Chapter Six: Alienation







“Fuck you!” She screamed through the door, sliding down onto the soft carpet outside the room, her head pounding.



She was shaking.



Her whole body was trembling.



Sweat dripped down her face and splashed against her eyelashes with the strain it took to keep herself contained.



“Willow? Sweetie? What happened? Are you-“ Tara’s voice tailed off as she came upon her lover cowered in the corner of the hallway.



Her hair was jet black. Her previously carefully painted nails had morphed into jagged claws. As her hands clenched Tara could see little trails of bloody from where they had dug into her skin.



“W-Willow?” Tara stuttered, leaning forward to carefully brush a lock of hair away from the Witches’ face. The blonde let out a little gasp when she saw her eyes, what were usually a pretty emerald colour were now shimmering pools of black ink.



“Are you okay?” The gentle Witch asked, only love and worry reflected in her calm orbs as she took the other girl’s hands in hers, gently magicing away the pain of her cuts.



“T-T-Tara….” Willow let out a little sob and curled into her embrace.



“What happened?” Tara eventually asked, gently stroking her back to try and calm her.



“I nearly lost control again.” Willow shivered. “She was saying all this stuff – stuff I thought was forgotten.” She looked up at her lover with teary, green eyes. “God, Tara, she must hate me!”



“She doesn’t hate you.”



“You didn’t hear her!” Willow insisted, her still-black eyes wide with pain.



“I didn’t have to – I know Buffy; she loves us all. She’s just really hurt right now, she needs time to feel better. I think she thinks she’s doing it for our own good – she can’t see that we love her and want to help her be well.” Tara sighed softly, brushing another lock of hair from Willow’s eyes. “Where is she now? I can’t hear anything.”



Willow looked shame-faced. “I put her to sleep….I just needed her to stop saying those things…I know it was wrong – I’m so sorry, baby. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I couldn’t control myself.”



“I know, honey. I know.” Willow shuddered, curling back into her embrace. “Maybe it would be better if Buffy had a different therapist. Maybe Xander?”



“Yeah…” Willow sighed, sitting up. Her hair had returned to its normal reddish colour, and her fingers were once again a soft pink.



“Maybe we should go downstairs and wait for Joyce to come home?”



---



“This is your wet dream come true, isn’t it Xander?”



“Sorry, Buff, you’re not gonna get to me this time.” Xander averted his eyes from the Slayer’s cold face as he attempted to continue sponge bathing Buffy’s limp legs.



Buffy snorted at that: “Yeah right – where’s your ‘Orgasm Buddy’” She sneered, putting on a high pitched voice for the title.



“Anya’s at the shop.” He replied simply, trying not to draw on any provocation.



There was silence for a full ten minutes, and Xander thought she’d had enough. That she had nothing left to hurl at him to try and push him away. Allowing himself a small smile, he rose, collecting the sponge into the plastic bowl of water. He carefully pat-dried her legs, making sure to get all the moisture. Once he was done he looked around for the cream he was meant to rub in.



It wasn’t there.



*Must still be in the bathroom.* He thought and turned to face the girl lying on the bed.



“I’m just gonna get the cream stuff, Buff – I’ll just be a minute. You want anything while I’m gone?” He asked kindly.



She didn’t answer. Her cold stare burned through him and internally he sighed. Well, at least she had nothing left to say…



But then, just as he was almost at the door it started again from nothing.



“You think anyone bought your whole ‘amnesia’ crap after that hyena episode?”



He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “What?” It had been years ago – where was she going with this?



Even as he was drawn into her web, his brain kept repeating to himself; *It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap....don't get caught...she's trying to goad you...*



“That whole grrrr, argh, I’m gonna eat you – remember you were a violent, raping creature – must have made some sort of impression on your psyche!”



*Trap, trap, trap....*



His mind barely registered the word ‘rape’, still stuck on the fact that she didn’t believe he hadn’t remembered. “What? Buffy, I couldn’t remember anything…” But the guilt was written all over his face and the Slayer brought up another past hurt, and as the memories resurface they helped fuel her anger.



“Bullshit!” She threw the nearest thing to hand at him, but as all the breakables had, well, broken, all that was there was a pillow. It bounced harmlessly to the floor.



“I would never hurt you-“



“Please...” She interrupted. “You got off on trying to rape me!”



*TRAP! TRAP! TRAP!*



But he wasn't listening to his inner warnings, all he could hear was her accusing voice....and the truth in her words.



“Buffy - no!” Horrified he took a step backward. He’d thought she’d forgotten about it.



As if reading his thoughts she spoke again, “Sorry, baby – being almost violated by your best friend is not something a girl forgets in a hurry.”



He was shaking…and his head moved back and forth in denial of her words. He tried to open his mouth, to refute what she had just said, but the words stuck in his throat as the memories he’d tried to push down remerged.



