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Anya looked up from the box she was unpacking to see Willow standing on the stairs watching her intently. She twisted her face slightly and shook her head. “Why do you think I did?” she asked going back to her task.
“An?”
“What? What do you want me to say Willow? That I didn’t? That I hate you?”
“If that’s how you feel…”
“Well it’s not,” Anya snapped and then after a second of grim silence she picked up the box and threw it across the room, uncaring of the dozens of glass bottles which had just shattered, releasing a foul smelling odour.
Neither of them moved for a moment.
“I hated you,” Anya said quietly and Willow flinched. “I hated you more than I have ever hated anyone. If I had had my powers then I would have visited every form of pain in existence on you and everyone who stood in my way.”
She looked up and met Willow’s eyes.
“That’s why I forgave you.”
“But…”
Anya huffed out a little bitter laugh and walked towards the other girl. Willow refused to back away and was surprised when Anya sat on the bottom step and patted the space next to her. “Sit.” Willow sat.
“Did you mean to kill Xander?”
“NO!” Willow shouted, feeling tears fill her eyes, “How could you ask that?”
Anya glanced at her but ignored the question. “I saw Tara that day. I saw her, lying there, still, silent. And there was blood everywhere. Who knew that there could be so much blood? And I thought, how could anyone do that? Why would anyone…?”
She stopped and took a deep breath. The redhead beside her remained silent.
“Xander was always a better person than me,” the blonde began after a moment. “More practice,” she added with a smile, drawing a matching one from Willow. “And he forgave you the minute it happened Will. Because that wasn’t you right then. That was the magick and the pain and the anger. I know, because I’ve felt it. And Xander knew, because he knew you. I forgive you when Xander did.” She turned to her friend and waited for Willow to raise her head and look at her. “Because Xander did.”
****
The two-hour trip from LA to Sunnydale was made in silence. Dawn had curled herself as far away from her boyfriend as she could in the spacious front seat and stared resolutely at the passing scenery. Connor concentrated on driving, trying not think about their earlier argument.
He had held Dawn until her tears had stopped and she pulled away from him, immediately accepting that she didn’t want to talk about it. Ten minutes later they had each packed a bag and were in the car heading to Sunnydale.
Connor’s eyes flicked to the glove box and back to the road. One wouldn’t hurt. One would relax him. One might take his mind off the fact that his life was, this morning, unravelling in front of his eyes.
He shook his head. No, no, no. He didn’t need them he was stronger than that. And Dawn didn’t like it. There’d be no smoochies if he did. He glanced at Dawn this time and sighed. He doubted there’d be smoochies any time soon regardless of what he did. No, no, no. His dad would get pissed. More pissed than he was undoubtedly going to be. And Buffy would cry…
His eyes flicked to the glove box again.
Good.
No, no, no. That was cruel. Buffy crying was not good. It was awful. He didn’t want to make her upset.
His face hardened.
He really wanted to make her upset.
Fucking Spike.
It was all his fault.
He swerved dangerously across the road and stopped the car next to the sidewalk.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dawn screamed at him as he fumbled in the compartment for the packet. “Are you crazy? We could have been killed?”
Connor rolled his eyes and then grinned as his hand clasped around his prize. Thank God.
Dawn’s eyes narrowed as her boyfriend fiercely pushed open the car door and climbed out, slamming it behind him. He walked around the car and sat on the hood, lifting something to his mouth. Scrambling from the car herself she moved quickly towards him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, quieter this time. More calm. Connor didn’t trust her for a second. He raised the cigarette to his lips again and inhaled. Then, turning towards her, blew a stream of smoke in her face. “Connor!”
“What do you think I’m doing?” he smirked, waving the cigarette at her.
“Why are you being such a jerk?”
“I just needed a smoke. It’ll take two minutes.”
“I thought you decided to quit.”
“No. You decided I’d quit. I don’t remember having much of a say in it.”
Dawn glared at him but didn’t answer. After a moment she moved to perch next to him on the car.
“Don’t even pretend this is as hard for you as it is for me.”
Connor snorted derisively. “Oh, of course not. How could it possibly be bad for me? My girlfriend isn’t talking to me because the best friend she thought was dead has suddenly turned up out of the blue. I can’t do anything to help because even though I’ve never met him I hate the bastard with my every breath because of all the pain he’s caused everyone I care about. My dad is probably going to kill something when he finds out because the woman he’s marrying in a month’s time used to screw the guy on a regular basis.”
Connor didn’t even try to stop Dawn as her hand immediately flew up to slap him across the face.
Her eyes were blazing fury and for all he wanted to reach out to her and apologise, Connor just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Take me home now,” was all Dawn said as she climbed back into the car.
Connor flicked the cigarette away from him with a sigh and walked back round to the driver’s side to finish their journey to Sunnydale.