”You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.”
Amy Lowell
Buffy closed the door behind herself and quickly but carefully ambled down the slick stairs, heading toward the pathway leading to the front of the house. In addition to the steadily falling snow, the wind had joined in, making her time outside even more unbearable. With every gust of wind, the flakes struck her face. Each one felt like a small shard of glass as it stung and burned.
As Buffy continued her walk through the bitter cold, she fiercely held her impending breakdown at bay, even though it was screaming for release. With each step, she felt her resolve breaking, but she held strong, increasing her pace when she saw the outline of her car through the veil of white.
Once she reached the car, she noticed a layer of snow covering the metal. When she opened the door, the snow gathered on the jamb slid from its perch and landed at her feet. Stepping through the small pile, she climbed into the driver’s seat, not caring about the snow, which once clung to her boots but now littered the bottom of the car.
The sound of the door closing acted as the starting pistol for the tears to begin flowing, and flow they did. Buffy held tightly onto the steering wheel in order to ground herself against the onslaught of tears. The heated drops struck each cheek rapidly, sliding down her face unchecked, while her whole body shook from the combination of being cold and the overwhelming feelings consuming her. After what seemed like an endless time crying, the tears began to subside. Wiping the wetness away, Buffy composed herself enough to decide it was the time to leave.
After several attempts, she controlled her shaky hands long enough to insert the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and the chilly air from the idle heating system blasted into the space causing her to shake more. Quickly, she turned it down to a soft blow in order to allow the heat to return, before turning it back up once more.
Buffy refused to look toward the house. She didn’t know if Will was watching her, waiting for her to return. The painful tugging she felt within made it perfectly clear that a part of her wanted to go back into the house and tell him this was a big mistake. This part wanted her to shred the divorce papers into tiny pieces and feed them to the flames. Once that was done, she pictured herself pulling him into her arms and kissing him senseless, then by the light of a roaring fire, making love while they pledged their undying love and devotion to one another. Buffy was well aware this all sounded very harlequin novel-ish, but at this moment her inner romantic was in total control.
That was until the more rational part of her brain had its say. It dredged up the past two lonely years she’d been through. It reminded her of the times when Will was there but not and when they shared living space, but not their lives. Over that time they had become complete strangers. Their once cherished time together now felt like a burden each had to endure, and she loved him too much to let this continue. She knew what had happened tonight was the right choice no matter how much it hurt.
Buffy shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and decided it was time to leave the past behind. With a quick flick of the knob she’d turned on the wipers in order to clear away the snow the defroster hadn’t handled. Following several swipes of the blades, the snow pushed to the sides of the windshield, framing it in a mound of white. With a deep breath, Buffy finally allowed herself a parting glance toward the house before putting the car into drive.
With a whispered “Goodbye,” Buffy removed her foot from the brake and proceeded to step on the gas. After several moments, her forehead scrunched in confusion. She wasn’t moving. Looking down at her foot and confirming she had the right pedal, Buffy stepped harder on the gas. The sound of the wheels turning filled the air, but it seemed in this scenario— spinning tires didn’t equal a moving car.
Buffy took her foot off the gas and placed it on the brake. Most likely, her tires were caught on a patch of ice. All she needed to do was pull the car out of the slick area, then she could leave. Proceeding to put the car into reverse, Buffy stepped on the gas once more. Just as earlier the wheels spun, but the car didn’t budge. With an aggravated huff, she shifted the car into drive once more—still nothing. Following several attempts of alternating between drive and reverse Buffy knew she had to try a whole new approach, since she hadn’t moved an inch.
Throwing the car into park she clambered out of her seat, slamming the door behind her. Trying her best not to slip, Buffy stomped over to the driver’s side front tire. Eyeing it with pure malice, she noticed the tire embedded in the snow. Looking down the length of the car to the back tire, she noted it was in the same position.
Even though Buffy was a southern California girl, she knew there wasn’t any way she was going anywhere without removing the snow surrounding the tires. Since all her prior attempts had failed, she realized digging them out was the only way. Kicking the tire for good measure Buffy muttered under her breath while pulling her damp, wood-speckled gloves from her pocket. Sliding her hands into the material, she shivered slightly as the cold, wetness covered and seeped into her skin.
