Chapter Thirteen

 

The Scoobies arrived back at Giles's flat with such an alarming respect for punctuality that it made Buffy's head spin.  She knew they would.  The hour or so that Giles had mentioned would never have surpassed that hour when there was apocalyptic news to be had.  Nothing would have delayed the inevitable, not even the appearance of an unhinged Slayer.  So it was with increasing dread that she took her place in the informal circle, ready to face the inquisition.  With unspoken consent, the three memory travellers stuck like glue to each other, now having formed a bond so close that it caused confusion and jealousy to germinate and spread within the two original Scoobies.  Angel merely growled low in his chest when he saw Buffy and Spike’s loosely linked hands, but backed off when he received a pointed glare from Giles.  Oz, stoic as ever, merely mentioned that he was playing at the Bronze tonight and he really needed to motor.  That left Anya on an invisible outer edge, seemingly alongside Angel who had been unable to work out if he still fit into this motley group.

 

There was silence; no one coughed, no one cleared their throat, no one started sentences with useless "well's", or "Right then's".  No, all just looked with unwavering curiosity- bordering on voyeuristic glee- to Buffy to start them all off and she felt like she had swallowed her tongue.  She had no doubt what some of their reactions would be and was also confused about how much she should let on about what was to happen to their little group in the future.

 

"Well, on the up side, I think I have a short cut to the info on those rascally commando's."  She started off trying to be upbeat, but was fully aware that almost all of her future was so unwaveringly bad and screwed up—not so far from the realities of her friends—that she was fearful to even begin to recount their many dysfunctions.

 

Still, no one spoke; thus Buffy stayed stubbornly silent.

 

Giles released a pent up sigh, revealing his frustration, but his eagerness was betrayed by his Watcher—like enthusiasm over his first question.  ‘Unlike in the future, he seems very taken with learning about the anomaly that is Spike,’ Buffy thought almost waspishly.  She knew it was unfair to judge, that many things had led to their collective disintegration; many nights filled with jealousy, feelings of incompetence, self-righteousness, inadequacy, and yet, love.  Funny. Love is supposed to make all things better, not warp all their minds with possessiveness. Buffy, feeling the thoughts flying through her head nevertheless winced when the voice finally broke through the quiet, and the one question she resented having to answer was asked.  In the end, Giles and Angel asked it together, betraying how alike they really were in their concern.

 

"How did Spike get his soul?"

 

Buffy cringed at the combined tones of Giles’s academic interest, and Angel’s almost jealous anguish.  They clashed in a way that was emotionally unpleasant, and though their expected answer was far from the truth, she felt almost shame that she was the cause of such an event. She almost felt like it was her punishment, forever a reminder that her own evil actions caused a demon to prove his goodness.  What had she ever done to prove the same?  She had never fought for her soul; it was always just there.  That she could take it so much for granted was confronting.

 

Angel jumped to his feet, wild and angry thoughts flying through his head like a buzzing swarm of bees trying to warn him of danger, but panic had him bypassing reason.

 

“Who’d he kill to make Willow curse him?”

 

She turned to look at the vamp beside her.  Only a week ago, she wanted to spread his dust in her mother’s garden. Well, at least she had thought about it, maybe even threatened it.  Now, all she could see was the pain he went through at the end of her fists, the whippings from her verbal and physical assaults, and one image was burned into memory just like a giant cross was burned across his chest.  His rambling incoherence because he thought to get her the most wondrous, beautiful gift of all. 

 

Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked at her first love, the one she had been positive was her soul mate, and shuddered.  Angel never fought for her; he never loved her so deeply and truly that he sought ways to anchor his soul forever to be with her.  Spike could have easily opted for the curse, but never the easy way for him, he had something to prove, he had to earn it like he believed he had to re-earn her trust.  Then when he finally did that last, he sacrificed himself for her, for  the Scoobies, and for the world, so that there was a world and that they all could be happy and secure.  In doing so he had taken a great chunk of her own soul with him.  Her future self could never be happy without him; would be forever torn and fragmented.  Now she understood why his soul was sent back in time, not only to save him and reward him with the possibility of her love, but to save her from a dark and shattered existence as well.

