“Is she dead?”

“Shut up Harris. She…she’s going to be okay.”

“No don’t sit her up. She should…oh my god she’s bleeding.”

“Oh Buffy…”

“Dru don’t cry.”

“But she’s so white.”

“Oh my God, she is, isn’t she?”

“I said shut up Alexander Harris!”

“Everyone be quiet, move back.”

Something on her face. Wet. Was she at the pond? Was she there with Will? There he was. Lean golden arms slicing through the sun-mottled surface. But she couldn’t see his face. And then his hand disappeared beneath the water. There was nothing left. Just little waves rippling outward where he had been. No. Don’t leave me. Never leave me.

“NO!”

Oh god. She wasn’t at the pond. She was in hell. So many blurry faces staring down at her. She pushed away the wet thing at her forehead and tried to sit up. Her head hurt so much. A thousand tiny hot pokers prodding in her skull.

“Buffy dear, how do you feel?”

She blinked her eyes hard against the unbearable light. The burning light of the sun. It was Her. His mother. Looming above her, face white and lips pinched in a thin line. Holding a red handkerchief. No not red. Blood staining a white handkerchief.

“Get away from me!”

Her legs were so unsteady she wasn’t sure if she was moving or if it was just the earth underneath her feet shaking apart. She could feel herself teeter, gravity pulling her down. The ground rushed up to meet her face. But then hands hard as iron bands grabbed her by the arms and hoisted her away from the darkness. She slumped back against a warm body and looked up to see Angel staring down at her. His face blurry and faded like a watercolor running off the canvas.

“Buffy, you’re going to be okay. If…if Mrs. James’ hadn’t pulled you out of the street, the car would have run right over you.”

She lifted a shaking hand to her hairline. Her fingers came away red. Her blood on her own hands. She choked back a hysterical giggle.

“Why?”

She whirled away out of Angel’s grasp and turned to stare at Mrs. James.

“Why would you do that?”

His mother handed her the bloody handkerchief.

“You’re still bleeding, dear. Hold this up to your forehead and press down.”

She ignored Mrs. James outstretched hand. She turned around again to the others. All of them. Here. Staring at her. She searched their faces for any hint of disappointment. Who was the snake in the grass? But there was no malice. Just relief and concern. She backed away slowly from the circle.

“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”

Xander stepped towards her and took her arm like she was an easily broken piece of china.

“You should go to the hospital. Have them make sure.”

She shuddered in disgust. No. No hospital. She couldn’t stand being there with the smell of death and the slow march towards decay.

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

“But…”

She opened her mouth to shout him down but Faith interrupted before she could.

“Let her do what she thinks is best, Xander.”

Xander bristled and glared at her.

“Geez, excuse a guy for caring.”

Faith grimaced.

“Yeah Harris, you’re a real caring person.”

They started arguing and their words rushed by her like wind through the cornfield before a storm. She had to get out of here. She had to go back to where he was. Waiting. Suddenly, a wave of desire crashed over her. The desire to shout at them that they did not know she was beyond them now. That he was waiting for her. She opened her mouth but no words escaped.

She felt a warm hand slipping around hers. Dru’s eyes were worried and bright with unshed tears.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to take you to the hospital?”

She shook her head vehemently.

“I just want to go home.”

Dru nodded and traded a meaningful glance with Angel. He stepped towards her and patted her shoulder gently.

“Dru can take you home. You shouldn’t drive by yourself. Dru, I’ll come by after work and pick you up.”

She wanted to shout 'no' but she was so tired. So pressed down by the weight of their concern. So stifled by the horrible notion one of them could be secretly disappointed the car had not ended her.

Mrs. James nodded and touched the clot of blood at her hairline. Even though the contact was fleeting and light, it made her skin crawl.

“Buffy, let Dru drive you back to your mother’s house. I would do it myself but I have to go to work.”

She shuddered at the thought of his mother driving her home.

“Dru, please take me home now.”

Xander and Faith were still arguing in harsh whispers as she walked by them with Dru’s arm around her waist, supporting her. They were so caught up in their venom, they didn’t even look over. Dru tried to help her into the passenger seat of the Cadillac but she brushed her hands away.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m just a little shaken that’s all.”

Dru nodded and waved goodbye to Mrs. James and Angel who still stood on the lawn of the church, watching. She leaned her head against the passenger window. The cool glassiness soothed her pounding head. Dru slid into the driver’s seat and she handed over the car keys silently.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive felt like hours. She looked out of the window and watched houses fly past, children in their front yards playing, the world moving by in a blur. Dru finally spoke tentatively.

“Does the town look very different from what you remembered?”

She couldn’t keep the wryness out of her voice.

“No. Nothing here has really changed. It feels like I never left at all.”

Dru smiled over at her quickly before looking back at the road.

“You were the only one who left. Out of all of us, you never talked about leaving but yet you were the one that made it out.”

She didn’t know how to respond but Dru didn’t give her the chance.

“I envy you.”

She turned to stare at her with astonishment.

“Why?”

“You do things. All the rest of us talked about doing things but you actually did them. You’re proactive while it seems everyone in this town is reactive. We all just react to what is thrown at us. We don’t make anything happen. Can you imagine what that’s like? Living your life as if it’s just one big accident?”

She tried to gather her wits. Tried to form a thoughtful reply but all of a sudden they were pulling into the driveway and Dru had gotten out of the car. Dru opened the passenger door for her and she dragged her tired body out.

Dru followed her to the front door and waited behind her as she fumbled in her purse for the keys.

The house was humid and airless inside. She turned on the fan and tried to smile but her face felt stiff.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh please Buffy, let me get the drinks. You sit down and try to relax. You’ve just had a real scare.”