Still muttering, Buffy crouched down in front of the tire closest to her. Cupping her hands, she began dragging handfuls of snow away. After several scoops, she could no longer feel her fingers, and her nose had started running. The only thing that kept her going was that she could see her efforts were working, as more of the tire was now exposed. When she felt she’d removed as much as she needed to, Buffy stood and brushed her gloved hands together, trying to remove the clinging snow. Buffy cursed the snow and moved to the rear tire in order to repeat the process.
**** ****
It seemed as though hours had passed since Buffy’s departure, yet Will couldn’t find the strength to move. The only movement was the steady rise and fall of his chest, as he took in slow, deep breaths. His gaze remained fixed on the door Buffy had walked out of.
From the moment he threw caution to the wind and pulled Buffy into his arms, he tried committing every detail about her to memory, no matter how small. How her body went rigid momentarily before relaxing and molding into his embrace. How she nuzzled her cheek against his cotton-covered chest, while her warm breaths penetrated the fabric, tickling his sensitive flesh underneath. The way her smile, even one filled with sadness, still warmed his heart and soul.
Once he had filed all these details away, the emotions attached to them began to come forward—especially the pain. The pain from the realization that this was the last time he would ever hold her. The pain that this moment might be possibly the last time he would ever see her. All these thoughts caused the overwhelming ache to weigh heavily in his chest and trigger the tears he had held onto so fiercely earlier to now form and roll down his cheeks. It was all too much!
From the moment he’d awakened this morning, a deep-rooted uneasiness had filled him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the feeling. When early evening rolled around, and he’d heard the weatherman reporting a bitter cold snap was coming, Will convinced himself that was the cause, and he snickered as he compared himself and his edgy feelings with a flock of squawking, restless birds before an approaching storm. Well, that was until he saw her standing in the snow. Now, he knew better than to dismiss his feelings as something as silly as bad weather.
At first, Will believed seeing Buffy was possibly due to a freaky hallucination—his eyes playing tricks on him making the shadows appear to be something they weren’t. After a few moments of “Buffy” not disappearing, Will feared it could be worse than a figment of his imagination. His concern then became that after a year of almost solitary living, his lack of human contact had caught up with him and rotted his melon. He had finally gone around the proverbial bend. He was mad as a hatter, completely certifiable. That is what the nut house doc would say when Will told him he saw his wife, who would never be here to see him, especially not driving three hours from LA in a snow storm and now standing in front of and actually talking to him. Yup, he’d earned a one way ticket to crazy-ville, population one.
Will remained standing in the middle of the room until Buffy’s engine roared to life and broke through the ramblings consuming his mind. He pushed the ideas of shadows and craziness away and moved toward the window to witness the third most painful event in his life, Buffy driving away for the final time.
It didn’t make any sense that his mind was trying to sequence the tragedies in his life. However, the mind always tried to find ways to aid in self-preservation. Rationalizing emotions was one of the ways the mind helped in coping with difficult and painful things.
Today was the day for both number two and three to form on this list. There was no “list” until two years ago when—Will broke once more from his thoughts when he witnessed Buffy climbing out of her car, walking toward the front end, and after standing there for a moment, kicking the tire.
Despite how grim his mindset had been only moments before, Will chuckled at the sight of his little spitfire. Without another thought besides needing to know why she hadn’t left by now, even more so why she was clearly upset, Will headed toward the stairs. Once upstairs, he headed over to a bedroom window facing the front of the house in order to see what was going on more clearly.
It only took a few moments for him to understand why there was a delay and what caused her anger. Even though Will wanted to head outside and help her with her predicament, he remained where he was—completely conflicted. Clearly, she could use the help, but he felt going out there to do so would be, at the very least, awkward.
