pairings: mention of B/S, mention of W/Tara, but mainly Willow/Spike
disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS
set in AU season 5.
note: this was intended for Inell's 4th fic aniversary, but it somehow
didn't turn out very fluffy. Sorry.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~
He'd
been trying to convince Buffy that he cared. That he loved
her. He'd shown her what her miserable soldier was doing.
He'd watched her
back on countless patrols. She'd rejected him.
Willow seemed to be
the only one who would credit him with having
the chance of genuine feelings towards Buffy. Granted, she thought
he was
half crazy for trying, but she believed him when he said that he cared.
Of
course, Willow wasn't around as much as she used to be. Something
about her
witch... come to think of it, how long had it been since he'd
seen her
bird? Tara should have been there...
Spike walked along
the street, trying to sort out his feelings. He
had been lusting after Buffy, desiring to taste her soft lips, caress
her
tanned body. But... was there more than that? Was
there more than just...
lust and the desire to possess, to somehow dominate, through sex if
not
through violence? He frowned, trying to sift through. Love
wasn't the same
as sex. The desire to rip someone's clothing off and make them
scream his
name was not love. Actually, it sounded a bit like obsession.
Damn, he'd turned into
second rate stalker. To make things even
worse, he couldn't think of anything else to support the idea of being
in
love with her. Her chatter didn't usually interest him.
Her interests
included killing people like him. They never really talked, just
sort of
exchanged insults and threats.
That wasn't love.
Scowling, he tried to think
about things from a different angle.
What was love, really? It was when you could spend hours with
the person,
just enjoying their company. When you could talk to them, share
just about
anything with them. When they knew you and you knew them, down
to the
bottoms of your being. Even the parts that you couldn't see,
eyeballs to
entrails. It was caring about their happiness more than your
own.
As he was pondering this,
his mind skittering over memories of his
own experiences and fragments of poetry, a flicker of red caught his
attention. There, a bit ahead of him on the street, was a woman
with red
hair. Moving closer, Spike realized that it was Willow.
But why would she
be out here, instead of off with her pals, or her girl? He followed
Willow,
now curious.
It didn't make sense to him.
She wasn't on her way to the library,
or the college campus, or the Magic Box. Not towards the house
of the
Slayer, or Xander, or the place where she and Tara had been living,
or
towards the Watcher's house. And the way she was moving... She
was walking
quickly, but her shoulders were slightly hunched, her head a bit low.
As if
she wasn't happy about where she was going, or expected to be attacked.
He
might not have the supernatural abilities of detection that the Slayer
had,
but two centuries had given him finely honed instincts for trouble,
and his
were screaming. Not like a trap, but there was definitely something
not
right.
Then, it hit him. She was
headed towards the hospital. From the way
she was moving, this wasn't a matter of some little errand, some minor
worry. And he was fairly certain they didn't run standard tests
after dark.
But where did that leave her? Why was she here?
Slowly, she went into the building,
not bothering to pause for
directions at the front desk. She just went inside, turned left,
and made
her way up the staircase. As Spike followed her, he found himself
asking if
she knew that he was there, was following her. She turned out
of the
stairwell on the third floor, and made her way down the hall.
Spike felt a
chill as he read the little blue plaque identifying the are.
Psychiatric
Ward.
Willow went inside, and walked
to a small bed, the third one on the
left. Slowly, she sat on the edge, her hand reaching out to the
patient.
Spike could smell tears as he moved closer. But when the words
began, the
froze him to the bottom of his unbeating heart.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. This shouldn't have happened to you."
"Behold the shining one, her face
as bright as the sun... Glorious is
her coming, and mortals tremble before her. All shall fall before
her, all
shall kneel in supplication..."
"You shouldn't have had this
happen. And all because you stayed
here, defied your family, wanted to be free." Willow tucked her
hair back,
tears shimmering on her face. One sparkled almost like crystal
as it fell
onto the face of the raving patient. Tara's face.
Spike just gaped for
a few moments, feeling the raw shock thrum in
his body. "What happened to her?"
Willow looked up, and
he really saw her, possibly for the first
time. She was pretty, with a core of strength to her like diamond.
Like
the willow tree, she would bend and twist and emerge whole from the
storm.
