Excerpt: Heal the Scars

July 1984. Lawrence, Kansas.

Buffy worried at her lip while shucking her pjs and slipping into the shower. A turn of the old knobs sent a fresh rush of hot water into the stall, pouring over her shoulders and relaxing tense muscles. Groaning, she threaded her fingers through her hair to help spread the water around before leaning against the tiled wall.

She hadn't planned on staying this long. When leaving the crater of Sunnydale behind, she had hoped to travel the width and breadth of the United States while keeping her eye out for Potential-turned-Slayers. Giles had been pretty sure that they'd caught most of them with the spell, and that Slayers would naturally head towards the hellmouth in Cleveland, but no one knew how the spell really worked. With Willow out of commission, still a bit wary of magic after having channeled so much through the Scythe, they didn't have any resources to track the girls down with magic. That left good, old-fashioned footwork.

Everybody had wanted some "me" time, as well. Xander had taken off towards Africa, Willow and Tara off to Brazil, Oz back to Tibet, Giles hopping between England and Ohio, and Faith up in Canada after a stop in LA. They were family, and loved each other dearly, but it had been clear everyone needed some alone time. And room to process that they'd just thumped the First Evil back into incorporeality, where it could only subtly influence people again. She was praying that it didn't come back to haunt her in this lifetime.

Brushing away the unwelcome thoughts, Buffy groped for the shampoo with her eyes still closed against the steady stream of water. She lathered up her hair with firm strokes, water sluicing over her hands to free them of suds before she picked up the bar of soap and started scrubbing against her skin.

Lawrence was nice enough, but she really hadn't planned to stay here longer than a couple of days before heading further east. The corner of town that John apparently lived in was homey, a family type area with a mom n' pop styled diner and bar called Furguson's, John's car garage, a couple small businesses... It was a little slice of a simple but good life. And it was tempting.

Tempting the way that only a good man could be. John Winchester. He was clearly interested, helped her find a decent motel and put in a good word for her that lowered the price per night. But she wasn't a good woman, and he was much too clean for her. He was wholesome in a way that even Riley hadn't been, and she didn't want to damage that. She wasn't ashamed of who she was; wouldn't let herself regret the choices that led her to now. But she also knew that it wasn't fair of her to darken the doorstep of people who were normal and living a good life.

Rinsing her hair out and finishing with a quick round of conditioner, Buffy stepped from the shower and dried off, rubbing lotion into her skin before dressing. The heat was doing something awful to her skin, but she had high hopes that her Slayer constitution would adapt and compensate for it soon. Otherwise, she'd have to stock up.

A confidant knock roused her from musing and she made her way to the door, wondering who outside. Peering through the peephole revealed that the man invading her thoughts and dreams was standing outside. Unlocking the door she leaned against the frame and gave John an easy smile.

"Something you needed?"

"Yeah," he said confidently, as if he already knew she would agree. "Come with me to Furguson's tonight?"

He was much too good of a man for her, she could already tell. Bright and wholesome, sweet and charming. She shouldn't even be considering this. She should pack her bag tonight and leave for the East Coast. But his smile was so warm and it was directed at her. And she was weak. She wanted to snatch whatever happiness she could. The First had shown her that she wouldn't live forever.

"I'd love to."