First off, wasn’t there a protocol between ex’s like hating one another or, at the very least, feeling ill will toward them? Also, wasn’t he supposed to be relishing the fact that this was happening to her? Wasn’t he supposed to be pointing and laughing at his ex while she crouched in the snow, endeavoring to dig out her car with her hands? Wasn’t that typical ex-husband behavior?
Yet despite feeling emotionally torn limb from limb from what had just happened earlier, he couldn’t find or even dredge up any type of animosity toward her. Also, going one-step further, he believed that the process of signing the papers seemed to be difficult for her as well. Maybe he was delusional hoping she still cared for him, but hope was all he felt he had left.
Secondly, to be completely honest, he was glad she was stuck. Not in a “Haha, you’re stuck!” kinda way, but in a “She has to stay, at least for a little longer” way. Maybe for the first time in years The Powers that Be decided to throw him a bone.
Will glanced at the soft green glow from the alarm clock. It was ten past eleven. He’d hoped Buffy would give up soon. There was so much snow surrounding the tires, and he knew how much Buffy hated the cold. He hoped the two things combined would work in his favor. But again this was Buffy, and she was very persistent, as well as stubborn. Even though these qualities were annoying at times, to say the least, they were the very qualities needed to push over the bumps littering the road of life.
He watched for several more minutes as she moved to the back tire and began digging. When he witnessed her whole body shake almost violently from the cold, his choice was an easy one to make. Heading downstairs, he dressed quickly in his outerwear before heading out the front door.
**** ****
Buffy’s pace slowed to a mere crawl as complete exhaustion took over. The snow was heavy and wet. This type of snow was perfect for making snowballs and snowmen but not so much for trying to move it with your hands. Even if she had a shovel, this process would’ve been taxing. The harsh wind continued to whistle in her ears and bite at her exposed cheeks.
Buffy stopped digging when she felt fresh tears stinging her eyes. The tears formed from both frustration and the bitter wind were balancing on her lower lids and threatening to fall. Quickly, she blinked them away, knowing the weepy side of her frustration would get her nowhere fast. Well, that and the possibility of the cold freezing her eyes shut if they had flowed. Taking a steady, cleansing breath, she pushed the weepiness away and tapped into the angry side of her frustration. This side helped fuel her movements as she began digging once more.
Just before she’d partially uncovered the second tire, Buffy heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Lu—um, Buffy? Can I ask, what are you doin’?”
Buffy, with her agitation still at an all-time high, responded to him without courteously acknowledging his approach by neither stopping her digging nor turning to face him.
“I’m building a snow fort using my car as home base. What the fuck to do think I’m doing? I’m digging out my car so I can get the hell out of here!”
Will was taken aback by her words and stood speechless for several moments before responding. Her clear hostility was a complete change from the softness of her earlier demeanor. Acting purely from the fight part of the “fight or flight response,” Will instantly threw back a response, his tone matching her snark.
“Well, if you weren’t so daft as to drive this hunk of junk up the mountain in a snow storm no less, then you wouldn’t be stuck in the snow? Now would you, princess?”
His response stopped her digging instantly. Standing slowly, she brushed her hands together before turning toward him. Will knew she was pissed as he watched her cross her arms across her chest in indignation.
“This ’hunk of junk’ as you so rudely called it, is the best car we ever owned! Even after almost 200,000 miles it still runs perfectly! Plus, I don’t need a hoity-toity car to prove to other people I’ve made something of my life!”
Buffy knew that comment was a low blow, but she was just so mad! How dare he poke fun at the first thing they ever owned together? It felt like a shot at their whole relationship. She knew it wasn’t true, but it felt that way all the same. Once she heard Will’s response, she knew he had taken it as it was intended: a hit below the belt.
“I don’t need anything to show anyone that I’ve made somethin’ of myself! I don’t give rot ‘bout what people think! The only reason why I bought the bloody Beamer was so you wouldn’t be riding around in some ten year old piece of shite when—“
Will’s words froze in his throat when he realized he’d nearly spoken about the most devastating moment in both their lives. The air between them felt thick, almost palpable from the silence and tension, as their gaze remained locked. Filled with guilt and unable to look into her eyes any longer, he lowered his head.
