Chapter Text
Come Undone
by claudia6913
Chapter 1
What do you do when everything you have lived for, everything you have built your entire life around, crumbles to the ground? What are you supposed to do when you no longer have to live on that edge of life and death, when you no longer have to live with the fears, the nightmares? How are you supposed to live in relative safety when for...well, more years than you could count, it was not always that way? Years of fighting, years of barely surviving one danger, only to face several others takes its toll on a person...even the strongest of people break. They cannot handle it anymore, and the world ending no longer seems like that big of a deal.
This was how Willow felt when she heard about the apocalypse in Los Angeles, Angel's city. It was just one more apocalypse. She had survived her share and nearly caused one as well. She had not wanted to join in another, had not wanted to see any of her friends get hurt or die.
Things had become too much. Too much pain and loss in too short of a time. Having barely survived the destruction of Sunnydale, she was trying to put that nightmare behind her, bury it deep inside. So, she ignored it. It was easy enough. Don't answer the phone; don't open mail unless it's bills. Simple as that. And it worked...probably a little too well.
By the time any news reached her, the situation would be, more than likely over and resolved when she got a phone call or letter. Which was fine with Willow. She had enough of death and Hellmouths and everything that went with them.
Maybe that was why she had chosen the secluded seaside village. Easy, simple, and quiet. They knew nothing of Hellmouths here - knew nothing of things that went bump in the night. Only the soft sway of the sparse sea grass and the gentle crash of the waves on the beach were heard in the night. Willow loved this small town in North Carolina. It was far away from everything and nothing like where she had been raised.
It was just what she needed.
After Kennedy's death...she was not able to do it any more. The brutality with which her second love had been dispatched tore Willow apart and broke her down. There was barely anything left to bury, let alone grieve over. Willow had not stayed for Kennedy's funeral; her heart was broke. Pretty words and talk of an afterlife to come would not help Willow, so she packed what little she deemed necessary and left without a word.
It had been hard enough for Willow to deal with Tara's death, adding on the fact that they had not moved her from the Sunnydale Cemetery. Willow felt that loss almost as keenly as she had Tara's actual death. She no longer had a place to go, a marker, a reminder...just her memories and a picture she had saved.
Willow still talked to Tara, and to Kennedy, usually when she was cleaning late at night, or before she opened her store for the day. She told them of the happenings in her day and let them know she was happy, well, as happy as she was able to be, and that she was taking it one day at a time. This worked for Willow, making her happy, and she felt like she was not forgetting her two departed loves even as she chose to forget everything else.
"Morning!" Willow called out when she heard the bell ring for the door. She had opened hours ago, but this was the first customer of the day. The tourist season was over, leaving just the few inhabitants of the Outer Banks that roughed it year round. But, it was not a customer.
"Hey Willow," Susan said, coming up to where Willow was checking inventory at a small table. "Whatcha got there?"
"A new shipment of books, some rare ones I've been waiting a while for. What are you up to today, Susan? Where are the little ones?"
"Oh them? Sent them away. Their grandmother took them, thank God. Jason was driving me up the wall and April wasn't helping. Don't ever have kids."
Willow laughed and shook her head but she knew better. Susan loved her kids and Willow loved them too. She wanted kids of her own...but not yet. Someday she would find a way.
They were close in age, both twenty-something, and already Susan had two kids and was contemplating a third. But, that was Susan. She was fresh and clean, with sun-bleached hair that would turn a nice golden brown in the winter. She had large brown eyes that were curious and saw everything...which was probably how Susan could handle two kids and think about another. She was taller than Willow, but only by an inch or so.
"Oh no. You've got that wistful look in your eyes. You're thinking about it aren't you? What have I done?" Susan said jokingly. She placed a hand at her heart and faked a swoon, landing in the chair next to Willow's. They both laughed and Willow shook her head.
"No, not really. I'll stick to just playing with yours," Willow said. She loved Susan's kids. They were not as bad as Susan made them sound sometimes, they were simply kids. Jason had recently had his 8th birthday and April's fifth was coming up soon. Willow wanted to get something for her, something special. Maybe she could find her favorite children's book and give it to April. It was a thought, and Willow made a mental note to look for it online later that night.
"They love you, you know," Susan said, breaking through Willow's thoughts.