 

The tears slowly slid down her cheeks as she finally released her ties with Angel. She smiled sadly as she turned to the group.

 

"He got his soul for me."

 

The awed hush lasted but seconds.

 

"Yes, Buffy, but was it a curse?"  Giles was taking notes; eager for this unique story like he never had been before.

 

"No curse, he went to Africa," she quirked a brow to Spike in question and he nodded his head to her reassuringly; she was on the right track.  "He saw a Demon there who granted wishes after proving their worthiness by undergoing trials.  Horrible, dangerous trials."  And she gave a revolted shudder, recalling once again the multitude of horrible beetles crawling under his battle-marred skin. 

 

"What was the impetus behind the search, Spike?  What happened to make you go and do that?"  Giles's curiosity took no prisoners.  He ignored the flinch of the peroxided vampire, but Buffy felt it pierce her heart.

 

"You don't need to know the actual event, Giles."

 

"Why, Buff?  Did he try to kill you in the future? Or rape you? Eat your mother? Snack on the Scoobies? Which one, Buffster?  Cause that’s what demons do.  Evil things."  Xander's jealous venom set Buffy's insides to boil and she felt her anger build toward one cracking big eruption. Beside her Spike had stiffened, waiting for her to expose his crime and thus receive the pointed wooden implement of destruction from any one of those surrounding him.  Instead she held his hand tighter; she would never again side with them over him.  The simple act of his love should always have been enough, but God she was selfish.  She had something so miraculous handed to her on a silver platter and she had abused it every chance that she had.  She had accepted his support, his help like he owed it to her.  Which of course he didn’t.  He was evil, like she reminded him daily, he didn’t have to do anything for her.  What closed her so irrevocably that she was blinded to the truth?  Did Angel leaving destroy her so totally that she couldn’t risk again, or was it just the fear of trusting another vampire with not only her heart, but also the lives of all her friends?  Yes, that was probably it, but Spike had proven himself over and over again far longer than Angel had.  He was unencumbered of a soul like Angelus, yet so far from the bloodthirsty psychopath of his Sire that it withstood reason or understanding.  Spike was his own vampire, as she should have known all along.

 

With something near to pity in her eyes she turned to Xander.  "What happened is between Spike and me, and is none of your business.  But I will tell you this.  Spike changed, not to get points or money- well not all the time. " She shared an indulgent smile with Spike and Tara before turning flinty, determined eyes back on Xander.  "We never acknowledged it.  We gave Anya carte blanche with the soulless thing, allowed her past to go unremarked, allowed her to date you with no protest; but we had double standards.  Spike tried so hard, he helped us, he saved our lives many times, and we, I, never thanked him, or gave him the encouragement and support we would have given anyone else trying to make themselves better.  And trust me Xander, your future isn't of the rosiness either, so back the hell off." 

 

The room was back to that eerie quietness that tilted her equilibrium off centre.  Buffy still hadn't righted herself from the spell but the attack from Xander had her feeling like her sanity was swinging in the breeze.  Her eyes found Willow and she searched for Tara's hand, the other girl giving her an encouraging squeeze.

 

Willow had noticed that Buffy's attention had switched to her and suddenly she felt anxiousness curl in her gut, regretting that Oz had to leave her to face whatever was coming alone.

 

Buffy seemed to hesitate, collecting her thoughts, then in an upbeat voice, began.

 

"Hey Will, if you ever feel a need to look at resurrection spells?  Don't."  Willow turned cold inside at the haunted look she saw in her friend’s eyes, and shuddered.  Why would I ever do dark magic like that? she wondered, and within seconds her eyes widened like pancake batter in the pan.

 

"Oh my God.  Buffy, do you die?"  She asked in such a strained, little voice.  Buffy smiled at her sadly.

 

"Seems to be a little habit I've picked up that I so have to break," she told them, her voice weary and tired.  Xander and Willow reached for each other’s hand, horror at the thought of their friend, their mighty warrior succumbing to the fall of battle too awful to contemplate.

 

"You die and I bring you back?  And that's a bad thing?"  Willow was crying into her hands now, Xander beside her with a comforting arm around her shoulders.

