Pairing: Spike/Willow
Spoilers: Doomed (hence the title).
Summary: Can Spike and Willow work out their differences, or are they doomed to badness?
Feedback: Pretty please? With naked Spike on top? On the bottom? Hanging from the chandelier? I dunno. Whip out the Kama Sutra and give me a suggestion. I love it when you talk dirty.
E-mail: bytemi66@yahoo.com
Distribution: Just ask me. After I get over the initial shock, I’m sure I’ll say yes.
Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to these characters. I’m just using them for my own twisted gratification. Thus, no profit. No copyright infringement intended.
Thanks: Spikedluv, for putting up with me and my busy schedule, and especially for beta-ing the fic.
Dedication: To everyone who was nice enough to send me feedback, especially the ones I haven't been able to respond to, yet. Sorry; I've been having family trauma, but I promise I'll get back to you!
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~Part: 1~
Willow was in the library trying to work on her English Lit paper after her meeting with Tara. *Trying* being the operative word. She just couldn’t stay focused, which was odd for her. She’d always been able to sink down into her work and shut out everything else. It was what made her such a good researcher.
Her mother was due home in just a few more days. Four more days until Sheldon *and* Irving Goldstein descended upon her. Well, at least they couldn’t be any worse than they had been at age 11. Could they? Oh God. They were going to be worse. She’d just jinxed herself. She beat her head against a 6 inch-thick 19th Century Literature Compendium.
First, she’d messed up any chance she’d had for a friendship, or more than a friendship, with Spike. Now, she had just doomed herself to badness. She was gonna be stuck with two braces-wearing, post-nasal-dripping, sunken-in-chest-having, allergic-to-everything, no-I-can’t-eat-that-I’m-lactose-intolerant-ing, does-that-look-like-a-rash-to-you-ing, yarmulke-topped über nerds. Where was that apocalypse she’d asked for, dammit?
The room began to shake; books falling everywhere. Oh crap. Be careful what you wish for…
***
Spike was pissed. He was more than pissed. He was incredibly, fucking, tremendously pissed. He couldn’t believe he was still stuck in the idiot’s basement. When was that silly Olivia bint going back across the bloody pond? Worse yet, a soddin’ pipe had ruptured and dripped all over the damned chair. It’s a good thing he couldn’t get blood poisoning, ‘cause that bloody spring was gonna rust.
It seemed like he’d been thinking about Red for days. Trying to wrack his brain to find some way to approach her without sounding like a bloody ponce. He hadn’t wooed a human girl since he was human…and look how well that worked out.
And all this thinkin’ about the witch had him really frustrated. He hadn’t had a decent wank in days, and neither had the whelp, from the looks of him. Anya hadn’t been over in a while, since Chubbs wouldn’t do it with a ‘captive audience’ tied to the chair. Good. If he wasn’t gettin’ any, neither was anyone else.
Spike sighed and pulled the chair out from under the dripping pipe, “Soddin’ sleeping chair is bloody…sodden."
Xander was tense, and in no mood to deal with the bleached wonder. He set a pan under the pipe to catch the water and said, “The quake just knocked a couple of pipes lose. There’s a wrench hanging up over there by the workbench. Try tightening the coupling."
Spike arched his eyebrow, and replied testily, "Do I look like a plumber to you?"
"No, you look like a big mooch that doesn't lift a finger around here. But I have to get to work,” Xander started to clench his jaw.
"Yeah, delivering melted cheese on bread, doing your part to keep America constipated." Stupid pepperoni-peddling pud.
Xander lifted up his index finger and shook it at Spike, "Mock not. Remember who pays for the plasma around here, pal.” He picked up a wrench and handed it to Spike, commenting, “You earn your keep or you don't get kept.” Xander turned away, his back to Spike. “When you're done fixing that leak…”
Spike couldn’t resist. The pain had to be worth it. He hauled back the wrench, but the intense pain stopped the follow-through. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead to stave off the pain.
“*Try* cleaning up this mess. And doing a *little* laundry for once wouldn't kill you,” Xander expounded, as he turned to see Spike holding his head and groaning in pain, “unfortunately." Xander looked Spike up and down, his face looking like he smelled something bad, before he turned and stomped up the stairs.
Spike dropped the wrench, and still clutching his head, tossed himself into the red chair, and yelled, “Bloody fucking hell!” Before the leak, the mess, or the laundry, he had to get rid of that goddamned wire. After he extracted it from his arse, of course.
***
Willow opened the door to the dorm room just as Buffy was leaving. “Hey! I was in the library during the quake, almost got buried under some 19th century literature. And I don't have to tell you how hard it is to dig through some of that stuff. You okay?" she asked, quirking her head to the side.
Buffy nodded, “Yeah. A couple of broken knick-knacks, but no biggies." She shrugged to accentuate the ‘no biggies’ part.
"Well, Porter dorm is completely blacked out. So, naturally they are dealing with the crisis the only way they know how: 'Aftershock Party'."
"Ah, this from the dorm that brought us the 'Somebody Sneezed' party and the 'Day That Ends in Y' party."
