Willow looked, gloatingly, at her finished product. It was like a flak
jacket, but it wrapped around the upper chest, extending above and
below
the heart. She had made the item from one of the few pieces of scrap
in her
parent’s garage, a torn kevlar sail from her father’s brief flirtation
with
yachting. At the core of the abbreviated jacket were discarded pieces
of
half-inch thick steel armour, which she had scavenged from the local
Military scrap heap. It would certainly keep Spike safe long enough
for her
to defuse anything that may start.
It was getting towards dusk, the time she had arranged for Angel and
Whistler to arrive. She had also called Giles, to make sure that he
brought
Buffy and Xander at around the same time. She looked around the kitchen
once again, making sure that all six chairs were placed correctly.
She
smiled, her mischieviousness rising to the top.
Hearing a knock, she went to the door “Come in Angel. This must be
Whistler, Hi!” She smiled, trying to make clear to Angel that she was
willing to move on.
Angel glowered as he entered the house. “Willow.” His greeting was almost
a
growl. He was obviously still out of sorts about her pressuring him
into
helping.
Whistler seemed to be a lot happier. “Yep, that’s me, Whistler. And
you
must be Willow. Hi. So, Angel tells me you’ve got some ideas about
what the
chip that young Billy’s got actually does. Great, y’know, it’s time
us good
guys did some scientific research too, instead of leaving it to the
other
side all the time. Yer got anything to drink?”
Willow was amused, it wasn’t often she met someone who babbled more
than
her. “Please sit down, Whistler, I’ll explain everything once all the
participants are here. And what would you like to drink?”
“Scotch would be nice.”
“Umm … okay. I’ll try and find some.”
Before Willow could even leave the room, the doorbell rang again. “Sorry,
Whistler, I better get the door.”
So saying, she opened the door, to see Giles, Buffy and Xander all there.
“Come in.” Willow turned, leading them to the lounge. The new arrivals
looked surprised at the gathering. “Okay, all of you sit down and introduce
yourselves. I have to go and get the rest of the participants.”
She went and banged on the door to the cellar. “Okay!” She yelled, “bring
them up now!”
Spike emerged, flak jacket under his shirt, dragging the firmly trussed
vampire behind him. He went straight to the kitchen, forced the creature
to
sit and tied it firmly to the kitchen chair.
“Spike was in your cellar?” Buffy queried.
“How do you think I got the other vampire and our other unwilling
volunteer?” Willow asked her.
“Volunteer? I thought you were going to tell us what you’d discovered
about
the chip.” Buffy sounded confused.
“No, I have a set of theories, but to be certain which is correct I
have to
carry out an experiment.”
Spike emerged from the cellar again, dragging a pallid yellow creature
of
roughly humanoid appearance, but scaled and fanged. The beast also
had
vicious claws.
Spike dragged the demon into the kitchen and tied it at the other end
of
the row to the vampire.
“Please, could you all move into the kitchen. Now, Buffy, can you sit
there, Xander, over there please, Angel, could you sit next to the
tied up
demon, and Whistler, next to the other vampire. Good.
Now, what I was able to work out, was that the chip is one of three
things,
but I don’t know which. The only way to be sure is to have Spike hit
each of…”
The protests, yelling and complaints erupted. Buffy was standing, waving
a
finger and shouting. Xander looked confused. The fury on Angel’s face
was
clearly evident. The vampire was bellowing in no uncertain terms and
the
yellow demon was ululating wildly. Nothing could be understood. The
only
person seemingly unaffected was Whistler.
Willow reached into her pocket and pulled out a whistle. The piercing
tone
immediately cut through the enormous din being made.
“Good, now sit down, listen this time and don’t interrupt.” Willow put
on
her resolve face. “Now, the only way to be certain of what the chip
does is
to see Spike’s reactions when he acts violently. He will hit you each,
once, hard but not dangerously. He knows perfectly well that, if he
doesn’t
follow those rules, he’ll be turned into a radish with a soul. As for
you,
what we learn will be very important. It’ll tell us what the Initiative’s
overall goal was, not just ADAM, but the other things we still don’t
know
about. It’s worth a small amount of pain.”