He could have kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. Buffy's
strength
wasn't entirely from being the Slayer, it was from having someone like
this
at her side.
"Hello, Spike. I didn't
expect to see you here." She looked back
at Tara, tears shimmering in her eyes. "It was Glory. She
was trying to
find her Key. She did something to Tara, ripped into her mind,
broke her
mind. I don't know the details... don't know how to fix it.
We'd been...
well, you know that we'd been fighting over the magic, drifting a bit
further apart, but I wouldn't have wanted something like this to happen.
Not to her, not ever."
Spike looked at Tara, expecting
to see madness sparkling there, her
whole sugary sweet mind tilted by insanity, maybe even stirring up
a bit of
vinegar to bit the unwary. But that wasn't what he beheld.
Here eyes were
empty. "Willow... Glory didn't break her mind.
There's just... there's
nobody home anymore. I spent over a century watching insanity
with Dru and
the people she and Angelus played with, that's not someone who's cracked,
it's somebody that just.... She's not in there anymore."
Willow tensed, and a few
more tears fell. "I've been trying to
convince myself that wasn't the case. That she just needed more
time. That
the only woman I've ever loved, been in love with was still here...
instead
of just her body. But... I've tried everything, Spike.
I can't... my
Tara's just gone."
He put his arms around her, feeling
a bit awkward, but he couldn't
just ignore her pain. He'd never been able to just ignore a woman's
pain.
Maybe gloat over it, maybe mock it, or awkwardly retreat because he
couldn't
sooth it, but he'd never been able to just ignore a crying woman.
"You
don't have to go through this alone, Red. I can't make her better,
but you
don't have to be alone. Lean on someone else for a little while."
Spike took her back to the apartment
that she'd shared with Tara,
wondering even as he did if that would be the best place for her.
But where
else could he take her? Not his crypt. She didn't live
at the dorm from
last year anymore. He would probably be staked on sight at Buffy's
if he
showed up with a weeping sobbing Willow. He'd rather jam bamboo
splinters
under his own nails than go to Xander's place. And Giles had
his 'friend'
Olivia over at his place. There really wasn't any other option.
He helped
her into the place after her mumbled 'thanks... welcome to have cocoa'
at
the door.
Willow kept crying over the cocoa,
and hardly managed to drink any.
She ended up sobbing onto his shoulder. He knew that it wasn't
because they
were the best of friends, but because he was there, because he would
let
her, would listen to her pain. Spike held her, letting her cry
until she
fell asleep, exhausted from everything.
Maybe he should take another look
at Willow after all. Maybe there
was more to her than the Slayer's tenth grade looser follower, or a
second
rate witch. Maybe he'd overlooked her too easily.
~Part: 2~
Spike hadn't meant to, but he drifted
to sleep himself. He woke with
a start, certain that the sun was about to rise NOW. It was a
useful
survival instinct, but that was what made him realize where he'd drowsed
off. Willow and Tara's apartment, or maybe just Willow's now.
She was
still slumped against him, slightly curled onto his lap. One
warm hand had
slid behind his shoulders. Her warmth and steady heartbeat had
apparently
lulled him into slumber. And now, he was stuck there. Carefully,
he
managed to stagger to his feet, arms full of sleeping redhead.
He found the
bedroom, and carried her in, intending to just tuck her into the bed,
cover
her up and figure out something to do.
But she wouldn't let go of him.
After a little bit of wiggling, he
came to the conclusion that between her grip and the damn chip in his
head,
he was stuck. With a small smile, he just kicked off his boot
and settled
on the bed with her. Nothing would happen, but... Well,
she wouldn't let
him go, so why not be halfway comfortable?
Honestly, he didn't mind staying
beside her on the bed. It was a
comfortable bed, and it was nice to have a warm body snuggled up to
him. A
small corner of his mind noticed that he was just enjoying the moment,
and
not even a shred of him was wishing that it was Buffy instead of Willow.
A
little... well, part of him might be wishing there was less clothing,
and
less sleep... But that was hardly the same sort of thing.
He felt oddly
comfortable with Willow, almost peaceful.
