The cursor blinked against the white abyss. It waited. It laughed. It mocked. She couldn't understand why she'd signed up for this class. It wasn't her style. She was never the "creative type" and she certainly didn't understand computers. The wasn't her job. Her job was the leg work. She didn't know what to write about. There was nothing left for her to "make up." Everything that everyone else imagined to be fiction, she knew was real. The only things she could write that were untrue to her life were happy endings, and that was so cliché. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn't even hear the bell ring.
* * *
Willow and Xander found Buffy staring vacantly at the computer screen, the blank computer screen. She seemed somehow hypnotized by it. They looked at each other trying to figure out how to bring her around. Xander was the first to move.
"You there, Buffy?" She didn't move. Willow decided to try.
"Careful around that computer. I think I released another demon." Nothing. "Okay, fine. I'll just have to wait to bring you to the world of the living, well mainly living and the not-quite living. I'll just wait until the full moon and bring Oz over to snap you out of it." Still nothing. "Or I could just do it myself, because we got a little rough the other day, and he accidentally scratched me, so I'm a werewolf now, too."
"What?" It was a miracle. Finally a little movement from the comatose Slayer.
"Well, look who decided to join us. You looked like me in the middle of Algebra class," Xander said. Buffy stretched a bit to shake her disconnected feeling.
"Having trouble in Creative Writing again?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. I mean, what am I supposed to write about?"
"Well, you know what they always say: write what you know, " Willow beamed.
"Great idea, Will. I'll write about kicking the butt of every demon and vampire that comes in my sight and Snyder will think I'm even crazier than he already does."
"Maybe he'll just think you're creative," she offered trying to believe what she was saying.
"Never lose that optimism."
"Just tell me you don't really believe that, and I won't have to dissolve our friendship," Xander said looking at Willow.
"I don't. I'm just being Willow."
"Just checking."
"Well despite the lack of weirdness in the past few days, I suppose I should report to Giles. He's probably found something to worry about. I swear that's what he does with his free time."
"I didn't know he had any," Willow replied.
"A lack of a life is not the same as a lack of free time," Buffy explained.
"Right. I mean, we have plenty of free time," Xander joked. They both just glared at him. "I was kidding." They walked out. "Com'on, guys. I gotta be me!" He ran after them.
* * *
They pushed through the library doors to discover Cordelia ranting and raving. She was very ruffled. Giles was sitting at the table rubbing his head. It was obvious how upset Cordelia was because she rarely spoke with her hands this much. At first Buffy was concerned that her break from strenuous activity was about to end, but then she heard the words coming out of Cordy's mouth.
"So I said to the saleslady: "Now you listen to me! This shade is Passion Pink *not* Primrose Dawn! I want my *real* shade of lipstick and I mean *now*!' And then, shock of my life, she told me that Primrose Dawn had been discontinued! Do you have any idea how many years of research it takes to find the perfect shade like that?!" She was out of breath when she took a momentary pause in her tirade. Giles looked past her and perked up.
"Buffy! Thank goodness you're here!"
"Why? Some new evil I should set my radar for? Should my phazer be on ‘kill' or will just ‘stun' do?" She was taunting him. She knew exactly what he was so happy about. She just wanted to see if he'd say it in front of Cordelia.
"No, I just . . ." She could see him squirming in his brain for a response. "I just . . . wanted . . . to know how patrol went last night," he finally blurted.
"Uneventful," she said trying to contain her giggles. She looked around to see Willow and Xander also bottling laughter. Cordelia was, as always, clueless.
"What?" she asked in her snotty, how-dare-you-have-a-joke-I-don't-get tone.
"I'll explain it to you later," Xander assured her knowing darn well he wouldn't.
"So, by uneventful you mean . . ." Giles prodded.
"Nada, zip, goose egg, no ghoulies, ghastlies, long-legged beasties, or things that go bump in the night. Totally dead, no pun intended," she explained. "I can't put it any simpler than that, Giles!"
"Hold on there, Buffster, no need for the PMS attack." Buffy, Willow, And Cordy turned and glared menacingly at him. "That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?"
"I'm afraid it is when you're so grossly outnumbered, Xander," Giles said launching into his usual glasses cleaning ritual. Everyone wondered why his lenses got dirty so often. There was silence in the library, something that was ironically rare. Cordelia was the first to speak.
"So did you all hear about my major crisis?" Suddenly, everyone found some excuse to leave. Even Xander snuck out, leaving Cordelia standing alone in the white high-heeled sandals. "Fine!" she yelled at the room full of books. She stormed clickingly out of the library.
Sensing it was safe, Giles peered out of his office. He cautiously walked to the table to pick up the leather bound volume that sat there. His finger traced the ancient symbol on the front. What he knew lay behind the knot-work indentation made him sigh deeply. So many memories. He picked it up and walked to his office like a member of a funeral procession.
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