Chapter Seventeen

 

Strolling across the front lawns of campus, Buffy revelled in the sunny rays warming her face.  Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and smiled.  It didn’t feel like a day of missed classes- more like a week- but here she was, after her whole life had turned around, walking to her last day of classes before Thanksgiving break.  Just one class this morning before she had to head home and talk to her mom about some things, mainly things dressed head to toe in black, with almost glowing white hair and an open invitation to their house.  The grin wouldn’t leave her face whenever she thought of him and she marvelled at how different things were today.  Just several days ago she had hoped he finally had decided to stay out of town.

 

God, she couldn’t forget his mouth.  Boy, could he kiss… and then some.  She was counting down the hours till she could get back to Giles’s, wait for sundown to either go with Spike, or send Angel out on patrol, and have some quality time alone with those lips.  Mmm, Spike lips, lips of Spike.  She wondered if he had awoken yet, and if he was thinking about her.  It was a sunny day, and she was totally going to block any unpleasant thoughts of prophetic dreams and anguish connected to soul having, just for the occasion.  It could work.

 

Still in her happy daze she spied Willow in the distance, seemingly on edge, talking with that guy Riley.  Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion, and that strange feeling of melting between her present and future self occurred right there on the grass.  She was amazed at the amount of information she had picked up about what her life was to be like from the spell, and now she recognised that Riley had played a rather large and significant part in it.  She hadn’t thought of it before; so many other events seemed tremendously more important than another relationship gone wrong-particularly one that she hadn’t really invested that much emotional energy into.  She couldn’t fool herself; she had sought normal, and despite his connection to the Initiative and all the icky stuff sprouting from that experience, he was super normal wrapped up in boring brown paper- even lacking the decorative bow.

 

It was kind of reassuring to have the guessing gone, as she was being forced to see what was good for her.  She had obviously been blind to have missed the potential in Spike.  Then again, she couldn’t help thinking that her stubbornness probably would have forced her to overlook him even now with the soul, if the Powers hadn’t forced their hand and they hadn’t learnt so much about their future.  Already knowing that she would love him in the time to come made it so much easier to decide to take the risk now, but she still needed to take it slow.

 

Her intensive thinking had taken her all the way to Willow’s side, and the two girls both gave a startled gasp at realising they had met up. 

 

Willow smiled a little at Buffy’s wide grin, always pleased when her friend was happy.  The events of the past two days had been intense and emotionally exhausting; Willow couldn’t deny that her confusion hadn’t lessened.  She knew what Tara had told her about the connection between Buffy and Spike, and boy, she could see it every time she looked at the two of them together.  But it was still kind of hard to trust the vamp who had held a broken bottle in her face and threatened to kill her and Xander. She could understand Xander’s strong reluctance to take anything the vamp claimed to heart. Buffy’s happiness was important, though.  As important as Xander’s feelings-and hey, he had Anya, the unrepentant, orgasm-bragging, she-devil herself.  If they could be happy, then well, so could Buffy.  And like a flare in the dark, the light flashed on and she understood.  And she could accept.  They had taken Angel back, hadn’t they?  And Spike hadn’t actually killed anyone she knew.  So it should be easier.  Besides, Giles had already started the process.  After all, Spike did save the world, or was going to save the world, or, well, he did something about saving the world at some point in time.

 

Willow shook her head, having gotten her internal monologue into a bit of a muddle, and came back with a start at being addressed.

 

“Hey, Will.  Looked like you zoned out there for a second.” 

 

Willow looked at Buffy in gratitude, and indicated Riley beside her.

 

“Riley was just saying that he was going home for break.”

 

“Oh, that would be so great.  At least you get to leave Sunnydale for a little while.  Where are you from?”  Buffy wasn’t really thinking about her questions, nor was she listening to the answers, but she was observing the man that spoke nonetheless.  She was confused.  How had she ended up dating him in the first place?  There were too many similarities to her first vampire love, and that was kind of creepy when she looked at it objectively.  She looked at him…could she pick a body type and stubbornly stick to it, or what?  They both were irrationally consumed with dislike for Spike, and well, for most demon interaction they acted first, thought later.  It was a startling revelation that the both of them may have had more impact on her own thinking and actions towards demons than perhaps Giles, or her own free thought.

