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There used to be a once upon a time place where monsters beckoned around every corner and fairy tales came true in ways you never, ever wanted them to.
In that place, Willow presumed that grocery shopping was just the sort of thing that was done by House Elves or something. It was probably her mother – or her father – early on. Though once there was Buffy, everything Willow seemed to eat came from Joyce. Even lunches, packed up leftovers from the night before. In college, it seemed as though food sprang from everywhere around her – the fridge filled with Joyce’s cooking, the cafeteria filled with students, Oz’s ramshackle house full of snacks, and then Tara’s warm, cozy room with everything she could ever need inside. In the Summers home, in-between Buffy, the Bot did everything Anya demanded it was programmed to do. And after that… she wasn’t really sure, anymore.
Willow looked into the white emptiness that smelled vaguely of Chinese food, It couldn’t have been Dawnie, could it?
Willow, shut the door, you’re wasting electricity. Unless Dawn has gone and teleported into our refrigerator and really, now isn’t a good time, Cordy’s voice rang out from the living room and Willow shut the door without asking how, exactly, the other woman could have possibly known she was standing there with the door wide open.
She sauntered into the room and fell onto Cordelia’s feet, which were tucked up on the couch under a blanket, I’m hungry.
Hi, hungry! I’m Faith!
Faith, you’re a walking dad joke.
Faith caught the pillow Cordelia threw at her from the entryway and grinned, What’s a dad joke?
You know when Angel makes a joke and no one laughs but him?
And Wesley, sometimes, Willow interjected.
Sure.
That’s a dad joke.
I do not make bad Angel jokes.
Sometimes, you really do, Willow was adept enough now in the language of Cordelia (or maybe she truly always had been) to know that the note of boredom in her voice was part of the joke, and the way she was skimming the crusty old book in front of her was 99% a front.
Faith frowned as Willow arched her head back around uncomfortably to look at her, Its okay, dad. I think we’ll keep you around for another day or two at least.
Faith peered into the brown paper bag with feigned concern, Well, I thought I’d bring home the bacon tonight, seeing as how you two were hitting the books. But I just don’t feel appreciated enough to hand over these tacos. There may only be enough for me.
Where in this godforsaken city did you find tacos? Cordelia looked like she was about to leap over the couch and stuff the whole brown paper bag in her face.
We’re in Singapore, not Mars. You can always find tacos.
Willow clasped her hands to her chest, You are the most funny of all the people. Now please can we have tacos?
Cordelia put down her books and mimicked Willow’s position, Please, please, oh yee of the dad jokes. Take pity on us poor starving girls who have been working hard all day.
Faith dipped her head into the bag and pulled it out, But I ate them all!
The two girls shrieked and flew off the couch, Cordelia snatching the bag out of her hand as Willow tackled Faith to the floor.
There are like fifteen tacos in here!
You know, I could take you both if I wanted, Faith’s muffled voice came from somewhere beneath Willow’s right elbow.
Yeah, I’d like to see you try! they snorted in unison.
Willow’s vision blurred and she closed the empty fridge with a sigh, cutting off the only source of light in the nook she fondly referred to as a kitchen. Maybe it was Dawnie all those months, buying food for everyone. Maybe it was Anya. Maybe Buffy wasn’t nearly as lost as Willow had been, for it had surely never been her.
She didn’t even know where the nearest grocery store was and she’d been relocated to this apartment nearly two months ago.
Greek delivery it is, she murmured down to the bright glare of her phone, turning her back on the white blankness scarred only by an old, worn photo of three girls in an apartment far away and too long ago to remember.
Yes, it’s the woman in number thirteen again… yes, just an order for one, please.
Now, after all, maybe the monster is her. Or maybe the monsters are her memories calling back at her over time and space.
Anyway, there's nothing hunting her here but time.
And an old photo she pretends she can’t see.
(No one tells you what to do once you get to Ever After.)