August 2005

Rated PG-13

Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. And probably Kuzui as well.

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THE ROMANTIC PROSPECTS OF WINIFRED BURKLE

by Sängerin

Fred and Willow stayed in touch after Willow’s visit to Los Angeles. They stayed in touch the modern way – by email and instant message. It was a relief to Fred to have someone who understood the use of IM. They chatted a couple of times a week until things in Sunnydale got particularly hairy. After that they had to shift to email, as Willow’s internet access became far less predictable.

However it was that they managed it, they built up a close friendship via cyberspace. Willow knew all about Knox and the way he made Fred laugh. Fred knew all about how Willow and Kennedy were drifting apart, and Willow’s guilty dreams about Buffy’s little sister Dawn.

When Willow and Kennedy finally split up, Willow decided she needed a few days escape from slayer life in Cleveland, and she arrived unheralded on Fred’s doorstep.

Fred pulled her inside and hugged her and they chattered for two hours with scarcely a pause for breath. They talked about Cleveland and Los Angeles and Buffy and Angel, and they ordered in pizza and Fred opened a bottle of wine.

The conversation shifted from the best way to slay unwanted demons with squishy tentacles that impeded the more usual methods of killing, to Fred’s lovelife, which Willow declared was far more worthy of discussion than her own. Fred had wine, and didn’t argue.

So she babbled about Knox, and anguished about Charles, and tried to tell Willow about how adorable Wesley was, but the words stuck in her throat until Willow leaned over, her hair over one eye, and said, ‘And what about Wesley? He really was considered quite dishy back when I was in high school. And that was when he was a dork.’

‘Really?’

Willow raised her eyebrows. ‘You mean, you haven’t heard about Wesley Wyndham-Price, the Dork-extraordinaire of Sunnydale High?’

‘I think Cordelia once said something about it, but no – not really.’ Fred played with a strand of hair.

Willow giggled. ‘He was very… glasses and finely-cut features and three-piece suits. And we’d thought Giles was terribly English… Wesley wanted to do everything as the Watcher’s Council had done for generations. You can imagine that didn’t go down all that well with Buffy. And there was Faith, too.’

‘Faith. Like Lilah, only in black leather instead of Armani. Just the girl every high school should have.’

‘Me-ow!’

‘Really? I’m not sure I’ve ever got a ‘meow’ before,’ said Fred, proudly. ‘What did Wesley think of Faith?’

‘Honestly, I think he was scared of her,’ said Willow. ‘She was all pouty red lips and aggressiveness, and I think he knew she’d break him in half if he gave her a chance.’

‘I’m glad he had some sense.’

Willow narrowed her eyes. ‘You have an agenda behind all these Wesley questions, don’t you?’

Fred felt herself blush, and then blushed harder in embarrassment because of it. ‘No!’

‘Yes, you do,’ insisted Willow. ‘Cheeks speak louder than words, and yours would currently match a fire engine. So. You and Wesley.’

‘There’s nothing!’ said Fred. ‘I promise you.’

They had finished their first glasses of wine, and Willow poured them each a second glass. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Wesley,’ she said as she poured. ‘He’s a very good-looking man, really… he’s not too much older than you - in the scheme of things, I mean.’

Fred sipped at her wine and giggled. ‘Well, we were both born in the same century.’

‘See, not everyone can say that.’

‘Most people don’t have two vampires as colleagues. Or no – three. I forgot about Harmony.’

‘Most people find that difficult to do,’ said Willow with a straight face. Then both of them dissolved into giggles. Then Willow pulled herself together. ‘We were talking about Wesley. About you and Wesley. Because you know… I really do think he’s kinda cute. And he’s outgrown his dork phase.’

‘Really?’

Willow nodded. ‘Yes, definitely. No more Wesley-the-dork. You two would make a fabulous couple.’ She drank a little more wine. ‘Besides, if I weren’t gay, I would totally go for him. So since I can’t, you have to.’

Fred paused, trying to process that logic. ‘That makes no sense. But I like it.’

‘Of course you do. Because you like Wesley. I just hope it works out better for you than it did for Cordelia.’

Fred scooted closer to Willow. ‘What happened with Cordelia?’ That story kept them going through another bottle of wine.