Buffy looked up at Willow. “I don’t understand what you’re doing Wills.”
“Buffy, can you just trust me please. I’ve given you my trust often enough.”
“Is he still going to hurt when he hits me?”
“Definitely. I wish I could connect him to an EEG to get actual brainwave
readings of each event, but beggars can’t be choosers.” Willow smiled
lopsidedly as she concluded.
Buffy still looked somewhat sulky, but nodded. “Okay, but one punch only.”
Willow smiled. “Spike, are you ready?”
“Oh yes pet, I’m looking forward to this more than you can possibly imagine.”
“Let’s begin then.”
Spike smirked, walked up to the tied and helpless vampire, hauled back
and
drove his fist hard into the unfortunate creature’s face. “Well, pet,
that
didn’t hurt, it was … neat.” He looked back at the vampire, now
unconscious, its head lolling forward and chuckled.
“Do you just want me to move along the line pet?”
“That’s easiest Spike. Sooner this is over, the better. Remember, not
too
hard, Whistler’s one of the good guys.”
Spike sighed and walked up to Whistler, snapping a jab from the elbow.
It
caught Whistler on the chin with a resounding crack. “Owwwww!” Whistler
was
obviously hurting. Willow noticed that Spike seemed to be suffering
no ill
effects from the blow.
Spike was grinning. “Still feeling good. I could get to enjoy this Red.”
“Spike, just carry on, and try not to gloat too much please.” The redhead’s
voice was firm and even. Spike was instantly reminded of a schoolmistress.
Moving towards Buffy, Spike allowed his game face to slip on. Grinning
evilly he hovered in front of her, savouring the moment. Buffy snarled
“You
are going to be so dust once that chip’s out,” as Spike fired in a
rapid
finger strike at her. As the blow landed, Spike’s back arched and he
screamed in pain. He reached for his head as he fell from the severity
of
the effect. “Some things are worth waiting for,” smirked Buffy as she
rubbed the base of her nose where Spike had made momentary contact.
Spike looked up at her from the floor, saying “Remember slayer, just
one
good night.”
Buffy looked down at him, contemptuously. “But never you.”
Willow walked over to Spike, and helped him rise. He shook off her
assistance, missing the momentary hurt in her eyes as he did so.
“Well, Chubs, ready?” The mocking tone in Spike’s voice obvious.
“No, but I can’t see you worrying about that, Junior.”
“All too true, pup.” Spike lashed out at Xander, connecting solidly,
even
as He once again fell, screaming as the chip cut in. Both were on the
ground, Xander with a probably broken jaw, and Spike in agony from
the
chip. Everyone else in the room was stunned. Spike stood, groggily
and
reached down to haul Xander up. “Sorry mate, I could smell the fear,
so I
thought I’d make it easier for ya by swinging when you weren’t expecting
it.” He looked at Xander carefully, running his fingers across the
already
bruising jaw. “It doesn’t look broken, just ice it and you’ll be fine.”
He looked around at the astonished expressions on all the other faces.
“What? It’s meant to be an experiment, not a brawl. I hit him too hard,
that’s all.”
He sauntered over and peered over Willow’s shoulder as she made notes,
then
walked up to Angel. “According to Red’s list, you’re next, Peaches.
I’m
really going to enjoy this.”
Angel glared as Spike fired a full-blooded haymaker at him. Connecting
solidly Spike saw his Sire fly backwards out of the chair. He started
the
follow up moves before he realised and brought himself, with difficulty,
to
a halt. Angel looked stunned, a massive welt forming over his mouth.
Buffy,
Giles and Whistler all glared at the blond vampire, while Xander watched
on
in glee.
“Was that you, or your demon, Spike?” Willow’s voice was quiet, but
in the
silence that followed the ferocity of the single blow delivered to
Angel,
the question may as well have been delivered with a bullhorn.
