CHAPTER THREE
Monday dawned unusually grey for California. Willow woke up curled in her girlfriend’s warm arms, and snuggled deeper into the blanket when she saw the greyness outside. Tara stirred and found herself nestled in a mane of shiny auburn hair. Both girls enjoyed a moment of blissful calm before they realised what day it was.
As was traditional, they had arranged to meet the others for a drink in celebration of Buffy’s birthday, but it was never an enjoyable occasion and they were all inclined to linger in bed as long as possible. A sombre group met in the Bronze at about noon, including a pale looking Anya on day release from the hospital. As the clock reached half past twelve, Willow raised a glass and said quietly:
“Happy Birthday Buffy,” The group all raised their glasses and repeated
“Happy Birthday!”
“I just wish we could tell her to her face.” Willow said dejectedly, prompting a cuddle from Tara.
“You just did.” A clear voice spoke from behind the group. Four pairs of eyes swivelled round and four mouths fell open when their eyes reached Buffy, clad in white and holding a pram. Spike was loitering in the background, but the gang only had eyes for Buffy.
“Oh my god!” Tara exclaimed
Willow:
I can hardly remember that moment, when Buffy exploded back into my life. Sad, angry, ecstatic, relieved – I could have felt all or none of the above. I just stared, I think, and wondered how she had stayed so…beautiful in such a harsh existence. I didn’t even see the pram at first, but when I did I got real confused. There was this image in front of me; Buffy…and a pram. It didn’t fuse in my mind. It couldn’t be Buffy with a pram, let alone Buffy with a child.
Tara was the only one of us who spoke in those first few minutes, I think she kept her head more than the rest. Even she just repeated: “Oh my god!” over and over. I couldn’t speak, I wasn’t sure which way up I was, or even if I was awake. Buffy held out a hand towards me. It was like a spiritual gesture, the image of her trembling hand and glistening tear filled eyes was imprinted on my brain for eternity. It was exactly like she had flicked a switch and the electricity between us started flowing again. I slid off my chair and walked towards her – aware only of her hand reaching out to me. I closed my eyes as our fingers touched, I swear I felt an electric shock. Then the tension just fell away, and there was an almost audible sigh as she collapsed in my arms.
Tara:
Willow was right – I did keep my head better than the others. I think it was because my emotions about Buffy were far less complicated. I was relieved. Pure and simple relief flooded through me, and I needed a few minutes and ‘oh my god’s to process everything. I’ve been more and more stressed having to look after Will and the others and do the slaying, so it felt just like my guardian angel had just walked back into the room.
Ever since Buffy rescued me from my father on my twentieth birthday I have felt indebted to her, and when she left Sunnydale I couldn’t bear it, because I didn’t trust myself to rescue me or Willow.
I wasn’t surprised to see her with a child, I guess she needed something to love and protect because she felt guilty about Dawn. I felt like that too, when my mother died, and I became ‘mom’ to my little brother and cousin Beth. I sat and stared at Willow and Buffy reconnecting, trying to contain my excitement. At that moment I distinctly remember looking across at Xander and Anya, and being afraid. Their expressions told a story that I never wanted to know the end of.
Anya:
When we fought Glory, it was the first time in eleven hundred years of existence that I felt I had a place in the world. My job was to help Xander. His was to save me. Or so I thought. Over the months after Buffy left, I realised he lived for her, and his life with me meant little to him in comparison. When he took me away, I finally felt like he lived for me, and me alone. Every day when he sits at my bedside he’s my soldier, my shield from the darkness. Then there she was, again, looking all blonde and, and good! I knew his stupid heart would be pounding, blood rushing through his stupid veins as he remembered how much he loved her. I stared at him, fuming. Xander, me! The ACTUAL girlfriend! She turned you down, remember? Wouldn’t take you to the homecoming dance? Forgiven, and forgotten - that’s not how the proverb goes, Xander.
Xander:
No, Anya, that’s not right. When I saw Buffy, nothing really happened, my brain wouldn’t let me react, she’d been so much part of my life that it seemed perfectly normal. When I finally realised that it was a slightly unusual situation, I felt angry. Angry with her, angry with Will, angry with myself. I was angry with Buffy for the amount of pain she caused me when she left us on Monster Island with a war to wage and no Captain to give us orders. I was angry with Will ‘cause she forgave Buffy for that pain. But mostly I was angry with myself for being so selfish and not being big enough to forgive her. I loved her, but I’d got so used to moping and feeling sorry for myself that I was almost mad that she had turned up to make me feel happy again. I’m sorry Anya, if that’s hard to hear, but nothing can cover over the impact Buffy had on me, how she made me feel like a man, gave me a part to play.
That day in the Bronze, when those old fires started to rekindle I knew it was going to take time, but soon my life would be back in order, with Buffy in it.
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