To Hell and Back

Mom,
For so long I've wanted to tell you the truth, tell you who I really am, the person you never got to know. For so long I've pretended that I was just the typical teenager, that my problems with boys were typical, that the violence you were certain I was involved in was gang related, or that I had just fallen into the wrong crowd. And I suppose in a way that's true. But it wasn't the wrong crowd, it was the right side. The good side, the side of good against the side of evil. Only I'm no longer sure I truly belonged there. I've destroyed the one thing in my world that made sense to me, that seemed real. If I woke up in my bedroom in L.A. to find this had all been a dream I never would have been surprised until I met him. And now he's dead. You don't know what I'm talking about, you never did. You never could, and now you never will.

Love Always,
Buffy

Giles sank down into a chair nearby as he re-read the letter a second and third time, trying to understand all the nuances and small hints and phrases. Even the writing style held some clues into the Slayer's state of mind. There was a certain briskness to her letters, as though she'd been in a terrible hurry, trying to squeeze everything she was thinking and feeling onto the piece of paper as quickly as she could. A hurry to leave, more than likely.

"Any word from Buffy?" Xander asked a half hour later as he walked into the library, followed by Oz who was escorting Willow in her wheel chair.

Giles wordlessly handed Willow the letter first. She read it and her eyes filled with tears as she looked towards Giles in pure shock. Xander took the letter from her and read it, then Oz did as well. "This . . . Giles, this can't be," Willow whispered quietly, almost inaudibly.

"I wish to God it weren't," Giles replied just as softly. "Her mother dropped it by a little while ago." There was an obvious note of pure shock in his voice, he hadn't truly digested the information he'd just read. The four Slayerettes stood quietly in the library, unable to think of a single thing to say.

"Hey guys," Cordelia said quietly as she walked into the library, dark shadows under her eyes and a subdued look to her clothing. She smiled softly at the Slayerettes, and blinked in surprise when she was handed the letter. Her eyes skimmed the words, and she frowned. "What the hell is she talking about?" Cordelia asked rhetorically, sounding annoyed. "What does she mean by all this?"

"It's rather obvious, Cordy," Xander replied with a frown.

"No . . . that's not what I'm talking about," Cordelia continued as she re- read the letter. "This doesn't make any sense. Why would she leave? She was already planning on killing Angel, it couldn't have been THAT traumatic. Give me a break! If she was gonna be that messed up by it do you think she'd be going around town like she was threatening every vamp she ever ran into?" Cordelia shook her head, dark hair flying back and forth with the strength of her objection. "Something about this isn't right."

"Everything about this isn't right," Willow tossed in from her position in her wheelchair. "How could she leave and not tell anyone? I mean, besides her mother in the note, but still . . . why would she?"

"Maybe something went wrong," Xander murmured quietly. "Something she didn't count on."

"But what?" Oz wondered.

For a moment no one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts. "You told her, right?" Willow asked suddenly, looking up at Xander. "About the ritual?"

Xander bit the inside of his lip and looked down guiltily. "Um . . . " he cleared his throat and was unable to meet Willow's eyes.

"Xander?" Willow queried again, her eyes widening.

Xander finally looked up. "No," he said, his voice firm. "No, I didn't. I thought it was for the best that she didn't hold any false hopes. It could have gotten her killed in a battle like that, if she was constantly worried about protecting him when he was trying to kill her."

Willow opened her mouth and then closed it, then opened it again, all the while shaking her head and looking furious. "Xander!" she whispered angrily after a long moment. Xander ducked his head away from her penetrating gaze. Willow reached up for the letter in Cordelia's hand and took it, re-reading it with the idea she had in her mind, and seeing if the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. They did.

"Will, what is it?" Oz asked, seeing the troubled expression on her face.

"We have to find Buffy," Willow said after a long moment, determination in her tone.

"We knew that, Willow," Cordelia tossed in, but there was none of the usual mockery in her voice, just quiet concern.

"No," Willow shook her head softly, closing her eyes for a moment to try and push away the pain in her head. "If I'm right, we have to find her now. Before it's too late."

*****

Buffy looked out the window of the bus as the houses sped by. She was unsure of her destination, uncertain where she was going or what she was going to do once she got there. All she knew for certain anymore was that if she stayed in Sunnydale she'd be destroyed. The pain and the torment of her memories would be with her forever in that small little Californian town. But if she left . . . maybe the memories would stay behind.

