Title: A Year in Hell
 Author: Alex P.
 Feedback: Please any comments or suggestions to: keeper444@webtv.net
 Archive: The usual suspects: A Slayer, A Hacker, Gary's Between the
 Sheets, Bill's Sword and Stake Library
 Anyone else just ask I promise I'll say yes.
  Summary: A look into the lowest point in the life of someone near and 
 dear to all of us. 
 Spoilers: None really.
 Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy Willow Giles and any others from 
 BTVS are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy etc. No
 infringement of any kind intended. The story however is a figment of my
 own twisted imagination.]:-) Warnings : While there is no explicit
 sexual content a loving relationship between two consenting women is
 suggested. If this offends you (Man, are you in the wrong place) or is
 illegal where you live (I suggest you move). PLEASE DELETE NOW! 
 Warning #2: This story portrays the explicit use of controlled
 substances and IV drug abuse and an attempted suicide. Again if this
 bothers you, find something else to read. Cause you won't like this one
 at all. 
 Rating: R (intensely adult type situations I wouldn't want my kids to
 read it)
 Pairing: B/W (implied)
 Notes: Due to circumstances beyond their control one of the gang is lost 
 and alone and isn't handling it well at all. <>thoughts<> 
 
 
 
*****flashbacks**** 
 
 
Title: A Year in Hell
Author: Alex P. 
------------------------- 
 
The
huddled figure hurried down the quickly darkening street, the shadows
deepened by the absence of street lights sure didn't make the area seem
any friendlier. 
 
This was not the
part of town you read about in the brochures, no, this looked more like
a war zone than a part of the pretty little town of Sunnydale and it
smelled even worse. 
 
At a run down brick
building with broken windows and boarded up doors the figure stopped,
and furtively looked around to be sure it wasn't being observed, then it
stealthily went to one of the blocked doors and moving a loose board the
figure slipped into the condemned building. 
 
Someone had jumped over the
old electric meter and had illegally turned on the water but nobody that
lived there knew who, they didn't care. 
 
The individuals had no idea who they
shared the building, nor did they care.
They all knew their status in life. They were the cast-offs from a
society that didn't want to recognise their existence. 
 
The huddled figure
cackled insanely at these thoughts, no they didn't really want to know
who or what cohabited their little world. 
 
They had their own
problems that absorbed their attention. 
 
Each had succumbed to their own private hell and had
nothing left over to share with their fellow sufferers. 
 
Climbing the dark narrow stairs the figure wondered how
much longer it would have the strength to make this ascent, knowing when
that time came they would have crossed the line from inhabitant to prey,
and would no longer be safe here. 
 
 
After that
the downhill slide they'd been on since that night would soon reach its
inevitable conclusion and it was just another lifeless body in the
morgue, unknown and unclaimed, filler for another hole in Potters field. 
 
 Coming to a
nondescript door at the end of a long dark hallway the figure made
another furtive glance over its shoulder then used its shoulder to shove
open the portal to its own private section of hell. 
 
The room was small and as
dirty as its occupant, all it held was an old cot with an old lumpy
mattress that smelled of bodily fluids and mildew, a badly abused night
stand and an rickety old table with a scared top and a straight backed
wooden chair. 
 
Lighting was provided by
a shadeless lamp with a dim bulb. 
 
On the table was all that was necessary for its life now, a
candle, matches, a spoon with a bent handle, and several used syringes. 
 
 
 
"Decor by
House of Hell in early Junkie" the figure mumbled chuckling at its own
humor "Gods, it's hot in here." 
 
 
 
 
 
The
figure began shrugging off its outer layer of clothing stopping when it
reached its last layer. 
 
 
Now clad in
old worn grimy jeans and a ragged dirty and horribly stained tank top. 
 
Underwear had
disappeared within the first month on the streets. 
 
Now it was
possible to see that it was a female, she'd once even been considered
pretty. 
 
A year on the streets
and the junk had taken care of that now, only a shadow of her former
self remained. 
 
