Chapter 13—Empty

She could hear him, but all was dark, and she couldn’t see him. Couldn’t look for him. Didn’t dare move. Who knew what could get her in the dark?

It didn’t matter anyway. She had lost it, lost it all, and never would get it back. And it was because of them.

She knew they did this to her. They always resented her. Watched her. Monitored her. Kept her from doing the right thing.

And they would never pay, because she lost it, and could never get it back.

She curled up in her corner; her back firmly pressed against the walls surrounding her, and surrendered her soul to the black. There was no place for her now, she was nothing again, and she would be nothing forever. She blocked out the persistently familiar voice, and pressed her fingers deep into her ears. There was no one for her. She was alone.

Trapped inside her own personal hell. How ironic. Her maniacal laugh drowned out the voice, finally.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tara sat in lotus on her bed. Incense perfumed the room, and crystals scattered every flat surface. She made peace with Buffy, Giles, and Spike over the things she had done. Whether out of love, fear, or self-preservation was not of any importance now. She had to make peace within, and with the Goddess, before her mental turmoil caused her more problems.

Her constraint on her magic had been tenuous in the past few days, even moreso now with Willow in the hospital. She wanted to fly to her ex-girlfriend’s side and talk to her, climb inside the coma with her to drag her out the other side, but prudent thoughts smashed her idea to the ground. The seething resentment she’d felt from her at their last meeting would turn into an all-out war if she pushed her, especially mind-to-mind. With the guilt already affecting her control, it would turn out badly.

She would have to make her peace with the Goddess first, then try to help Willow. It was the only path to take. The only clear way to healing Willow right now was to heal herself first. All other paths were blocked, and would lead to the darkness for both of them.

She thought about what Dawnie had said before she’d fallen. Balance had to be restored. She understood that. Perhaps Willow's magical null was part of a greater balance. Trouble was, Willow wouldn’t see it that way.

Tara tried again to clear her mind, and finally succeeded. This was going to take a while.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Anya left the Magic Box alone.

She was alone a lot now. The gang didn’t come to the shop often anymore. Buffy and Spike spent as much time together as they could. Dawn was in school. Tara was in school, and mourning the physical condition of her ex. Willow in the hospital. Xander at her bedside.

Giles was the only one she did see with any regularity, and usually he was in a rush to get to his books. She was able to garner a little information about the gang from him, however sparse it might be. None of it surprised her.

She was hurt by their lack of attention. She would have at least called to check on them—but then she realized that she hadn’t called them either. Her shoulders sagged, and she trudged dejectedly down the street toward her apartment.

There was so much she didn’t know about them, and they knew nothing about her. Did any of them even know she had her own apartment? A telephone? Anything?

She doubted it. Really doubted it. She had only been inside because of Xander. Only been included because of who she was with. They didn’t really like her. They tolerated her.

Saddened, she went into her empty apartment. Lacking even the urge to eat or shower, she undressed quickly and went to bed, turning to the pillow to muffle her tears.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dawn looked at the three faces studying her like she was a bug. “Can you please stop?”

“Stop what, Dawnie?” Buffy sounded normal, but she gave off a definite wiggy vibe.

“Stop staring at me like I’m some kind of oracle. It was just a fluke that happened.”

“S’not the first time, Nibblet.” Spike would have to remind her of that, and she cringed when she saw the surprise on Buffy's face. Guess they hadn’t had a chance to cover her weirdness during their discussions.

Dawn glared at him, but he missed it completely, turning to speak to Giles and Buffy instead. “She’s been…different, since all the stuff with Glory. Right insightful. Like she can see past the shite that we all cover our intentions with.”

“Insight, huh?” Buffy considered her sister with a long, quiet look. Dawn squirmed harder under her sister’s hairy eyeball, and finally Buffy turned back to Giles and Spike. “Has anyone checked into it?”

“How, you mean magically? Bloody hell, Buffy. You just heard how dark Red was getting. I wasn’t letting her get anywhere near the Bit.”

“We know other people, Spike.”

“I know, Slayer, but it was bad enough when Red had her nose stuck here all the time. Between her and the Whelp, I couldn’t do anything right. Red got sidetracked, and the Whelp didn’t have the time anymore with work and the wedding, so it fell to me, which was just fine with us. Right, Bit?”

Buffy's eyes widened, and she clapped her hand to her forehead. “Crap! I forgot what Xander said at the hospital.” She looked at Giles. “Giles, have you talked to Anya?”

“I saw her at the shop tonight, Buffy. Why?”

“She and Xander are on the outs. He said he ‘needed to get his priorities straight.’ I don’t know what that means, but it also means that Anya's out there alone, with no support. We were her only friends, you know. Do you know where she would be?”

Giles sighed. “Doubtlessly at her own apartment, Buffy.”

“What’s the address?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy looked at the address on the paper in her hand, then up at the building in front of her.

The half, as in 301 ½, must mean the upstairs. She looked at the mailboxes in the hallway, and in the center was Jenkins, listed in 8b. She climbed the stairs, her legs aching by the time she got to the top. How did Anya stand this all the time? She never really thought much about Anya before. Didn’t think of her as a friend, that was for sure.

Now, climbing the dark staircase, she couldn’t imagine she would ever do this for someone she didn’t think was her friend. Anya was her friend. She was just strange. What the hell, all her friends were strange in their way. Anya fit in perfectly.

She tapped on the door, and strained to hear movement inside. There was no peephole. The walls were stained, cracked, and dilapidated, and Buffy felt the vibrations in her feet from heavier treads that made the upstairs floor shiver beneath them.

The door cracked open, and an eyeball peered out of the crack. “What do you want, Buffy?”

She could hear the exhaustion in Anya's voice, but it was laced with apathy and suspicion. “I came to see about you, Anya.”

“Why? Why bother?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

The door closed in her face, and she waited. She started to turn when the door flew open, and she found herself with an armful of ex-demon. Anya's tears soaked through Buffy's thin shirt quickly as she sobbed in her arms. “I thought nobody cared!”


A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews! I cannot thank you enough for all your positive feedback, and as it was pointed out to me, (thanks ~*~Tasha~*~), it seems I have a loyal following...your support is food to my soul...thank you for enjoying my vision of how it could have been....