The bus pulled up to the side of the road and the doors opened. The Slayer watched as passengers stood, and she swallowed convulsively as she saw a young couple, eyes filled with love and affection as they stared at one another. The couple made memories she'd been fighting to repress wash over her, but she pushed them out of her mind as the couple stepped off the Greyhound and onto the street, and the doors closed once more.

She made a silent decision to get off at the next stop the bus made. She'd taken her money with her, five hundred dollars that she knew wouldn't get her far. The truth was she hadn't thought ahead that far. All she knew was she had to get out of Sunnydale, and she could never go back. Her life there was nothing but a memory, and one that with any luck she could forget in time. And with more luck than a cat with nine lives, maybe she would even manage to forget him.

Buffy closed her eyes tightly, shutting off those memories and emotions before they could torment her, before she could dwell on the implications, before she could remember the events of earlier that day. She smiled slightly to herself, her reflection in the mirror made the small smile seem more of a smirk than anything else. Earlier that day. It was amazing, she thought, how long ago it seemed.

The Slayer glanced at her watch to see that it was now five in the afternoon. By now she was certain her mother and Giles had both read the note she'd written to say goodbye. She wished she could have said goodbye in person, but then they might have managed to talk her out of her decision, and she couldn't allow that to happen. Her mind was made up, there was no turning back, and she didn't want to, either. She was incapable of facing her friends comfort, not when she knew how much she didn't deserve it. And maybe this way she could finally do what she'd been chosen to do, save lives, kill vampires to protect the world, not forever alter the lives of everyone she met in a negative way.

"Damn it," she whispered to herself, opening her eyes and focusing her attention firmly on the passing houses. She'd sworn to herself not to think of them, or think of Sunnydale, or think of anything that had happened in the past three months ever again. She wasn't that Buffy Summers anymore, and she never would be. The sooner she accepted that the better off she would be. From here on in that Buffy Summers was as dead as the man she'd so loved.

Buffy stood abruptly as the bus came to a stop, and it took her a moment to realize it was only a traffic light. The memories refused to stay silent, they insisted on tormenting her no matter how hard she tried to push them from her mind. Sheepishly she retook her seat, leaning her head against the cold glass of the window. The motion of the bus as it started moving again relaxed her, and she forced any and all thoughts out of her mind. Instead she took in the scenery, enjoyed the vibrations of the ride, and vowed to herself once again to stop feeling.

*****

Joyce Summers closed the door firmly behind her, leaning back against it and fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She just couldn't comprehend what her daughter had told her only last night, and she couldn't believe that because of her understandable confusion and suspicion, her daughter had run away from home. She knew those thoughts weren't entirely truthful, and she knew that the one person she was the most angry at, of all the people in the world she could think to blame, was herself. How could she have lived in the same house with her sweet daughter and never realized? How could she have been so blind?

She walked through the house in a daze, memories of the past two years flashing through her mind, her perspective far more different than it had once been as she computed the fact that her daughter was the Slayer with each occurrence. Somehow it all seemed to make so much more sense, yet at the same time it made so little. The Slayer. Vampires. It couldn't possibly be real. It just couldn't be. Buffy was her daughter, her little girl, the little girl she'd raised, the child whose diapers she had changed, the child who'd been so excited when she'd made the cheerleading squad, the child who'd been so nervous when she went on her first date. To think that her sweet, innocent child risked her life every night to protect the world . . . it was impossible to wrap her mind around.

Joyce sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the sink and trying her hardest to think of a reasonable explanation as to why she hadn't realized something was going on before hand. She tried to think of what she'd told herself through occurrence after occurrence. A single tear found it's way down her cheek and she stood to walk again, this time up into her daughter's bedroom, where she sat down on the bed and looked at the pink stuffed pig she'd given her daughter so long ago. Impulsively, she reached down on the floor and picked it up, holding it against her chest and whimpering as she realized she'd never even tried to think of an explanation. She'd never allowed herself to wonder, not once in the two years this had been going on.

Her sweet, innocent little daughter . . . she wasn't so innocent, after all. When, Joyce wondered, had her innocence been ripped away? Had it been the night of the prom when she'd come home at four in the morning, eyes red, dripping wet, and a haunted look in her eyes? Had it been the night of her seventeenth birthday when she'd stared at the candle but hadn't really seen it, lost in thoughts that Joyce realized now she'd never even begun to comprehend? Had it been the night Ms. Calendar had died, and Buffy had sunk down onto the floor, not crying, not hysterical as her friend had been, but resigned and somehow guilty? The handbooks and parental guides never said a word on how to deal with the fact that your sweet little girl was in fact trying to save the world.