Wiping her
forehead and realizing her teeth were chattering she knew she'd gotten
back just in time. 
 
She'd already
started the cold sweats and before long she'd start the stomach cramps,
followed by the crawlies and serious shakes. 
 
What came after that she
had no idea, she'd let herself get to the shakes only once and she
wouldn't ever let that happen again. 
 
 
 
 <>Better
to die than withdraw<> she told herself. 
 
 
She smiled sadly at the
prospect of death. Once she'd fought hard to keep from dying, now she'd
welcome it with open arms. 
 
The only reason she was still
alive was she was too much of a coward to kill herself, so she'd chosen
the easy way. 
 
As she looked at herself in
the cracked and warped mirror, she could see that it wouldn't be long
now. 
 
Who knew how she'd go?
There were a thousand ways for a street junkie to die, there was
exposure, malnutrition, raped and murdered in some alley. 
 
That one made her laugh
as she once more looked at her reflection. 
 
 
<>Sucker'd have to
be pretty desperate to wanna rape my bony carcass<> She told herself 
 
 
She'd seen it happen
more than once down here, some poor junkie, like herself, would get some
money, one of the others would find out, and beat them to death for
twenty bucks. 
 
What a joke her life had
become. She reached into her boots that were two sizes too big and
pulled out three small plastic bindles of white powder and threw them on
the table along with a pack of generic cigarettes. 
 
It had been a good
day of panhandling. She'd made enough to not only get enough stuff for
today and tomorrow, but she had been able to buy herself a whole pack of
smokes. 
 
 
The
waif thin girl then pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it drawing
the harsh smoke deep into her lungs. 
 
 
 She
coughed a little then took another drag this time when she inhaled there
was no adverse reaction. Now that her lungs had settled down she began
the daily ritual of getting the fix. 
 
She tore open one of the
packets and dumped it's contents into the spoon. 
 
Leaving it on the table,
she picked up the least dirty glass from the sink and filled with the
brownish tinged water from the tap and returned to the table. 
 
Using her newest syringe
she drew up some of the water then carefully let it drop into the spoon
with the powder. 
 
Then slowly with all the
concentration of a brain surgeon she held the spoon over the lit candle
heating the contents while gently stirring it with the end of the
syringe until all the powder was dissolved. 
 
Once the elixir was liquified
she sat the spoon ever so carefully on the table and tore a small piece
of the cigarette filter cotton with her teeth. Rolling it into a minute
ball she let it drop in the spoon so that it touched the edge of the
liquid. 
 
Holding the needle on the cotton to
filter the mixture she drew the liquid 'escape' into the syringe.
 
 
Closely
examining the contents of the syringe she smiled just a little. 
 
 
"Damn Jonesy must have a
new connection." she muttered pleased by the purity of the drugs "Almost
all came back, just hope he ain't cuttin it with strychnine again. Shit
makes my kidneys hurt." 
 
 
 
Talking to
herself was another habit she'd picked up over the last year. Her fellow
street junkies were not much for stimulating conversation. 
 
 
She pulled
the belt from around her jeans and went over to sit on the edge of the
bed. 
 
Getting as comfortable
as she could. She pulled the belt through the buckle making a loop and
put that around her bicep then pulled it as tight as she could. 
 
She pumped her fist trying to
raise a vein, she'd already burned out the veins the hooker had shown
her so no one would see the tracks and now she had fried the major ones
in her left arm. 
 
Finally after having to
slap her arm to get the vein up to where she could see it, she found
what she'd been searching for. 
 
Holding the end of
the belt with her teeth to keep it tight and with her left hand she slid
the needle through her thin pale white skin and into the blue vein at
the bend of her elbow. She drew a little blood into the syringe to be
sure she'd pierced the vein then she pushed the plunger and forced the
contents in to her vein and released the belt allow the blood to flow
freely carrying the drugs throughout her system. 
 
