Pairing: Spike/Willow
Spoilers: Hush (hence the title).
Summary: Willow and Spike are confused about their feelings for one another.
Feedback: This is the *sequel* to my very first fic, *ever*. Questions? Comments? Wanna talk dirty? Please let me know what you think; after all, if it sucks and I keep going, you have only yourselves to blame!
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 her encouragement and support, without which I wouldn’t be subjecting you to my ramblings. I luv ya, sweetcheeks! And double-thanks for the beta!
Dedication: To all the great people who sent me feedback. You’ll never know how much it’s meant to me. Thanks.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~
Willow looked over at her friend. Buffy was obviously dreaming, and it didn’t seem like a good dream. She frowned slightly. Buffy was under so much pressure. She felt guilty, like a good Jewish/Wicca should, that she had added to that stress recently. Buffy jerked awake just in time to hear Dr. Walsh’s concluding statement.
“So, I'll see you all Monday for a final review session,” she stated, in her usual cold, clipped tone.
Buffy blinked hard a few times, trying to get herself together. Everyone got up and gathered their books and notes in an almost desperate rush to get out of class. Willow understood completely. While this class was interesting, and she learned a lot, Maggie Walsh’s demeanor left a lot to be desired. Everyone who was unlucky enough to be one of the last into the class was forced to sit in the front two rows. After class, they tended to look…twitchy.
Willow turned her attention to her friend. She just couldn’t resist teasing her a little. It was in the best friend handbook. Like telling her when she had spinach between her front teeth, which shoes went better with which outfit, and yes, you’re so much prettier than that other girl. Ya just had to.
“Boy, that was an exciting class, huh?” Willow remarked with scholastic enthusiasm.
Buffy cringed inwardly, “Oh. Yeah. Wow.”
“And that last twenty minutes! It was a revelation. Just laid out everything we needed to know for the final. I'd hate to have missed that,” Willow stated, the corners of her mouth turning upwards.
Damn. Caught. “Just tell me I didn't snore,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes.
“You were very discreet…minimal drool.”
“Oh, yay,” Buffy answered with little enthusiasm. Her dream still had a hold on her. She couldn’t shake it. Slayer dreams sucked. It was nice to hear Willow joking again, though. She realized she’d been kind of insensitive about the whole Oz thing. She fully intended to be a better friend. And, luckily, Riley believed the whole ‘I totally can’t believe you thought I was a lesbian’ thing. Thank God. The girls headed out of class together.
As they passed through the door out into the hallway, Willow asked, “So, were you dreaming?” She didn’t want to push her, but she wanted Buffy to be able to feel like she could talk about it, if she needed to.
Buffy looked a little haunted, “Yeah, it was kind of intense...”
They passed Riley without noticing him; he couldn’t resist the impulse to joke with Buffy, just a little bit, “Intense? Really? ‘Cause you seemed so peaceful.” He smiled at her.
Buffy cringed a little in embarrassment, “Of course, it was only for a moment that…”
“Right. You guys headed toward Kresge?”
Buffy smiled at him. “Student center.”
“Great. So this dream…”
Willow stopped, deciding to let them have some alone time, “You know…you guys go. I'm gonna do the…thing.” She turned to Buffy, “I'll see you after the Wicca group.”
Buffy was glad that Willow was finding some other people to interact with. Maybe this group could help her, help make her happy. She smiled at Willow, “‘Kay.”
Riley looked at the pretty redhead. He was glad to see that some of her unhappiness had been alleviated. She was so sweet. Too nice to be so hurt. But, he was definitely juiced about the prospect of having a little time alone with Buffy. “Bye.”
Willow walked away from the couple, and snuck over to the arch by the atrium to spy a little. Hey; spying was also in the best friend handbook. Besides, it made her a little happier to see Buffy so happy. And Riley did that; made her smile, made her forget about Angel and the pain his departure had caused. Was still causing.
Willow held a book up in front of her face as they passed by, pulling it down again to watch them as they walked out the building. She smiled in satisfaction. Maybe he would be the one for Buffy. Willow’s mind wandered to a certain blond who had made her forget her troubles, if just for awhile. Of course, that certain blond hated her now. Her smile began to falter.
**********
Giles sat at his desk, holding the phone to his ear, and repeating what Buffy had told him about her dream, “Can't even shout, can't even cry. The Gentlemen are coming by...” He tapped the table with his pen, musing, “It sounds vaguely familiar. You're sure you never heard this as a child?” He cocked his head, listening to her. He replied, “All right. And the girl was holding a box. Nothing else? Well, it certainly could be one of your prophecy dreams, or it could just be the eternal mystery that is your brain. I'll check it out, let you know if I come up with anything. B'bye.”
Giles hung up. Damned vague prophecies. He could tell that the dream had greatly disturbed his slayer. Perhaps… He looked down at his notes, and called out, “Have you ever heard of a group call the Gentlemen?”
Spike was rummaging through the cupboards. The watcher had fuck-all to munch on. Well, there are always those pansy-assed crackers. He popped a couple in his mouth and replied, “Group o’ what?”
Giles sighed heavily. Spike bloody well *knew* what he had said, vamp hearing being what it was and all. Spike just loved to irritate him. Well, he wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction. “The Gentlemen,” he repeated, tersely.
Spike continued to rifle Giles’ cabinets, “Don't know ‘em.”
“You're certain?”
“No. We're out of Weetabix.”
Giles rolled his eyes as he sorted through his books on the shelf behind his couch, “We're out of Weetabix because you ate it all. Again.” Supercilious, snack-obsessed nonce.
“Get some more.”
“I thought vampires were supposed to eat blood.” Hint, bloody, hint.
Spike sauntered over to the couch and tossed himself down, propping his feet up on the cushions, and casually replied, “Yeah, well sometimes I like to crumble up the Weetabix in the blood. Gives it a little texture.”