"I know," Willow said, smiling softly. She remembered being their age. Willow had been so shy, nothing like the outgoing April. Only Xander...she sighed. Willow had left him, left them all - the people that had been closest to her - for a new life, one that didn't revolve around Slaying. That was the price Willow had paid to remove herself from that lifestyle...leaving behind everyone she had loved and considered a friend.
Even in the little town of Kitty Hawk she only saw Slayers every once in a while come through her shop. And they were usually out-of-towners. A card with the Watcher's Council and a typed letter was always discretely slipped to them. Willow could not help doing at least that much. Even though North Carolina, let alone Kitty Hawk, was not on a Hellmouth, vampires were everywhere and they knew what a Slayer was. Willow was just trying to keep them alive...without getting involved. Every time she met a Slayer, she prayed to the Goddess to keep them unharmed and see them to the Watcher's Council. It was all she could do, all she could handle doing.
"Earth to Willow," Susan said, snapping her fingers in front of Willow's face.
"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I sort of-"
"Zoned?" Susan said, cutting Willow off. "Yeah, I saw that. What's up? Are you okay?"
Should she tell her? What would 'normal' Susan think of her friend if she told her the truth? Told her everything about Hellmouths, Slayers, lesbian lovers, vampires, demons...no. Willow couldn't.
"Just remembering is all. Sorry," Willow said.
"One of these days you'll tell me who he was," Susan said, smiling when Willow looked shocked. "A girl knows, you know."
Susan winked and stood up to look at the contents of the box on the table. She began pulling out books, stacking them so it would be easier for Willow to inventory what was sent. She had hired Susan the first summer Willow was there. She had underestimated the interest in an occult shop in the South. It was nothing like the Magic Box used to be. Willow's shop dealt more in rare books and a bit of the occult, but it was enough to have more people stopping in than she had planned for. Susan had been a godsend and Willow had hired her the third time she came in the store.
Willow had more than enough money to hire someone, and even now, she thought about hiring someone part time during the winter so she could take a trip or two, but the store was part of Willow's routine and she really would not give it up for anything. Igneous was about the only thing that kept her going some days, and now, looking back, she was thankful for the little store and the little rural town.
"Why do you have diaries?" Susan asked, pulling out three large leather-bound books. Willow recognized them immediately and her anger flared.
'How dare he!' Willow thought. She took the books from Susan's hands and noticed her friend's concerned look.
"Sorry, it's just a mistake, possibly an expensive one. Tends to make one upset, you know?" Willow said, covering her angry scowl with a soft laugh. Susan nodded but still looked a bit concerned. Willow walked back to the back storeroom and placed them on the stairs that led up to her apartment above the store. She would figure out what to do with them later. Right then, she needed to calm down. Willow took a few deep breaths, trying to control her anger. But, it wasn't entirely anger. Simply seeing those books forced her to remember things that she had tried so hard not to think about for over a year now.
Finally, Willow came out from the storeroom all smiles, and although Susan did not look like she was buying the act, Willow kept up the charade anyways. She had to. If she let it affect her, it would take months to repair the wall she had built around her memories and emotions.
"So, what are you doing for the winter?" Willow asked, trying to change the subject.
Susan gave her one last look before shrugging and saying, "I don't know. Steve wants to leave the Banks. They are talking about some bad storms before winter truly hits. I don't think it's too bad of an idea. You could come with us, Willow. We'll rent a nice big house inland. It'll be fun and you can spend Christmas with us!"
Willow smiled, but said, "I'll think about it."
"Come on. You say that every time. Just this once," Susan said, begging.
"We'll see," Willow said. She liked the idea, really, she did, but that would mean leaving the comfort of her home, of her shop, and she was not sure she was ready to take that step yet. Willow had weathered quite a few storms in her little shop/apartment, with the help of a bit of magic. Just the thought of not sitting by the fire alone, reading, filled her with an almost icy cold dread. She was not able explain why, but it did.
"One of these days I'm going to crack you," Susan said, shaking her delicate finger at Willow. "But, I have to go pick up the rugrats. I'm sure they've driven my mother up the wall by now and I want to get back before dark."
"She loves them and you know it," Willow said, laughing.
"I know. I'll talk to you later, okay? Do you want some help tomorrow? I can come in for a few hours," Susan said, gathering her purse and coat.
"Not tomorrow, but what about Thursday? I want to inventory what I have for the insurance before winter storms hit."
"Yeah, they'll hit, but I bet they miss your store again," Susan said, shaking her head. "I'll be here. See you then! Bye!"