"They do seem to be pretty generous with the milestones,” Willow observed. “Hey, you should ask Riley to come! Much carousing by flattering candlelight." Willow waggled her eyebrows for emphasis.
Buffy, remembering her less-than-wonderful conversation with Riley that morning, began to weave her excuses, “Ah, Riley is, um, busy. I'm pretty sure. But you know, you go on ahead, and I'll catch up with you there.” She made a little shooing gesture with her hands. “I'm on my way for a little Giles one-on-one."
Willow’s brow furrowed, “Anything wrong?" She *knew* it had to have something to do with that earthquake earlier.
"Wrong? No, mm-mm, not at all." Yeah, that was believable, she thought. Willow had a big scare last night. She didn’t want to worry her again…already.
~Part: 2~
Willow had decided to go to the party. Sitting around in her room would only lead to worries about her mother coming home with the double date from hell, or thoughts about not-Spike-having. Now, she wished she hadn’t come. She didn’t see anyone she knew, and she felt out of place standing there alone; she felt lost. Hey, is that Percy? Glad to see a friendly face, sort of, she walked over to Percy who was talking to some girl.
"Percy! Hi!"
Percy looked up, mildly surprised, "Hey, Willow! What's going on?"
Okay. Not too awkward. “Stuff. I-I thought you got that football scholarship to USC." Scratch that…too awkward.
Percy nodded, "I did. Laurie goes here,” he motioned to the pretty girl sitting next to him on the couch.
Laurie greeted her with as much distain as possible, "Hey.”
"Hi. Some party, huh?" Awkward, awkward, awkward.
Laurie gives her a fake smile, as though indulging an irritating, unwanted child, "It's okay."
Percy, sensing the tension in the air, asked, "How's Oz?"
Awkward much? "Oh, actually, Oz is..."
Laurie interrupted Willow by linking her arm with Percy’s and whispering in his ear. Percy turned back to Willow, "Uhm, listen, we’re going to get some drinks. Cool to see you." He got up and helped Laurie up from her seat.
Laurie turned back to Willow and said smugly, “Bye."
"Yeah, catch you later,” Willow replied. Alone. Again. Holy awkward Batman.
***
Willow was bored. "Buffy, where are you?" she thought aloud. Then she heard Percy’s friend Laurie off to her left.
"Why? So I can watch you flirt with that redhead?" Laurie said snarkily.
“What, Rosenberg? Yeah, right. She's just some egghead who tutored me a little in high school.”
Willow turned around to see the two of them back on the couch, their backs to her.
Percy continued, “I mean, she's nice, but, come on, Captain of the nerd squad."
Laurie replied, teasingly, "Well, I don't know. Maybe you have a thing for geeks."
"No, I like my women hot. Call me old-fashioned," he shrugged, leaning in for a kiss.
Willow turned around and walked away, with tears in her eyes. Percy was right. Who could want a nerd like her? Not Oz. And certainly not Spike. He may be evil, but he definitely was cool. And sexy. And he could be so sweet, and caring, and romantic, when he wasn‘t trying to kill her, anyway. What could he possibly want with her?
Willow opened the door to a dark room, desperate to be alone. She felt like she was going to cry, and she certainly didn’t want to do it in front of that mouthy wench, Laurie. “Hello? Anyone in here?" Hearing no reply, she closed the door behind her and stumbled towards the bed before laying down on it.
The dark made her think of Spike even more. He belonged in the night. Well, duh. But that’s not what she meant; when the moonlight would hit his face and illuminate his hair, his blue eyes, those cheekbones...he wasn’t just handsome; he was beautiful. Who was she? Just a mousy little Jewish/Wicca/nerd.
The lights flicked on and Willow became aware that there was something else in bed with her. She slowly turned her head, and what she saw had her leaping off the bed in fear and shock. There was a guy. Dead. His throat slashed, a symbol of a pyramid with an eye in the center was carved into his chest. This evening was just getting better and better.
***
Xander walked down into the basement, pizza box in hand. One of the few benefits of delivering pizza was that he got his choice of the screwed-up orders. He could choke down anything if it was free. When he reached the center of the basement he became aware of his surroundings, “Oh, no! Spike the place is worse than when I left! You didn't even fix the drip!" An evil, ominous voice came from behind him.
"Don't turn around."
Xander froze, "Spike, what is it, what happened?"
"Don't look at me."
Xander turned around, slowly, and the sight that greeted him caused his eyes to pop out of his head.
Spike. In knee length shorts. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Dear God, my kingdom for a camera, Xander thought, as he began to laugh. The laugh started out small, a snicker really, then graduated to a full-on, total, oxygen-stealing guffaw. He almost loss consciousness when he noticed the black socks. He looked like he was channeling Willow’s Uncle Murray. Willow’s 75-year old, fish-belly white, dark-sock-wearing Uncle Murray.
Spike held up some small black articles of clothing, tenderly, as though to mourn the passing of a cherished loved one, and said in a small, choked voice, "I shrunk them. Bleeding shirt, trousers.” Then, with more vehemence, “I hate this place."
Xander, finally under control, "You know I'm not any happier about you wearing my stuff than you are.”
