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You were wild...where are you now?
Willow didn't know what to do with her anymore than anyone else did. They had briefly considered leaving the body in the forest, or even in the science lab, for someone else to find. Buffy hadn't wanted anything else to be a burden on Willow...she was already in enough shock. But Willow, while wiping the drying tears from her face, had reminded them that a werewolf returned to human form in the morning. The same probably applied to dead werewolves, and explaining the corpse of a pretty blond singer last seen with Oz would be far more difficult than just burying her in the woods.
In the dusk of the forest, the still-full moon cast shadows of leaves on the blood-caked fur of the motionless body under the trees. It was almost time for sunrise, but Willow didn't want to wait until then to bury the body. She'd seen enough tonight, and burying the wolf would be hard enough while she was still clad in fur; like burying a pet, not a person. If Veruca regained her human face in the deep hole they were going to cast her into, this would be harder than it already was.
The tears had already dried on her face, and Buffy and Xander had already dug the hole for the body. Willow had asked to be alone with her. This woman...she had ruined Willow?s life. She had tried to end Willow's life, in fact, and now she was lifeless in the pale light of nighttime. Fuck her. Fuck her and her gorgeous voice and her beautiful face and body. Fuck her and fuck the man who had killed her.
Willow buried her head in her hands, trying not to whimper. Trying to just say what had to be said before sunset, so that she could leave and Xander could cover up the body. Cover her with dirt and leave her to the animals to dig up. God.
Her voice was a low whisper. "God, why, Veruca? You had him already. You had him."
Sunlight filtered through the trees, tinting everything a pale gold. Willow looked up with a sharp gasp as she heard a quiet noise?a rustling, whispering sound. The werewolf on the ground was moving, stretching. Fur melted away into flesh; bone cracked and reassembled, forming the shape of a human girl. Yellow eyes widened, sharpened into cat-like green orbs, and the pouty lips formed an O. Mouth open in a silent scream.
Willow whimpered to herself. "God no. Please please please..." Her voice tapered off as she noticed the eyes blink, the mouth open and shut helplessly. The girl's throat was a mess of gore and blood, utterly useless. The girl was not dead.
Willow stood up, back against a tree, hands helplessly twisting her own hair. A sound came from her throat that she couldn't define, had never heard before. Buffy?s voice cut into the eery stillness of Willow?s discovery. "You okay there, Will?" She sounded worried. "Suns almost up."
"The sun is up," Willow murmured, eyes still on Veruca. The werewolf/girl/thing was staring at her, eyes full of pain but still narrowed in a threat. "God, Veruca?" Willow's voice broke as she looked at the girl on the ground. She knelt next to Veruca, stroking the blood-soaked hair out of her face, ignoring the way the other girl shyed away from her touch, whining like a kicked dog. "I'm so sorry," she said softly. Then she got to her feet, walking slowly but with a mission, legs shaky beneath her.
Buffy and Xander looked up from the wuiet conversation they?d been having, probably about her. Willow smiled shakily, willing down the bile in her throat so that she could speak. "It's, um, taken care of. She was already on the edge of the...grave, and I just pushed her in." Her voice was shaking, more so than before. "So you guys can just go. I want to?"
Buffy cut in, all worry and misunderstanding. "Will, are you okay?" Her hands seized onto Willow?s arms before Willow could grab them away, say don't touch me right now. "I mean, this is a big thing to cope with. Shouldn't we just go home?" Her eyes pleaded with Willow. "Aren't you going to see Oz?"
Willow pasted on another smile. "Yeah, yeah. I just need to be alone right now."
Xander headed for the narrow dirt pathway into the woods. "I'll just go fill in the grave." His eyes were dark and somber.
"No!" Buffy and Xander both looked at her in shock. Willow scrambled for an explantation, anything to keep them away from very-alive Veruca. "I did it. I'll do it," she corrected herself. "She's dead because of me. It's only right."
"Well, are you sure that you can handle it?" Buffy seemed reluctant to leave. Maybe she sensed there was still a predator in the woods, hungry and wounded.
"I?" Willow began to speak, but the sight still in her head?Veruca, neck bloodied, eyes wide with terror and hatred?overwhelmed her, and she leaned over into the bushes while her stomach rejected last night's meal. Buffy rushed over, pulling Willow's hair out of her face as she stood up, clutching her stomach. "Better now," Willow rasped. Xander stood by, eyes dark and worried.
"Willow?"
Willow interrupted Buffy, not wanting to hear anything right now but the frantic, scared beating of her own heart against her chest. "No, please go. I'll be home in a little while."
"Are you sure?" Oh, so Xander had finally decided to speak again.
Willow pushed Buffy's arms away from herself, feeling sick and a little dirty, like her hands were covered in blood. She wanted to get back to Veruca, back to the bitch who had tried to fucking kill her. No, no?couldn?t think like that now. Had to help her. She owed it to Veruca. "I'm sure." She turned her back on her friends and walked back into the forest, back to the still-prone singer on the grassy floor, next to a dirt pit made for a body.
Veruca had sat up a little, just barely. Apparently werewolves healed almost as quickly as vampires, or other supernatural creatures. Certainly a human couldn't have survived having their throat torn out, but Veruca merely clutched the gaping wound and gasped, leaning back on one arm. Her eyes followed Willow's movements like a housecat.
Willow knelt next to the other girl gently, slowly, as not to rouse her animal instincts. She remembered finding a wounded dog on the street one day, then running back to her mother, who had come with her to help the animal. Her mothers whispered warnings. No loud noises. No sudden movements. Imagine her mother's shock if she found out the same rules applied to werewolves.
A low, whining growl emerged from Veruca's chest; she couldn?t speak. Not using real words, anyway.
"Shhh," Willow soothed. "I told them I buried you. If I hadn't, Buffy would have come back here and killed you," she said with absolute certainty. She stood up, holding out a hand for the other girl to grasp.
Eyes still narrowed with suspicion, achingly cautious, Veruca took her hand away from her throat, reaching up for the other girl and grasping her hand with blood-streaked fingers.
She stood up slowly, weakened by bloodloss. Willow took in the rounded body, the high breasts and curvy legs, as if seeing it for the first time. Her skin seemed paler than it had earlier that day, when it had been golden and soft-looking in the morning light of the crypt. Her stomach and breasts were smeared with blood, as were her hands; her hair. Her neck was a mess. The tattoos on her body stood out, dark and shadowy on her almost bloodless flesh.
Willow reflected with weary bitterness on how Oz must have enjoyed this body, as well as the fur-clothed wolf-woman she was during the full moon. Veruca noted her stare and stared back, blankly.
Still holding Veruca's long-fingered and perfectly manicured hand, Willow blushed and stepped back. "We've gotta fill in this?hole." 'Grave' seemed too shocking to her. After all, it had almost been Veruca's grave, a fact which Veruca was apparently aware of.
Willow began kicking the pile of dirt back into the empty whole. Veruca dropped her hand and kicked the dirt too, violently, her foot long and thin, kicking up flurries of dirt and roots. Suddenly, she dropped to her hands and knees and started shoving dirt back in, using her hands like paws. The hole was filled quickly, and Veruca stood back up, pale, beautiful body streaked with dirt. Eyes wide and animal-like. Willow took her hand again, cautiously, with no protest from Veruca.
"Lets find you someplace to stay."
To be continued...