The next day Fred woke up late, with a dull ache behind her eyes. She wandered into the other room, and looked at Willow, still asleep on the sofa. Willow slept on her stomach, hugging her pillow. Fred smiled and went into the kitchen. She clattered the dishes gently in an attempt to wake Willow up, and she heard Willow moving around and smiled. She brought out a cup of coffee for Willow, and smiled brightly. ‘What shall we do today?’

‘Don’t you have to go to work?’

Fred shook her head. ‘It’s an advantage of being in charge. Also it helps that we’re evil and work odd hours.’

‘That’s cool,’ said Willow. ‘The thing I really want to do, though…’ she looked down, then back up at Fred. ‘I’d like to go see Cordelia.’

Fred sat down on the end of the sofa. ‘Well, sure. I mean… that makes perfect sense. You went to school together, you were friends.’

‘Cordy may see that differently.’

‘No – whenever she talked to me she said you were friends.’

Willow smiled. ‘That’s nice to know.’ She got up. ‘Look, I’ll go get ready.’

‘We can get some breakfast on the way,’ said Fred. Willow was at the door to the bathroom when Fred added, ‘She’s comfortable, you know. Angel made sure of it. That she’s looked after better than anyone.’ Willow nodded and shut the door. Fred was surprised by the solemn look on Willow’s face. This was something she’d never mentioned in their IM chats.

That solemn look was still there when they stood in front of Cordelia’s bed, looking at the brown hair spread over the pillow and the machines that monitored her heart rate.

‘I can’t believe it’s come to this,’ said Willow. ‘Of all of us, that she’d be the one… And I can’t believe that Xander never bothered to visit her,’ she finished bitterly. ‘She’s not going to wake up, is she?’

Fred shook her head. ‘The doctors say it’s extremely unlikely. And even before this happened,’ she added, hesitantly, ‘it wasn’t Cordelia. She hasn’t been Cordelia for a long time.’

Willow stepped forward, to the side of the bed. She leaned down and kissed Cordelia on the forehead.

‘Goodbye, Cordy.’

As they left the room, Fred hesitated, then put an arm around Willow’s shoulder. Willow leaned into her, and, for a moment, rested her head against Fred’s.

They did typical Los Angeles touristy things for the rest of the day. Hollywood Boulevard, the bus-tour through Beverly Hills. They saw Johnny Weissmuller’s burnt-out house with its empty moat, and they squeeled like schoolgirls when the bus drove by Leonardo DiCaprio’s house, high on the hill. They stopped by a supermarket on the way home, and returned to Fred’s apartment carrying grocery bags piled high with Nacho fixings and bottles of red wine. They’d made a significant dent in Fred’s stock the night before.

Over platefuls of corn chips, salsa and melted cheese, Fred got up the courage to ask the question she’d been wanting to ask since the hospital.

‘Was Cordy just a friend? Or was she… more?’

‘You have to pour me a glass of wine before I answer that question,’ said Willow. Fred obliged, and Willow stared into the glass, considering. ‘There was never anything between us. Nothing acknowledged. But she was beautiful, and always showing herself off. If I look back? Yes, I was probably attracted. But I never acted on it. I was in high school. And besides, I thought I was straight.’

Fred giggled and took a long sip of her wine. ‘She didn’t stop showing herself off when she left high school.’

Willow regarded Fred thoughtfully, with a gleam in her eye. ‘Are you saying you noticed?’

Fred bit her lip. ‘Well, it was kind of difficult to avoid that cleavage… it was pretty much on permanent display.’

‘I suspect Cordy didn’t mind,’ said Willow. ‘She loved attention, pure and simple. I don’t think she worried in the end whether the attention came from guys or girls.’

Fred pushed her empty plate away and leaned back in the sofa. ‘I loved watching her. She was so confident and beautiful. I sometimes…’ she stopped.

‘Fantasized about her?’

‘No! I mean, not really. Not… naked or anything. Just.’ Fred blushed again. ‘I imagined kissing her. Or her kissing me. And then I’d spend the next few days agonising over what that meant. Means.’

Willow reached out and took Fred’s hand. ‘If you ask me, it means you are perfectly normal. We all wonder what it would be like to kiss lots of different people. Well, unless you are Kennedy, who swears she never looked at a boy in her life. I’m still not entirely sure I believe her.’