Spike huffed demandingly, "Go out, get me some decent stuff, and I want more blood."
"No! You're not a guest." Enough was enough already.
"You want me to tear this place apart, you bloody poof?" If he couldn’t pound the pillock into paste, he’d tear apart his clothes. It would be a gracious gift to humanity. They would give him a bloody plaque…or at least a laurel, and hearty handshake.
Xander exploded, "That's it! I am way past due with you. I hate to break it to you, oh impotent one, but you're not the big bad anymore, you're not even the ‘kind of naughty‘. You're nothing but a waste of space. My space! And as much as I always got a big laugh watching Buffy kick your shiny white bum, and as much as I know I can give you a little bum-kicking myself right now, I'm here to tell you something,” he stepped forward, directly under the still-leaking pipe, “You're not even worth it. I'm out of here." Xander turned around and stomped back up the stairs.
Spike watched Xander as he left in a huff. Comprehension hit him. The moron was right. He wasn’t worth it. He was 126 years-old, and living in someone’s parent’s basement, sleeping in a rump-sprung recliner, wearing clothes that even the Beach Boys would find too undignified, no money, forced to rely on his *human* enemy and her entourage, unable to bite without excruciating pain, and left by his girlfriend of over a century for a sod with slimy antlers.
Useless. Unneeded. Unwanted. Unloved. Unhappy. So fucking unhappy. Sure, he wanted Red. But why would she ever want him? He surely had nothing to offer her. Even Dru didn’t want him, and she was insane. He used to take care of her, protect her. He couldn’t even do that for Willow; he couldn’t even protect himself from the idiot, much less the hellmouth’s creepy crawlies. Bloody hell.
Willow didn’t belong with him. She belonged in the daylight with someone who could give her everything she deserved. He sank down into the recliner, sans pesky wire, and held his head in his hands as he thought of her. He had another realization; he didn’t just want Willow. He truly cared for her.
He’d seen her in the daylight once, as she was coming into Giles’ apartment. The sunlight lit her hair, making it shine, illuminating her sweet, heart-shaped face. Her deep green eyes shining as she smiled. She wasn‘t just pretty; she was beautiful. What was he? Nothing.
~Part: 3~
Buffy scanned the room looking for Willow as the body bag was wheeled out. Willow was sitting on the stairs and called out to her friend, “Buffy! Over here."
Buffy walked over and sat down next to her with a sigh, "Wow. I wasn't sure where the party was, and then I saw the flashing lights and the ambulance, and I was like, right, of course! Death, carnage…it's a Buffy party!"
"I'm so glad you're here," Willow said, turning on the puppy eyes.
"What happened?"
"I found him. This guy on the bed with me. Dead. Not me dead, he dead."
Buffy eyes widened in surprise, "God. Are you okay?
Willow nodded.
Buffy leaned in and asked, whispering, “Vampire?"
Willow shook her head, "There was so much blood, and there…there was a symbol, and Percy said I was a nerd!"
"Percy called you a nerd?"
Willow nodded again, "I guess we should report to Giles, get with the demon tracking."
Buffy turned back to the previous subject as they walked out, "Does he even go here?"
***
"It just made me feel like I was right back in high school," Willow pouted when they were at Giles‘ apartment.
Xander, miffed on her behalf, "Dumb jock! If it wasn't for you he still would be."
"I mean, I know the Percy thing isn't really important, it's the dead guy on the bed."
"Yeah, that's bad, too."
Willow perked up, remembering something, "Ooh, and something else. He, the dead guy, was-was propped up, like whatever killed him wanted to drain the blood out of him. So I'm thinking the…whatever took a bunch of the guy's blood with it. And I haven't been a nerd for a very long time! Hello! Dating a guitarist, or I was…" Willow trailed off.
Buffy, eager to get on with it, but also eager to distract Willow from her current train of thought, said, "Tell me about this symbol."
Willow took out a yellow napkin and unfolded it. "Right, it was carved into his chest, like a big creepy eye."
Xander looked over her shoulder at her drawing. "It's kind of the CBS logo. Hey, could this be the handiwork of one Mr. Morley Safer?" he asked, casting his pearls of wisdom.
Buffy furrowed her brow in concentration, ignored Xander totally, and said, "I'm telling you I've seen this somewhere before, I just can't remember where! I mean, it's like..."
Giles interjected, matter-of-factly, "It's the end of the world."
Willow, Buffy, and Xander all replied in unison, "Again?" Repetitive much?
Giles explained, “It's ah, the earthquake, that symbol, yes."
Buffy, full of righteous indignation, tossed back, "I *told* you. I said end of the world and you're like 'poo-poo, Southern California, poo-poo’!"
Giles dipped into his seemingly bottomless pit of sarcasm as he replied, "I'm so very sorry. My contrition completely dwarfs the impending apocalypse."
Willow was frightened. Dear Goddess! She took it back! I’ll go out with Sheldon *and* Irving. Just not another apocalypse. "No, I-it can't be. We've done this already." Several times, in fact.
Giles, in a very casual tone, replied, "It's the end of the world, everyone dies. It's rather important really."