All of Buffy’s anger drained away when she witnessed the guilt flashing across Will’s features when he had almost brought up their painful past. She wanted him to speak of this time and for him to not feel it was wrong in doing so. This was the main reason why their relationship had fallen apart: his refusing to speak about this difficult time, and how he had become a whipping boy of his own guilt. Seeing him like this always tore her up inside.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Buffy took several steps forward. His head remained bowed until he saw her feet in his line of vision. Raising his head, Will met Buffy’s gaze. They stared at one another for a few moments before Buffy spoke,
“Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you. All you were doing was asking me a reasonable question, and in true Buffy form, I jumped down your throat for it. I’m not pissed at you. It's just -- I’m stuck, and I can’t get out, and I’m freezing, and I’m pretty sure that I’ve lost some fingers and toes and possibly my nose during this process and…did I say I’m pissed 'cause I can’t get out?”
A soft smile filled Will’s lips briefly from her ramblings. Buffy’s incessant talking usually came when she was feeling uneasy about something, and when she tried to put it in words, babbling was the end result. Like always, he found it absolutely adorable. This was one of the attributes he loved in her. Who was he kiddin’? He loved everything about her.
Noticing how he was looking at her, Buffy’s stopped, eyeing him before mirroring a smile of her own.
“Just call me the Ramblin’ Man, well, woman. In case I didn’t make it clear during my case of verbal diarrhea, I’m sorry, and I’m not mad at you.”
“Yeah, I reckoned that. After all these years, I’ve gotten pretty good at deciphering Buffy-ese. Anyhow, I wouldn’t blame you if you were angry, since I asked a question to which the answer was ridiculously obvious.”
While Buffy looked at him, Will used all his control to maintain an even expression on his face. He was finding it hard to contain the elation welling inside. He knew he was being a complete git getting all excited that they were having a simple conversation, but he couldn’t help it, since this was the first truly civil one they’d had in almost a year.
Plus, he was finding it harder and harder as each moment passed not to let his excitability show. Buffy had apologized to him again. One apology from Buffy was rarity, never mind two. If before this moment he were told he would be getting two apologies from her in one day, he would’ve dismissed it as a myth such as vampires or ghosts. Then when she responded to him in true Buffy form, it triggered the smile waiting to be released.
“Great, we both agree. You're to blame.” Following dual chuckles, she continued speaking as she motioned toward the tires.
“Now, how do I get outta this mess?”
Will walked toward the car with Buffy in tow. He eyed the tires briefly before he shook his head.
“Buffy, I know you don’t wanna hear this, but you're not getting outta here tonight. You're in pretty deep. Plus, you have front wheel drive, so the only way to get outta here is digging your way out. Since it’s really late, I suggest we deal with this in the mornin’.”
She wanted to protest, tell him there was no way she could spend the night here with him. Never mind returning to the place where their marriage had ended and act like everything was hunky-dory, especially with the thoughts she had earlier about kissing and nakedness in front of the fire that had come forth. Then with him looking at her with his eyes shining with hope and complete devotion she didn’t stand a chance. She always melted when he looked at her that way. Her heart formed a response before her mind had any say.
“Okay, I mean thanks, for letting me stay.”
Will wanted to ask her why she was thanking him when it was far from an inconvenience. On the contrary, it was a gift. He wanted to tell her if he had a choice, she would stay with him forever. Despite these and a million other retorts forming in his head, he settled for a minimal response of “’S’alright.”
Without another word, the pair headed toward the house, each of them unaware that the other was also mentally preparing for the time that lay ahead – time alone together
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hello all. First I'd like to say, I was in complete and total awe from the responses to the last chapter. I'm amazed everyone enjoyed it as much as they did. Hopefully I'll be able to keep it going. Secondly, I want to thank two amazing women, Sanityfair and Diebirchen. These ladies are not only there for me to help me look like a better writer, but even more importantly they are the most incredible friends a person could hope for. I am so fortunate to have both of them in my life. I love you ladies!
Chapter End Notes:
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