Pure and simple

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and the WB, I've just borrowed them for a while.

Willow scooped the mail from her mailbox, flicking through the envelopes as she walked up the path towards her house. She paused briefly to remove her house keys from her pocket before unlocking the door and entering the hallway. She dropped her keys onto the table before completing her examination of her mail. The last letter caused a smile to involuntarily cross her face. The handwriting on the envelope invoking a cascade of memories, memories that made her smile from the bottom of her soul to her heart.

She placed the other envelopes with her keys, before opening Xander’s envelope. She hastily pulled the letter from the envelope, scanning the page, smiling as she read.

How’s tricks? Life in England’s takes a little getting used to! These stuffy Brits don’t seem to get my view on life; they keep trying to get me to wear tweed! But I refuse, there is no way on this planet that any member of the Watcher’s Council is getting me into anything made of tweed, not even a tweed pair of socks! That is a solemn Xander promise!

I’ve got a nice apartment, or should I say flat? (Flat is the English term for apartment, but my place isn’t very flat! I’ve got to climb six flights of stairs; I don’t think they’ve heard of elevators at the Watcher’s council!) It’s in the heart of Oxfordshire, lots of pretty old buildings, lots of trees, very pretty. You’ll have to come for a visit when you’ve got a break in your schedule.

How’s Giles doing? Is he still missing Buffy? I guess he is I guess we all are. Every time I see the trainee slayers here at Watcher’s Central I think of Buffy. I can’t help it. She was special, she saved our lives so many times, but she was our friend. It’s going to be strange going on without her.

How are you? I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, but now I’ve settled here, I will call. I promise. (Cross my heart, hope to die, (well not really!)) How’s work going? What is it like to be teaching at the high school where we had a lot of memories?

Anyway I’ve got to go. I have a lecture on the ‘Art of grammatical structure in maintaining the archives of the Council’ I’m sure it’s going to be riveting, but hey someone’s got to do it and it might as well be me!

Willow folded the letter and carefully placed it back in the envelope. She was pleased Xander was settling in, although she still had a hard time picturing him as a member of the Watcher’s Council. She smiled, at the image of Xander wearing tweed.

She walked into the living room, stopping by her desk. She opened the secret drawer and removed a small box, she opened the box and placed Xander’s letter inside with his other letters. She kept them as a reminder that even though her best friend was on a different continent, he was there for her if she needed him.

She returned the box to the drawer and hurried to the kitchen to begin dinner. He’d be home soon.

The door slammed, signaling his arrival. She felt her body tense; her heart began to pound in her chest. She watched as her hands began to shake.

“In here!” She called back, her voice shaking with the terror that every part of her being felt.

She heard the heavy footsteps approach her, two hands grasping her from behind, forcefully turning her towards him.

The aroma of stale alcohol danced in the air, stifling her. She wanted to move, move towards the clear air that her lungs were desperately crying out for, but she knew if she moved, he’d punish her.

“Where’s my dinner?” He drawled, his piercing blue eyes searching hers, looking for any hint of defiance.

“It’ll be ready in a minute.” She replied, attempting to sound confident, even though she wanted to hide, crawl away into the shadows.

“I’ll go wash up. I’ll be back in five minutes and I expect my dinner. If not there will be punishment.”

Willow could feel the blood flow from her face, snaking through her body towards her toes. “Five minutes.” She whispered, as she watched him walk away, the smell of alcohol wafting after him.

She placed the plate of steaming spaghetti and sauce in front of her husband. She took her seat opposite him at the table. She absentmindedly twirled the spaghetti around her fork, her appetite hiding, just as she wanted to.

She watched as him as he ate his food, it was more like watching a pig eating swill than a human dining.

“What you staring at?” He demanded, his blue eyes holding hers in a battle of wills.

He slammed his hand down on the table, the plates lifting into the air before bouncing with a shrill clanging sound onto the table again. Spaghetti danced in the air, twirling before falling back onto the plate, small droplets of spaghetti sauce splattered onto the tablecloth.

“Nothing?” He demanded, reaching out to grasp her wrist with his hand, he squeezed, watching with pleasure as the colour drained from her cheeks.

“I was just watching you eat.” She admitted, grimacing at the shockwaves of pain that danced up her wrist.

“Yes.” She replied, knowing that the punishment would come. There was no way to avoid it now. There was no place to hide. No escape.

He stood, yanking her from her chair, pulling her towards him. His blue eyes glinting evilly as he rubbed his fingers across her forehead. “You’ll be sorry.” He muttered.

Willow dropped her head forward, retreating to the safe place inside her head, where she couldn’t feel the pain, where she felt only joy and happiness. Where she wasn’t alone.

He smiled, his brown eyes filled with happiness. He offered the present towards her, wrapped in pink paper. She took the gift and opened it carefully. She felt the happiness swell through her body as she realised what his gift was. “Thank you, Xander.” She replied, examining the book, stopping at her favourite story.

“Happy Birthday, Will.” He replied, before dashing towards the huge birthday cake that sat in the middle of the table.

Willow watched as Xander pleaded with her mother for a slice of birthday cake. She smiled, he was her best friend, he had been since kindergarten and now that they were in grade school, he was still her best friend. She hoped he always would be.

Willow opened her eyes, the punishment administered. She wrapped her arms protectively around her body as she stumbled towards the bathroom. She tiptoed past his slumbering form, his snores echoing throughout the house.

She held her breath until she reached the sanctuary of the bathroom, silently closing the door behind her, sliding the lock into place.

She looked in the mirror, for a moment she was shocked by her appearance; the shock lasted for just a few seconds, before denial replaced it. She opened the cabinet, removing the bottle of lotion from the shelf. She carefully applied the lotion to the cuts and bruises on her torso. Finally she washed the two marks on her neck, covering the puncture marks with gauze.

She inhaled deeply as she left the sanctuary of the bathroom, relief washing through her as she heard the regular rhythm of his snores. He would not wake soon. She had time. Time to leave the horrors of her life, time to write to him, time to imagine for just a few moments that the last few hours had been a nightmare, rather than the reality of her life.

Closing the bedroom door behind her, she walked down the stairs towards her desk. Towards the one person she knew she could always rely on. The one person she could never tell the truth to.

	a ~ f	g ~ l	m ~ r	s ~ z
		Shimmer	Sairs' fic