“It made you feel like a big man, didn’t it Xander. Cornering the poor, unprotected girl and going in for the kill.” Her voice was saccharine sweet as her accusing eyes glared into him.



He’d never forgotten it though. He still had dreams, nightmares – he still wasn’t sure how to categorise them. He could still feel her underneath him, squirming and writhing – he could even remember the glorious scent of her fear.



It scared him, because he continued to get off on it now. He groaned silently as his body hardened against his will.



She noticed.



"God, you're disgusting. You think I'm blind as well as paralysed?! I can see you!" She indicated his hard-on with a flick of her wrist.



His fists clenched as he tried to reign in some control.



But, she was still talking.



Still twisting his gut with her words.



Still pushing him further and further toward the edge.



“I guess that’s why you like Anya so much…bet she has lots of storied of how she trapped innocent men, tortured and fucked them to death – God, to hear her talk on our ‘Girls’ nights you’d think she was still a demon.” She smiled cruelly as she watched the anger build in the man in front of her. “But then that’s what turns you on the most – that’s why you hate Angel and Spike; you’re just trying to hide it, not very well by the way….ooooh!” She squealed as she suddenly thought of another angle. “Unless you’re jealous…always fantasised about having a Vampire cock up your ass?”



“SHUT UP!” He stormed forward, his arm raised ready to do anything; whatever it took to get her to stop talking.



Buffy didn’t move, thoroughly unimpressed. “Yeah – show me what a real man is like…” She taunted.



But her words didn’t get the desired effect, he didn’t fold; he broke..



It wasn’t Buffy’s words he heard in his head, but his mother’s – just before his father would start with the fists.



No.



He wasn’t his father.



He’d never be his father.



But…what was his hand doing? His fist – it was clenched…why?



Xander stood for a moment, silent in shock. God…he’d been about to hit her. His best friend, the one that had saved him more times then he could count and he’d been about to hit her…



A few words and he’d nearly lost it.



She needed his help, and he’d almost hit her.



Buffy might have still been talking, he didn’t know, all he could hear was his own damning voice inside his head, screaming out the accusations.



He had to get out of here – he had to leave before he did something he would forever regret.



“I-I’m sorry Buffy, I’ll come see you soon.” He finally managed to stutter, quickly walking out of the room, his whole body shaking.



He muttered a quick apology to Joyce as he passed her on the stairs without stopping, and walked straight out the front door.



Buffy heard the door slam, and the confident smirk that had graced her lips dropped like a house of cards in a soft breeze. Her head flopped to the side in shame as the tears slowly started to fall, the same way they had done after every other confrontation.



This emotional upheaval was hurting her more then she ever could have anticipated.



With every person she pushed away, a little part of her died inside, because she didn't really want to hurt them. Didn't want to push them to the edge, make them loose control and begin to snap.



Didn't want to cause them pain.



But then again, she died a little....because in a way...she did.



Everything she'd said to them was true, every sore she'd pulled, poked and prodded at was real. And every wrong she'd accused them of had happened.



Which was why it hurt them all the more.



---



Her hair hung limply, in disarray around her face. It whipped round, nearly hitting Joyce in the eye as she bent to get better leverage.



Buffy just continued to scowl at her from her position on the unmade bed.



“No! Get off me! I don’t want you touching me!”



“Buffy, please…” Joyce tried again.



For the thirtieth time at least.



“NO! God, what is wrong with you?!” She shouted scornfully.



“What is wrong with YOU?!” Her mother finally exclaimed, letting go of the sheet she was trying to use to turn Buffy over so she could massage her behind and legs so that she wouldn’t get bed sores. “I am trying – I can’t believe you don’t see that!”



“I want to be left alone – I can’t believe YOU don’t see that!” Buffy mocked her words back at her.



“You should be careful what you wish for, ‘cause at the rate you're going you WILL be all alone!” Joyce snapped, pure frustrated fury glistening in her eyes. "Don't you see what you are doing is tearing your friends apart? Can't you see how selfish you're being? People are trying to help and all you do is cause them more pain!"



The older woman immediately felt guilty when she saw tears well up in her daughters’ eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“



The tears that had briefly shone brightly in Buffy’s eyes quickly disappeared as the Slayer came to the forefront and hardened her heart.



“Get. Out.”



“Buffy…” It was now Joyce’s hazel eyes that swum in tears.



When her daughter next opened her mouth it was the Slayer that spoke cold, calculating words in her voice. Joyce took a deep breath and walked calmly from the room, shutting the door gently behind her.



Finally she saw it; the way out. She’d been going about this recovery thing in completely the wrong fashion.



She wasn’t dealing with her daughter, or even the Buffy/Slayer combination she loved just as much.



She was dealing with The Slayer.



Pure.



Simple.



An unadulterated hunter.



And she only knew of one person who’d aced the course in dealing with that.





TBC...Soon in: Chapter Seven :: Evil

A/N: Thoughts, feelings, Naked-Chocolate-Covered-Spikes...all welcome my way... :P