The Soulmate Series

She's Leaving Home (Chapter Forty-Eight of Soulmates)


It’s Graduation.

There was a time, not so very long ago, although it feels like an eternity - an eternity and a part of someone else’s life, in fact - when she looked forward to this day, seeing it as the beginning of a grand and glorious adventure, the end of childhood and the threshold of adulthood. She knows better now. She may not be an adult, but she hasn’t been a child for a very long time.

The sun is still shining, though it won’t be for much longer, and any minute now, Principal Snyder will be spouting off for the last time to a student body nowhere near as oblivious as he is, or as The Mayor believes them to be. She won’t miss Snyder, that’s for sure, won’t miss his petty, dictatorial ways or needless cruelty. She won’t miss much about Sunnydale at all - assuming they win the battle, that is, and there’s a Sunnydale left to leave or a Willow alive to leave it - but there are some regrets as she mulls over her plan. She will miss Buffy and she will miss Giles. She will miss the dream she’s always carried within her that maybe one day, her parents will decide that they really do love her and come running to her with open arms, begging to be a family.

But, as the Bible says, there’s a time to put away childish things. Believing she can save the world and believing that her parents might actually care about her are the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus myths she needs to box up with her Barbie dolls and baby teeth and leave to gather dust.

She will miss them, though.

And she will miss Oz.

“When this is over...”

“I know. You’re leaving. You told me that already.”

“I just didn’t want you to think...”

“What? Because of the almost-dying thing? Don’t worry. I didn’t think it changed anything.” That sounds bitter, which isn’t Willow’s intention. Because, strangely, she *isn’t* bitter. She loves Oz - still, forever, always - but she knows it can’t be, was doomed somehow even before they ever met by some force Willow can’t begin to understand (or forgive). Willow’s hurt and she already misses Oz, but no, she isn’t bitter, at least not towards *him*.

“I love you.” He says that as if it ameliorates the pain of their parting and Willow pretends that it does. It doesn’t. If there is one thing she’s learned that has any real importance, it’s that love doesn’t make anything better. If you’re lucky, it doesn’t destroy your life, but it never makes anything better.

“I love you, too.” *She* says that as if it’s a gift she’s giving him, instead of just empty words. A part of her thinks it might be, but another part of her says she’s kidding herself, that she’s hollow and empty and her love is just the echo of something felt by a girl who died on a bed in a mansion at the hands of a vampire.

They hug. Willow wants to kiss him, but something stops her and he never even tries. She wonders if he really does love her at all. Maybe it’s guilt and nostalgia and a sense of duty that make him say the words.

Or perhaps it’s Angel. Is that it? Does the knowledge that she’s bonded to a demon who isn’t *him* make her somehow repulsive? Does it change his love for her, diminish it, destroy it?

Then he looks in her eyes.

She knows.

Willow stares at the maroon of her gown. It’s hideous and unbecoming, but somehow, she’s finding it comforting and almost soothing. There’s something about being ugly that gives her an illusory feeling of safety. Just for a moment, she can indulge in the fantasy of Angel seeing the way the gown makes her skin look yellow and her hair look orange and imagine him running in the opposite direction, sealing off his feelings from her and hers from him forever. It wouldn’t be the obliteration of the bond entirely, but it would be close enough to be worth dreaming about.

Not that Willow’s so very fond of dreaming. Not even when she’s awake.

She’s freshly showered and damp, wrapped in a towel as she stands in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the girl in the glass and seeing an unfamiliar stranger. Is that really her face? The girl seems so young. Surely Willow isn’t nearly so young as that.

And then she’s not there at all, not the girl in the mirror and not Willow either. She’s in an apartment. She’s never been here, but she knows whose it is.

The meow of a cat is distracting.

“I wonder who’s going to feed you now?” She addresses the animal. For a moment, she thinks of taking it home. She’s always wanted a pet. But then reality sets in. She’s pretty sure she’s not really here. After all, she’s suddenly dressed. Which is good, since being alone in a strange apartment wearing nothing but a towel would be bad.

“Don’t these things take care of themselves?”

Faith.

Willow whips around. The late Slayer looks...oddly peaceful and very much alive, though Willow’s well aware that’s not the case.

“Don’t you even care about *him*?”

“It’s a she, actually, and yes, I do care. There’s just nothing I can do anymore. She’s beautiful, though. And don’t beautiful creatures always find someone to love them?”

She’s staring straight at Willow when she says that. Willow sees a vision, just for a split second. Faith and the Mayor. It means something; Willow just wishes she knew what it was.

