Disclaimer: Not mine, Don't sue.
Distribution: soulmates till the end of time, Rapture, Anyone else, want, ask, have.
Spoilers: set right after Season 7 episode 2
Feedback: Yes please, if you want more.
Rating:PG-13 for now
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~Part: 1~ Never Had A Voice To Protest
The weather was unnaturally cool for a southern California fall. Usually it was still at least seventy and you could get away with wandering around in t-shirts and such. This was not the case this particular lonely October night. And of course she had to arrive in the middle of a storm. Willow certainly hoped this wasn't an omen of things to come, but she feared that it probably was. In a way, she was used to this weather after her fun summer of coping in England, where the rain seemed to love to fall. Or maybe it had just been her mood that had made it seem like the sun didn't shine there, in any case, bleak and dreary described her stay, and unfortunately her arrival home. So there she stood alone on the wet sidewalk waiting for her cab, not having the guts to call anyone to come and pick her up.
She jumped at the beep that announced its arrival, even though she knew it was coming. Giles had sworn that the skittishness would fade, but she was beginning to doubt him. She still jumped every time there was the slightest little noise as if she expected there to be something horrible hiding nearby and causing it. 'No,' she told herself firmly, 'the last horrible thing that came to town happened to be you. How am I going to face them after I tried to drag them all into Hell?'
She shook her head and threw her one lone bag into the back of the cab and followed it in, telling the driver to take her to her parents house. A little reconnaissance in private couldn't be construed as hiding, could it? She just wasn't exactly ready to face them yet. Her best friends, and she was more terrified of them than she had been of any other thing she had ever experienced. And being a Hellmouth native that was saying a lot. If only Giles wasn't making her do this alone. She understood his meaning for making her do so, but that didn't make the decision any more popular. If she couldn't face her best friends in all the world, then how would she ever get her life back to any semblance of normalcy. What the watcher had failed to take into perspective was the fact that said best friends had been on the front lines of her aborted Apocalypse. They were going to be the hardest to face out of anyone, then again, maybe that was exactly the perspective he had taken. If she could do this, she could do anything.
The car pulled up in front of the dark house and she payed the man before heading for the door. Never had she been so happy with her parent's constant absenteeism. She unlocked the house with a long unused key and let herself in the door. Stepping over the pile of mail in front of the door, she realized it had been even longer than she had expected since her parent's last visit. She picked it up and leafed through it, looking for anything with her name on it. Not finding anything, she tossed the mail on the coffee table in the living room and headed up the stairs to her old room. Fortunately she found it untouched. She turned on the light, grabbed an oversized t-shirt, stripped off her clothes tossed it on with a pair of ratty old boxers and fell onto her bed. She was asleep almost immediately, not even bothering to click off the lamp.
He didn't know what it was that had tempted him from the sanctity of his little hole that night, just something in the air was making him restless and he had to get out. He found himself strolling down a nice residential street that he really had no business being on, but that didn't matter, what mattered was that the chill of the night was leeching away at least a little of the pain that had been eating him up inside. Even with a soul he would never be enough, not for anyone. He really ought to just sit out here and watch the pretty sunrise for the last time, it would serve him right for being such a ponce, he thought darkly. Suddenly, something slightly off drug him out of his morbid musings. On the pitch black street, lit only by the lights positioned every several yards so as to reassure the happy sleeping people, there was a light glowing in a room that was vaguely familiar. He didn't stop to question it or even think as to why he was doing it, but he was climbing the trellis to said window all the same. It was shining like a beacon in the night, and who was he to resist its siren's call. He was a creature of instinct after all.
Upon reaching the balcony, he vaulted soundlessly to its padded wooden surface. He crept closer to the lighted window, and peeked inside, hoping to see some perfect paragon of humanity, curled in their warm bed, so he could move on with all the unnaturalness that he was, and not bother with the formalities of trying to figure out why someone had left the light burning to pull him from the seething sea of his thoughts. His shelter in the storm wasn't at all what he'd been expecting. Instead of some sweet sleeping child, though at this moment she did indeed look that way, was someone far too familiar. Willow was curled up on the bed, in as close to fetal position as he'd ever seen. Instead of the sweet paragon of innocence that he'd been hoping for to shove him back into his melancholy thoughts, he found a girl who almost matched, for that one brief moment, himself in evil. She'd tried to end the world, and while around here that was rather old hat, for Willow Rosenburg, still a very strange day. And she'd done it for love, or the loss there of. Not that he could really blame her much on that one, he'd done his fair share in the name of love, he remembered with a grimace. Including, but not limited to, kidnaping said sleeping girl and trying to force her into doing a spell for him. He settled back against the railing and watched her sleep. He saw a few things that had escaped his notice the first glance. She was twitching slightly, and there was a single tear tracing its way down the contour of her too pale cheek. Then it hit him, she was going through the same thing he was. She could feel the brilliant pain that his shiny new soul was now letting him feel. She'd killed, soul and all, and had survived. He couldn't move from his slightly uncomfortable seat by her window. Maybe she knew, not with the same magnitude, but she'd tasted the same pain that was slowly tearing him apart. Maybe she could help, or at least lend him a shoulder to cry on.