Giles’ stomach rolled. How…unappetizing. He replied with as much British sarcasm as he could muster, which was considerable, “Well, since the picture you've just painted means I will never touch food of any kind again, I'm afraid you'll have to pick it up yourself.”
It was so easy to fluster the Watcher. He was a source of unending amusement. “Sissy.” Not to say he wouldn’t enjoy tying bows with his entrails when he got the goddamned chip out, but beggars couldn’t be bloody choosers now, could they?
As Giles began to shuffle though scrolls and papers, Spike’s thoughts began to roam. There it was again. That emptiness. That great fucking gaping hole. His jaw clenched whenever he thought of the little witch. Why? Why had she bloody well done it? Luckily, her guilt had kept her from telling the other Scoobies about him getting his leg over. If she had, he would be clogging the Watcher’s Electrolux right about now.
She hadn’t been around for a few days. Oh, she’d baked enough cookies to choke a Grath’nor, and had taken several hours on a ladder to scrape the Slayer’s mess off the ceiling, but she hadn’t been back to the apartment since. And the way she’d looked at him when she was here. Guilt, remorse. Her brow furrowing, her eyes trying to avoid his.
He couldn’t help himself; his eyes had followed her wherever she went, like one of those bloody creepy religious pictures. Dru had freaked when she’d seen one; all that time in the nun hatchery. Thought the bloody fuckin’ Virgin was a comin’ after her ‘n Miss Edith.
Drusilla. His dark princess. His ripe, wicked plum. How could he have thought for one moment that a mousy little girl could replace Dru in his black heart? Maybe because she was busy bumping uglies with every slimy, pus-filled demon with a semi-compatible appendage? Bugger. He needed to relax…and think about something else.
He settled down in the couch. This was a hell of a lot better than the bloody bathtub. He could get up, move around, and get his own cup o’ Porky. That’s right. He didn’t need a little redhead to get it for him. Fuck! Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
Anya and the whelp chose that moment to burst through the front door. He almost sighed in relief at the distraction.
Anya, obviously in a snit, said, “I think we should talk about it now!”
Giles sighed. If there was a purgatory, he was sure to get some time off for good behavior. He commented, drawing from his previous vat of sarcasm, “Thank you for knocking.”
Xander ignored him. The vibe of impeding doom radiating from Anya was enough to block out everything else. He spread his hands as he replied, desperate to placate her, “If you don't know how I feel…”
Anya was mid-rant, and not about to be cut off, “I don't! This isn't a relationship. You don't need me! All you care about is lots of orgasms!”
Absolute silence…for about 3 seconds.
Spike rose up from where he was lying on the couch. If the audio was this entertaining, the video had to be fan-fucking-tastic. He couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. Anya’s consistent humiliation of the whelp was perpetually entertaining.
Xander’s shoulders slumped. God, why couldn’t ex-demon girlfriends come with a mute button? “Okay, remember when we talked about private conversations? How they're less private when they're in front of my friends?”
Spike piped up, eager to keep the floorshow rolling, “Oh, we're not your friends.” He turned towards Anya, “Go on.”
Giles almost whimpered, “Please don't.” He couldn’t think of *anything* that could keep Xander in this relationship, orgasms not withstanding.
Anya stamped her foot, “This is important!”
“But why is it *here*?”
Xander was eager to change the subject to just about anything; belly button lint, artichokes, how M&Ms actually did melt in your hand if you held them long enough, celibacy. Well, maybe not that last option. “Mom said you wanted me to swing by.”
Thank God, perhaps the orgasmic diatribe was finally over. Giles almost sagged in relief, “Oh. Yes, well I meant after sundown. I need you to take Spike for a few days.”
Oh. Shit. Xander was in shock, and considering who his girlfriend was, it was truly an accomplishment. “What?”
The moron looked gobsmacked. Spike was relatively sure that he did, too. “What?”
“What?” Anya contributed. She was almost sure that Xander would not give her orgasms with Spike in the room.
“I'm not staying with him!” Spike yelled. This was too much, too fucking much by far. The bathtub was more inviting. Hell, staying with Peaches sounded more appealing!
Giles felt a headache coming on. “I have a friend coming to town. I'd like us to be alone,” he replied, rubbing his temples.
“Oh. You mean an orgasm friend.”
Giles looked heaven-ward. He wondered if a non-Catholic could become a saint, because it surely was a miracle that he hadn’t killed one of them…yet. He took a deep breath, “Yes, that's exactly the most appalling thing you could have said.”
Ooo. The Watcher is tense! “Worse than the Weetabix in the blood?” Spike contributed, arching his scarred eyebrow. He could actually *hear* Giles’ blood pressure rising. Good. If bookman stroked-out, he could have a nice snack.
Yes, sainthood is a definite possibility. Giles sank back into his chair, defeated, as the others began to bicker.
Xander, attempting to muster an air of authority, and failing miserably, “He's not roaming around. If he stays with me he gets tied up again.”
“What about us? Our romantic evening?” Anya whined. Damn, if Xander wouldn’t come through, she’d need to buy fresh batteries. Double D’s.
Spike’s eyes opened wide, his voice getting higher, “I'm not having these two shag while I'm tied to a chair three feet away!” Sweet Jesus, the thought actually made Harmony sound appealing.
“That's not exactly one of my fantasies either,” Xander shot back.
Anya, depressed at the thought of new batteries, they just weren’t the same, began to whine, “So you're blowing off our evening. Because you don't care about me!” Hmm, maybe an A/C adapter would pack more punch.
“I don't want him to come over! Talk to the Brit,” Xander yelled back, exasperated.
Oh, well. Torturing the whelp could provide a spot ‘o fun. Time to twist the knife. “He better have cable, ‘cause I'm not missing Passions...”
Xander covered his eyes with his hands.
~Part: 2~
Willow wandered around until it was time for Wicca Group. She couldn’t stop thinking about Spike. Well, the occasional Oz-thought snuck its way in there, if she was truthful. But, primarily, she thought about Spike, and how his actions had made her think about a few things.