When Spike woke up, he had a moment
of confusion. He wasn't in his
crypt, but a soft bed, wrapped in covers that smelled faintly of lavender,
vanilla, and femininity. Alone. A few moments and he was
awake enough to
remember. This was Willow's room, and he'd slept with her, nonsexually.
But where was she?
"Hey, Spike." Willow's voice came
from the doorway, sounding far less
cheerful than people expected from her. "I picked up some blood
for you
from the butcher shop. umm... Thanks for listening, last night."
She was
blushing a little, as if she found her pain some sort of weakness,
or
shameful.
But then, she was always expected
to be the strong one. The one that
they all leaned on, depended on to solve their troubles. To figure
out how
to make the hurt go away. When did she have someone to lean on?
Well...
himself, last night. Was it because she wasn't used to having
someone to
lean on, or just because it had been him?
"Thanks for that, Willow."
He sat up, slowly untangling himself from
the covers. "How the bloody hell did these get so wrapped around
me?"
"You're welcome." She
paused, looking thoughtful. "About last
night... it's not the right time to tell Buffy or Xander about Tara.
They.... they're too busy with things right now.... Glory, the construction
troubles... Whatever it was that made Joyce sick... have they heard
back
from those tests yet? But they don't have the time right now
to worry about
me and Tara just yet..."
He looked at her, wondering
exactly why she thought that her friends
wouldn't want to know. "Why not? Shouldn't they be able
to help you cope?
You're girlfriend's in the bloody mental ward!"
"Xander just wants to hear about girl
on girl action, which... I don't
want to share. And Buffy's so busy worrying about her mom, about
Glory...
and the whole thing where she thinks Riley's hiding something from
her...
She's said that she doesn't have time for anything else. This...
this is
something else." Willow's voice quavered, as if she was on the
verge of
tears again.
For a fraction of a moment, it
flickered through Spike's mind that if
he found out what soldier-boy was hiding, it might help him with Buffy.
But
that died away, as he found himself considering a new question: Did
he
really want Buffy? More than just to kill or shag as some sort
of perverse
victory? Would he want to spend time with her, have a relationship?
He was
coming to the conclusion that the answer was no. Maybe even a
more emphatic
'Hell no!' if he thought about it. "What about Giles?"
"He's been pretty busy with the
Magic Box, and trying to keep Buffy
training, and trying to research Glory, and all the time he has left
is...
sort of Olivia's." Willow sighed. "They don't want to hear
about it."
Spike took a slow breath,
trying to keep his temper in check. He
wasn't known for being level headed, but that's what he needed to be
now.
"So, you don't have anyone to share your problems with? What
about your
folks, or Joyce?"
"Spike, the last time either of
my parents sat down with me for
anything remotely resembling a serious discussion it was when I was
fourteen
and my mom decided to explain to me about sex, diseases, and peer pressure.
I've seen them since then, but that's not the same as really talking.
And
they definitely didn't know that I have... had a girlfriend."
Willow looked
at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "As for Joyce, I know that
she'd
listen, but she's been so tired lately, and at first I thought it was
just
everything with Buffy and Dawn, but now I think it's related to whatever's
wrong with her, and listening to someone's problems is always so
exhausting... I couldn't wear her down like that."
His mouth opened, but nothing came
out for a long while as he tried
to make sense of that. To understand a life that was so limited.
"Is that
it? There's nobody else for you?"
"I could have tried to talk to
Jesse, but he's been dead now for
almost five years. Amy's a rat, and I've mentioned it to her,
but she just
sort of squeaks, which doesn't help me too much. Maybe I could
have tried
talking to Jenny, we weren't exactly close, but we probably would have
become better friends if Angelus hadn't killed her. If Oz...
well, there's
a whole list of reasons why I wouldn't be having that talk with Oz,
and the
biggest is that he left, with no forwarding address." She sighed,
leaning
against the doorway as if it was the only thing holding her up.
"Red... Willow, I'll listen.
Any time you need someone, you can talk
to me." He wanted to curse himself for going soft, but he couldn't.
She
was trying so hard, and she reminded him of... of the man he'd once
been.
Her smile was a bit hesitant,
but it actually made it all the way to
her eyes. "Thanks."