He'd never ask that of the others, he'd torn them apart, but her, she'd been kind once, nearly his friend if a demon like him had such. Of course that had been before he became stalker guy with her best friend, but maybe, just maybe she still cared somewhere. In her heart of hearts, maybe she could find a way to understand that even someone as despicable as he wanted a friend. He didn't want the others, they didn't understand, but she did. He knew somewhere deep down inside that she did. He offered a quick prayer to any benevolent power out there that he was right, that he wasn't lost, that just maybe there was a hope for him yet. The only answer he got was a lift in the intensity of the wind, causing it to howl slightly. And maybe that was an answer, he thought, as he made himself more comfortable and continued to watch. Maybe . . .
~Part: 2~ Always Raining in My Head
Willow awoke, choking back a scream, her hand pressed against her mouth and a tear sliding down her cheek. As she pulled herself back under control after the dream, where she'd been killing Warren, and then turning and proceeding to kill everyone else as well, she noticed a bizarre feeling. Despite the fact that no one knew she was back yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone else very near.
Warily, her eyes sought out whomever it was in the darkness beyond her curtains. And she finally ascertained a shape against the railing on her balcony. All she could make out were the boots and the general shape, whoever it was seemed to be wearing all black, which was certainly off putting, assuming the largest part of the population of this town was vampires. She crept out of bed, and inched towards the door, seeking the face in the darkness, and hoping it was just Xander or someone. She looked at her clock and noticed that sunrise was not far away at all, so it was very likely it wasn't a vampire. She relaxed and crept silently to the door, to see who her late night visitor was. To her immense shock, it was a vampire, but one who she knew, and was unable to harm her. Spike sat resting on her balcony, and it appeared that he had simply fallen asleep. She gave the clock another glance and realized that from both the beginnings of the blush on the horizon and the time that if she didn't wake him soon, he would be leaving her home on an errant breeze. She steeled herself, she wasn't sure she trusted him after that fiasco last spring, before she left. She wondered vaguely when it was that he came back, and how he had ended up there in the first place, but decided those questions could wait until she had him safely inside and away from fiery destruction.
The redhead pulled the french door back and stepped outside, almost tripping over the inert vampire in the process. She knelt at his side and placed her hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. He sat up so fast that she almost lost her balance and had to smile at how she must look, eyes wide and tottering. The smile died when she saw the look on Spike's face. He looked so lost and confused that she immediately wanted to hug him. She quelled the urge and again placed her hand on his shoulder, running it towards his hand to get his attention.
"Spike, it's just me," she said softly so as not to alarm him, all the while alarm bells were going off in her own head. He should have recognized her just by scent, he'd done it before, but now he seemed strange.
"I can hear the dancing of the light," he said so softly that she had to strain to hear it. More bells followed that very weird statement.
"Hey, we've gotta get inside now, it's very late, and not safe for you to be sitting out here." She said it softly, and spoke as if to a child. Something was very wrong here.
He simply nodded and grasped her hand, following her in after her whispered invitation. She led him to her bed and noticed the nearly clouded look in his eyes was being replaced by something else. It was so familiar, but she couldn't place it exactly. He sat, and she pulled her hand from his grasp so she could pull the thick drapes and block out the sunlight. Wouldn't do to have him in a Dust Buster before she could figure out what was happening. Once she had the room vamp ready, she made her way back to the new enigma that had drawn her out of sleep.
"Spike, what's going on?", she asked, trying to mask the concern in her voice, and not doing as well as she had hoped.
"I was burning," he said softly, staring at his hands which lay clasped in his lap. "I needed to go out in the rain, to put out the fire, but then the rain was in my head. I saw your light and needed to glow."
Her brow creased as she tried to figure out what the little riddle meant. Something was horribly wrong here. He sounded more like Dru than himself, and she was beginning to get very wigged.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep."
"Oh, that's no problem. I wasn't sleeping very well in the first place," she shuddered at the memory of the dream. "Why were you burning?"