She had never felt so loved before. Cherished. Not even by her parents. Oh, they were around, and called to check up on her, and took care of all her material needs, but they had always been rather emotionally unavailable. Spike had made her feel valued, like she really did matter. And, even though it had been fleeting, she would always be grateful for that. It had helped her realize a few things.
Mostly, that a lot of her feelings of low self-esteem had been her own fault, not the fault of those around her. Xander had always been there for her. True, sometimes he was kind of goofy, but he really did love her and appreciate her.
Buffy was also a good friend. The best. The one she could talk to about anything, well, except for her oh-so-convoluted feelings about a certain bleached-blond vampire, but anything else was fair game. Giles was like an uncle, or something. He cared about her, guided her, and supported her. And she couldn’t forget Jesse. She sighed.
Yes, all of her friends made her feel cared for and appreciated. They needed her, asked for her help and her opinions, and were always, well…usually, there for her. She had inner strength. She could stand on her own two feet! She was strong, she was woman, she was…kidding herself. She still had a long way to go.
She remembered when she was in a guilt-induced baking frenzy. Spike’s eyes had followed her everywhere she went. She could feel them burrowing into her, even when she wasn’t looking at him. It had reminded her of her Aunt Edna’s house.
Aunt Edna had ‘accepted Jesus Christ as her personal savior’ when Willow was six. She’d had a picture of Jesus on the wall. Its eyes had followed Willow all over the room. When she’d mentioned it to Aunt Edna, her Aunt had solemnly told her it was because she was a Jew, and it was Jews who were going to hell for crucifying Christ. Then she had felt the need to ‘testify’. Needless to say, they didn’t celebrate Channukah at Aunt Edna’s after that, although they did still get Christmas cards saying she’d be praying for them. Sigh. She wondered what Spike was doing.
**********
Willow sat in a circle of around 10 peasant-blouse-wearing girls scattered amongst chairs and cushions, and looked at them with trepidation. They all had beatific looks on their faces, their eyes tightly shut, holding their hands outspread, palms up. She had a bad feeling about this. She’d been to a couple of these before, and each went progressively worse.
One of them, apparently the leader, began to recite, a hushed urgency in her tone, “We come together, the Daughters of Gaia, sisters to the moon. We walk with the darkness; the wolf is at our side.”
Nope, not anymore, no wolf at my side, Willow thought, her inner-voice borrowing some of Giles’ British sarcasm.
The leader continued, “Through the water fall of power, to the blackest heart of Eternity.” She opened her eyes and said, “I think we should have a bake sale.”
Willow resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Geez, hokey much?
Another girl decided to contribute. Sherri, Cheryl…or something. Willow recognized her from the dorms. “I don't know...”
The leader, whose name Willow couldn’t remember, broke Cheryl off, “You guys like a bake sale, right? We need money for the dance recital. And you know I do an empowering lemon bundt.”
Willow’s jaw dropped. A *bundt*? Dance recital? Oy vay.
The other girls continued chatting amongst themselves, except for one blonde girl, who was doing her level best to melt into her surroundings and disappear. She kept stealing glances at Willow. Willow was too disappointed to notice.
Willow pulled herself back from her mini mind-rant and tried to focus on what Cheryl was saying.
“The most important thing is the Gaia Newsletter. We need to get the message of blessing out to the sisters. Also, who left their scented candles dripping all over my woman-power shrine?”
Okay. That’s it. Willow decided to break in. “Well, this is good, this is all fun... a bake sale, some baked goods there. But there's also other stuff… That we might show interest in...as a Wicca group...,” Willow trailed off, suddenly nervous that she had decided to voice her opinion.
The leader, whose name Willow *still* couldn’t remember, spoke up, asking, “Like what?”
Willow took a deep breath and replied, sheepishly, “Well, there's the wacky notion of spells...”
Cheryl interjected, “Well you missed last week. We did a healing chant for Chloe's ankle; she said the swelling went right down.” Cheryl nodded solemnly.
Geez, what is her name? It was starting to annoy her. Nancy? Natalie? No…Nicole! That’s it!
Nicole commented, “What was she doing on a mountain bike anyway?”
“She was trying to impress Justin,” Cheryl replied, smirking with superiority.
“I was actually talking more about real spells. You know, conjuring, transmutation...,” Willow explained.
“Oh yeah, and then we can all get on our broomsticks and ride around on our broomsticks!”
Ooo. Snappy comeback.
Then Nicole, who Willow was now certain wasn’t a real witch, but something that actually rhymed with it, replied sarcastically, “You know, certain stereotypes are not very empowering.”
Willow wanted to shove that empowering lemon bundt right up her…
The quiet blonde chose that moment to speak up, “I think that…,” and was promptly cut off.
“One person's energy can suck the power right out of the circle, no offense,” Cheryl chimed in.
Willow hated it when things didn’t go well and was quick to try and smooth things over, “No, no, my energy's always very...you really don't do any spells?”
The other girls looked back and forth at each other, clearly judging Willow and finding her…unempowering.
The quiet blonde decided to give it one more try, stuttering from her nervousness, “Well, mmmaybe…”
“Yeah? Tara? Guys, quiet!” Cheryl turned everyone’s attention to the blonde. “You have a suggestion?”
Tara was completely embarrassed. Everyone was looking at her. She just smiled and shook her head, folding in upon herself.
“Okay. Then let's talk about the theme for the bacchanal.”
Willow looked defeated. She was so sure that this would be a blessing, a haven for her. She didn’t notice Tara looking at her.
~Part: 3~
“So, not stellar, huh?” Buffy asked, as they entered the crowded hall. Darn, she was really hoping it would be fun for her friend.
Willow rolled her eyes and said, “Talk! All talk! Blah, blah, Gaia. Blah, blah, moon, menstrual life-force power. I thought after a few sessions we'd get into something real, but...”
“No actual witches in your witch group,” Buffy observed, nodding in agreement.