~Part: 3~
He didn't know it, but that marked
a change in his life. Spike knew
that he'd stopped following Buffy, stopped watching her as she got
ready for
bed, or following her on her patrols. He just assumed that it
was the
rediscovery of his sense, or that he'd remembered that he was a master
vampire, and not some pansy boy with a pathetic crush. It didn't
occur to
him that now, instead of following Buffy, he was spending time with
Willow.
Listening to her talk about life, and pain, and heartache. Visiting
Tara,
watching as she slowly faded, her will to live as gone as her mind.
Willow
would tell him stories about Tara, remembering the shy but alive girl
that
she'd been, instead of the raving husk that was left.
He didn't think about
what it might mean that he was spending more
and more time with Willow, learning about her past, about the person
that
Tara had been. He didn't think about what it meant that he actually
preferred spending time talkign with Willow to going out and beating
up
demons. Didn't think about the implications of the fact that
she'd started
keeping blood in the refridgerator for him. He didn't even stop
to consider
the implications.
Not until he woke up from a dream
of Willow and Tara practicing a
little of that girl on girl actiont hat she didn't really share with
him,
with an almost painful erection and his teeth gritted in what felt
remarkably like jealousy. Jealousy at the image - lovely though
it might
be- of Willow and her girlfriend. Former girlfriend. He
wanted Willow, and
felt jealous of her fading relationship with Tara. That was a
pretty simple
bit of dream analysis.
Spike just didn't know what to
do about it. It was clear that he
wanted Willow. Enjoyed her company, her conversations, trying
to follow the
odd twists and connections that her mind would make. And he wanted
to sink
into her warmth, to drown in Willow until he couldn't even think straight
anymore. To fill her and touch her and taste her until she couldn't
think
of anything but him. To taste the ecstasy in her blood...
Spike gasped for
breath as the chip jolted him, nearly dropping him to the floor.
Apparently, it couldn't figure out that he didn't want to actually
hurt her,
just to taste her.
Would he have to just stick with
being her friend? Being the one
person that was there for her to unload her emotions, to expose her
feelings
and vulnerabilities? Loving her and trying to conceal that love
from the
one person that seemed to accept not only the man he'd once been but
the
demon that he'd become? The idea of managing a concealment like
that was
staggering, and he didn't think that he could do it. Maybe if
he spent less
time with her, she wouldn't be as likely to notice?
That idea didn't appeal either.
Maybe he would just have to hope
that she wouldn't notice? Hope that her keen perceptions somehow
missed
that he found her attractive, the way he hung on her words? Buy
looser
fitting pants so that his body wouldn't betray his more than friendly
interests? As if that would work...
He paused outside her apartment
door, trying to calm himself before
knocking. He'd had a dozen dreams of the ways that he could slip
into the
apartment and wake her up. She'd even given him his own key.
Of course,
Willow would be long since awake, considering that it was past sunset.
The apartment was too quiet.
Listening carefully, he heard the
rapid fluttering of the cat's heartbeat, and the hum of the refrigerator.
There was no sound of human life.
A quick inspection proved that
yes, she was indeed gone from the
apartment. Her things were there, there was no sign of any struggle,
but
she was just.. elsewhere, along with her purse and car keys.
Elsewhere...
and he hadn't heard anything about a new impending doom. That
could only
mean the hospital.
Spike made his way there quickly,
almost hoping that it was something
simple, like Xander getting his foot smashed at work, or Buffy breaking
an
arm. But he didn't really think so. He went right to the
Psych ward, and
there she was. Sitting at Tara's side, tears streaming down her
face.
He almost collapsed into the chair
next to her, one arm sliding
around her body, pulling her close. Only then did he take a good
look at
Tara. Her face wasn't just pale today, it looked almost waxy,
with dark
circles under her eyes. Her hair seemed to have lost it's glossy
shine.
Her breaths were slow, barely discernable. It was as if she was
barely
alive.
Then she wasn't.
Her chest slowly fell, and was
still. The faint flutter of her pulse
was gone, her bosom unmoving. It almost seemed as if she started
to
collapse inwards, although at the same time, nothing changed.
He'd seen
death too many times not to know it now.
For a moment, Willow was almost
as silent, and then gasped for
breath, sucking in the air that she still needed. It must have
been then
that she realized Tara was completely gone. She turned, burying
her face in
Spike's shoulder as terrible, body shaking sobs overwhelmed her.