"I was thinking about the fire, I used to have it you know. But now I'm beneath it, beneath them all. I thought she could feel the flames too, licking at our feet, but she's cold, like stone. When I saw you, the rain slowed down, kindled the embers, thought maybe you could feel it. I hoped," he rambled. At the last statement he looked up at her and she could see strait into his soul, all his longing and pain laid bare.
Wait, stop, rewind, soul? When did that get there, and how?
"Oh my god!", she said it a little louder than was really necessary, and he jumped, immediately looking back down at his clenched hands.
She caught his chin and pulled his eyes back up to hers. There it was shining, behind pain and more suffering than she wanted to even think about.
"Spike? How?", she couldn't finish the sentence, too many thoughts swirling around in her head.
"I went to the desert to become who I was, but I made a mistake, he put this back in, and now it's all cold." With those words a tear spilled from his eye.
Never one to deal well with the suffering of others, she immediately slid her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her. His head rested on her shoulder, and he stifled a sob. His hands, shaking and unsure, came around her and latched on tightly. He held her like she was a life boat on a stormy sea.
"I knew you would feel it. The flames, you have them too, don't you?", he asked looking up at her with tears in his eyes.
"Yes Spike," she said with a sigh, a few of those long denied tears trying to escape her as well, "I can feel the flames."
"Am I beneath you too?", he inquired, his voice childlike, fearful of rejection.
"Never." Her voice was more sure than she herself had heard it in months. She had found her acceptance, just not where she was expecting it. She had found it in the eyes of the enemy, of someone who had tried to kill her a few times. But it was there all the same, shining from his brand new soul.
A slight smile broke out on his face, nothing like the smirks of old, softer and gentle. 'Like the ones he must have given Dru once upon a time,' she thought, 'or Buffy.' Then it occurred to her, the cold like stone, he must be talking about Buffy. Did that mean she'd seen him since his return? Obviously the reception hadn't been favorable.
"Can I stay here with you, at least for now? You make the hole less empty."
She thought for a second, unsure at first, but he was opening his shirt, and she noticed something for the first time, the burn.
"Of course," she said it softly, but at the boyish grin that broke out, she knew he heard.
He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, still smiling, he had been right. She understood, she felt it too. She even understood what he was saying. He stood, still smiling, and removed the pants, leaving him in only silk boxers, and climbed back into the bed, moving up and over so she had ample room. They weren't alone anymore, now they had each other. "Before you go to sleep, let me do something about your chest," she said decisively, studying the large and very angry looking cross shaped burn covering his torso, and the older fading scratch marks on his chest, right over his heart. Yes, unfavorable indeed, she thought as she went into the bathroom for her first aid kit.
Spike was shocked, she wanted to help him? What had he done to deserve this? She walked back into the room with a shoe box and the softest smile he'd ever seen. Did she really care what happened to him? If so, she was in the minority, no one else here did, but he had no where else to go. Maybe the light had been a sign and he wasn't just hallucinating again. He knew she hadn't left it on for him in particular, but she was searching for her port in the storm as well. He knew that he was damn lucky to have been the one to see it, and hell if he was going to mess it up this time. It was the first time in a very long time that anyone had cared what happened to him and he wasn't about to mess it up. As she set about cleaning and bandaging his wound, he just let the warmth of her hands against his cool flesh lull him off into a dreamless sleep, stirring briefly when she climbed in next to him. But only to pull her closer. They both slept the first real sleep in months.
~Part: 3~ Nothings Quite The Same Now
Willow awoke in the dark room well rested and warm. For a moment she stiffened at the strong, male arms around her, but then remembered the events of earlier that morning and relaxed into the embrace. She opened her eyes and focused on his face, so calm now and sweet, and realized just how handsome he was. In sleep all of the pain that it now held, and the contempt that it once did faded and he looked at peace. She wondered for a moment why he breathed, but figured it was more a conditioned response than his body's actual need for the oxygen. She smiled and brushed her finger over his eyebrow and down his cheek in a comforting way, he answered with a soft smile of his own and tightened his arms around her, whispering her name reverently. It shocked her that he knew it was her, and that it didn't bother her more. She was snuggling with a member of the former Scourge of Europe, one who had been involved with her best friend until recently no less, and she felt nothing but peace for the first time in a long time. Never had she been so glad that someone was passing through.