“Why am I here?” Not that she thinks Faith has any answers - or that she’d share them if she did - but asking seems the expected thing, and sometimes Willow likes to be predictable.

“The same reason we’re all here, but then again, you aren’t like the rest of us.”

“Great. I’ve got the fortune cookie. Can I get the broccoli beef now, too?” Even Willow is surprised at her sarcasm. All those nights with Buffy, watching her quip as she slays, and Willow finally manages some sort of wit - only this isn’t even real.

“Sorry. It’s my head. A lot of new stuff. It’s weird, you know? Being a part of you without actually being a part of you. Not like Angel.”

“What do you know about Angel?”

“I know everything, little girl. Well, I guess I shouldn’t call you ‘little girl’, now should I? You’re all grown-up and bonded to the undead. All that goodness and purity trapped forever in darkness.” Faith chuckles. “Listen to me. I sound like Giles or something. Like one of those musty books you all thought I never read.”

Willow wants to protest, but she doesn’t see the point in lying. It’s true, she *did* think Faith was all brawn and no brain and at any rate, she suddenly respects the girl too much to prevaricate. Besides, Faith died to save her life. The least she can do is give her honesty in return.

“Sorry, by the way, about the poison and all. If I’d known the truth, maybe I’d have...I don’t know. I wish I could say I would have kept you out of the battle, but we both know that probably isn’t true. Amazing what we’re willing to do for the people we love, the people who love us...”

Again, Willow sees Faith in a room with the Mayor. She’s wearing a pink dress. It means something important, but then the vision is gone and Willow is left looking at Faith.

“He loves you, you know? Not that you don’t already know that. You’ll never get away from him.” The look in Faith’s eyes amazes Willow. There’s softness there...and compassion. “I wish there was something I could do. Man, if you only knew how differently I see now. But...”

“Nothing.” Willow says, her voice dead and defeated.

“No.”

There’s silence and the two women share the moment. One dead before her time, the other who might as well be.

“It’s funny how some things never change, no matter what.” Okay, now *there’s* a non sequitur. But Willow decides to go with it and see where Faith is trying to lead.

“Such as?”

“Weakness, human weakness. It never goes away, even his.”

“Huh?”

“Consider it a gift, Willow. It’s all I have for you.”

A knife appears in Willow’s hand. Its ornate blade is both beautiful and terrifying. “What is...?” No sooner does she begin to ask her question, when the knife disappears.

“Tell Buffy what I’ve told you. About the boss, I mean. Not about... The rest of it’s between us girls, okay? Don’t want anyone thinking I’ve gone all soft just because I’m dead, y’ know?”

“Faith, I...”

“I’m sorry, Willow. Sorrier than you could ever believe.”

With that, she’s gone and Willow’s back in the bathroom, just as if nothing had happened. Except that she’s full of questions and mysteries.

Was all of that even real? Just what did Faith actually tell her? And what did she mean by that last cryptic apology?

Oh well, first things first. Willow needs to see Buffy and Giles as soon as possible.

They understood, or at least a brainstorming session left them pretty certain they did. They all agreed on what they feel Faith meant by her words about human weakness, and as a bonus, Xander’s military memories proved surprisingly useful as well. They have a plan. In the end, what they’ve decided on as a course of action is not as colourful as Oz’s suggestion to use humus, but all in all, it’s a pretty good plan. Good enough for Willow to be confident that they’ll win.

Giles knew there was more to Faith’s unusual visit than what Willow revealed, but he didn't not press the issue. She knows he thinks he’ll have time to ask her later. He won’t. That’s one thing about her imminent departure that doesn’t make her sad. She’s more than aware of the questions she’ll have to answer as it is and who will be asking them.

“I know, okay? So why don’t you just...?”

“Cordelia!” Willow stops her short. Cordelia bursting into her bedroom is costing her time, time she needs to do things right. Screwing up is not an option.“Do you trust me?” she asks her friend.

“Yeah, of course, but...”

“Then keep an eye on the door and make sure no one else comes in here.”

Surprisingly, Cordelia stops asking questions and does just that - standing by the door, acting like a character in a bad spy movie. It’s endearing and the lump in Willow’s throat is uncomfortable in a way she wants to hang on to forever.

But she doesn’t have time to bask in the rosy glow of friendship, so she doesn’t. She sits back down at her computer and gets to work.

Thomas Murphy, millionaire, is about to become Thomas Murphy, bankrupt. His home is going into foreclosure and his cash has all mysteriously vanished.