 
 
 
First
came the overwhelming waves of nausea but there was nothing in her
stomach to bring up so that was no big deal. 
 
 
 
 
Then
with a heavy sigh she felt the release of the drug as it invaded her
brain making her feel like she was floating without a care in the world. 
 
At last she'd reached
the point she was hoping for and for a few minutes it didn't matter that
they were all dead. She could forget that the one true love of her life
had died and left her alone to face the world without her. 
 
With that thought
the anger came. How dare they it wasn't fair, everybody felt sorry for
them, it was so awful what happened isn't it too bad they died.
 
 
 
 
Yeah but at least for them it was over but for
her it had just begun. 
 
 
 As
the powerful drug set her mind afloat on a sea of euphoria, at peace,
but the peace didn't last. 
 
 
 
Just
like the last two times the memories came pouring back to her now. 
 
 
 
 
Her uncluttered mind, no problems, no
worrying about being found, no hiding in dark corners because she saw a
familiar figure on the street. 
 
Like today, she
saw that seemingly familiar looking person as she was leaving Jonesy's
place right after she'd scored. 
 
At first she'd thought
it was a narc but it wasn't long before she knew it wasn't any of the
cops that hung around there hassling the junkies, hookers, and pimps
while taking protection payoffs from the dealers. 
 
 
 
 "Sunnydale's
finest" she snorted sarcastically. "What a joke.How they gonna clean up
the streets when they couldn't find their ass with a flashlight and they
lived in some small time pusher wannabe's hip pocket." 
 
 
Today though it
hadn't been some dirty cop trying to extort a few bucks out of some
burned out junkies, no, today was something different. 
 
The sight of this figure
had been like a dagger through her heart. It had dredged up all the
agonizing memories that had driven her into this life.
 
Surprised by tears she
thought she no longer had, she realized she was crying again as all
those memories burst through all her carefully constructed barriers and
came roaring back into her consciousness, invading her waking hours
instead of remaining only in her sleeping nightmares. 
 
Even the drugs
weren't helping to hold back the visions of her and the horror of the
remembered sight of her love's death. 
 
She cried out in agony
and buried her face in her battered dirty hands unable to fight off the
pain that ripped through her heart and soul. 
 
 
 
"Alone," she
wailed drowning in a sea of despair and hopelessness. "Why am I here
alone. You promised you'd stay with me forever and then you left me." 
 
 
Her pain was unfathomable, it
wasn't just sorrow and grief no, it was all that and far more.
 
She'd lost more than friends and a lover that
night, she'd lost her soul, it shriveled up and died as she watched them
go down under the onslaught of the undead. 
 
It had taken an
army of unholy demons and monsters to do it but, it had been done, Now
she was left to deal with the guilt of having lived while everything she
held dear in her life was destroyed. 
 
She had reached the end of her
tolerance, for over a year now she'd been living with it. 
 
 After a while she was able to function and the smak had
forced back the painful memories relegating them to her sleeping time
only, but now after today she knew it was over. 
 
The pain had found her and
forced her out into the light so it could rape and destroy the remnants
of her sanity to leave her with nothing, but she knew she had a choice. 
 
She could put a stop to the
agony that was trying to drag her down into a living hell of pain and
depression leaving only a drooling babbling shell like some of the
others she'd seen. 
 
No she could stop that
and now was the time, if she waited she knew it would be too late and
the pain would win. 
 
Determined to
follow through with her plan she drug herself off the bed and crawled to
the table. 
 
She almost passed out as she
pulled her drugged, abused, and battered body into the chair. 
 
Her lungs burned and her frail
body shook uncontrollably.
 She sat up in the chair and took in several deep
breaths struggling to regain control of herself so she could finally
stop her pain. 
 
Having steeled herself
and forcibly keeping her body from shaking she realized she was more
relaxed right now than she'd ever been since that night.
 
She rationalized that having
finally come to a decision about her future had helped her gather her
remaining strength; so she could do what was necessary.
 