Willow resigned herself, "So what do we do?"
Buffy picked up a crossbow: "I stop it." She looked down at the sketch on the napkin and realized where she’d seen it before. The place where she spent most of her waking hours, memorizing stuff off the sides of mausoleums. Big freaky cereal boxes of death. She huffed.
***
Giles gestured to the book he was reading, "A Vahrall demon."
Willow looked over at his book, "Eew!"
"I second that revulsion," Xander responded, raising his hand in confirmation.
Giles continued, "Yes. 'Slick like gold and gird in moonlight, father of portents and brother to blight'."
Buffy read over his shoulder, "Limbs with talons, eyes like knives, bane to the blameless, thief of lives. This thing isn't digging up the bones of a child for fun."
Xander, thinking back to his previous encounters with demons, "Well, a demon's got some pretty hilarious ideas about fun."
Willow wondered, "Bones of a child though. I saw that!” She grabbed one of the books from the center of a table and began to flip pages, “An ancient ritual…uses the blood of a man, the bones of a child and…something called the Word of Valios? I-It's all part of the sacrifice; the sacrifice of three."
"Let me guess; ends the world," Buffy responded. Apparently, Giles’ sarcasm was rubbing off.
Willow replied, rather sheepishly, "Well, yeah. I-it's not big with the details, though. It doesn't say how the world ends or what the ritual entails exactly."
Xander mused, "The sacrifice of three... Three people are going to die?"
"No, they won't. Because claw-boy is not getting all of his ingredients. We have to find that third one, the Word of Valios, keep him from getting it," Buffy replied with authority.
Willow interjected, worriedly, "If he doesn't already have it. I mean, who knows where he's been?"
"I'll check the magic shop. See if they've heard of a book called the Word of Valios,” Buffy said as she put her coat on. “Willow, Xander, how about the book archives at the museum?"
"We'll stop at my place on the way, get some weapons, and I'll change into something that isn't quite as anchovy-scented, "Xander replied, plucking at the offending garment.
"You guys, this thing takes wicked very seriously. Be careful. I couldn't stand anybody getting hurt."
***
Spike spread his arms wide, readying himself for the stake he’d clamped to the edge of the table, “Good bye, Dru. See you in hell." Then, more softly, “Goodbye Willow. Be safe. Be happy.” He let himself fall forward just as Willow and Xander walked in. The movement distracted him, causing him to turn toward them, missing the stake, but smashing the table. Oh. Fuck.
"What are you doing?" Willow asked, shocked.
Spike picked himself up and dusted off the hideous garments. "Bloody rot. Can't a person knock?" he shot back, angry and rather embarrassed at being caught.
"What were you doing?" Willow asked again, insistently. Please, don’t let him have been trying to do what it looked like he was trying to do. She willed herself not to start crying.
Xander, finally understanding what was going on, "You were trying to stake yourself!"
Red. Why did it have to happen in front of Red? Spike saw the look in her eyes and mistook the fear and concern for pity, "Fag off! It's no concern of yours."
"Is too. For one thing that's my shirt you're about to dust. For another, we've shared a lot here. You should have trusted me enough to do it for you."
"Xander!" Willow cried out, appalled. She struggled with her emotions. She felt confused, afraid, and…guilty. She had a part in this. She had contributed to Spike’s despair. She had to help, had to try a-and fix it!
"What? He wants to die…I want to help,” Xander spread his hands as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
Willow swallowed down her feelings. She couldn’t let Xander know how upset she was. He wouldn’t understand her reasons. She tried to find the right words, “It's ooky. We know him, we can't just let him poof himself!"
Spike felt even worse. The chit didn‘t really care. She just thought it was ‘ooky‘. He swallowed, "Oh, but you can. You know I'd drain you drier than the Sahara if I had half a chance. And besides, I'm beyond pathetic. Stuck in this basement washing skivvies for a blighter I wouldn't have bothered to bite a few months ago." He gestured at Xander, who was in the process of changing.
"Hey!" Xander cried, while tossing the eau-de-anchovy scented shirt in the general direction of the ‘dirty’ pile. Or was that the semi-dirty pile? Whatever.
Spike turned back to Willow, "I mean, am I even remotely scary anymore? Tell me the truth."
Willow looked at him, willing her chin not to tremble. Spike jumped at her, curling his hands into claws and making a face. After seeing him in a different light, it was awfully hard to see him as a threat again. She tried to make the best of a bad situation. If only she could get him alone and talk to him!
"Well, the shirt is kinda…not very threatening. And the short pants…but you know it could also be because I know you can't bite, which I guess isn't really what you need to hear right now, is it?" she couldn’t help it. She babbled when she got nervous. And why was she all of the sudden thinking about her Uncle Murray?
Spike closed his eyes against the pain and turned away, waving his hand at her, “Stop, please, just clear out." He just wanted to be alone so he could finish the job. Being confronted by what could never be his was just too much. She didn’t care. She…pitied him.
"Fine. But you break anything else while we're gone and you'll be sleeping in the garage, buster," Xander quipped, either not getting the grasp of how serious the situation was, or just not caring.