“Demon, pet. Even my demon detests Grandpa there.”
“Are you hurting at all Spike?”
“Not in the slightest pet. In fact, I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
Spike moved quickly towards the helpless and now thoroughly terrified
demon
at the end of the line. He snapped out a pivot kick that broke the
creature’s neck with a snap like a dry twig. “No pain there, either.”
“I so want to kill you Spike!” Buffy’s voice dripped venom. “Now Wills,
have we finished your stupid idea?”
“Buffy!” The tone of command in Giles’ voice surprised most of those
there.
“Willow’s idea was anything but stupid. She told me of her three possible
outcomes, and one was correct. Now lets all listen to what she has
to say.”
“The idea is so simple,” began Willow, “that I feel stupid about not
thinking of it sooner. The chip can only work in one way. Like a detector.”
“What kind of detector?” Whistler asked.
“That was why I needed this experiment. I could only think of three
types.
A demon detector, a soul detectorwhich is why I needed you, Angeland
a
‘goodness’ detector; hence you Whistler. Since the only time Spike
showed
any pain was when he tried to hit Buffy and Xander, we know now that
the
chip only works in the absence of demons. Therefore, it’s a form of
demon
detector.”
“How does knowing what the chip in Blondie’s head does help us?” Buffy
was
still smarting, both from the reprimand, and the fact that she suddenly
felt like a hanger-on rather than the centre of the group.
“Simple really,” Willow answered quietly. “It tells us what the chip
is
capable of. With that information, we can try to duplicate it, or make
something that does the same thing, but isn’t unnecessarily cruel.
They
didn’t need to implant the chip into Spike, including it in a collar
or in
handcuffs would have worked just as well.” Also, if they can make something
that works as a demon detector, we could make proper ones, and use
them as
early warning devices on patrol.”
“Another thing you may want to think about, slayer. It’s a demon detector,
right? So that tells us something about the Initiative. I don’t just
mean
ADAM, I mean its underlying goal. They want to eradicate demons. So
you can
bet they haven’t shut it down, just shifted their base of operations.”
As
he said this, he turned and casually staked the still unconscious vampire.
Buffy felt confused and left out. Now Spike was getting into the middle
of
things too, contributing voluntarily. She hated to admit it, but he
had a
point, it wasn’t like the government to simply shut down an organisation
like the Initiative.
“Well, why don’t we return to the magic shop tomorrow to discuss this
further. I don’t think that we’ll get anywhere tonight, while pride
and
egos are bruised.” Giles spoke calmly, but firmly.
“No pet, they all toddled off to talk about your discovery and to moan
about me being able to belt ‘em a bit.” Spike grinned happily
at the
memory, still holding the girl close.
Willow laughed and shook her head. “Honestly, you’re hopeless. What
am I
going to do with you?”
Spike flashed her a wicked grin. “It depends pet.”
“Depends on what?”
“Whether you want to … consummate our love before or after you break
the
news to the others.”
Willow began to flush and she pulled away from the blond vampire who
was
teasing her. “I d-don’t really f-follow.”
“Pet, I’m just asking if you want to tell your friends about us before
or
after we first make love.”
Willow looked at him, open-mouthed. “I-I-I … what?” The last word came
out
a full octave higher than did the others.
“From where I sit, I don’t know which is better,” Spike acknowledged.
In
one case, Slutty stakes me before I can corrupt your youthful innocence;
in
the other, she stakes me for corrupting your youthful innocence.”
Willow giggled, despite the gravity of the situation. “I do see your
point.
Sorry, inadvertent pun.” She moved back into his arms, sighing softly.
Spike brought her in closer to his body, his fingers slowly trailing
through her hair. He loved its scent; it’s texture and the way it flowed,
like liquid copper, through his fingers. “Red,” Spike whispered, “it
doesn’t matter to me which decision you make. I want you to feel as
comfortable as possible.”