 
She lit
another cigarette and relaxed for a moment, then she picked up both of
the remaining bindles and emptied their contents into the spoon. 
 
 
 
 
As
she heated and stirred the elixir that would take care of her future and
finally make the pain go away for good, her mind back to the event that
happened on that night over a year ago. 
 
 This time she didn't fight it knowing
that soon all the agony she'd suffered for so long would soon be gone. 
************ 
 
 
It had been
the same as every other night of their adolescent lives, they had all
met at Giles' apartment to get ready for the nightly patrol. 
 
It was clear to
all of them that something big was about to happen. 
 
Buffy had been
running into more and stronger opponents every night and thanks to
Willow's "research girl" act they'd figured out that once again they
faced an enemy of apocalyptic proportions.
 
Since the portents
of an escalating threat were clear it had been decided that all of them
would go out on patrol with Buffy. 
 
 
Even Wesley
was there to help, and according to him Angel had some thing pressing to
attend to then he would be arriving to help. 
 
 
They loaded
up, Buffy carried her usual assortment of weapons, while Giles and
Wesley opted for crossbows with hardwood quarrels. Willow and Xander
were bringing along stakes and Super Soakers full of Holywater. 
 
 
 In
other words they were armed to the teeth. When they entered the cemetery
they spread out but made sure to keep each other in sight.
 
 
 
They
covered as much ground as they could without putting themselves in
harm's way. Things had actually gone pretty slow and the consensus was
that either their information was wrong or they'd read it wrong. Both of
which were possible when you were working with a centuries old prophecy
and living on the Hellmouth. 
 
 
It was
decided to head for the house after one more sweep of the campus. 
 
 
 
Even
she would admit that they were lulled into a false sense of security and
even though they knew better all of them slacked off relaxing their
watch or maybe these were smarter adversaries than they were used to.
 
 
Whatever it was when the group had come
to a spot where they had to separate and just as the two groups were out
of sight of each other the attack came. 
 
To her it seemed
that the vamps just appeared out of nowhere and inspite of all their
preparations there was simply too many of them. 
 
The fierce battle that
followed was too fast and too spread out for her to recall what exactly
happened. 
 
All she could remember
for sure was that at some time during the fight she was thrown up
against a nearby building and was knocked unconscious for how long she
wasn't sure.
 
That didn't really matter,
what mattered to her was what happened after she came to. 
 
She pushed herself
up, and looked around, while she was out the fight had moved away from
where she had lain.
 
Slowly regaining
her feet she stopped to survey the scene. She was horrified. Only two of
her friends remained standing and even from her distance she could see
the defenders were out on their feet. 
 
To make matters
worse there were several more vamps running to join the fight. As she
watched she saw her friends go down under a massive wave of the undead.
 
 
 
She heard
someone screaming "NO" then she realized it was her and fearing to call
attention to herself she forced herself to shut up, but she was too
late. 
 
 
Three of the
vamps on the fringes of the fight saw her and began to come after her.
Then she did the unforgivable. 
 
 
 
She ran and left her friends to die. 
*************** 
 
 
"That's
right," she told herself, as she drew up the drug from the spoon,
laughing derisively at herself, "the great hunter of the undead, friend
and confidant to the down trodden, defender of humanity, the all
powerful Willow the Wyccan ran like the gutless coward she is." 
 
*************** 
 
 
Using back alleys that only she and her
childhood friend Xander knew, dodging into a couple of churches Willow
had gotten away from her pursuers. 
 
 
 
 Finally after she'd run for what
seemed like hours Willow had stopped and assessed her situation. 
 
 
It was then
the true realization of what had happened dawned on her. 
 
As far as she
could tell all of her friends were dead or worse. She'd seen them fall
and then she fell to her knees no longer able to stand. 
 