Willow pouted, “Buncha wannablessedbe's. It's just a fad. Nowadays, every girl with a henna tattoo and a spice rack think she's a sister to the dark ones.” She nodded, as though agreeing with herself.
The girls stepped into their dorm room and put down their books. Buffy sat on the edge of her bed. She was going to be supportive. She was going to be a good listener. She didn’t want Willow to be unhappy…and she sure as *hell* didn’t want to make another double chocolate chip rat. No nuts.
Willow flopped herself down on the bed and supported her chin on her hands and elbows, and sighed. Heavily.
“Sorry it was a bust. I know you were looking to go further in that department,” Buffy offered. Yep, she was being mucho supportivo. Just like that old saying; if you can’t be an athlete…be an athletic supporter. Uh, er, something like that.
“Well, I'd like to float something bigger than a pencil someday.” Willow perked up, “Hey how's with you and Riley? You guys seemed pretty snuggly after class...” Willow smiled. Buffy was trying so hard; Willow wanted to try hard too.
Buffy sighed, “See above, re: talk, all talk.” She was tempted to ‘carpe diem’ him, but look where *that* had gotten her before. She sighed again. Better to wait.
Willow replied in mock exasperation, “Do I have to tie you two together?”
Ooo, there’s an idea, Buffy thought, then dismissed it. Too Anya. “We almost, but...”
“Get with it! I need my vicarious smoochies!” It looked like it was the only kind of lovin’ she was gonna be getting for awhile. Dammit.
“I don't know. I get nervous, and I start babbling, and he babbles…it's a babble-fest. Plus, every time we talk, I have to lie. They slayer thing comes up one way or another. It bothers me that I can't tell him the truth,” Buffy’s brow furrowed.
Willow flinched a bit. She hadn’t been able to tell Buffy the truth about Spike. She wouldn’t understand. And she couldn’t, wouldn’t be the cause of Spike getting staked. He actually meant something to her. What, she didn’t know. But…something. Oops, inner-babble. Off-topic. On, now. “It didn't bother you with Parker.” Poophead.
Poophead, Buffy thought. “I know,” Buffy replied, “But with Riley; I wish I could just come clean.”
**********
Bollocks. Stuck in the whelp’s basement. While the Watcher got some. Could his unlife suck any more? Spike was tied to Xander’s old, red recliner. Correction; Xander’s Uncle Rory’s old, red recliner. Every time he shifted, he got poked by a spring. Right in his dangly bits. Did he mention that his unlife sucked?
Xander was less than thrilled. No Anya, no nookie. On the other hand, he knew that every time Spike shifted, he got poked in the balls by that loose spring. Every cloud has a silver lining. An evil smile crossed his lips as he climbed into bed.
Spike squirmed again. Bloody hell, at this rate, he was gonna have more punctures in his knackers than a fuckin’ pin cushion. “Don't see why I have to be tied up.”
“It's just while I'm sleeping.”
“Like I'd bite you anyway,” Spike replied, petulantly. Hey, his nuts hurt.
“Oh, you would,” Xander said with conviction, settling in for the night.
Spike snorted, “Not bloody likely.”
Xander harrumphed back, “I happen to be very bite-able, pal. I'm moist *and* delicious.”
Spike rolled his eyes, Christ he wanted a fag. Bloody ponce. “All right, yeah fine. You're a nummy treat,” he said, his sarcasm equaling Giles’. After all, he was British, too.
“And don't you forget it,” Xander pointed emphatically, and then turned out the light. Ahhh, silence.
No way was donut-boy gonna have the last word. Spike raised his voice to falsetto, “Xander, don't you care about me?”
Xander gritted his teeth in the dark, “Shut up.”
Spike kept it up, imitating Anya’s voice, “We never talk...”
“*Shut.* *Up.*”
“Xaaaaaaaaaaaander…”
“SHUT UP!”
Spike smirked in the dark. It was the little things that meant so much. As Xander’s breathing deepened and evened out, Spike started thinking; nothin’ else to do. For him, it was the middle of the day; he was tied to a chair, in the dark, with a bloody Scooby snorin’ to beat the band.
His thoughts went straight to a petite witch. Why did his thoughts always have to go back to the little redheaded chit? He sighed. He supposed that his anger had lessened, somewhat. He had loved the girl for one day. One day. Why was it taking him so long to get past it? He didn’t love her any more, did he? ‘Course not. He didn’t want her any more, did he? ‘Course not. He didn’t want to touch her unruly red hair, stroke her soft cheek, kiss her pink lips, sink into her tight… Oh *bloody* hell. Well, he still wanted to shag her, he admitted to himself.
He squirmed, trying to alleviate the sudden tightness in his jeans. *Yow!* Bloody *fucking* hell. Nothing could wilt your willy faster than a spring poking you in your bollocks.
**********
Willow settled down into her bed, clutching her pillow and breathing deeply. It didn’t smell like Spike anymore. It had, for several days afterward. She would hold onto her pillow tightly, breathing in his scent, and would feel comforted. At least for awhile. Now, the scent was gone, and she missed it.
It was funny how one night could mean so much to her. How one night could hold her attention so completely that she rarely thought about Oz anymore. Especially since Oz had consumed her thoughts for weeks previously.
She rolled over on to her side and looked over at Buffy, sleeping peacefully. She wished she could talk about it with her. She drifted quietly off to sleep. Dreaming of soft, cool fingers caressing her skin, her hair, her lips. Holding her, protecting her, loving her. She smiled in her sleep, finding the contentment in dreams that eluded her in consciousness.
**********
The box was opened by a pale, pale hand, a whispering sound emanating from deep within it. The whispering spread, and spread, enveloping the town; insidious. The sleeping townspeople oblivious to the danger surrounding them. A deep, sudden breath and a gasp from each sleeping person was the only indication that something was not right, as an ethereal mist rose from every person’s mouth in turn, twisting and writhing together in the air, and then floating toward their final destination at the bottom of the box.