Willow’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “We can't leave him here like this! We'll have to take him with us to the museum."
Spike was desperate for them to leave, "Oh, you go on. I won't do anything. I feel better now. Promise." He nodded and tried to brighten his facial expression.
Xander took one look at Willow’s face and sighed. He’d known her for as long as he could remember. He could tell that she was more upset than she was letting on. He rolled his eyes and put his arm around Spike’s shoulder, walking him toward the steps. “Think of the happy. If we don't find what we're looking for, we face an apocalypse."
Spike looked a little relieved, "Really? You're not just saying that?"
Willow almost collapsed in relief as she followed them up the stairs. She wracked her brain trying to think of how she could help Spike.
~Part: 4~
While they walked toward the museum, Spike lagging behind, looking at the ground, Xander asked, “So, Wills. Buff said you had a close call last night. How’s the ankle?”
Spike’s head shot up from the ground. What had happened last night?
Willow tried to make light of it, “Well, the Gentlemen and their helpers, what were they anyway? Sorry, um, I kinda got knocked down and had to make a run for it, b-but I was able to barricade myself in the break room. No big, really.” She didn’t want to mention Tara. After the whole ‘will be done’ fiasco, she didn’t think it was prudent to bring up the whole ‘befriending a fellow Wicca’ thing.
Spike began to grind his teeth. His princess had almost been killed by those bloody grinning demons, and he hadn’t been there. She’d been hurt, and he hadn’t been there. But, he reminded himself, it wasn’t like he could have done anything to help. Useless. The anger and frustration began to build. Then another bomb was dropped.
“Well, at least you’re okay. I’d have been upset if anything happened to my bestest bud. Which reminds me, Buff also mentioned something about your Mom and a message?”
Willow groaned, “Hold on to your hat Xan…”
“Uh, I’m not wearing a hat, Wills.”
Willow gave Xander a small smile, “I was speaking figuratively, you doof.”
“Pray tell, continue, fair lady,” Xander tried to lighten her mood; he could tell she was still upset.
Willow took a big breath, then said, “Sheldon *and* Irving.”
Stunned silence.
“Xander? You in there?”
“So. The apocalypse isn’t looking that bad, huh?” Xander shuddered, remembering them from childhood.
Willow snuck a peek at Spike over her shoulder, he didn’t seem like he was paying any attention. She felt a little uncomfortable talking about this in front of Spike. But, he didn’t want anything to do with her, and, well, Xander *asked*. “Yup. Mom always was an overachiever. She’s not just fixing me up with one ‘nice Jewish boy’; she wants to improve the odds by making me go out with *both* of them.”
“Simultaneously, or is this sort of a tag-team kinda thing?”
Willow rolled her eyes at Xander, then pointed, “Look, there’s the museum.”
Spike continued to follow along behind. Great. She pitied him and she had two blokes who were going to be vying for her attention. Well, if she didn’t want him, he didn’t want her either! So bloody there!
***
They left the historical museum about a half-hour later, looking dejected. Except for Spike. He just looked angry. While Willow and Xander had been looking for the Word of Valios, Spike had been becoming more and more resentful. He wanted to hurt someone. Hurt them like he hurt.
Willow sighed, "Great. No Word of Valios."
Xander spoke as he put his hands in his pockets, "Not even a syllable of Valios."
"Which means I'm one step closer to melting in a sea of molten hellfire, yeah?" Spike contributed in a venomous tone of voice, walking ahead of them.
Willow felt that she just *had* to say something, anything to reassure him, “You shouldn't talk like that. Yeah, okay, so you can't kill anymore, but there are other fun things you can do. You'll adjust."
Spike stopped and turned around, "Adjust? And what? End up like the two of you? No thank you." He could feel the anger and resentment flowing out of him in waves. If he couldn’t hurt them physically, he’d do the worst he could. The cruel words began to form in his mind.
Xander threw his hands up, “Here it goes. 'We can't just leave him here to stake himself! It's not right.'"
Spike began, knowing instinctively where they were the most vulnerable, "I should think you would be glad to greet the end of days. I mean, neither one of you is making much of a go at it.“ He gestured to Xander, “You. Kids your age are going off to University; you've made it as far as the basement. And Red here, “he gestured again, his eyes narrowing. Hurt her. Hurt her like she’s hurt me, “you couldn't even keep dog-boy happy. You can take the loser out of high school, but..."
Willow interrupted him, “I see what you're doing. You're trying to get us to dust you."
Spike spat back, "Am not! I just don't want pity from geeks more useless than I am." Spike saw her eyes fly open. Direct hit. Score one for the neutered vampire.
Willow tried to swallow down her pain, crying out, ”We're not useless! We-we help people. We fight the forces of evil!" Stop. Please stop. She couldn’t take it anymore. Not from him.
Spike continued, reveling in the pain he was causing, "*Buffy* fights the forces of evil. You're her groupies. She'd do just as well without you. Better I'd wager, since she wouldn't have to go about saving your hides all the time."
Xander finally found his voice, "That is so not true! We're part of the team. She needs us."