They walked into the kitchen and she slumped in the chair directing Dru to where the glasses could be found. Dru poured them some lemonade and sat across the table from her. She traced the condensation on her glass with her index finger.

“I can imagine.”

Dru looked at her questioningly. She took a careful sip of her lemonade to ease her dry throat.

“What you said before in the car? About living life as if it’s an accident? I can understand that.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged and stared past Dru’s head to the kitchen window. She noticed idly that the grass in the backyard was very long and starting to yellow from the sun.

“Being born is an accident, you don’t ask for it. Death in its own way is an accident, you’re never prepared.”

She cleared her throat.

“And…and all that's in between birth and death is an accident too. You never anticipate it. When it happens, it’s like a crash.”

Dru laughed dryly. The sound echoed through the kitchen, mirthless and hollow.

“Like a car crash?”

She nodded.

“Exactly.”

They sat, the house silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant cries of birds outside. She stared into her glass at the ice cubes melting. Dru’s eyes were far-off and dreamy. Finally, Dru broke the silence.

“I still love him, you know.”

She moved her hands from the table and into her lap to hide the shakiness.

“I know.”

“You go to see him, don’t you?”

She bowed her head and looked at her hands twisting in her lap.

“Yes. I think he’s lonely.”

“Is that why you go?”

She said nothing, not trusting herself to speak. Dru sighed.

“I tried to visit him many times but he wouldn’t have it. I guess he didn’t want me to see him like that.”

She spoke more sharply than she intended.

“Of course he doesn’t. He cares about your opinion, he always has. He probably doesn’t want you to see him differently.”

Dru stared at her.

“He sees you. He lets you see him.”

“That’s because he doesn’t feel the same about me.”

She cringed at the tremble in her voice. She sounded pathetic to her own ears. Dru bit her lip.

“That’s not true Buffy. You two were always so close. He cares for you very much.”

“How do you know? You haven’t seen him in years.”

“I meant before. When we were younger. We could all see how much he cared about you.”

She blinked hard against the sting in her eyes.

“Caring means nothing. It’s what you feel for animals or people you see on television and read about in the news. It’s as far away from love as you can get. Such a cold, bloodless, contained emotion.”

She put her hand over her mouth as she realized the torrent of bitterness that had escaped.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I shouldn’t have said that.”

She stared at Dru’s slumped form. She could make out one strand of pure white in the inky darkness of Dru’s hair. Black Beauty no more.

“No, it’s all right Buffy. You’re right, caring is almost worse than hating someone. At least with hate, there’s passion. That’s why I cut ties with him all those years ago. I couldn’t stand to be simply cared for. I needed more. Being with him was like grasping at air.”

It took everything in her to say the words; it was as if she was stabbing herself.

“He still loves you. He told me so.”

Dru looked at her sharply.

“When?”

“Just a few days ago.”

Dru touched her hair distractedly.

“Buffy, I…I don’t know what to think.”

She fiddled with the edge of her blouse and felt something withering inside. Hope dying and something new born. Resolve. It was like the sun piercing her eyes. It was like looking into its rays and being paralyzed by the heat. Like discovering there was still more to lose when she already thought everything was slipping through her hands. She still had so much more to lose and she would lose, she knew it. She would lose more if she didn’t give away another piece of what she’d found.

She grabbed Dru’s hand across the table. Her voice feverish to her own ears.

“Listen, listen to me. Go to him now. Convince him you love him and make him want to fight. Make him want to leave there. I can’t do it. I don’t have that power. But you do.”

Dru wrenched her hand away and stared as if she had gone mad. Maybe she had. All she knew was this terrible despairing resolve to give up the ghost so the man could live.

“What are you saying?”

“Please. Go to him and make him want to leave.”

Dru shook her head vehemently.

“I can’t do that. I’m married. I have a life; I have nothing to offer him.”

She slammed her hand down on the table and Dru flinched.

“You love him, don’t you? If you love him, you’d give up your life. You would do anything.”

You would be like me.

“You don’t know what you’re saying Buffy. You don’t understand what you’re asking. I love Angel and I’ve chosen to build my life with him.”

She leaned over the table and stared hard into Dru’s eyes, now bright with tears.

“Choose.”

Dru looked away and she knew. Will. It was always Will. She could see it in the slump of Dru’s shoulders, the way her hands shook. She knew because it was the way she felt too. The paralysis of knowing what you want and not knowing how to have it.

“Then go to him. I’ll take you over there.”

“What if he won’t see me?”

She laughed harshly.

“Of course he won’t. He can’t see anyone. But he’ll let you in.”

She led the way out the backdoor and climbed over the fence. In his backyard, she waited as Dru made her way unsteadily over the fence as well. She took Dru’s hand in her own and led her to the door. She unlocked the door and he was sitting in the kitchen with his back to them. She could see the sharpness of his shoulder blades tenting out the thin fabric of his faded blue tee-shirt. At the sound of the door creaking open, he jerked to attention and tilted his head in their direction.

“Summers?”

Dru had put a shaking fist to her mouth, her eyes fixed on his back. She wanted to tell her; I know. He makes me feel like that too. Like I can’t breathe and I don’t need to breathe. But she merely pushed Dru gently towards him and backed away.

“Well, are you going to come in or what? Summers?”

“It’s me Will. It’s Dru.”

The last thing she saw before she turned and closed the door on them was his face as he rose from his chair. His face ashen but burning so brightly, just looking at it made her feel singed.

Back in her mother’s house, she took the glasses from the table and stood at the kitchen sink, looking sightlessly out of the window. Then she started washing them carefully.

Do you know, you feel the same? The same as I remembered. Do you still love me? I love you. I love you Dru, I never stopped.

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