She looked up at the man she wanted to remain with throughout eternity,
and
whispered “Thank you.” Then Willow began to sob quietly.
Spike lifted her and carried her to the couch. He sat, letting her rest
in
his lap. “Talk to me pet, what is it?” Spike’s words were quiet, soothing
and even. He was trying to ease her pain with the tone of his voice.
“You
can do it luv. You’re brave and strong, a real fireball. Now, just
look at
me and tell me, in your own words and at your own pace, what’s upsetting
you.” As he spoke, he gently tilted Willow’s head up, finger on her
chin,
so she could not avoid his gaze.
“I’m so scared Spike, so scared. I’m scared they’ll all hate me, that
they’ll try and hurt you, that I’ll be left alone because they hurt
you. I
don’t want to be alone. It hurts me so much, Please Spike, don’t let
them
h-hurt me.” As she sobbed and spoke, her knees came up, until she was
almost in a foetal position.
The look in her eyes, a look of pleading, imploring him to be her saviour,
hit him like a runaway truck. He realised in that moment that he was
hers
alone, and for eternity. The awareness that this was his last partner,
regardless of the path taken by their relationship, stunned him. He
became
of a connection to Willow far deeper, far more profound than his Siring
bond or his love of Drusilla.
“Shhhhhh, pet, I won’t let them hurt you. Let’s face it, they’ll either
accept what we have, or they won’t. But I’ll work my arse off to try
and
mend bridges for you.” As he was talking, Spike had begun to unconsciously
rock, soothing Willow as he spoke. His hands repeatedly stroked her
hair,
his words diminishing to a whispered croon as he did so.
As Willow slowly calmed, she began to think about the question Spike
had
posed. She knew she had no intention of hiding their relationship.
She had
always despised hypocrisy and deceit. So, his question was fair. Before
or
after. She felt a burning need to be with him, her loins heated and
moistened at the very thought. She could feel that his arousal was
equally
intense, just as difficult to control. As she thought, she became aware
that she could literally feel his arousal. She tried to think. Was
it more
important that she tell the others before she took this glorious man
to her
bed, or was it more important for she and Spike to express their love?
She slowly came to a clear understanding of what should be done. “Spike,”
she whispered, “I know the answer now.”
“Answer?”
“To your question.”
“So, pet, what have you decided.”
“To tell them first. I want you to know my reasons for this. I know
how
you’re feeling…” Willow blushed as she spoke, her eyes turning away
from
the bleach blond vampire. “I just think that it’s important that they
learn
before we make love, so that they can’t accuse us, or more likely me,
of
hormonal overload or ‘lying’ to them.”
“So when do you want to do it luv?”
“Tomorrow, we’re meeting tomorrow night at the shop to talk over the
experiment. When that’s done, I’ll tell them. And then you can add
whatever
you may want. After that, we’ll be friendless and alone in the world.”
Willow sighed dramatically as she finished speaking, but she wondered
how
many friends she would have left in twenty-four hours.
* * * *
The meeting the following day was almost as acrimonious as that of the
previous night. There was no general consensus reached, other than
an
agreement to try to obtain further information on the functions of
the chip.
Willow realised that she should make her little announcement before
people
began to drift off. She looked around at the familiar faces. Buffy
and
Giles, Anya and Xander, Spike. Clearing her throat, she began. “Everyone,
I
have something very important that I want to say.” Everyone turned
and
looked at her. Most of the looks were bafflement, whilst Giles and
Spike
looked apprehensive.
“Now, I know this is going to make some of you angry…” She was stopped
by
the expected chorus of protests. “As I was trying to say, I know this
will
make some of you angry. So, I’m going to simply say it. Spike and I
are in
love.”
The reaction was all that she had expected and more. Everyone began
yelling
at once. Willow drew her whistle out again and, winking at Spike, blew
it
hard. The piercing tone cut through the voices like a knife, leaving
everyone looking at her.
