Pairing: W/S
Rating: Pg-13
Distribution: Red’s Soulmates, my site Fatal Mistakes (www.angelfire.com/vamp/fatalmistakes); anyone want, just ask.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, not even Spike, but a girl can wish.
Spoilers: Season 7, after Willow’s overdose on magic and Tara leaves her.
Summary: Willow feels lost and finds comfort from an unexpected source.
Author’s Notes: Spike and Buffy never hooked up, because just thinking about it gives me nightmares.
Feedback: Yes, please. See, I’m asking nicely…
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She was still sitting in the car, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in indecision. Parked in a rather large garage attached to the main building of Wolfram & Hart, Willow sighed and rested her head on her hands. She regretfully admitted that she had not exactly planned this out. She had tried, as hard as she could, to ‘put the past behind her’ like Buffy had advised. Her friend hadn’t meant to sound callous, but the redhead couldn’t help but feel a bit of anger when she remembered the slayer speaking those very words to her only a day after. A day after Spike had died.
The entire group, slayers, watchers, witches, and Andrew, all came to respect Spike, to admire his selflessness. If it wasn’t for him, none of them would have made it out of Sunnydale. As it was, enough of them had died already. But their sympathy didn’t soothe the hurt in her heart.
So many feelings were working their way through her right now. She had expected the pain, the sadness, the fear now that she was alone. But what worried her was the anger inside her. Spike had saved the world, saved her life, not for the first time, and she was furious at him for it. He was the one person in her life that was never supposed to leave her. He was immortal, he wasn’t supposed to die. But he proved how fragile vampires truly were when he let the fire consume him. She didn’t want to hate him; after all, he told her he wanted to make her proud of him. But couldn’t he see she was already so proud? If it wasn’t for him she didn’t know where she would be. He pulled her out of the darkness that nearly throttled her, he restored her self worth, and now he was gone. An irrational part of her longed to bring him back to life only to stake him herself for doing that to her. It may not make sense, but lately, her mind was a confusing tangle. Even she was having a hard time working her way through the mess that was her thoughts; Spike always had a talent for it.
She laughed depreciatingly, a sad shake of her head accompanying the hollow sound. Well, if she had hoped to depress herself again, she had succeeded. Lifting her head from its resting place on the steering wheel, Willow took a deep breath and removed the keys from the ignition.
Climbing out of the rental, she slammed the door shut behind her, the loud noise echoing off the barren concrete walls. She smoothed down her purple button down shirt, slightly wrinkled from the long drive. With a determined air, she walked purposefully through the empty garage toward a set of double doors at the far end. She had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that Angel worked and lived here now, the rest didn’t matter, that was all she needed to know.
She opened the door on the right, tentatively at first, before she was sure that she wasn’t about to run into anyone when she finally stepped through the doorway. She heard the door click shut behind her as she paused, taking in the scene before her.
There were people, a lot of people, all in business suits, briefcases in one hand and files in the other. That was to be expected really, this was a law firm after all. The witch saw a desk/counter that wrapped around one long wall and assumed it was where the secretary sat. The seat was empty, but there was a distracted brunette absently sifting through the filing cabinet at the far side of the desk. Maybe she would be able to help her.
“Excuse me,” Willow said softly. The woman, hair pulled into a French twist, wearing a brown tailored suit, looked to her expectantly. “Where can I find Angel’s office?”
“Oh,” she replied with a frown. “It’s down the hall, to the right--” she started and the redhead turned on her heel suddenly and headed off in that direction. “But you can’t just--” she called after her as the girl found the right door and threw it open, stepping into the office and slamming the door behind her, “walk right in…” she finished with a sigh.
Angel was surprised to say the least when he heard his door open rather harshly. He had left explicit instructions with Harmony that he was not to be disturbed. She never listened to him, he frowned. Looking up from the paperwork cluttering his desk, his brown eyes widened as his door was thrown closed.
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting her to show up sooner or later. While he didn’t know all the details about her relationship with Spike, Buffy had done her best give him the short version. They were in love, and no one loved as completely as Spike, and Willow for that matter. He just didn’t think her visit would come so soon after his…demise.