The skeletal hand with the long fingers closed the lid. The hand belonged to a hideous figure; old, white, bald, wearing a three piece suit. Its face in an obscene grin; too wide, too shiny. The creature’s teeth looked almost metallic. Its eyes, round and steely. It nodded languidly in satisfaction to its companions. They were the Gentlemen, and silent death followed in their stead.
~Part: 4~
Buffy woke up with her blankets tangled around her legs, her pillow on top of her head. She yawned, got up, grabbed her towel and shower kit, and then looked over her shoulder at Willow. Willow was still sleeping, her nose buried in the pillow as though she were breathing in its scent. Buffy shook her head lightly and headed for the bathroom.
Buffy thought about her best friend as she went through her morning cleansing and moisturizing routine. Even though Willow seemed like she was doing better, Buffy suspected that there was something else that was bothering her friend. Maybe it was just that she was lonely. Oh! Major epif, ephfafin, oh, hell. Major revelation! Buffy could fix her up with one of Riley’s friends. They could double-date!
Now, who to set her up with? Forrest? No, he had a major bug up his ass. Martinez? No, he tended to like the bubble-headed cheerleader type. Hmm. Hey! That Graham was a hottie! That decided, Buffy dried off and headed back to her room.
As she walked into the hall, she was almost run over by Mimsie. Mimsie. Buffy snorted and thought to herself. Where do mothers get these goofy names anyway? Then she noticed that the girl seemed to be crying. Buffy reached out to her, but Mimsie hurried away.
Buffy wondered what could have made the girl so upset. Well, something had to be going on, ‘cause Jordan from the dorm across the courtyard was pounding at Lori’s door so hard Buffy thought it might cave in. No small feat, considering that Jordan was about 5’ 4” and 100 pounds. Strangeness.
Buffy shook her head, puzzled, and walked into her room. Willow was awake. Groggy as hell, but awake…sort of. Buffy smirked a little. Few people knew what a grouchy-bear Willow was in the morning right after she got up. Buffy tossed her towel over the back of the chair and said, “Good morning,” to Willow.
But no sound came out.
Buffy cleared her throat and tried again. Nothing.
Willow glanced up and said, “Hey.” Her eyes widened in alarm when she realized that there was no sound.
Buffy looked back at her friend and said her name.
Willow began to seriously freak. She couldn’t hear herself! She couldn’t hear Buffy! Oh my God! “I’m deaf! I’ve gone deaf!” she exclaimed.
Buffy shook her head, trying to reassure Willow. She pointed to her own throat to indicate that no sound was coming from either one of them.
Willow jumped up and grabbed Buffy’s arm. So, okay, not deaf. But this was giving her the wiggins, and from the looks of her, Buffy was seriously wigged as well.
Buffy thought for a moment, and realized that the something that had been going on in the hall earlier was probably the same something that was going on in here. She patted Willow’s arm and squeezed her hand, gently, slayer strength ‘n all, in reassurance, and then stuck her head out the door.
There were a few students gathered in the hall, all seemingly reacting to the same problem. No sound was coming from anyone’s mouth. She closed the door and turned around to face Willow. She waved her hand in a sweeping gesture to indicate that the hush had fallen over everyone.
Willow was stunned. What could have caused this? How far did it reach? She sank down onto Buffy’s bed, and barely registered when her friend sat next to her. She looked over at Buffy with tears in her eyes, and Buffy put an arm around her shoulder.
It was nice ‘n all; that her friend was trying to comfort her, but all she could think about was Spike. She wanted it to be his arm around her, holding her close, making her feel safe. But, that just added to her confusion and inner turmoil. How come, despite all that was going on, the only thing she could think about was Spike?
**********
Xander was panicking. He was trying desperately to make a sound. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
Spike loved the smell of panic in the morning. Well, anytime really. That it was donut-boy’s was just an extra-added bonus. He opened his mouth to make a surly comment and realized that he couldn’t talk either. Bugger. However, he refused to panic; eh, it would work itself out eventually.
Xander looked over at Spike, who was seemingly calm and relaxed. Him! He did it! He pointed an accusatory finger at Spike.
Spike looked at Xander. He raised his eyebrows and made a sweeping gesture over the bloody 50 feet of rope tying him to the bleeding recliner. Pillock. Spike gave him the two fingered salute.
Xander realized that he was being stupid and kind of nodded and shrugged. He wasn’t a morning person. Maybe in comparison to the blond tied to his chair, but that was about it. Just part of being a Scooby. And just what the hell did the two finger thing mean anyway? Enough of the inner panic-babble. Alrighty, then. What to do? Buffy! Call Buffy. The Buffmeister to the rescue.
Xander rushed to the phone.
**********
Buffy reached for the phone automatically, passing Willow who was trying to do a self-examination of her throat. She picked it up, tried to say “Hello”, and remembered she couldn’t talk. Apparently, neither could the person on the other end of the line.
**********
Xander realized his mistake, and hung up the phone. He flopped himself down on his hide-a-bed, dejected. He glanced over at Spike, who was looking at him like he was an idiot. He glared back.
Spike was ticked. Stuck with the dimwit, who still hadn’t untied him. He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. Bloody hell, he was concerned for the little witch. She must be frightened. Usually, the idea of a human feeling afraid just made him feel a bit peckish. Now, for some ridiculous reason, he was actually worried about her. She was so gentle, and kind, and…what the bloody hell was he gettin’ all worked up for? Red had a hell of a lot of nerve. Puttin’ him under a spell, and making him care about her.
That was it! It was simply an after-effect of the spell. He didn’t really give a damn about her. All these feelings were gonna go the fuck away any time now. He relaxed. It was a little easier to do, now that he had finally adjusted himself so the spring didn’t stab him in the family jewels. As he drifted off to sleep he thought, I wonder what the little witch is up to?
**********
Buffy and Willow walked along Main Street, hand in hand, needing the physical contact. Despite the lack of human voices, the street was a flurry of activity. Most of the stores, including the bank, were closed. Except for the liquor store. Business was booming; the line ended well outside the door.