Her eyes shifted to the clock and she realized that the 3:30 it read was pm not am. She must have needed the sleep more than she'd thought. She extracted herself from the warm bed, not really wanting to move, but knowing she had a lot to do today, not the least of which being figuring out how to drop in on her friends all unannounced. She also had to get Spike some blood from somewhere. Now that she had a house guest, she really didn't think that she'd be moving back in with Buffy, so that meant getting food for herself as well. She grabbed some clothes out of her drawer, surprised to see that most of her clothes were already in them. She crept to the closet and swung it open as well, finding the rest hanging. Maybe she wasn't expected to stay at the Casa de Slayer anyway, she thought somewhat sadly. She grabbed a pair of faded jeans and a loose peasant shirt, along with the other necessities and headed for the shower.
Willow returned from the butcher's shop and found Spike still asleep in her bed, looking somewhat out of place beneath the feminine covers and had to suppress a grin. She hastily scribbled a note as to where she was going and that there was blood in the fridge for him when he awoke. In the state he had been in last night she didn't know whether he'd eaten anytime in the past few days. She didn't want to cause him any more pain after what she knew he must be going through, so she also took pains to add that she would return later. Satisfied with the contents of the note she headed off to the Magic Box to confront her fear head on. It was now or never, and while personally she'd almost rather it be never, she had to see her friends, just in case they needed her. It helped that she had a reason to leave if things got uncomfortable, she did still have to pick herself up some food.
Spike awoke alone, and wondered for a moment if the night before had been a dream. That was until he saw the note sitting on the pillow beside his head. He had to smile slightly at it, she had gotten him blood and made sure he knew she was coming back. Yes he had certainly been right about this one. She understood all too well what he was going through. His smile faded at that. She had helped him so much last night, just by being there, and he hadn't done anything for her. Though her wounds were far less visible, he didn't doubt their existence. She was going to see her friends today, so they would no doubt be raw and bleeding by the time she returned home, knowing said friends. He decided that he would take care of her that night, and she deserved it after how well she'd treated him. He almost felt alive again, and it was certainly no doing of his own. He could lay the feat before his red-haired savior, and he had no intention of being ungrateful. He owed her his life, in fact. If she hadn't come and gotten him, he would have ended up blowing in the cool wind that very morning.
It suddenly occurred to him that he was quite hungry, something that he hadn't been in a while and remembered the part of the note where she'd mentioned there was blood in the fridge for him. He smiled, always thinking of the needs of others, this one was. He was damn lucky that it was her balcony that he had climbed onto. Had it been the innocent he'd been seeking he'd have probably ended up starving, which was not a pretty way to go. He climbed out of the bed and slipped on his jeans, heading downstairs for breakfast. He wondered all the way down if there even was a way that he could repay her kindness.
~Part: 4~ Stitch Up My Emptiness
Willow found it somewhat strange that standing outside of Buffy's door was the hardest thing she'd done in months, harder than recovery, or even trying to forget the loss of Tara. She raised her hand to the door just as it opened, and Xander launched himself out of it, right into her.
"Uh, hi Xand," she said softly, as they were picking themselves up from the ground.
At first the expression on his face was just confused, and just as suddenly morphed into a huge smile. "Wills!", he yelled, making her cringe a little. She didn't want her homecoming to be quite so loudly announced. He launched himself at her again and wrapped his arms tightly around her, thus settling the butterflies that had taken to wigging out in her stomach. She hugged him back and relaxed, hoping all would be well.
"Come in, god, I've missed you so much! Wait 'till I tell everyone you're back!"
She sighed, and followed him inside, beginning to wonder what she had been so nervous about, that was until she met the eyes of the Slayer. There it was, what she'd been afraid of all along, fear, anger and pain. Great, and she'd so hoped she was going to be wrong. Buffy stood by the stairs, and had assumed a battle stance, probably more out of habit than fear of a threat, but it was there all the same. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she fought looking down, refusing to be intimidated by a friend. Ok, so not everyone is as forgiving as Xander, but she would have thought that Buffy, she who was supposed to be her best female friend would at least be happy to see her. It appeared she should have stayed away a bit longer.
"Giles said you didn't complete the training," Buffy said softly, never breaking her stance.
"No, I didn't. He said it was important that I come home now, that I had to get on living and the rest would be my own doing," Willow fought down the anger at her friend's slightly accusing tone.
"So do we all have to worry that we're going to be skinned in our sleep?"
Willow couldn't even answer the question. She was too stunned to even try a response. She shook her head as if to clear it of something and clenched her fists at her sides.
"How can you say that?", she asked softly, hoping for a good reason at least so she could justify the question.
"I've seen people go to the dark side before, it's not that easy to come back," she said tersely.
"We saw Faith go to the dark side. Can we say mentally troubled? Our Wills is nothing like her," Xander said, nearly as shocked as Willow herself.
"I'm just worried," Buffy said, relaxing somewhat, realizing that there would be no attack.
Willow shook her head again and shoved her hands in her pockets.