“Willow…” he greeted calmly, wanting to stand, maybe pull her into a hug, but knowing she wouldn’t welcome the embrace. So he remained seated, sitting back farther in his chair as he watched her.
She only nodded in his direction at his soft spoken words. She felt a little stupid. She had spent the whole car ride to Los Angeles thinking about what she was going to say to him, and now that she was here, she couldn’t form words. She stood in the center of the large room, still a good distance away from his desk, closer to the couch. Her arms were crossed over her chest in a gesture that spoke of both her anger and nervousness.
Her mouth opened for a second but shut as she bit the inside of her cheek to stop the onslaught of tears she felt coming on.
“Why couldn’t it have been you?” she wondered, her voice nothing more than a harsh whisper. He could hear the strain in her voice, knowing she was trying so hard to keep her composure when all she wanted to do was break down. He understood her pain well, he only wished there was something he could say to help her, to make her feel better. As it was, he knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make the hurt fade, so he didn’t bother with the reassuring words. She wouldn’t believe them anyway.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, which was very much the truth. He didn’t know why he couldn’t have been the one to wear the amulet given to him by the senior partners. He didn’t know why Spike was chosen. He didn’t know what he was doing here, in this place. It seemed like lately, he didn’t know anything.
“I thought,” he said quietly, standing and moving around to lean on the front of his desk, arms at his side, “when it was first given to me that I was supposed to use it. I had every intention of coming to Sunnydale and joining you in your fight, with that amulet around my neck. I was willing to make that sacrifice, for you, for Buffy. I didn’t know what it would do, I was never told, I wasn’t allowed to know. But I always knew death was a possibility, and I was willing to pay that price if I had to. The thought never came to me that Spike would be the one wearing it. Until I was told that it had to be him. I still don’t know why exactly, prophecies were mentioned, but you know how vague they can be.”
“So you were willing to condemn him to death based on a vague prophecy?” she accused wit h a withering glare.
“I know you’re angry,” he tried to placate her; “you have every right to be. And if you have to blame me, then so be it. But I never knew what was going to happen. I never knew he would die.”
“It didn’t matter to you,” Willow cried. “*He* didn’t matter to you. You always hated him, and he hated you. You knew there was a chance he could die and you didn’t care. Don’t try to tell me any differently Angel, I won’t believe you. He’s dead, his dust buried under an endless amount of dirt, and you’re glad to be rid of him.”
“There’s so much you don’t understand,” he sighed sadly. “I might hate Spike, hate who he used to be, but I understand that he loved you, and that you loved him, and I would never be glad that you’re hurting because he’s gone. I’m not happy he’s dead, because I can see the pain you’re in and seeing you like this would never make me happy. I swear to you Wills, I wouldn’t just send him to his death so callously, if not out of concern for him, then out of concern for you. I know what he meant to you.”
“No you don’t,” she hissed, “You weren’t there. You don’t know, don’t pretend you do. You *left*. I know you had to, and I understand, really I do. But don’t presume to know me anymore, I’ve changed while you’ve been gone. He helped me change, to be better. When no one else was there for me, he was. There were days when I could barely move because of the pain, I wasn’t able to keep anything down, I couldn’t sleep, and through it all, he was there. My friends had all but abandoned me, but Spike was still there. He was everything, Angel. He was all I had for so long. So don’t even assume to know the depth of my feelings.”
“I didn’t mean to--” he groaned to himself. He ran a hand down his face which was set in a mask of frustration. “You’ve just got to believe me, Wills. I believe he loved you. And I believe you loved him. I would never take him from you on purpose.”
Angel almost swore he could see the fight leave her. She needed someone to lash out at and he was as good a target as any. The best actually, since he was the one responsible for bringing that cursed amulet to Sunnydale in the first place. He knew the fallout from its use would most likely be devastating and he deserved to take the brunt of her pain and anger. This was all part of the grieving process, and even though he hated Spike, in his own way, he was grieving too.