Her hands
fisted on his shirt, her nails scraping just a little as she held on
to him.
Desperately, as if he was the only safe harbor in a storm.
All he could do was hold her, feeling
glad that he'd managed to be
here when she needed him. When she needed so badly not to be
alone.
~Part: 4~
After that, he was glad that he hadn't
done anything foolish, like
trying to avoid her. She was so upset over Tara, and her feelings,
and how
mixed up she felt, that she probably wouldn't have noticed if he'd
stripped
naked and danced the hula. Not that he actually knew how to do
the hula
dance. She would try to talk about it, and dissolve into tears
every time
she got to the part where everything was mixed up, and she loved...
but she
shouldn't and she was so angry about the whole mess, and she felt like
the
whole thing was somehow wrong. He would just hold her, rubbing
at her back,
whispering things in her ear. Just making certain that she knew
she wasn't
alone.
But he kept wondering, while she slept,
what she was feeling. What
emotions were behind the frustrated, heartbroken sobs, the hot tears
and
wobbly sighs. Was she angry that Tara had been struck down, had
died? Was
she angry at Tara for being gone? Glory for doing this to her?
Or was
there something else? Was she angry at herself because her feelings
had
changed? Because she'd stopped thinking of Tara as her girlfriend?
Or was
it something else that he was missing?
Sometimes, he could almost convince himself
that he'd have a chance
with her, someday. When her heart wasn't as wounded by Tara's
death. When
they weren't facing the possible end of the world. When... oh,
hell, this
was Sunnydale. There would never be a good time for anything,
he'd just
have to blunder on and hope for something that he could live with.
As soon
as he could gather the courage to say something.
Things changed again, one night.
She was at Tara's grave, a small
little affair, set up after a short ceremony where the poor girl's
ashes
were interred in the little cemetery in the shadow of the woods.
Something
about how Tara had loved their shadow dappled depths. Willow
was sitting
there, her forehead leaning against the pale marker as the tears slid
down
her face. And then he felt the Slayer, felt Buffy approaching.
There was the sound of footsteps, and
a pair of minions burst into the
quiet corner, one of them trying to run away and the second lunging
towards
Willow. Spike grabbed the minion, almost ripping it apart in
a protective
fit. By that point, the Slayer had dusted the second one, although
he
wasn't quite certain how.
"Spike! What are you doing here?"
She sounded shocked and puzzled,
as if he was expected to do nothing more than fight, or drink, or moon
after
some woman.
"Keeping watch." His words
were soft, and he glanced at Willow,
wondering if she'd even noticed the interruption.
Buffy followed his gaze, and seemed
to freeze when she realized that
instead of some arrangement of wilting flowers, that shape was Willow.
"But
why... Tara McClay? Tara? But.... how... when..."
Spike tugged at Buffy, pulling
her back from Willow. "She doesn't
need to hear you having a hissy, Slayer."
"What happened? Why didn't
she say anything?" Buffy looked stunned,
and almost sad.
Spike fumbled for a moment
after a cigarette, but put the package
away without pulling one. Willow didn't like the smell... let
her mourn
without that. "Glory got Tara a while back, left her raving,
the lights
were on, but nobody was there anymore. She spent a month visiting
her girl
in the mental ward of the hospital while Harris and Anya had their
arguments, the Watcher's had Olivia, and you've been all worried about
your
soldier and mum. Good to hear they found that tumor, by the way.
But
Willow said none of you had the time, and the only other person she
felt
would have cared to listen was Joyce. She didn't think your mum
needed that
while she was so sick. Tara's funeral was eleven days ago."
Buffy turned, looking at Willow's
small form, leaning against the
tombstone. She looked so sad. "Why didn't she say anything?
How did you
know?"
"Better question - why didn't the
lot of you notice something was up?
That you hadn't seen Tara, that Willow seemed upset over something?
Why
was she so convinced none of you would have time for her pain?"
Spike
glared at the Slayer, resisting the urge to attack. She'd be
able to block,
and the chip would only half fry him anyhow.
"We pay attention!
It's just... we... the stuff with Glory, and
then with Riley being found dead from some sort of vampire gang..."
