A yawn escaped between her pink-glossed lips.
Buffy felt out of place as she listened to the four friends discussing Xander and Anya’s coffee place. Seriously, why did she come out with them? In the end, it was all bad memories. She drank her shot, and this time she felt a little woozy.
“I’m gonna use the restroom,” she stated for anyone listening. She saw Willow nod at her distractedly before she stood up, heading for the vague direction she remembered.
“Down the hall, second door on the right,” Anya clarified for her. “I practically live there with this baby pressing on my bladder.”
Like she needed to know that, Buffy thought as she stumbled a little, squeezing through the crowds. The bathroom was exactly where Anya said it would be, and Buffy pushed the door open.
The florescent lighting highlighted her dark circles and slightly greasy skin. Realizing that this bathroom was a million times better than the hotel one, Buffy took the opportunity to use the toilet and wash her face, sticking a piece of gum in her mouth for good measure.
Her hair was limply hanging around her thin face, so she pulled it back with an elastic. Making a face, she pulled it out. With her hair up and no make-up, she looked about 12.
She should just go. Any excuse would work. They weren’t close enough friends to call her bluff, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take that ghost feeling of being at the Bronze.
With a sigh, Buffy pocketed her gum, and closed up her bag. Why had she ever accepted in the first place? To torture herself maybe?
She returned moments later, holding her bag a little tighter. Xander and Willow were discussing a favorite show that vaguely rang a bell.
“Please, that scene was totally unrealistic,” Willow scoffed.
“It was pretty fake,” Tara agreed.
“No! You two are missing the texture, the meaning behind it,” Xander urged.
“You know,” Buffy interrupted. “I think I’m gonna head back.” She swore she saw a look between Willow and her girlfriend.
“Okay,” the redhead said, keeping her upbeat tone.
“I’m just really tired,” Buffy explained lamely.
“That’s okay,” Willow chirped. “We weren’t planning on staying long anyway.” She fished through her small purse, pulling out a pen and paper. “Here’s my phone number, call me before you leave. We can do something.”
Buffy accepted the slip of paper, fumbling to shove it in her pocket. “Yeah…um, see ya.”
Quickly, Buffy shoved her way out of the Bronze, inhaling deeply as she stepped out outside. The air felt cool against her hot skin, and slowly, she walked towards the motel.
The sign flickered like a blinking light, signaling her to turn into the building. Buffy headed to the elevator only to see a piece of paper tapped to the door proclaiming ‘BROKEN. USE THE STAIRS’ in a messy scrawl.
After climbing up the dingy stairwell and walking to room 217, Buffy struggled to open it, jiggling the doorknob until it released.
The bed was the way she had left it, her dirty underwear and pants thrown across it. Suddenly, she heard a beep from inside her bag.
Setting it down, Buffy searched her bag, finding her cell phone with the words ‘1 new voicemail’.
Opening it, she heard the sound of Riley’s, her ex-fiancée, concerned voice.
“Hi, Buffy, it’s me. I know we agreed that we would wait a couple weeks before talking, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you…I wanted to make sure you were okay. Anyway, you can call me if you need someone to talk to…” There was pause, like he was waiting for her to pick up the phone. “Okay, bye.”
Slamming the phone shut, Buffy snorted. His concern for her used to be endearing, but now it was just annoying. He knew exactly where she was, hell, he was the one who told her to go.
Flinging the bathroom door open, Buffy turned on the shower as hot as it would go. She shrugged off her top and bra, and slid out of her pants. Testing the water, Buffy decided that it was warm enough, and jumped in.
Soon the water was scalding hot, but Buffy didn’t care. She stood there, her chest tight, her eyes burning. She lifted her face to the spray, so it was impossible to tell the difference between her tears and the rivulets of water.
Even when the hot water disappeared, she stayed in. Maybe if she remained in there long enough, it would wash her away.