The girls looked around them in stunned amazement. A business man was sitting in the middle of the street, silently crying, tears streaming down his face. A sedan rested on top of the fire hydrant, water shooting up around it. A preacher stood in front of an enlarging group of people, some of them kneeling in front of him, and read from the bible. An elderly woman held up a small chalkboard with Revelations 15:1 scrawled across it, so the people could read along from their own bibles.
The girls stopped by a man selling dry-erase boards altered to be worn around the neck. At ten bucks a pop. He was doing almost as well as the guy who owned the liquor store, and was grinning like a loon as he made money hand over fist. Buffy and Willow looked at one another and smirked. What a sleazebag.
**********
Willow and Buffy arrived at Giles’, both of them wearing the dry erase boards. The tension was palpable. They looked around; Xander was on the couch with Anya watching TV. The sound was muted while they waited for a news bulletin.
Xander started to get up when he saw them come in, then just waved in greeting and sat down on the arm of the sofa next to Anya. Anya just didn’t deal with this kind of thing well. Not that he did, but Anya was still relatively new at the human thing, and had realized all too well how fragile her life really was. So, he planned on staying as close to her as possible.
Anya looked over the back of the couch and nodded at them, then turned back to the TV, placing her hand on Xander’s thigh. Giles got up from the table where he was researching and put his hand on Buffy’s arm. Everyone seemed to need the physical contact, the reassurance.
Buffy placed her hand over Giles’ and squeezed briefly. Then, asking with her eyes, “Anything?”
Willow not wanting to feel left out, and determined to get her money out of the dry-erase board, uncapped the marker and began to scribble.
Giles simply shrugged at Buffy indicating that he hadn’t found anything useful as yet.
Willow held out her board, letting it speak for her, “Hi Giles.” A wary smile on her face.
Giles smiled and placed an arm around her shoulders, hugging her. He hated this. In his mind and in his heart, these people were his children. He didn’t like seeing the worry and fear in their eyes, especially when he didn’t know what to do about it.
He looked over at Olivia; she was sitting in the chair drinking prodigious amounts of scotch. Oddly enough, after getting completely snockered while losing his eyesight, he had very little desire to drink in large amounts. It was a good thing too; from the looks of it there wasn’t enough scotch in the house for both of them. He sighed to himself, so much for a romantic visit.
Buffy pulled the board over her head and looked down at the notes Giles had taken during their phone call the day before. She saw the lines "Can't even shout, Can't even cry". It all clicked, and Buffy groaned at the realization. Maybe there was something to the whole blonde thing after all? Nah.
Buffy picked up the notepad and pointed to the top where Giles had written “The Gentlemen”, a question mark in her facial expression. He shrugged again.
Willow was looking around, while trying to not *look* like she was looking around. Where was Spike? She was dying to ask Xander. But, surely he would have told them if something had happened to him, right? He was probably still in Xander’s basement, it still being daylight ‘n all. But what if one of Xander’s parents found him? Willow began to worry her lower lip with her teeth.
Xander jumped up from the couch and snapped his fingers to get everyone’s attention, then pointed at the TV. Anya turned up the volume. A special report had come on.
The anchorman began to speak, “We have this breaking news item from Sunnydale, California. Apparently the entire town has been quarantined due to an epidemic of, as strange as this may sound, *laryngitis*. It seems the entire town has been rendered unable to speak. There is no word yet what might have caused this or what other effects might be seen from this epidemic. Local authorities have issued a statement, a written statement, I should say, blaming recent flu vaccinations. A few skeptics call it a city-wide hoax. In the meanwhile, Sunnydale has effectively shut down; all schools and businesses will be closed for the time being, and residents are advised to stay home and rest up. The Center for Disease Control has ordered the entire town quarantined. No one can go in or out until the syndrome is identified or the symptoms disappear. We'll bring you more on that as it develops.
Xander mouthed, "That's it?" His jaw was clenched; he was frustrated, feeling even less helpful than usual. He muted the sound again, and reached over to grasp Anya’s hand.
Buffy reached a decision, it would be chaotic tonight. Widespread panic. She picked up her board and wrote, "Keep researching. I should be in town tonight." Then she held up the board for the others to see.
Giles cocked his head and mouthed, "Why?"
Buffy just looked at him and rolled her eyes.
Oh, Giles thought. Duh, indeed.
~Part: 5~
Willow was stretched out on her bed, her laptop open, researching…and coming up with nothing. She sighed. At least she knew Spike was okay. He had just stayed in Xander’s basement. She felt a stab of sympathy; she’d been in Xander’s basement.
Spike. She just wanted somehow to make things right. She realized that she must have hurt him; why else would he be so angry? She felt like she needed to do something for him, but what? Getting rid of the chip wasn’t an option; it would be like signing all of their death warrants.
Plus, despite being a computer geek, she wasn’t really sure how to go about doing it. Oh, there were always ways, but everything that she had thought of might prove to be potentially dangerous or fatal to Spike. But, she *had* to do something.
Willow’ reverie was interrupted when Buffy walked into their room, clearly exhausted. Willow looked up at her inquiringly, "Anything?" Buffy just dragged herself to her bed and collapsed face down.
Well, there’s my answer, Willow thought, as she sighed and went back to her work, yawning.
The phone rang and Willow moved to answer it automatically, and then stopped herself to let the machine pick it up. Buffy turned her head and quirked her eyebrow. Who would be calling, since no one could talk?
The machine picked up, "Hi. You’ve reached Buffy and Willow’s room. We can’t come to the phone right now, so leave us a message and we’ll get back to ya!"
Willow’s mother’s voice came over the speaker, her words coming out at a rapid-fire pace, "Hi sweetie. We heard about what happened in Sunnydale. Did you get laryngitis? You know, if you took your vitamins like I told you to, you wouldn’t have gotten it! Anyway, I just wanted you to know we got your message about that *musician*. I *told* you, you shouldn’t have dated a gentile. You know how they are. Remember what happened to Edna. You need a nice Jewish boy. It’s just lucky I ran into Lorraine at the conference. You remember Sheldon and Irving? Well, let’s just say I’m bringing you a surprise next week when we come home! Bye sweetie!"