Of course, his money isn’t *really* gone. Oh no. It’s now filling the bank account of one Kristen Estridge, whose identification Willow will be picking up in Portland, Oregon about two days from now. It’s amazing the useful friends she’s made while ‘wasting’ all that time online. Additionally, about five thousand dollars of Thomas Murphy’s unearned cash made its way into Willow’s own account, where she can use it to cover any expenses they incur on the trip.

They.

Because she’s not going alone, or at least she hopes not. She hasn’t exactly run her brilliant idea past the two she’s hoping will join her on this impromptu escape. But since they have no other plans for life after high school, she’s pretty sure that Xander and Cordelia will say yes. Which is good, since she’s counting on the use of Cordelia’s car, now once more registered in Xander’s name. After all, they’ll be ditching the car in Portland so it shouldn’t be much of a problem.

They’ll get far away fast and Angel will be too broke to follow. Faith is wrong, he will *have* to let her go. He’ll have no choice.

It’s not freedom from his intrusive psychic presence, nor is it the severing of the bond, but he’ll never touch her again, and *that* is good enough.

Willow signals to Cordelia that she’s done.

“You’re sure?” Cordelia stage whispers, still playing secret agent.

“I’m sure. But while we’re alone, I need to tell you something.”

“Is it about...?”

“No. Well, kind of. I mean... I’m leaving right after we destroy the Mayor and...”

“Willow, you can’t go Just because of Angel? I mean, I know he’s horrible and evil but...”

“Can you just let me finish?”

“Sorry.”

Cordelia presses her lips tightly together. Willow’s not sure if she’s emphasizing her willingness to keep still or expressing irritation. She hopes it’s the former since an irritated Cordelia has a tendency to hold a grudge and that won’t make for a pleasant trip...if there even is one, at least the way she planned it.

“I was kinda thinking that you and Xander could come with me.”

Cordelia almost squeals, but collects herself in time and claps a hand over her own mouth.

“It will mean cutting all ties, but I figured you and Xander might be up for a little adventure and neither of you are really attached to Sunnydale or...” Willow almost adds “your families” onto the end of that sentence, but there’s really no need. Cordelia gets it.

She hugs Willow, so tightly, in fact, that Willow finds it hard to breathe. A moment later, however, she’s released and her friend is now babbling at a rate that leaves her in awe.

“Oh my God. Where will we go? What will we do for money? What about Angel? Does Buffy know?”

Willow cuts in, hoping she can be heard over the rush of words. “I took care of it all. The only thing you need to do is pack a bag for you and Xander and have the car ready for us to leave right after our beloved Mayor is dead and gone.”

“Okay.” There are tears in Cordy’s eyes. “But can I pack for you too? Seriously, Willow, we so need to work on your taste in clothes.”

The more things change...

“Alright, but pack light, just enough for a couple of days. We’ll buy more clothes and things later.” Cordelia’s mouth opens, but Willow stops her before she can speak. “I’ve got it covered.”

Judging by the almost-but-not-quite-completely covert look she got from Xander later, she’s pretty sure Cordelia filled him in. She’ll have to cross her fingers and hope that’s so because she never got the chance for any alone time with him. Between rounding up classmates and offering them the chance to help save the world, as well as helping pack books in order to make the library a safe place to murder a public official turned public menace, Willow hasn’t had much downtime. Though she does wish she’d been too busy to talk to Wesley.

“I...I’m glad that you’re alive.” Wesley’s voice interrupts Willow as she gingerly places some rare old volumes in a box.

Maybe if there had been others around, she’d have tried to be more diplomatic. Perhaps their presence would have inspired her to give Wesley the benefit of the doubt; after all, he *has* offered to help in the fight against the Mayor. But with just the two of them here, and with her own confidence in his ability to do anything but scream like a girl sadly lacking, Willow is hard pressed to dredge up even courtesy.

“Why do I kind of doubt that? Oh yeah, maybe it’s because I heard all about your conversation with my friends from Cordelia.”

He has the decency, or at least the shame, to blush and avert his eyes. “I can see that, taken out of context, my words might have seemed...”

“What part of it was taken out of context? Because I’d love to know how saying that I deserved to die since I was stupid enough to care about saving the world wasn’t cold-blooded and cruel.”

“I never said that you deserved to die.”

Willow merely raised an eyebrow at him, arms akimbo, lips pressed tightly together.

“I mean...I never *meant*...in the heat of the moment one sometimes says things that...”

“I get it.”

Wesley looks relieved, smiling in an oily and obsequious way. He’s too quick to breathe easy.