Buffy's
words trailed off, as if she knew that even that was no excuse for
everyone
to have missed things for so long.
Spike just nodded, not even bothering
an insulting response. "Right.
She's here trying to sort through everything. To move
past all the pain.
She was there when Tara breathed her last, and it hurt."
"But she shouldn't be going through
something like that alone! She
needs someone there for her, someone who cares." Buffy glared
at him, her
cheeks flushed.
"She's not alone. I'm there." His words were low, almost a growl.
"That's not the same as her friends."
Buffy tried to look superior,
to glare at him as if to tell him he did not belong.
Willow stood up, almost unfolding
from the ground. "Spike? Can we
go home now?"
"Of course, luv." He took
her arm, linking it with his as if he was
an old fashioned gentleman escorting a fine lady. Willow barely
glanced up,
didn't even seem to see Buffy.
"I'll get you home." He murmured
the words softly. He meant so much
more than that, but he just couldn't say it.
~Part: 5~
He didn't speak again until they walked
through the door of the
apartment. Thankfully, their trip home had been uninterrupted.
She sat
down on the couch, toeing her shoes off and curling her feet underneath
her.
With a small smile, Spike sat next to
her, hoping that she would lean
against him. When she did, he smiled, his arm sliding around
her. It just
felt so good to be this close to her. "Do you feel any better
after your...
after tonight?"
"No and yes. It was... well, I
sat down and sort of meditated, trying
to look past the emotions and try to think about what Tara would have
wanted. Try to sort out the emotions instead of just drown in
them." She
sighed, resting her head on his hip, snuggling a bit closer.
His hand started to rub along her side,
a gentle, soothing motion.
"And?"
"I loved Tara. It was real, and
good, and she knew that I loved her.
Nothing will ever make it go away that I... that she has a place in
my
heart. But she wouldn't have wanted me to spend the rest of my
life - which
could be pretty short - alone and miserable because she's gone.
And I've
been feeling guilty because I was already grieving for her as if she
was
dead, before she was dead, if that makes sense. And not only
was I
grieving, I was... There's someone that I was developing feelings
for.
Could be more than a friend type feelings." Willow sighed, her
hand resting
on his knee. "It felt like I was somehow cheating on her to have
those
feelings, even if I didn't do anything, which is sort of silly."
"And will you become more than friends
with this person?" He didn't
want to be calm, didn't want to be reasonable. What he wanted
to do was
find the person that Willow cared about and rip his... her... their
head of
for having her when he didn't.
He could feel her shrug. "I don't
know. It's not just my choice, you
know. I can't just say - hey, my girl's dead and gone and buried,
now that
I'm not involved, and only cry half the night instead of all of it,
want to
go out with me?"
"Anyone with half a brain would be willing
to give you time to heal,
luv." The words burned, tasting bitter on his tongue.
Her shoulders quivered, and he wondered
if it was from more tears, or
from a ghost of a laugh. "Well, he's not stupid, but he isn't
known for
being patient."
Jealousy surged in him, and he actually
growled before he could quiet
himself. "If he can't wait for you... then you deserve better."
The words were barely audible, even with
her so close to him. "I can
do this... I can say it."
"Willow?" He felt like something
important was about to happen, some
important turning.
She moved, lifting herself up,
looking into his eyes. "Can you? Can
you wait for the grief to calm? Can you wait for me to heal a
bit?"
Spike felt as if his chest
was suddenly to tight, but at the same
moment he could fly. It was more of a rush than the Gem of Amara.
"Can I...
can I wait? Bloody hell, Willow, I'd wait for you."
And then she was hugging him, murmuring
things that he couldn't quite
decipher into his chest. Her hands were fisted into his shirt,
catching the
skin of his back again, but it wasn't as if she was drowning this time.
It
was as if she was afraid to let him go.
"I'd wait forever for you. I just
hope it doesn't take quite that
long." He whispered, holding her, leaning down to breathe in
her scent.
Her hair felt like strands of silk on his face, soft, supple, and faintly
scented of citrus.
Her words were softer,
barely above a whisper, but rich with
promise. "It won't take nearly that long."
Spike smiled, now certain that everything
would come out right. In
spite of the pain, in spite of the waiting, things would work out.
He would
have Willow.
The End