Just as she began to
mourn her friends Giles the ever present ever concerned guide and
mentor, Wesley the stoic, stiff, unsure, funny, watcher reject, Xander
her lifelong friend, the one that made her laugh, that held her as she
cried when things became too much to bear, and showed her that she could
handle anything, all gone. Taken from her in a moment. 
 
What would she ever do without them,
what would Buffy... Then it hit her, like a sledgehammer to the chest. 
 
Buffy had gone down with them. For Willow
the world as she knew it ceased to exist. 
 
She couldn't breathe the world was
spinning and her legs wouldn't hold her up then everything went black. 
 
Willow woke up to a bright
sunlit sky and found herself laying on a pile of trash in a deserted
alley in the middle of an abandoned industrial district, where the city
had discovered it was cheaper to let the old condemned buildings sit and
rot, rather then tear them down. 
 
No one cared about the
area and very few police even cared enough to patrol the area. For sure
nobody was worried about one distraught red haired girl. 
 
It had become a dumping
ground for the city's unwanted waste both trash and human. A haven for
the homeless and the lowlife that preyed on them, the small time drug
dealers, pimps, and other dregs of society that even the criminals
wouldn't bother with. 
 
It was in this
environment that the young sheltered and grieving girl found herself
lost and alone. 
 
Kneeling in the scum of
a stinking alley, the desolate woman-child was being crushed by the
weight of her devastating loss. 
 
To loose your
friends would have been enough to break anyone but to loose the one true
love of your life right after you had found each other, was more than
any being could be expected to deal with under the best of conditions.
Lost and alone devoid of all hope; all that was Willow Rosenberg curled
up inside her body and slowly, painfully, ceased to exist, like being
born in reverse. 
 
 
She was
suddenly aware of a high pitched eerie keening sound that sounded like a
soul suffering the torments of hell, then she knew that poor tortured
soul was her. 
 
Without her Buffy, she was only half
a soul and only half of a living thing can't live. 
 
The sensitive red haired girl
died inside and simply knelt there in the unbearable agony not moving,
the only sign she was alive was an occasional sob followed by a soul
wrenching moan. 
 
She would have probably knelt
in the filth of the alley until she died if not for an accident of fate. 
 
An old broken down heroin
addicted hooker stumbled upon the grief paralyzed girl. For some unknown
reason she took pity on the child and led her through the motions of
surviving the streets. 
 
 
After
dragging the near zombie around for several days the old hooker
introduced her new found protege to the mind numbing escape that the
wonderful world of drug use provided. To the soulless waif it was the
keys to heaven. 
 
 
With the old
hooker's able assistance the red head was soon well on her way to a
serious habit and the forgetfulness she yearned for. 
 
 
 
After
a few weeks the two companions stumbled upon the body of a well known
and abusive pimp. 
 
He had apparently
had a run in with someone that didn't like him very well because they'd
pumped several bullets into him. 
 
 
 
Being
as tough as he had to be to survive he must have gotten away from them
and crawled into the alley and died where they found him. 
 
It was bad luck
for him, but really good for the two street dwellers because his pockets
were loaded with the money he'd forced from his girls and the packets of
heroin that he'd used to enslave them. 
 
A regular treasure
trove for the two scavengers, and Willow, now called Sweety by her
fellow denizens of the street, got the oversized leather trench coat she
always wore when out. 
 
 
The next
morning Willow found her new friend and mentor dead of an overdose. 
 
 
Following
the rules taught her by the old hooker, Willow took everything she could
find of the old woman's that had value. 
 
Shortly there after she
found the old squatter's flat and moved
in. 
 
Sweety soon became a
fixture on the streets. She was known and feared, especially after a
pimp threatened her, then he fell to the ground and was attacked by
rats. 
 
Sweety swore she had nothing
to do with it, but her legend as a spooky kid you didn't mess with was
already born and flourishing. 
 
 
 
 
Every
once in a while she'd hear stories of the Slayer and the night creatures
she protected humanity from, street people knew all about the creatures
that ruled the night. 
 