Buffy turned her head farther so she could look at Willow, who was beating her head against the bed repeatedly. Sheldon *and* Irving, huh? Well, she guessed the master plan of fixing Willow up with Graham was gonna have to wait a bit.
Willow couldn’t believe her mother. Ignored her for weeks at a time, but finds out that she got dumped by a goyim, and suddenly she feels the need to step into her life…with two nice Jewish boys in tow. Ugh. She remembered them from when she was 11; at least a little. She thought that she must have repressed some of it due to the overwhelming trauma off all-encompassing boredom. Oh well, one could always hope for an apocalypse.
**********
Willow was exhausted. When they had woken up that morning, Buffy had found a boy’s body…minus his heart. His dorm room had been just down the hall from theirs, and they hadn’t heard a thing. The newspaper had reported a 15-year old girl found dead with her heart missing. But, poor Olivia…
Olivia had gotten up in the middle of the night and had seen one of the Gentlemen outside Giles’ window, grinning back at her maniacally. After calming down a bit, and consuming more than a bit of scotch, she had drawn a picture for Giles. From that sketch, Giles had discovered that the Gentlemen were fairy tale monsters. Huh.
The last time Willow had been confronted by fairy tale creatures, her mother had tried to burn her at the stake. Now, kids were having their hearts cut out, and her mother wanted to fix her up. Fairy tales were definitely bad. Very, very bad.
Giles had given the Scoobies a presentation, with extreme over-use of the red marker, after which she had hit the books again. Hours and hours had passed, and yet they found nothing new. Just the same stuff over, and over. Blah, blah, they need seven hearts, blah blah princess scream, blah, blah, no sword will kill them. Geesh.
She was soooo tired, but she wanted to try and stay up till Buffy got back. She was worried for her friend. Buffy was out there fighting something she didn’t know how to kill. Well…she knew how to kill it, but not how to get her voice back so she could.
Willow hated the quiet. She was tempted to turn on the stereo or the TV, but she was afraid that the sound would drown out something else. She just wished she could hear someone’s voice. No, she thought, she just wished she could hear Spike’s voice. When he wasn’t being a snarky jerk, it was so warm, and smooth, and sexy. She was just a sucker for a British accent. Even Wesley, for a while anyway. She remembered that she’d had a brief crush on Giles in high school, just from listening to his voice. But Spike’s was the best. She sighed silently.
Why was she always thinking about him? He’d tried to kill her. Repeatedly. He had killed thousands of people. And he was a big meanie. So, why Spike? Okay, gorgeous. But that couldn’t be it. She’d been with Oz, and he wasn’t exactly a looker. He was just kind of…cute, in an odd way.
She really tried to think of the first time that she liked Spike. Really liked him; felt something for him. She had kinda felt sorry for him when he had kidnapped her, but she was trying too hard to keep from wetting herself in abject terror to feel much of anything. Then it came to her. He had been chained in the bathtub for hours, miserable, uncomfortable, and hungry, and he had still cared enough to make her smile and ask her if she was alright. It had all started then. And she had ruined it with her spell.
Maybe nothing would have come of it, maybe they could have just been friends, but she had screwed it all up. She grabbed her pillow and hugged it close to herself. She did want his friendship, but, oh, she really wanted so much *more*.
**********
Spike was incredibly bored. It took too much effort to annoy the bloody do-gooders without making pissy comments. He was stretched out over Giles’ sofa. At least he was at the Watcher’s and out of that shitty recliner. His nuts were *still* tender, and he had vamp healing. He peeked over at Olivia. The silly bint was definitely shit-faced. Well, at least Giles had a girl. Spike was certainly in need of a good shag, hell, even a mediocre shag.
Spike rolled his eyes. Keeping company with the white hats, chipped, slurpin’ down various barnyard animals in liquid form, and no woman to call his own. Dru was busy contorting herself into more positions than the Olympic gymnastics team. Harmony just plain sucked…and not in a good way. Stupid bitch. She’d thought he’d been getting kinky when he gagged her. Nah. He’d just done it ‘cause it’s hard to pretend you’re shagging someone else, when the convenient body underneath you won’t shut the bloody hell *up*.
Willow. He wiped a hand over his face. He’d thought about her a lot in the past day or two. His anger had subsided. He’d come to realize something. He hadn’t been as angry with her that she’d put him under the spell to begin with, as he was *livid* with her that she had taken that feeling away.
He’d never loved anyone like he’d loved Willow for that one day. Dru had come the closest, but due to her insanity and fickle personality, he’d never been able to express the same depth of feeling as he had with Red.
Truth be told, he’d been attracted to the little witch since he’d kidnapped her. And, he had every intention of turning her that night in the dorm. She would have made a magnificent vampire. But he realized that he wanted her as she was now; warm, sweet, giving…innocent.
Dru had had a touch of it, the innocence, mainly due to the insanity, true, but a bit. He’d always loved that side of her. He supposed it was because it reminded him of what he used to be as a human. He snorted. Damn he’d been such a silly sod.
All he could think of was Willow. Her spicy yet sweet scent, her smile, her sparkling green eyes. Her laughter. Her babbling. The way she’d hugged him, thanking him for being there for her. Her firm, young, warm body under his. He discreetly looked around as he put the throw pillow over his lap to hide the ever-growing bulge.
He’d buggered up but *good*. Not only had he shown his arse, figuratively of course, but there was probably more of a chance that Darla was doin’ the horizontal mambo with St. Peter, than he had of ever working things out with Willow. He knew he was an evil, murdering demon who didn’t deserve her. He just didn’t give a rat’s arse; not even a double chocolate chip rat. No bloody nuts.