There were so many questions, and so little answers. *You don't know what I'm talking about, you never did. You never could, and now you never will.* The telephone rang and Joyce jumped from Buffy's bed, running down the stairs and skidding into the kitchen as she picked up the receiver. "Buffy?" she asked, hopefully.

"It - It's Rupert Giles," the voice on the other end replied. "I -- I'm afraid I - I rather need to speak with you. It's quite urgent."

"Do you know where my daughter is?" Joyce demanded, hopefully, silently praying that somehow the school librarian Buffy claimed knew of her destiny could provide some answers miraculously.

"No," Giles replied, sounding genuinely sorry. "No, I do not. But I'm afraid if we don't find her she could be in quite serious danger."

"She's already been in quite serious danger," Joyce retorted. "Isn't that what this whole Slaying thing is all about? That my daughter puts her life on the line every night?"

"Um, yes," Giles answered reluctantly. "However she - she's more in danger from herself than anything else at the moment."

"Really? Well, maybe that's better. She may be in emotional pain but at least she's alive. At least she's safe. Probably safer than she would be here."

"T - that may be, but I'm afraid there's a lot more going on than you realize."

"No kidding," Joyce said sarcastically. She sighed heavily, and made a decision. If her daughter could put her life on the line for strangers, well, Joyce could certainly put her sanity on the line for her daughter. "Where do you want to meet?" she asked, sounding resigned.

"The school library, say seven o'clock?" Giles responded, slightly surprised that Joyce had agreed to come.

"I'll be there," Joyce told him. "But I expect some explanations."

"A - absolutely," Giles stammered as he hung up the phone. Joyce listened to the sound of the dial tone and then hung up as well, leaning against the wall and offering a silent prayer to God that he protect her daughter now, even if he never had before.

*****

She got off of the bus and stood on the sidewalk, watching as the Greyhound turned the corner of the street. Buffy could never in her entire life remember feeling so alone as she did now. It was her own fault, of course. She deserved every moment of pain she was feeling. She couldn't help but smile slightly, as she realized just how much that thought seemed like something Angel would say. She rubbed her hands across her face, sitting down on a bench nearby and looking around her. On one side was a homeless man, or so she assumed, sound asleep. On the other was yet another young couple, and as soon as Buffy's eyes fell upon them she abruptly rose to her feet and continued to walk down the sidewalk.

The Slayer wasn't sure what to do now. She was away from Sunnydale, as she kenw she had to be. She was also a long way away from anyone she knew, from anyone that could have helped her, from anyone that would have cared enough to do so. Another glance at her watch told her it was now six-fifty, only another hour or so away from sunset. She knew she was in no condition to fight vampires, and she decided her best bet would be to find a hotel and stay the night, then continue to move. No need to make being found easy, just in case someone was actually looking.

Buffy couldn't help but smile at the thought, if no one else was, she could rest assured the police still were. As Principal Snyder had said himself, the police of Sunnydale were deeply stupid, it would take them a few more days to figure out that she hadn't killed Kendra. And as for finding the person who did, she wished them luck. She was certain Spike had taken Drusilla as far from Sunnydale as possible.

She sighed heavily, as she realized not thinking about the recent events in her past was impossible. And it was just as impossible to not feel any emotions while thinking about them. She just wanted the pain to stop, but getting to that place inside herself where nothing could hurt her was harder than she'd thought it would be. She'd done it once before, when she'd been killed by the Master, how could it be so much harder now? How could her own death be easier to deal with than the death of the creature that had tormented her for months on end? She answered her own question easily enough, because it hadn't been the death of her tormenter, it had been the death of the one person in all the world that always understood her, that always knew what to say to her.

Buffy walked into a gas station, getting a soda and walking towards the line up front as she tried desperately to avoid her train of thought. The mind was a terrible thing that way, even when she didn't want to think it continued onwards, heedless of her own personal desires. "Can you tell me where the nearest hotel is?" Buffy asked the clerk as she paid for her drink.

"Sure," the man replied with a friendly smile. "Just keep walking straight, then turn right onto the next street, it's the first right you'll pass. It's right there."

"Thanks," Buffy answered, returning his smile before leaving and continuing on her way. It didn't matter, not really, that she couldn't keep from thinking about him, and her friends, and her life before. What truly mattered was that that life was over. Forever.

*****
End Part One