 
She just
figured that it was another Slayer that was called to take her Buffy's
place and tried not to listen to the stories because they only renewed
her pain and desolation. 
 
Then about six
weeks ago one of the younger street kids came running up to her. 
 
 
 
"Hey Sweety
did ya' hear?" the exuberant youth yelled as he ran across the street to
talk to her. "It's really big news about the Slayer." 
 
 
 
"No Teddy,
you know I don't care about such things." she said rather harshly but
seeing his disappointment at her rebuff broke down "Alright ya' little
runt what about the Slayer." 
 
 
 
"Well me and
the guys was hangin' out over by the old factory," the excited boy began
"and these older guys was talkin', Ya' know the guys that always know
what's what. Well we heard one of em sayin' that the Slayer got some
help, and there was this huge fight and when it was over she'd closed
the Hellmouth." 
 
 
 
 
She
went into a state of shock. Closing the Hellmouth had always been a
dream of theirs. 
 
She and Buffy
always said that once they closed the Hellmouth they'd move some place
where they could be together and not have to worry about it bothering
their families. 
 
Now it had happened but
there was no Buffy to celebrate with, no soulmate to move with, in short
no future, no dreams left. 
 
That Buffy and her lover
the Witch Willow no longer existed; they were for all intents and
purposes dead. 
 
It was the single
most devastating moment since the death of her lover and her friends. 
 
She turned an
walked away from the boy without a word, he called out to her but she
just ignored him, and with the arrogance of youth the boy just shrugged
his shoulders and left without pursuing the matter any further.
 
 
 
 
From
that moment she began the downward spiral that had brought her to this
moment. 
 
 
 
The
pain was too much to go through without the one person she loved more
than life itself. 
 
 
It was
ludicrous to even try, even the drugs didn't give her the escape from
reality she craved any more. 
 
She might have
lasted a while longer, but soon word came down that there were people
looking for her. 
 
 
Strangers
had been on the streets describing her as she had been a year ago,
asking for Willow Rosenberg and showing an old school picture. 
 
 
Not that
Sweety looked anything like that Willow, not any longer at least, but it
was only a matter of time before someone put two and two together and
came up with Willow and Sweety were the same person. 
 
 
She couldn't
go back, and she was sure it was someone her family had hired or worse
yet a representative from the council. 
 
 
Either one
would try to force her to go back and they wouldn't understand that
without her Buffy there was nothing there for her, so it would be better
this way.
 No one would ever know what happened to Willow, she'd
be another urban legend, everyone speculating her fate, and Sweety, well
she would be just another dead junkie, and good riddance to bad rubbish. 
 
It was the fate
she deserved for deserting her love, her life, her soulmate, and daring
to live on after her Buffy's beautiful soul was gone. 
 
She held the
syringe up and examined the oversized dose of the thick elixir that had
allowed her to last this long without her heart and soul, and now it was
only right that it would give her the final release from the hell her
life had become. 
 
 
 
She
tied off her arm and quickly located a vein. With expert ease she slid
the needle home and pushed the plunger. 
 
 
As the last
of the fluid entered her blood stream and she was releasing the
tourniquet she could hear heavy foot steps coming up the hall. 
 
 
<>They found me<> she thought
smugly <>You're too late the only thing here is a soon to be dead
worthless junkie<> 
 
 
Her vision was
already fading when the door flew open revealing a strangely familiar
silhouette. 
 
 
"Faith?" she asked as she
faded out 
 
 
"Aw damn Red." Faith groaned
"What the hell have you gone and done to yourself? B's gonna kill me if
I let anything happen to you now that I found you for her." 
 
 
That was the last thing she heard as
the blackness closed over her. 
------- 
 
Faith began her search into
the lowest bowels of the city digging up every dealer, pimp, and snitch
she could latch on to. Just when she was about to give it up and try
another way she saw a huddled figure coming out of a dealer's place that
struck a familiar cord in her mind. On a hunch she followed the person
on a meandering trail home. 
 