“You’re sorry that I heard about what you said. You’re sorry that I’m alive because now you’re in Dutch with the Council and have to toddle back home to England with your tail between your legs. Yeah, I get it.” She focuses her attention back on the books. “You can go do whatever it is you do when you’re not underfoot or making an idiot of yourself mooning over Cordelia, okay? I have packing to do and a demon to help destroy.”

She turns her eyes on Wesley one last time. “I’ve done more good in a week than you’ll do in a lifetime, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” Her gaze is ice and her voice steel. Wesley wisely takes his leave, practically tripping over his feet attempting a brisk and assertive exit from the library.

Willow is alone now, though she knows she won’t be for very long. She takes a moment to drink in the tables and the books, the shelves and the dust one last time. So much of her life happened here. She hugs the memories to her heart, knowing that they will fade, like all memories, and she can’t stop the tears from falling as if the images are already gone.

“Congratulations to the Class of 1999.”

Oh goody. Snyder’s speech. It’s every bit as warm and sentimental a sendoff as Willow expected, the word “adequate” being as close to praise as the man can find for the students he is supposed to have shepherded through the last years of their childhood. She wonders if he realizes that most would see him as lacking were his dismal assessment of his charges actually accurate.

But on to the good part now. The Mayor is stepping up to the podium.

“Well. What a day this is. A special day. Today is our centennial - the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of Sunnydale...and I know what that means to all you kids. Not a darn thing.”

He’s right, of course. Most of Willow’s fellow students couldn’t care less what happened five minutes before they were born, let alone one hundred years ago. Willow does, though. She wonders about this town...how it has survived so long...why people keep on moving here despite all the untimely deaths.

The Mayor keeps right on talking. “Because today, something much more important happens. Today, you all graduate from high school.”

Could he possibly be more unctuous and insincere? Yes, he could. “Today, all the pain, all the work, all the excitement is finally over. Now, what’s 100 years of history compared to that?”

“My God,” Buffy leans in and says, “He’s gonna do the entire speech.”

“Man, just ascend already.” Willow can’t believe she just said that, but she did. She’s oddly eager for the battle, wanting to give everything she can, devote every last minute in this town to the cause she’s been fighting for since the day Buffy arrived, the cause she will now be abandoning, perhaps forever.

“Maybe you have a place in Sunnydale’s history, whether you like it or not.” You got that right, Mr. Mayor. “It’s been a long road getting here for you, for Sunnydale. There’s been achievement, joy, good times...and there’s been grief. There’s been loss.”

Willow sees that vision of Faith in her pink dress again. The Mayor loved her, in some twisted way, and oddly, it was a kinder, purer love than what Angel feels for Willow. For one mad, strange howl of a moment, Willow almost wishes she could trade places with the dead Slayer.

“Some people who should be here today...aren’t.” Weakness, humanity, sorrow, despair - they’re all shining from his eyes. He may be about to become a true demon, but he’s more human in this instant than he’s ever been. Does he see the paradox? Or is self-awareness not a part of his smooth composite of a self.

“But we are. Journey’s end. And what is a journey? Is it just distance traveled? Time spent? No. It’s what happens on the way. It’s the things that shape you.”

Those words truly resonate with Willow. Strange how the Mayor speaks almost directly to her right now, though she doubts he even knows it. Still, he does and it almost hurts. There is one who understands and there is one from whom the world must be saved.

“At the end of the journey, you’re not the same. Today is about change.” Yes, it is. Oh yes, it is. “Graduation doesn’t just mean your circumstances change. It means you do. You ascend...to a higher level. Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing.”

As if on cue, the sky begins to darken. It’s the eclipse. It’s time. The warrior within her stirs to life. She wonders if Buffy feels this way. Probably, probably more so.

The Mayor almost doubles over. Pain.

“And so, as we look back on...” The pain takes over him again and he pauses. “On the events that have brought us to this day...” He’s doubling over again.

Willow and Buffy remove their caps. “Come on,” Buffy whispers.

“We...we must all...” The agony must be intense. He groans and yells. He composes himself, however, and announces what is only news to a very few - Principal Snyder being one of them. “It has begun - my destiny. It’s a little sooner than I expected.” He goes through his note cards regretfully. “I had this whole section on civic pride...but I guess we’ll just skip to the big finish.”

Oh yeah. Willow’s nearly giddy. Let’s get this over with.

The transformation is actually something to see. The Mayor splits and shifts and somehow becomes a large, scaly serpentine being right before their very eyes, though Willow’s actually a bit disappointed. Wasn’t he supposed to be bigger than this?

She can almost hear Faith quipping that they’re never as big as you expect. Willow giggles, but luckily, Buffy doesn’t hear her.