“He promised me,” she whispered, her head down, unable to look the vampire in the eye. “There was this one night, when he saved me from Rack,” she told him, a nod of comprehension coming from him at the mention of the warlock’s name. “The chip nearly fried his brain, Angel. I thought he was going to die, he was so weak and in so much pain. And I told him, I told him you can’t leave me. And he swore he wouldn’t leave, ever. He said he couldn’t. And now he’s gone…”
“It was destiny, that’s what he said,” she confided. Angel was the first person she had told about his final words. She wasn’t sure anyone else would want to listen anyway. “He said he loved me, but he was going to stay, he was going to make me proud of him…”
Angel was at her side in a second as her knees gave out on her, catching her in his strong arms and holding her closer as huge, wracking sobs shook her body. “Why did he do it?!” she cried, burying her head in his chest.
“He did it for you,” he whispered, his hand pushing her hair away from her face, encouraging her to look at him. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs and smiled down at her sadly. “I know Spike, and I know he didn’t do it to be the hero, he didn’t do it to save the world. He did it to save you. He knew you would die if he didn’t stay, and more than anything he wanted to keep you safe.”
They remained, both kneeling on the floor, for a couple of minutes, neither speaking. Eventually Willow scrubbed away the rest of her tears with the back of her hand and pushed herself away from him, pulling herself up to stand. He followed her and took her elbow in his hand, leading her to his leather sofa.
She dropped onto the couch and he sat beside her, watching her pull herself together with a small sense of pride. He admired her ability to calm herself when she was in such obvious turmoil; he was never able to do that. He just brooded a lot. He had it down to a science now.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?” he asked in confusion. She had nothing to be sorry for.
“For coming here and yelling at you,” she said with a tiny, sheepish smile. “I know it wasn’t your fault. But…I was just…is it wrong to be angry, Angel? Is it wrong to hate him?”
“You don’t really hate him, Willow,” he told her adamantly. “But it’s okay to be mad. I remember when you came to tell me Buffy had died, when she had thrown herself off that platform, when she sacrificed herself for Dawn, for all of you. I was feeling so many things, but there was anger too. I was filled with anger that she left me behind, anger at myself for not being there to help her, anger that her fight was over and mine was still going. It’s a part of grieving, Will. But give it some time, the anger will fade. The pain is still so fresh for you. But in a few months, it will dull. Maybe in a few years you’ll be able to go a day or two without thinking about what happened.”
He took her smaller hand in his, squeezing it gently. “I wish I could tell you it goes away, the pain and heartache. That there was one day where all of the sudden his loss won’t be a source of pain for you. But I’m not going to lie to you, you deserve better. It doesn’t go away, it will lessen, but it will always be there. But you’ll go on; you don’t have any other choice. None of us do.”
“I’m so tired, Angel,” she admitted with a shaky breath. “I want nothing more than to just go home and rest, but I don’t even have a home to go back to. It’s all gone, like the entire town never existed. Buffy and the rest of them, they are eager to travel, to see the world, but I don’t want to. I just want to sleep. But I haven’t slept without Spike beside me in over a year. God, I don’t even have anything to remember him by. It’s all gone…”
“Possessions aren’t important,” he assured her as his fingers swept along her temple. “It’s what’s up here that matters, the memories.”
“Memories fade eventually,” she argued softly. “What will I have then?” She smiled softly, sorrowfully when he was unable to answer her. They sat in silence for awhile, their minds wandering when there came a knock at the door.
Without waiting for an answer, the door was opened briskly and group of four people, well three people and one bright green demon, entered. Willow immediately recognized Wesley, and slowly placed Gunn and Fred, even Lorne, from her last visit to L.A. to restore Angel’s soul. They paused as they shuffled inside when they saw her sitting there with her tear-stained face.
“Hi Willow,” smiled Fred with a waggle of her fingers, her voice soft and unsure.
“Hey,” the redhead replied with a forced grin.
“We were just talking,” broke in Angel, moving to stand and extending a hand to Willow. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up too.
“How…how are you?” asked Wesley awkwardly.
“Been better,” she said, her eyes falling to her feet.
“How is everyone? Buffy? Xander?” he continued.
“Buffy’s good, so is Giles. They are a little worse for wear, but they’re fine. Xander’s…alright, physically that is. Um, Anya, his ex-fiancé, she…she and Spike didn’t make it.” Her declaration was met with silence, none of them knowing what to say to that.
“I’m sorry…for your loss,” the former watcher offered, knowing the words were hardly consolation, but still feeling the need to say something.