It took every ounce of
Slayer skill to tail this one without being seen. 
 
Her determination paid
off and she located the building where the person lived. She was sure
that it was the elusive little red head. 
 After letting Giles know where she was but not the blonde
Slayer. They didn't want to get Buffy's hopes up only to have to tell
her they were wrong.
 The brunette Slayer entered the hovel and after several
wrong doors followed by several profuse apologies she found one last
door on the very top floor of the building, so hidden even her Slayer
enhanced senses almost missed it.
 This had to be it. The little voice in her head told her it
was Red, and that voice hadn't been wrong yet. 
 
Faith just knew she'd
found the holy grail she'd been looking for, and something was telling
her to hurry up, and get in there. 
 Even then she was almost too late, it looked as if the
desolation had finally defeated the once feisty red head, a few minutes
later the girl's suicide attempt might have been successful. Faith knew
suicide when she saw it, she'd been on the verge herself enough times to
recognise the symptoms.
 
She scooped the unconscious
girl up into her arms, and she ran down the stairs with her discovery.
 Willow had lost so much weight Faith could carry the skin
covered skeleton in one arm.
 She used her cell phone to get help, making sure they
realized it was an OD. 
 
 
Fortunately
the names of the Slayers carried a certain amount of pull since the
sealing of the Hellmouth and the ambulance arrived in record time. 
 
Faith rode along
to be sure the paramedics knew that this was no ordinary junkie O.D.ing
here, and the hospital would know that cost was no object.
 As far as Faith and Buffy were concerned the little
witch would get the best of everything, there was no other option
available to them.
************** 
 
 
As soon as
Buffy received word that her missing love was found, and of Willow's
condition, the Slayer raced to the hospital ignoring every posted speed
limit and violating very nearly every traffic law known to get to her
long lost lover's side. 
 
 
Upon her
arrival Buffy took over the care of her Willow, or she did after she
finished crying when she saw the little red head's physical condition.
 Her once healthy, happily babbling, best friend, and
lover, was so malnurished, and frail. She looked so tiny in the bed.
  Buffy thought her beloved witch now looked like a
concentration camp survivor.
 
 "Oh my love," Buffy cried out her heart breaking at the
thought of how much her Willow must have suffered over the last year
"What happened to you? What drove you to this? Was it me, did I do
something wrong?"
 
 Not getting an answer from the unconscious girl, Buffy
became obsessed with getting her well so that she could have her lover
back, even if it was only as a friend.
  Swearing to whatever gods were listening that she would
cherish and care for her precious witch for as long as they both lived.
 
The nurses and
doctors were only allowed to perform what ever medical procedures were
necessary, but Buffy refused to allow anyone to do anything else for her
lover. 
 
Buffy cleaned her,
dressed her, no task was too menial for the Slayer. 
 
The only other person
Buffy even allowed in the room was Faith. They had become friends after
the dark eyed Slayer had returned at Buffy's request for help with the
minions of the Hellmouth. 
 
It was Faith who had
studied Willow's research and found the clue the Wyccan had discovered
that led them to the secret of sealing the Hellmouth. 
 
Buffy smiled sadly,
remembering Faith's comment that fateful night when they ended that
threat for good.
 Even when she was gone the feisty red head was still
saving their butts.
 
It had been
Faith's idea to look for the missing witch among the homeless of
Sunnydale, so Buffy owed the second Slayer everything and she never
missed an opportunity to tell Faith how grateful she was. 
 
Faith would come by
every once in a while to relieve her friend, demanding that the devoted
blonde get something to eat, and to rest, reminding her that Willow was
going to need her pardner when things got tougher later and Buffy would
be of no use to her suffering lover if she too was on the verge of
collapse. 
 
Buffy only
surrendered to her friend's demands after Faith, and a doctor that
specialized in the rehabilitation of drug addicts, and that would accept
the case, sat her down and explained what Willow was facing in the near
future, if she regained consciousness that was. 
 