Spike threw back a well-aimed retort, "Or you're just the same tenth-grade losers you've always been, and she's too much of a softy to cut you loose."
Willow and Xander stood there speechless, Spike looking at them with a satisfied look on his face, before he turned and stalked away, grinning from ear to ear.
Willow just stood there, swallowing convulsively, desperate not to cry. Goddess, he really hated her. Xander reached over and put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. He could understand Spike hating him, but Willow didn’t deserve that.
Three steps. Three steps were all it took, before the stricken look that Willow had on her face sunk in. He’d hurt her; badly. His smile faded away. He’d been a selfish, self-pitying pillock, and he’d hurt her terribly. Somehow, he’d made everything worse. She’d never forgive him. The memory of her face swam in front of his, and his eyes filled with tears. What the bloody hell had he been thinking?
He slowed his pace, waiting for them to catch up, but didn’t turn around. He couldn’t stand the thought of turning around and seeing the pain in her face, knowing that he had put it there.
~Part: 5 ~
Buffy knelt down next to her injured Watcher, “What happened?"
Giles was sitting on the couch, bruised and battered, “It's my fault. I should have known."
"Giles..."
He held up his hand, "The Word of Valios is the name of a talisman, not a book. I blame myself entirely. I had it here."
Xander, from his seat next to Giles, "You had it here? Okay, first I thought you were being too hard on yourself, but..."
Willow gave Xander a look as she brought Giles some ice wrapped into a dishtowel. She noticed Spike out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t…wouldn’t look at him. It hurt too much. She gently applied it to his head, and then Giles reached up and held it there.
Spike sat in the corner, away from everyone. That silly bint Olivia must have left. Huh. He watched Willow as she flitted around, helping the Watcher. Such a kind, gentle girl, even towards him. Why? How could he have hurt her like that?
Giles gave Willow a small, pain-filled smile, "Oh, thank you. I bought it at a sorcerer's estate sale. I really only glanced at it once. I thought it was a knock-off."
Buffy replied, slightly irritated, "Well, they have it. And they probably have their sacrifices by now, too."
Giles spoke with urgency, "They're on their way to perform the sacrifice now."
Buffy looked startled, "On their way where? You found out what the ritual is for?"
"The Hellmouth. They are going to open the Hellmouth. The one in the library.”
The Scoobies looked at one another apprehensively, and then Buffy stood up, saying, “Looks like we're going back to high school."
***
The almost-full moon shone down upon the ruins of Sunnydale High, the illumination giving it an almost sinister gleam. Buffy turned to the gang, “Be careful you guys, the place doesn't look too stable."
Spike, bitter from the evening‘s events, "Fine by me. Hope we all go under."
Buffy retorted, "Why is he even here. It's not like he can fight!"
Willow felt compelled to speak up, even if he *was* acting like a putz, "If we leave him alone, he'll stake himself."
Buffy looked at her, eyes wide, "And that's bad because...?“
Willow gave her ‘the look’.
Crap. Resolve face. “Fine. Whatever. Just keep him out of the way. I do *not* have time for this,” she sighed. “Okay, when we get to the library keep a look out for victims they're keeping alive for the sacrifice. Getting them out is the first priority."
Willow nodded in the affirmative, "Will do."
Buffy took a deep breath, "Okay. You guys ready?"
Xander macho-ly replied, "Lets rock and roll."
Spike whined, mockingly, "Lets rock and roll." Garlic-breathed git.
Xander mused as they walked down the tattered hallway, "Sunnydale High. These walls…if they were still walls, what stories they could tell.“ He stepped on something squishy. “Eew!”
Everyone turned to look at him. He looked sheepish and pointed down, “Mayor meat. Extra crispy." They turned around again and walked on.
Willow piped up, "I think we're near the library."
As they approached the library entrance, they could hear a growly chanting going on. The first thing they all noticed was the huge hole in the center of the room.
Willow’s eyes went wide, "Whoa. Check out the new floor plan."
Three Vahrall demons were standing around a fissure in the floor within the hole. Buffy counted, "Three of them."
"I don't see any sacrifice people,” Willow observed, looking around the decimated room.
"They must be around here somewhere. The ritual is not finished. And it's not gonna be,” her tone left no room for argument.
Buffy jumped down into the hole, attacking the three demons. One dropped the bottle of blood, and Xander rushed over to grab it before another demon could get to it. He shouted, "The blood! Get the talisman! They can't do the ritual!"
Buffy continued pounding on the demons, punching, backhanding, and kicking them in turn. Willow darted in and yanked the sack with the bones out of the demon’s hands and yelled, “I've got the bones!” Then she tossed them to Xander, “Here!"
Xander caught them and tossed them right back at her as one of the Vahrall demons rushed him. The demon punched him in the stomach repeatedly. Somehow, Xander found the energy to make with the funny. "You've got the wrong man, dude. I've had a lot of practice with my lunch money."
Willow turned and tossed the bag of bones to the room’s only other occupant; Spike. “Spike!“
Spike had been watching by the sidelines, feeling useless. Oh, he didn’t give a flying fuck about the others, but Red…and here *he* was, helpless. He reacted by grabbing the bag as the witch threw it to him. Then he saw one of the Vahrall coming right at him. “Right, perfect."