 

"I'll say it's a bad thing when you rip the girl from heaven and kill her again on the inside."  Spike huffed, deciding to wade into the revelations now that his own story had been bypassed.  "Not just you either Red, the other three are with you.  But it's you that gets a taste of the dark power and can't control it."

 

All eyes had settled on Spike and he wondered if perhaps he should have kept his yap shut.

 

“Huh, Like Darth Vader!”  Xander said, cringing on the inside for his inappropriate rush to speak into the void.

 

"Spike is right.  Mr. Giles, I think Willow should undergo some proper training to learn control.  She will become extremely powerful, and invaluable to her friends and the world, it wouldn't be fair to let her discover it on her own.  Power is too tempting without learning control."  Everyone sat dazed at Tara's unstuttered speech, having become used to her shyness and willingness to stay in the background.

 

"Another thing, Watcher."  Spike figured he might as well be in for the pound if the penny was already tossed to the floor.  "Don' leave her.  You may think she needs to grow up and learn to be independent.  You're her bloody Watcher and she'll always need watchin'.  She's 'ad enough of people leavin'."  Giles sat stunned, abstractly aware of the dig at Angel, but wondering what on earth would possess him to leave his Slayer to cope with the Hellmouth by herself, or rather with this unruly bunch of children.

 

"And the apocalypse that Spike perished in?  Was it brought about by his altering the balance by getting his soul?"  Giles had resorted to polishing his glasses in his agitation.

 

"No," Buffy all but whispered. 

 

"It was Buffy, wasn't it?"  Anya spoke up for the first time that night, her thousand years of knowledge coming into play.

 

All eyes swivelled to stare at her but she didn't know how to be intimidated by their hostility.

 

"How dare you!" Giles fumed.  "Buffy doesn't start apocalypses, she ends them."  His lip was curled in fury, eyes flashing hard iciness as Ripper tried to tear himself to the surface.

 

"Not what I meant," she clarified.  "It was us, bringing her back from the dead.  Were you really in heaven, Buffy?"  And Buffy looked at the girl with a new respect, seeing instead an intelligent woman instead of the ditzy one they had all assumed she was.  She had brought the fact into the open that everyone had seemingly ignored when Spike spoke it, too eager to imagine it to be an untruth on the part of the vampire.  Buffy was sick of it already.

 

"Yes," Buffy answered in her tiny voice, and Willow gasped and began to cry, much like Buffy had seen her do in the future when she finally found out the truth.

 

"Look," Buffy gained courage, wanting to prevent having everyone in tears or resentful.  "There is lots of bad just around our corner, but at least now we have a hope of turning it all around.  I know why I die, and we can stop it.  I know we can.  Just like I know how to stop the Initiative."

 

"The Initiative?"  Willow questioned through her sniffles.

 

"Yeah."  Buffy brightened.  “That’s why Spike first started hanging around us.  The Initiative are those commando guys that kidnapped him.  They put a chip in his head to stop him hurting humans."

 

"Got the soul for that now, 'aven't I.  Could ‘av bloody done without the added 'ardware in my noggin."

 

"Geez, do you speak ze Inglesse?"  Xander still couldn't see how he was supposed to just start liking the vamp on Buffy’s say so.

 

"Sure I bloody do whelp, but I'm stumped with what language you just foisted upon us." 

 

Giles chuckled to himself, distracted at last from his inner musings.

 

"Right then Buffy, I suppose you should tell us as much about the battles that you can.  And anything else you think is important.  If we are going to change things then we should hear it all."  Buffy nodded her consent, but before she began she thought it was only right to tell Xander something else.

 

"Xan, don't ever think that you will be like your father.  Your insecurity about that could make you lose something precious and make you the most miserable man on earth."  Xander looked at her in alarm, not expecting the further chewing out after his first, highly unexpected bitch-slap.  Looking into her eyes he saw nothing but sincerity and smiled.

 

"Forewarned is forearmed, hey Buff?"  His skin crinkled at his eyes.

 

"Hey Giles,” Buffy swung her head to the older man but had her finger outstretched and pointing at Xander.  "Xander knows stuff.  How come he knows stuff?"  And it was just the relief needed to dry up tears, settle nerves and get onto the business of battle plans and saving lives.