The doctor made
sure that the blonde understood that there was a chance that, given the
patient's severely poor condition prior to her overdose, there was every
possibility she would succumb to the chemical damage she'd inflicted on
herself without ever coming out of the present coma. 
 Faith asked a nurse why they didn't just give the
comatose girl a shot of dopeamine and bring her out of the coma.
 
 "I always thought all you had to do was give her a shot
and all this would be over." Faith asked not fully trusting doctors.
 
 "Normally we would, honey." the charge nurse told her
patiently "but this one's too weak to handle anymore than we gave her to
save her life. Her poor body can't take the shock."
 
 "In other words you don't care how much she
suffers." Faith growled at the woman, she didn't like it when anyone
talked to her like she was a stupid kid. "as long as your butts' are
covered."
 
 The woman just huffed at the girl's attitude and
hurried off down the hall to continue her rounds.
 
 
Of course
Buffy heard him, but refused to even acknowledge the possibility. 
 Faith saw the look in her fellow Slayer's eyes when the
doctor spoke of Red dying. Faith knew denial when she saw it, so she
stayed close. Even going so far as to rent an apartment right across the
street from the hospital so she would be there if Buffy needed her in a
hurry. 
 She knew in her heart that it would kill her friend
if the little witch didn't make it.
 
 
It was three
days later when Willow woke up, and rudely awakened everyone else
screaming, as the pain of advanced heroin withdrawals ravaged her
severely weakened body. 
 
 
 
Several
nurses and orderlies came rushing into the room and with the blonde
Slayer's help restrained the mindlessly thrashing red head. 
 
 
The doctor
followed the other medical personnel into the room and with the girl
held securely he gave her a shot of methadone to ease her pain. 
 
 
 
Things
had calmed a little and everyone but the doctor and Buffy was leaving
the room when Faith burst through the door and came to a skidding halt
next to her friend. 
 
 
 
 
Willow
was just barely conscious but her eyes grew wide as she focused on her
beloved Slayer. 
 
 
 
"Your
d-dead!" the now crying red head blurted out nearly screaming in fright
"I s-saw you d-die!" 
 
 
 
"Hush now my
sweet love," Buffy said softly trying to reassure her beloved while she
gently brushed her lover's sweat dampened hair out of her face. "I was
hurt but I lived, and so did you, thank the Goddess." 
 
 
 
 
 
Without
fully comprehending Willow was still somewhat relieved and surrendered
to the drugs the doctor had given her. 
 
The doctor pulled the
two Slayers aside and explained how Willow's recovery would procede from
this point. 
 
 
"This is good that she
woke up," the doctor explained "it means she is at least fighting to
live, and I've given her the first shot of methadone, in her condition
your friend's body won't tolerate any of our more aggresive treatments.
The methadone will ease her pain and it's less addictive than the
heroin. She'll be getting a shot per day every day in decreasing
increments until she doesn't get anymore. My staff and I will do
whatever we can to ease her pain, but she will still have to suffer
through a certain amount of withdrawal, there is nothing I can do to
avoid it. That's where you come in, Ms. Summers, she will need all the
strength, support, and especially love that you can give her. Over the
last few days I've seen your devotion to her; she is a very lucky girl
to have you. She's obviously a very special person to inspire such
feelings. Rest assured we will do everything in our power to see that
she gets through this ordeal safely." 
 
 
 
"Thank you
doctor I appreciate your efforts," Buffy told the compassionate man
giving Faith a 'keep your mouth shut' glare, "and you are right; she is
more special to me than my own life or anyone else's for that matter.
But you are wrong about her being the lucky one, I'm the lucky one for
being allowed to receive her love. She just spent a year in Hell
thinking I was dead, and we have to get her through this, because I've
sworn to make it my goal in life to make the rest of her life as close
to Heaven as possible on this Earth. And that's a promise I plan to
keep." 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^ 
    FIN 
 ^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 

Fiction