"Bye! Tell the kids and Steve hi for me."
The jingle of the bells on the door sounded as Susan left. Sighing, Willow dropped down in the chair and looked beyond the store, looked inward. She liked Susan, really she did. Susan was energetic, smart, and loved books almost as much as Willow did. But...
'But what?' Willow thought. 'Why am I so relieved when she leaves?'
She had no answer she realized, or, at least not one she wanted to analyze too closely. Something about self-imposed isolation...but no, she did not want to think about it. Instead, Willow lost herself in checking the books she received that day off her list. It was cathartic and she soon lost herself in the shelving and pricing.
*********
Dusk settled quickly and, as it always seemed to do, brought a chill to the air that had Willow shivering a little. There was always something about twilight that sent a small sliver of fear burning through her.
Vampires, and demons, and things without names - live with them long enough, and you expect them. All the time. Every night. Like clockwork. It always took Willow a minute to convince herself that she was not in any immediate danger. Even still, she had to check all of her hidden wards, every nook and cranny...everything. She lived above her shop for a reason. No vampire could enter her home. She had made sure not to leave a welcome mat or anything that could be misconstrued as an invitation. Paranoia? No, more like conditioning.
Finally, she and the shop were settled for the night. Even with the darkness and its inevitable hint of fear, Willow was proud of herself. She always took a moment to look over her shop and thank the goddess for what she had. Turning, she went back into the storeroom and to the staircase that lead up to her apartment.
Willow stopped dead in her tracks. The Watcher's Diaries sat on the stairs. She stared at them, willed them to go away. Willow had completely forgotten about them, and now they lay there, waiting for her.
Every now and then, Willow would contact Giles for some books. She tried not to contact him often, or for any magical books, and with this last shipment, she had asked for an occult book...Egyptian worship, to be exact. This would teach her to ask anything of him again.
Willow picked up the books and stormed upstairs, dropping the old leather-bound diaries onto her small dinning room table. She quickly went to the bathroom and began her normal routine. Routines kept her calm, kept her from allowing her anger to surface. Blaming Giles was futile until she knew what the diaries held. Could be they contained exactly what she had requested, Egyptian worship and mythology.
Taking a deep breath, Willow ran her bath, placing vanilla scented oil into the water and a capful of her favorite bubble bath. Over the past few years as a shopkeeper, she had gotten used to standing for hours and helping customers, but sometimes her muscles still protested. This nightly bath helped her to relax and ease the strain in her back and legs. It always left her feeling rejuvenated, ready to read by the fire.
Willow bathed at her leisure before getting out and slipping into her favorite flannel pajamas. It was not exactly cold enough for them yet, but they were comfortable and familiar and she needed that right now.
Stacking the logs in the fireplace, Willow lit it with a bit of kindling, easing the fire until it was just the right size. Not too big, but enough to send out a pleasant warmth. Her chair, plush and comfortable, sat near to the fireplace, but she was still able to look out the window to watch the moon and waves.
Finally, if reluctantly, Willow walked to her dinning room table and looked at the books. She stared at them as if she expected them to get up on their own, walk around and do tricks. They did not; instead, they sat there like normal books. However, something about them bothered Willow. They looked familiar. She would have known what they were even if Susan had not said anything. Willow was also pretty sure she knew just whose diaries they were.
No, she could not read them - did not want to read them. Willow was intimately familiar with the events catalogued in those books. She did not need to read them to know what happened during those seven years of her life.
That night, she refused to take a trip down memory lane. She knew that lane, knew it was paved in pain, misery, and only a few good times. How had she survived those years? How did she still come out ahead when so many people had died? What was so special about her that she survived?
Maybe there was not anything special about her and it was just fate. However, Willow did not want to believe that either. If it was because of fate that she was still alive, then it was fate that Tara was dead, that Kennedy had fallen in battle, and Willow could not handle that either. Instead, she chose to blame the situation. If Tara had not been included into the group, if Willow had not activated the Slayers, if she had not pulled Buffy from Heaven...so many ifs.
Tears welled in Willow's eyes and she went to sit in front of the fire, staring into its red and gold flames. Somehow, it had all been her fault, one way or another. She had not been able to save Tara; she had not been able to save Kennedy. And now she did not have the energy to save herself.
TBC
Distribution: My site, my LJ, Winter of Spillow @ LJ. Others, just ask.