Buffy was fighting one demon, Xander another, and Spike was getting beaten to a pulp by the third. The one beating on Xander suddenly grabbed the bottle of blood, turned, and leapt into the hellmouth.
"Okay, I guess I won,” Xander stated, nonplussed. Then the earth began to shake. Xander’s eyes went wide, “The demons! They *are* the sacrifice!"
Spike was tired of not fighting back. Tired of feeling weak and helpless. He hauled back, screamed, and hit the demon with all of his might, and then he put a hand to his head, readying himself for the pain. Nothing. No pain. A smile split his face, “No pain!” He hit the demon again. “I can hurt a demon!" he exclaimed with wonder and delight. He vamped out and began to attack the demon with all the viciousness he could muster.
As the demon dropped, defeated, Spike yelled out with joy, "That's right! I'm back! And I'm a BLOODY ANIMAL! Yeah!" He picked up the fallen Vahrall, not noticing that it had grabbed the sack of bones, and lifted it high above his head…
"No!" Xander cried.
Willow shouted out, "Spike, not in the hole!"
Spike threw the Vahrall into the hellmouth and another, larger tremor shook the library.
Spike looked up, unrealizing, "What? I was helping!"
Buffy yelled, "Get out of here! The building is going to come down!"
The Slayer was right on the money, as the building began to collapse, starting with a beam that hit Spike on the back of his head, forcing him to the ground.
Xander leapt forward at Willow’s cry of alarm. He reached under the beam and pulled Spike out, helping him to his feet. Willow stepped forward, and between the two of them, helped Spike up out of the hole. They turned and watched as Buffy continued to fight the last demon. She drove a stake into it, with little effect. As it pulled back its arm to hit her, the fist was caught by Riley.
Riley? Buffy thought. Where did he come from? Riley pulled the demon around and began to beat up on it.
Buffy shouted out, "Don't let it jump into the hellmouth!"
The Vahrall grabbed Riley by his jacket and threw him across the room. Riley got right back up, only to get dropped again by a hard kick to his stomach. Buffy jumped back in, punching and kicking the demon. Riley got up and joined her.
Willow watched, worried. Her brow furrowed and she began to bite her lower lip. Spike looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His throat constricted. He thought yet again, how could he have hurt her? He swallowed, nervous, as he reached out his hand and tenderly took a hold of hers, squeezing gently.
Willow looked down at where their hands were joined and blinked in surprise before she squeezed back, comforted by the simple gesture. She turned back to the scene below them, wondering if she dared to hope. Maybe he didn’t hate her after all?
~Part: 6~
The demons defeated, Buffy and Riley climbed out of the ruined library, and walked into the hallway where Willow, Xander, and Spike all stood. Waiting.
Riley began, "Well, hey! Willow…and Xander, right? Jeez, what are the chances, huh?“ He looked at Buffy, desperate for some help. She just looked amused. Damn. “Yeah, I was just passing by when I thought I heard people inside." So lame, oh, so very lame.
Willow perkily observed, mood somewhat lifted by a little Spike hand-holdage, saying, "Passing by in your GI Joe outfit?"
Riley looked down at himself, and cringed. Oh yeah. This sucked.
Buffy suppressed a smile, "No offence, but you do look wicked conspicuous."
"I do? But it's...Paintball! Yeah, I was playing paintball. And then the aftershocks..." Desperation is an ugly thing.
Xander dryly commented, "So you're one of the commando guys, huh?"
Riley laughed. A very fake, panicky laugh. “Oh, no, no, no, no. Commando? No, I mean…,” he turned toward Spike. “Don't I know you?"
Oh shit. "Me?” Quick, think, you daft bastard! Ah ha! Spike affected an odd semi-American accent, “No. No, sir. I'm just an old pal of Willow’s here." He hitched his thumb over towards her.
Willow’s eyes widened a little in surprise, but she covered for him by nodding vigorously at Riley. Inside, she melted, just a little bit; he’d said her *name*!
Riley, too tired and on-the-spot to pursue it, "Oh. That's nice."
Buffy walked out with Riley and the others followed. Buffy looked over at Riley and thought that maybe, just maybe, they *could* work out their differences. She gave him a tentative smile. He smiled back.
Xander turned to Willow, "It's kinda weird being back, isn't it?"
Willow looked around at the burnt-out hallway, "Yeah. Everything seems so small, and more charred and ruiny."
***
Xander invited Willow back to his basement to watch T.V. and she accepted, hoping to get a few minutes alone with Spike to talk.
When they got back to the basement, Xander asked, “Hey Wills, do you mind if I take a hot shower? I’m kinda banged up here.“
Willow almost crumbled with relief; she’d finally get a chance to talk to Spike! “Sure Xan. Take all the time you need.“
“Cool. Out in a bit,“ Xander said, as he sniffed the towels in the semi-clean pile, before deciding on a likely candidate. As soon as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, the uncomfortable silence got really…uncomfortable.
“So,“ Willow said.
“So,“ Spike replied back.
