Primal Hiding - Going To Her
Willow woke up the next morning feeling very guilty. Buffy was hiding inside of her mind, letting the slayer have full control and it was all her fault. She knew she still wanted Buffy, a part of her would always want Buffy no matter what. But she just had to go and mess it all up. She was just so freaked out when the blonde finally confessed, and Willow thought that she had finally moved on from feeling all of those confusing feelings about her best friend. But after she came home from searching last night she knew that she wasn’t.
Sure, she liked Tara, and given time the two would probably start dating, but she knew that she would never love her witch friend the way that she loves her slayer. She got up out of bed, determined to make things better. She had to find Buffy no matter what, and she had to tell her that she did want to date her, love her, sleep with her, fuck her, make love to her, and everything in between.
She even thought that arguing with Buffy might be kind of sexy. She just loves it when the blonde gets all dominant. Ok, no more thoughts that’ll turn you on, you gotta go find Buffy, she thought as she threw on her jacket and ran out the door. She had to stop by Xander’s first, if she was going to find Buffy then she needed a car.
When Willow showed up at Xander’s house ten minutes later, she knocked on the door five separate times before finally getting an answer. Xander looked panicked and he quickly let Willow in. She sat down on the couch next to Anya, curiously asking him what the problem was. He started pacing in front of the couch, and ran his fingers through his hair and let out a heavy sigh.
“Giles called and left a message on the answering machine. Buffy ran off to L.A. to be with Angel,” it was Anya who spoke. Willow’s jaw dropped and her face paled, although it was kind of hard to tell. (Fun fact: Alyson Hannigan, Rose McGowan and me are the three whitest women on the planet). She looked over at Anya as if the ex-demon had grown a second head. Although this being Sunnydale that isn’t exactly impossible.
“Anya, we don’t know that she’s gone to be with Angel. All he said was that she’s in L.A. she’s still letting the slayer be in control, and he’ll try to get her to be normal again and come home,” Xander said frustrated. Willow shook her head, trying to bring herself out of this daze. She got up off of the couch, thinking the worst. Buffy had loved Angel with all of her heart and soul, well most of it at least, so her slayer side must have loved him too.
“I need your car for a couple of days,” she said and looked into Xander’s brown eyes. He didn’t question her as to why as he walked over to the little side table and grabbed the keys. He was just about to hand them over when Anya grabbed them from him and backed away from the two friends who were giving her angry glares.
“You can’t have the car, we need the car. Xander has to drive to work, and he might need to take me places,” she said and Willow stepped forward. The anger was coming off of her in waves and Anya couldn’t help but be very, very afraid. She tried not to show it, but inside she was wishing she were a demon again so that she wouldn’t have to fear this mortal redhead.
“Sunnydale is a small town, you can fucking walk. Now give. Me. The. Keys,” she said, her voice low but full of anger and a little bit of a threat. She held out her hand palm up. Anya timidly handing her the keys and swallowed hard with fear. Willow said a goodbye to Xander and cast a glare at Anya as she walked out the door and ran up the stairs and outside to the car.
“I bet you twenty bucks one day she’ll try to destroy the world,” Anya said and looked over at Xander who looked at her with a surprised expression and then he shook his head, sighing deeply. Anya can be very…frustrating at times.
She floored it to Los Angeles. She wanted to try and get there before nightfall, although she knew it was impossible. She cursed Xander, not literally, for buying a sensible sedan instead of a sports car. If she were driving a 167 Camaro SS, color of paint preferably yellow, she would be there at least three hours sooner then she was driving this little Honda Civic.
A million different scenarios played through her mind at once. Just the thought of Angel and Buffy getting back together, even for only a little while, made her blood boil. She knew that Buffy would most likely turn to him for comfort. She wasn’t completely surprised that she had gone to L.A. A subconscious part of her had expected it, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be pissed off about it. She just prayed for Angel’s sake that all the comfort he offered was a friendly hug and some hot chocolate, or she honestly doesn’t know what she’ll do to him. But she has an idea, and it involves watching is viscera swing from a ceiling fan while he screams in pain and begs for death.
Primal Hiding Index