 

“Iowa.  So you’re staying here for the holidays?”  She could hear the hopefulness in his voice and cringed a little, knowing that it couldn’t go anywhere.

 

“Absolutely.  My mom is going out of town so I’m cooking at Giles’s.”

 

Willow looked at her in shock.

 

“Um, Buff, have you ever cooked anything before?”

 

“Well, toast, that one time. Um, not really anything big, but how hard can it be? It just needs planning, and recipes, and hey, I’m really good with the planning.” She pouted, but stopped abruptly when she caught Riley’s focused look at her lips.

 

Willow just raised an eyebrow and started to wonder how she could get out of the big dinner Buffy had planned.  First things first, if they didn’t get going they would be late for class.  Saying goodbye to Riley and ignoring his look of disappointment, they made their way inside the building to find their lecture room.

 

Suddenly realising that this was the first time she had the chance to talk to Willow since the spell, Buffy’s mind was flooded with a hundred questions it suddenly seemed urgent to ask her.  She settled for what she thought was the most important.

 

“How’s Tara?”

 

Willow looked at her suspiciously but decided to probe more into the missing information gleaned, but not relayed, from the spell. 

 

“Are you sure there wasn’t some things you missed out last night that you still need to share?”

 

“Ah, that would be a big no.”  Buffy looked anywhere but at Willow, but heard the redhead’s sigh and released her own breath in relief.  No inquisition today.  No having to relate the morbid news, or tell too much of the Big Bad Willow.  Avoidance was the name of her game.  Avoidance, thy name is Buffy.  Man, she was good.

 

And Willow was back to answering about Tara.

 

“She’s fine, though she wanted me to perform a forgetting spell.  Did she see something bad happen to her in the future?”  Willow was worried now, not having thought much about the request earlier when the high of knowing she was going to be a powerful witch took over.

 

“What?  No!  Well, kind of.  But see, we’re changing everything, remember?  I don’t die, Tara won’t die, Spike won’t die.  It’s all good.”  Fear had made her blurt out the truthful litany: the one that Tara had specifically wanted to be kept quiet and Buffy felt like giving herself a Slayer kick in the ass for being so stupid and self-obsessed.  Her rambling self-blame stopped abruptly as Willow grabbed her arm hard.

 

“What happens then?” she asked, her voice fearful and wobbly.

 

“Ah, this is where the ‘going to the dark side’ has a whole new meaning for Willow Rosenburg.” 

 

Willow’s eyes shot open as large and round as dollar coins.

 

“Oh my God, what do I do?”

 

Buffy smiled reassuringly at her friend.

 

“You don’t need to worry about any of that, Wills.  Giles is looking into places you can go to get trained up properly, okay?  So, no need to worry.  Nothing will happen to Tara, or any of us.  Everything will be fine.”  As she said it a cold shiver ran down her spine and she crossed her fingers that indeed they could change it.   The Slayer was determined; they would not lose Tara. And if Spike were to perish again, she would stay in that damn Hellmouth and go with him.  She was not giving him up.

 

At the end of the lecture, or at least after Willow had given her a not so subtle elbow to the ribs to wake her, she made her way out and through Sunnydale to her house. She arrived to find her mother packing a case for her trip, and she plonked down on the bed and watched Joyce collect her toiletries.  The look she received from the older woman was indulgent and they both just smiled for a moment, happy to be in each other’s company.

 

With a sigh, she knew that she had to tell her mother what had been going on over the past few days- the telling at first getting caught in her throat as she tried to decide whether to tell the truth about her mother’s illness.  The many deaths rose up to smother her and she panicked. Jumping from the bed, she started to pace a little in front of the door, ready to take off if she needed to.  In the end, she forced herself to calm down and sat back on the side of the bed again, noticing that Joyce had already taken a seat at the other end but still faced her, waiting patiently for Buffy to tell what was wrong.  Buffy had never been this nervous before so she suspected it must be something big.