He had to figure out a way to get her back…without Slutty and the slayerettes catchin’ a clue.
~Part: 6~
Oops, must have dozed off, Willow thought as she woke up. She rubbed her eyes, as she heard the pounding. It was coming from down the hall, and getting closer, more frantic. Willow realized that someone was pounding on doors for help. Despite her fear, she couldn’t just leave someone to their fate without trying to help. She got up and approached her door.
Willow stepped out of her room and was knocked down, her door slamming shut. It was the quiet girl from Wicca group. Her name was… Goddess, why did she have to be so terrible with names? Then she saw what was chasing the girl. Willow’s eyes widened in terror. They scrambled up quickly and ran down the hall, Willow limping due to her fall. Her last thought before opening the door to the staircase was that she hoped Spike was alright.
**********
The apartment was quiet, hushed. Giles walked past Spike in the kitchen as he carried the two steaming mugs of coffee into the living room. All that thinking about blood and Willow had made Spike hungry and horny. He was so worked up, even the smell of ‘eau de dead bovine’ was enough to make him go into gameface. He went back into the living room to lounge across the couch, but demon-girl had beat him to it. Shit. He set his mug on the coffee table and knocked over some books. Shit again. Rupes was sure to take the piss with him if he didn’t pick them up, so he knelt down to get them.
Xander dragged himself through Giles’ door. He was pooped. It took a lot of energy to run away from everything…all night. He casually looked over at the couch…and saw Spike in vampface bending over Anya’s neck. With blood on his mouth. Xander launched himself over the couch, knocking Spike to the ground, punching him repeatedly.
Anya sat up and looked at Xander, her head cocked to one side. Spike looked up from his position on the floor and tried to point at Anya. Giles and Olivia rushed into the room to see what the commotion was, and the movement caused Xander to look up…and see Anya.
Xander’s facial expression turned from one of anger and sorrow, to joy and relief. Thank God, she’s alright, he thought, as he grabbed her, holding her tightly. He pulled away just far enough to kiss her, his heart still pounding from the adrenalin rush.
Spike sat up. Christ, forget the fuckin’ spring. The whelp whomping on him wilted his willy faster than a wimpy wire. Son of a bitch. That was it. The idiot had given him brain damage. He glared at their tender scene as he cataloged their various body parts he would be rupturing with railroad spikes... When he got the goddamned chip out, of course.
Anya smiled, pleased that Xander really did care about her. Okay. Time for orgasms. Grinning coquettishly, she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and stuck her other forefinger in the circle repeatedly. Xander grabbed her hand and they made a mad dash out the door.
As Spike watched them leave, despite his repulsion at the mere thought of Xander and Anya ‘making the beast with two backs’, he pondered about Red; hoping she was alright.
**********
Willow and the blonde Wiccan slammed the door to the break room and locked it. The creature slammed into the door again, and again. It wasn’t going to hold!
Willow looked around in desperation. She saw a coke machine against the wall and moved toward it. She tried in vain to use it to block the door. It was just too damned heavy! Tara, Willow thought, that’s her name, tried to help move the machine. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Willow stumbled to the ground, her injured ankle giving out. She made a decision. She was going to try magic. She’d just think of the soda machine as a big pencil. A really big, heavy, metal pencil. She took a deep breath and concentrated, her brow furrowed.
Tara sat down next to Willow and looked at her. Then looked at the machine. It shook, then it moved…about an inch.
Willow lay back, panting. It was just too big and heavy. She couldn’t do it. The door rocked on its hinges as the creature continued to slam into it with great force.
Tara made a decision. She reached over and slipped her hand into Willow’s, entwining their fingers. Willow looked at Tara in surprise, then she felt the wave of power flow through her. As one, they turned to look at the soda machine. It flew against the door with a resounding thud, blocking it completely.
**********
The next day was a cacophony of sound. Everywhere, the sound of speech and laughter. Willow remembered the night before. She realized that the Gentlemen had been destroyed when she was able to turn to Tara and say, "Thank you," and sound had actually come out. They had hugged one another and laughed, then joined hands again to move the coke machine away from the door, after Willow had reassured her that it was safe.
Willow had wanted to check that all of her friends were okay, but she really wanted to talk with Tara, too. So, they made plans to meet today. Willow saw Tara approach and waved to her. They sat together at a small table in the shade, a little bit away from all the commotion.
Willow started the conversation, prompting, "You were there looking for me?" She smiled gently at the timid blonde.
Tara nodded, replying, "I thought m-m-maybe we could do a spell... make people talk again. I'd seen you... in the group, the w-w-wicca group. You were... different than them. They didn't seem to know..."
"What they were talking about?" Willow interjected, jokingly.
Tara smiled shyly and said, "I think if they saw a w-w-witch they would... run away." She looked down at her hands in her lap. She was *so* anxious for Willow to like her.
Willow sensed her discomfort. She wanted to make the girl feel that it was okay to talk to her about this stuff. After all, it would be nice to have a magically-inclined friend around. At least one that wasn’t in rat-form. "Yeah," she said, agreeing with Tara. "So how long have you been practicing?"
"Always. I mean, since I was little. My mom used to. She had a lot of power. Like you."
Willow was shocked. A lot of power? No way, not her! "Oh, I'm not…I don't have much in the way of power, really, I mean most of my potions come out...soup. Also spells going awry, friends in danger… I'm definitely nothing special!"
Tara looked at Willow with gentle blue eyes, and said, "No, you are." She meant it. Then, realizing she was being rather forward, she looked away in embarrassment.
Willow replied, in a reassuring tone, "Well, I thought we made a pretty good team, not getting killed at all...with some soda machine, boom! Pretty cool. Seems like you're kinda powerful!"
"I'd like to be. I feel like I'm stuck. Like I'm at the door and it won't open."
Willow looked at Tara and replied solemnly, "I know exactly what you mean." She looked at Tara and saw a girl who could be her friend, and a very special one at that.
Now, if she could only work things out with Spike…
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