Goddess, this was so hard. Why was it so hard? She looked down at the floor.
Spike, determined to talk to her, to clear the air as it were, sat down next to her. “Red?“
She looked up and met his gaze. Oh my, his eyes were so clear and blue. A girl could get lost in them.
“Hmm?“
“Red,“ he began again, “I’ve been acting like an arse.“
Willow shot him a ‘well, duh’ expression. He continued.
“I was feeling useless and unlov-, uh, bad about things, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.“
Willow sighed, “I understand Spike, more than you realize. A-and I know that I’m part of the reason you feel so bad.“ She looked back down at the floor.
Spike’s brow shot up. Just how much did the chit realize? “How’s that Red?”
“That stupid spell. I-I know how much you hated it. I didn’t mean to hurt you, really!”
Spike, surprised she had brought it up, asked the question he had wanted to ask since this whole mess started, “Why? Why me?”
“Well, I-I was feeling sorry for myself, ‘cause, ya know, Oz left. I was talking to Buffy about how I just wanted someone to love me completely. A-and you came up.”
“How?”
“Um, I was saying something about how much you loved Drusilla, and how much I wanted to be loved by someone like you had loved her. I wanted love like you had for Dru. Uh, and then, well, you know what happened then. B-but I didn’t know, didn’t realize that the spell had worked! I thought the whole thing had gone kablooey! But, then you were so sweet, and so understanding, and you said everything I *so* wanted to hear…,” Willow’s babble trailed off.
“And?” Spike prompted. Damn, but wasn’t she bloody *adorable* when she babbled?
“And I did something I normally wouldn’t do…y-you know what I mean,“ she blushed, then continued. “I didn’t even realize you were under the spell until you said you loved me. Then it hit me. I’m so sorry Spike! I didn’t mean to hurt you, or make you angry. I know you don’t love me; you never really did. But, I *never* meant to hurt you.” She looked up at him. Puppy eyes. He was bleedin’ helpless against the puppy eyes.
“Red. I was angry about that, but I’m not anymore. Today, well, I was just feelin’ sorry for meself ‘cause of the chip ‘n all, and I took it out on you.” Cripes. Still with the puppy eyes.
“And?” Willow asked.
“And I’m sorry. There. Happy now?” Spike answered, feigning irritation.
Willow smiled brightly, relieved, “Thanks, Spike. Look, I know that you’ve kinda been forced into the group, and I don’t blame you for feeling, um, upset, but, I’d really like to try and be your friend. Is that okay?” She looked up at him hopefully.
Friends. Bleedin’ hell. Why did the chits he wanted always want to be ‘friends’? Bugger. Well it was better than nothin’. “’Course, witch. You’re the only one of ‘em I can actually stand.”
Willow’s smile lit up the room. Spike had apologized, and they were going to be friends. It was a start.
The warmth of her smile warmed Spike’s cold heart. It was then that he grasped it. That great gaping hole was gone. Then he knew. It was filled. With Willow. He didn’t just *want* her. He didn’t just *care* for her. He loved her. Shit. Love’s bitch rides again.
He sat back, trying not to grin like an idiot as donut-boy emerged from his shower.
Xander looked back and forth between Spike and Willow. Whatever was going on between them seemed to have changed. They both seemed…happier? Eh, he was too tired to think about it tonight. Cheesy infomercials beckoned.
Xander flopped down on the couch next to Willow. Within minutes, both were semi-conscious, lulled into that partial-hypnotic state that can only be caused by bad late-night T.V. Spike, however was energized. He bounced up in front of the T.V., and then turned around to face them. Both Willow and Xander leaned to one side, trying to see around the blond obstruction.
"What's this? Sitting around watching the telly while there's evil still afoot?” Spike turned off the T.V. “That's not very industrious of you. I say we go out there and kick a little demon ass!“ He clapped his hands and rubbed them together in anticipation.
Xander and Willow just stared at him, completely worn out.
Spike would not be put off, “What, can't go without your Buffy, is that it? Too chicken? Let's find her! She is the Chosen One after all. Come on! Vampires! Grrr! Nasty! Let's annihilate them. For justice…and for…the safety of puppies, and Christmas, right?”
Willow and Xander looked at one another.
Spike began afresh, “Let's *fight* that evil! Let's *kill* something!” He looked at them. Why weren’t they moving? He whined, “Oh, come *on*!"
“I think that’s my cue to go home and go to bed, Xan.”
“Okay, Wills. Be careful.”
‘Be careful’? Stupid wanker. His princess was *not* going to walk home at night by herself. Not without *him* to protect her. “You shouldn’t walk home alone, Red. Not a right tasty morsel like yourself,” he tried to make it sound casual.
Willow was more than a little surprised at this. First, he apologized, then he agreed to be friends, and *now* he wanted to walk her home. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush…oh, phooey; she was blushing. “Thanks, Spike. I could use a big, bad guard vamp,” she replied, a little smile on her face.
Cor, he loved it when she blushed. Spike smiled back, “I can do that, witch.” He knew he needed to be patient; take his bloody time…not exactly his forté. But for her, he could wait. Maybe. Perhaps. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding?
The END