 

“Spike is back in town.”

 

Joyce smiled indulgently at remembering the hot chocolate-loving vampire. 

 

“Did he get that dreadful girl back that he was heartbroken over?”

 

“Dru?  Of course not.”  Joyce sat back calmly at the foot of her bed intrigued that Buffy wasn’t yelling and pacing like she normally would have been at the news that Spike was back in town.

 

“Is he trying to kill you again?” she asked, a low level of concern evident in her voice.  But Buffy thought she sounded a bit like she wouldn’t believe it, even if she was presented with a bleeding Buffy with Spike’s fangs still protruding from her neck.

 

“You are worried about that, aren’t you?”  Buffy asked a little resentfully.  “You do remember he is a vampire, don’t you?”

 

“Why of course, Buffy.  But he isn’t your average vampire, is he?  I mean, how many vampires do you know who pour their hearts out to the mother of their greatest enemy while sipping on hot chocolate with marshmallows?  I think he’s a pussycat if you just get under all the, um, leather.” Joyce looked sideways at Buffy’s shocked look and was smug with the inspiration to tease her daughter.  Sometimes she worried that Buffy took life a little too seriously.

 

“He has a soul now,” Buffy blurted, appalled at her mother’s admiring remarks.  Knowing of her escapades with Giles was way enough reality about her mothers sex life.  Only Buffy could think of getting under Spike’s leather.  It was just a matter of time.

 

“Oh?’”  Joyce asked inquisitively.  “How did that happen?  Did he get cursed by Gypsies like that horrible Angel?” 

 

Buffy watched her mother very closely.

 

“No, he got it for me.  To give me what I deserve.”

 

“Oh,” Joyce said again.  She seemed genuinely speechless.  She blinked.  “Is he in love with you?”

 

“Not now, but he is in the future.”

 

 Joyce was falling into a cloud of confusion.  “What do you mean?” 

 

Buffy sighed but sat down and over the next hour told her mother everything leading up to the spell, and even beyond.  The more she told, the more her anguish grew, spraying out information like a shaken bottle of coke, and by the time she stopped, her mother had a horrified look on her face. 

 

“Buffy, I don’t know anything about aneurisms, but we can be on our guard about this and make sure I get treatment as soon as possible.”  As far as she could tell, there was no scepticism in her mother’s voice, nothing but belief and Buffy gulped down one heavy throatful of relief that she was able to now put on hold.  Her mother was going to take responsibility for this one load, lightening her burden by degrees.  “And you, young lady, really need to work on your intuition.  I told you Spike was different.  And to think he did all that for you. You are so blessed to have that kind of devotion from a man. Do you know where he is going to be living?  We have the spare room, or there’s the basement if he thinks it might be safer.”  Buffy looked at her mother in compounding nervousness.

 

“Um, not that those aren’t really great ideas, but I don’t think it would be such a hot idea for Spike and me to live so close to each other.”  Joyce gave her daughter a disappointed look.

 

“I thought you said that you care for him.   That you’re friends with him now.  Don’t you think shutting him out is a little selfish considering all he will do for you in the future?”

 

“It’s not like that.  There is major sparkage between us.  I just think that it might be difficult for us to take things slowly if he lived here.”

 

“But Buffy, you live on campus, remember.  It would just be me here.”  Buffy’s eyes widened in realisation; her mother envisioning what was under Spike’s leather.  Even though she suspected that Joyce had been teasing her…she couldn’t help but feel her mother might be developing a predilection for British accents.  Nope, definitely not of the good.

 

“I think Angel has offered his old place near the Bronze,” she threw in desperately, trying to derail her mother from getting too interested in having Spike under her roof.

 

“So,” Buffy interjected, striving hard to change the subject.  “Thanksgiving.  At Giles’s place.  Whole gang.  Got any recipes?”  And they wandered into the kitchen, Joyce spouting all the hard and fast rules of serving up the perfect turkey and traditional accompaniments.