“Thanks,” she murmured. She looked up at them, smiling slightly at the look of concern on Fred’s face. “I just wish he were here…”
They all nodded understandingly and Angel crossed the room slowly, needing something to do other than stand around. He sat on the edge of his desk, glancing at the mail on the surface and frowning at the small, brown package sitting by his lamp. Curious, he reached for it, palming it for a moment.
“I wish he could be here for you, too,” Angel said, glancing at Willow before looking back down. He tore at the envelope gingerly, ripping a tear into the paper, surprised when the item inside fell out before he was able to grasp it. As it fell and Angel stood to reach for it, he offered the redhead one last comment. “But it’s just not possible; he’s not just going to appear out of thin air…”
The dull piece of metal and stone hit the carpeted floor with a soft thud, bouncing once slightly before settling. Angel’s brow knotted when he saw what it was, why it seemed so similar. Bending at the waist, he moved to pick it up and jumped back in surprise when it suddenly shook and a cloud of dust flew out of it, flowing out of the amulet in manic circles before the room was filled with pain filled screams.
Everyone, human and demon alike took an involuntary step back. Fred hid behind Wesley, Gunn at his side, looking ready to fight. Lorne looked in shock, and Angel, well, Willow had never seen him so unnerved as the dust began to take shape. Willow watched, slack-jawed, as the unearthly screaming continued, the whole group cringing at the horrifying sound. And then she saw it, they all did. First, there was bone, then muscle layered upon it, then flesh, pale and firm, and then, there was…
“Spike!” Angel yelped, drawing the attention of the blonde vampire. He was hunched forward slightly, game face present, growling in pain and agony. And then he was silent. He was staring at Angel like he was seeing a ghost, face contorted in shock and confusion.
“You…” he muttered, his voice hoarse, “What the bloody *hell* am I doing here?!” Angel opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but nothing came out.
“You were dead,” Angel finally managed, knowing that was the lamest observation he could possibly make, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Yeah, I got that. I was dust, I felt it. So what did you do? Why am I here?!” Spike replied with a furious glare. He was still so confused. One minute he was on fire, the next he was here. He remembered standing in the hellmouth, the amulet glowing and burning on his chest, and he was saying goodbye to… “Red. Is she alright?! The whole place was coming down, did she make it out? Damn it Peaches, is she okay?” he shouted, the urgent questions pouring from him, terrified that something happened to her. She had to be okay.
“I’m fine.”
The sound of the soft, melodic but hesitant voice caused him to turn slowly. His blue eyes scanned the crowd. There was the poncy ex-watcher he vaguely remembered, some skinny brunette, another man he couldn’t place, a green skinned demon in a horribly flashy suit, and then, far off to the side, he spotted her.
She looked scared and hopeful, as if she wasn’t sure if he was really there. Well, that made two of them, because he wasn’t sure if he was really here either. She had dark circles under her usually expressive eyes, her skin was so pale, her face was drawn. She was wringing her hands nervously, too much in shock to take a step toward him. He could tell by the look on her face that she was inwardly debating if she was dreaming or not.
Silence reigned for a moment, everyone too amazed at the sight of Spike in one piece standing there to speak. When he could take it no longer, he shook off his game face, which he had forgotten he still wore, and strode across the room, intent on pulling Willow into a crushing embrace.
Needless to say it came as a surprise to everyone when he went right through her. He stumbled a bit before catching his balance, looking down at his legs that were obscured by the couch he was now standing in the middle of. He looked up, fear in his blue eyes as he turned to face Willow. The trembling redhead extended a shaky hand, choking back a sob when she tried to touch his shoulder and her hand passed through his body entirely.
Spike was filled with worry at his condition and regret that he couldn’t hold his Red, couldn’t assure her that he was fine. Because at that moment, he was anything but fine. Wesley snuck over to the place on the floor where the amulet lay, picking it up and studying it in his palm. Spike reached out a hand to skim across her face, but they both were disappointed when she didn’t feel his cool flesh along her cheek and he was unable to take in the warmth of her skin. He glanced down at his hands that looked so real and closed his eyes, clenching them shut tightly.
“Bugger.”
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