‘Harmony sometimes looks at me… not just my neck, I mean. I’d expect that – she is a vampire. But she looks at me, and my chest and my butt and my legs…’

‘Well, if you will wear skirts like that…’ said Willow, and Fred giggled.

‘But if I’m wearing the skirts so that Wesley notices me…’

‘Then you have to put up with the fact that there will be girls like me who notice, too. And if you were able to fantasize about Cordelia, why shouldn’t we have the same privilege?’

Fred studied Willow’s face. ‘So does this mean…’

Willow said quickly, ‘Did I just say “girls like me” and include Harmony? Never, ever tell Buffy I said that! Me and Harmony are nothing alike. She’s crazy. I’m ex-crazy.’

Fred persisted. ‘Does this mean that you look at me? Like Harmony does.’

‘Maybe,’ said Willow quietly.

Fred’s voice dropped, too. ‘And do you fantasize about me?’

Willow bit her lip. ‘Occasionally.’

Fred refilled their wine glasses. ‘What do you think about?’

‘You can’t ask me that!’

Fred smiled. ‘Why not? I know all about your dreams about Dawn. So why not share with me what you’ve thought about me?’

‘Because it’s embarrassing. Especially because we’re just friends. Right?’ For the first time, Willow was the one looking uncertain about the whole conversation.

‘Just pretend that it’s a game of truth or dare. And drink your wine,’ Fred ordered. ‘Because I want to know, and I’m not taking no for an answer.’

‘Okay.’ Willow took a couple of mouthfuls of wine, and then put the glass down on the coffee table. ‘It’s never been very distinct… almost more of a feeling of you than an actual image. But I wondered -’ she picked up her wine glass again. ‘I wondered what you feel like. Your skin, your hair. Your lips.’

Fred drew in a breath, but her eyes never left Willow’s. ‘So, how was that different to your dreams about Dawn?’

‘My dreams about Dawn were wrong,’ Willow insisted. ‘She’s my best friend’s little sister and I’m not supposed to think she’s gorgeous and sexy. I’m allowed to think you’re gorgeous and sexy and try to imagine what you look like beneath your clothes.’ With one hand she reached out and ran her fingers along the collar of Fred’s shirt, and then back, along the collarbone below.

Fred took the wine glass away from Willow and leaned forward. ‘Kiss me?’

The kiss began gently. Fred was nervous and Willow was hesitant. Then Fred placed a gentle hand on Willow’s chest and pushed them apart. ‘Willow, are you okay? Is it Kennedy?’

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ said Willow. ‘And I haven’t turned into a psychopathic killer, have I? So that’s good. I just,’ she paused. ‘I want to kiss you again, and more, and… is that okay with you?’

‘Completely,’ said Fred. ‘In fact, I desperately want you to.’

They kissed again, longer and with more abandon, until Willow, who had been kissing Fred just below her ear, pulled away. ‘I think we’d better go somewhere where there’s less risk of rug-burn.’

Fred giggled and stood up, pulling Willow with her. They got three steps across the room when Willow caught Fred around the waist and pulled Fred against her. Fred could feel Willow’s breasts pressing into her back, and when Willow kissed the back of her neck, she shivered.

As they finally made it into Fred’s bedroom, Willow reached for the zip of Fred’s skirt. ‘This skirt is too tight. It has to go.’

‘Your shirt is not tight enough,’ replied Fred. ‘But it has to go, too.’

They stripped each other off and kissed again and fell onto the bed, and never once did they stop kissing or their hands stop moving over each other’s bodies. Every so often Fred would suddenly realise what she was doing and what was happening and how totally unexpected it all was, and she would stop for a moment. But then Willow’s lips or hands would touch a particularly sensitive place and Fred would shiver again and all thought would cease. And eventually she realised that what was happening was good, and felt good, and was happening with a friend who she trusted, and that whatever happened later, this was happening now. She lost herself in the moment and then she did everything she could to ensure that Willow lost herself, too.

When they were breathing normally again, Willow propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at Fred. ‘You okay?’

Fred looked back up and smiled. ‘I’m perfectly fine.’ She pushed herself up to kiss Willow.

‘Good,’ said Willow, with a grin. ‘Because I was wondering: do you think Harmony might be interested in joining us?’

Fred sat up, grabbed the pillow and hit Willow over the head. The pillow fight ended rather predictably, involving more kissing and squealing and tangled sheets.