The parents, Willow’s notably not among them, are running and screaming and becoming hysterical, but the students are calm. That’s a good thing. The panicking adults will no doubt serve as a tasty snack for the platoon of vampires marching in to serve their leader, good old Mayor McDemon.

“Now!” Buffy cries, and robes come off, revealing the fact that every student is heavily armed. Crossbows, axes...

“Flame units!”

Oh, and flame throwers. Let’s not forget those.

Buffy is a born leader. Everyone is doing exactly what they should. The Mayor is besieged by streams of fire.

“First wave!” Xander’s not bad at this either.

Willow fires at the demon, her aim not at all bad. Her fellows are doing a yeoman’s job as well.

“Go! Go! Go!” Xander seems in his element and Willow couldn’t be more proud of him. She turns and smiles as she sees Cordelia gazing at him with so much love and admiration. If she can never have that for herself, she’s glad that Xander and Cordelia do. Maybe having them in her life will be the next best thing.

“This is - This is simply unacceptable.” Please let that not be Principal Snyder actually believing he has some authority over all of this.

Some of the students have been foolish enough to try to engage the vampires in hand to hand combat and Xander is quick to respond.

“Bowmen!”

Oz and his team are quick to act, shooting flaming arrows at the vampires and quickly bringing the situation under something resembling control.

Then the rest of their team moves in from the rear. They are led by Angel. His superhuman strength is a badly needed asset and Willow can allow herself to be grateful he’s on their side right now, though she loathes the fact that he might feel it and know it to be for him.

Some of her classmates have fallen and she’s hoping the casualties won’t be great. The fighting continues on all sides.

Principal Snyder makes one last, supremely stupid stand, yelling up at the former Mayor,“This is not orderly. This is not disciplined. You’re on my campus, buddy, and when I say I want quiet, I mean...” And with that, the Mayor eats him.

Maybe some day, years from now, Willow will mourn his demise.

But she’s not holding her breath.

There’s chaos all around her and Xander is losing his confidence, which has a tragic effect on the troops he’s trying to command. Still, he’s doing his best, as is everyone else. Cordelia, in fact, is proving quite handy with a stake.

Willow herself hasn’t gotten a scratch on her, nor has she had much of a chance to really fight. Angel’s been nearby the whole time and she can feel that he’s as eager to protect her as to save the town, perhaps more. She hates that he’s robbed her of the chance to really risk something, to be a heroine.

But maybe it's just as well that she's not had the chance to foolishly seek glory in battle. Because really, it’s Buffy’s job to save the world. Willow’s just there to make it a little easier, that’s all.

She turns back, sees Buffy facing off against the demon. She can’t hear what Buffy’s saying, but whatever it is - it’s working.

Buffy races into the school, followed very closely by the former Mayor Wilkins; all Willow and everyone else can do is pray that the plan works. The seconds are like hours as she waits.

Then it happens.

The school explodes.

The Mayor is dead.

Willow looks around fearfully, then sees something that brings a smile to her face.

Buffy is safe.

And because of her, so is everyone else.

The crowd descends into a kind of post-adrenaline anarchy as wounds are assessed and war stories are redundantly exchanged with those who were also there. It’s a frantic sort of camaraderie and Willow wishes she could be part of it. There isn’t time. She would give almost anything to touch Oz once more, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Something inside her says he’s already gone. Wouldn’t it be funny if he went to Portland? She knows, though, that she’ll never see him again.

Willow spies Xander. He knows what’s up, or some of it anyway, as he walks over and takes her hand. His presence, luckily, keeps Angel at a safe distance. Still pretending, and Willow is so grateful for that.

She and Xander smile sadly as they take a moment to survey the crowd, to get one last glimpse of their friends, their schoolmates, even their enemies. Then the honk of a car horn sounds and they run. Neither of them looks back. She’s sure Angel sees what’s happening, she can feel his confusion, but there’s nothing he can do. Willow glories in that knowledge. She only wishes she could somehow see his face when he’s evicted from the mansion. Oh well. She will daydream about that moment often and that, along with any pain and humiliation she can feel from him through the bond, will have to suffice.

It would have been nice to say goodbye to Buffy and Giles, but they can’t and they know that. Maybe someday, somehow, they’ll be able to send word back that they’re alive and they’re okay, but right now, it’s time to go. Willow and Xander and Cordelia are driving off into the future. Who they’ll be and where they’ll ultimately go are as yet unsure but, at least for Willow, anywhere is better than here.

Goodbye, Sunnydale.


Tbc...