"Never mind, just forget I'm here. Give me a ring if you find any skinless bodies," she said, allowing no emotion into her voice. She didn't wait for the blonde's response, simply turned and walked out.
Not long after she had made it off the front porch she heard footfalls far too heavy to be those of the Slayer. Xander, she thought. He caught up to her and matched her pace, looking at her worriedly.
"She's just upset," he said, hoping to smooth things over.
"What the hell does she have to be upset about?", Willow growled, "She's not the one that has to live with it, now is she? She doesn't have to survive every day with the knowledge that she's done something that she can never take back like this." She choked back the tears burning behind her eyelids. "She doesn't have to live with blood on her hands."
Xander just stared at her, pain for her in his eyes. Willow knew he'd just wanted to make everything better, but he'd said the wrong thing at the absolute wrong time. She felt bad for venting on him, but she needed no one as a go between for her and Buffy. If that was the way the blonde felt, well that was just fine. She could think of her what she liked. At least some people knew enough to realize that Willow wasn't crazy. A little lost maybe, but not psychotic.
"I'm sorry I snapped Xand, it has just been one of those weeks," she said, trying to offer her friend a smile.
"Don't worry Wills," he said, "I understand what it is to regret."
She smiled softly at him. "If you don't mind too much, I just need to be alone right now." She didn't want to offend him, but she couldn't cry in front of him. Not on her first day back. Much to her relief he simply nodded and changed courses, offering a wave as he strode back towards Buffy's house. She gave up all pretenses of control and took off at a run for her house, in hopes that she'd make it before the tears started.
Spike was alarmed at the thump on the porch and decided to investigate. He had a full stomach and a good night's sleep, and he was almost feeling like himself again. And so like any curious vampire worth their salt headed toward the front door to see the cause of the noise. Upon opening it, at first he saw nothing. As his gaze headed down, he saw his red-haired room mate sitting with her back up against the wall with her face buried in her knees. Evidently her visit to her friend's house had not gone over well or she'd had a very depressing trip to the grocery.
"Red, are you all right?", he asked, the concern in his voice very evident.
She looked up at him, tears streaking her cheeks, and shook her head to the negative. He stepped out onto the porch, avoiding the late afternoon rays and put his arm around her shoulders, helping her up. She followed with little persuasion, and he maneuvered her to the couch, and sat so her face was still buried in his shoulder. He stroked her back and hair, hoping to calm her. He was guessing it wasn't the grocery.
When the sobs finally receded, he grasped her chin and pulled her eyes to his own.
"What happened, luv?", he asked gently, so as not to send her into another bout of tears before he got the story from her.
As she told her tale, he found himself wondering what exactly it was he saw in the Slayer. So the girl had made a mistake. They all had at least once. Spike knew for a fact that Buffy herself had made a mistake or two. In fact she'd almost signed all of her fellow White Hat's death warrants with the whole Angelus fiasco. He shook his head. It turns out his goddess wasn't infallible after all. The more of her faults that came into light, the more he questioned his sanity for ever wanting her in the first place. He held back a growl, for both the girl in his arms and himself. It appears that some things change just as quickly as they begin, he mused.
Willow looked up at Spike again after finishing her story, and noticed the expression on his face. It looked as if he'd eaten something that had tasted quite funny. His brow was all screwed up as if in pain, but he had a little smile on his lips. She wondered what was going on in that brain of his. Then it hit her, Buffy, Spike's unattainable woman. And here she'd just gushed all over him about the one thing that he couldn't have. She felt the blush rising in her cheeks as she tried to figure out the correct way to apologize. She'd never meant to hurt him.
"Spike, I'm so sorry," she said, the blush heating up even further. She was sure she must glow even in the darkness of the room.
"For what pet?", he asked, the gentle smile that she was becoming used to appearing.
"For talking about her. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you or anything," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. 'The last thing I need is to lose him too,' she thought, with more than a little panic.
"Don't worry pet, I'm not going anywhere," he said grinning.
Oops, that wasn't supposed to be out loud. The blush rose to fever pitch, and she sought out the hands that were currently playing with the hem of her shirt.
"Red, don't worry. Nothing to be embarrassed about, we've got each other, and right now, that's all we need. I'm sure the Slayer will figure out the error of her ways," he said with a smile.
"I hope so," she said, looking up at him again, "I do miss her."
"I know you do," he said.
Wait. He'd just called her 'Slayer'? He hadn't really done that unless he was seriously pissed at her in ages. And the answer to the miss her quote was somewhat off. Shouldn't he have said he did too? 'Oh great,' she thought, 'now I'm all confused again.'
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