“I said you were going to be angry with me. I didn’t say raise the roof
of
the shop with incomprehensible caterwauling. Now, I’m going to listen
to
all of you, but no violence.”
“Willow, I’m going to stake him, just fucking deal with it.”
“Buffy, you even try and I’ll turn you into a cockroach.”
“No, you won’t.” As she spoke, Buffy threw a stake directly at Spike,
with
deadly accuracy. It struck home, on target. Spike should have been
dust.
But the stake merely ricocheted off the armour Willow had made him.”
“What!” Buffy’s shriek echoed around the shop.
“Simple,” Willow smiled, “I made Spike some armour just in case you
tried
something this stupid. Now listen Buffy, I love him. I want to be with
him.
And, if you’re a true friend you’ll support me. By the way, try anything
to
hurt my man again and you’ll suffer more than you can conceivably imagine.”
“He’s not a man, he’s a fuckin’ vampire for God’s sake Willow! You’re
mad.
Giles, how can we help her?” Buffy appealed to the Watcher, appalled
and
shocked at Willow’s announcement.
Spike moved close to Willow and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You
okay Red?”
Willow nodded, and began to bury herself into his chest.
“Leave her alone.” Buffy’s words were directed at Spike. They were flat,
emotionless. Killing words.
Spike looked at her. “No. I love Willow just as surely and completely
as
she loves me.” The calmness with which he said it surprised Buffy.
No
strutting, no threats. He was behaving … differently, and she was unsure
how to react.
Anya moved into the breach with all the tact of which she was capable.
“So,
are you having sex yet?” She asked in her own inimitable style. “You
should, I feel closer to Xander when we have sex.”
“Ewwwwwww! Disgusting much!” Buffy squealed as she reverted to a high
school mentality. “If you do, Spike, I will kill you.”
“Buffy, I’m warning you! This is your last chance!” Willow’s voice sounded
like a whip cracking. Every eye in the room turned to her.
Spike, responding fastest, saying “Pet, I am impressed.” and then chuckling
quietly.
“Willow, you obviously need help...” Buffy began.
The redhead interrupted, saying, “Yes, I need you to listen, to try
and
understand. Not erupt.”
“He’s a vampire! What else needs to be said?”
“Can I possibly get a word in edgeways?” Giles asked in a plaintive tone.
Willow continued, not even noticing Giles’ request. “Angel is a vampire
too. Are you saying the rules are different?”
“Don’t you dare bring Angel into this!”
“Buffy!” Xander interrupted the growing argument. “I don’t like what
Wills
is doing, but fairs fair. And vamps are vamps. Why is it different?”
“Because Angel has a soul, you moron!” Buffy screamed at Xander.
“And Spike has a chip given what happened to Angel’s soul, I’d
say the
chip was a better bet.” Anya remarked. “Face it Buffy, Willow is a
big
girl, she can make her own decisions.”
“Oh great advice coming from the ex-demon there. Of course you want
to see
them together. That way you won’t feel such a freak!” The fury in Buffy’s
voice was palpable.
“Damn it Buffy! Don’t talk to Anya like that!” Xander shouted, infuriated
at the accusation hurled at his lover. She tried so hard to be human,
and
now Buffy threw it back into her face.
“She’s my friend Xander, and she’s fucking a goddamn vampire!”
“Not yet.” Willow’s voice was quiet, but carried to everyone.
“Thank God!” Buffy’s heartfelt relief was self-evident.
“I wanted you all to know before we made love. I don’t want to hide
anything from you. All I ask is your acceptance and your tolerance.
Giles,
you haven’t said anything yet.” Willow looked directly at the Watcher,
the
man that she truly considered her mentor, who she loved as the father
she
had wanted, but never had.
“Well, I thought I’d wait until all the dramatics had finished.” Giles’
wry
sense of humour made the redhead giggle.
“Willow, you’re an adult. And you’re the daughter I never had. As a
father
I want to scream ‘No! Not him!’ but I ask myself ‘don’t all fathers
say
that?’ It’s your life, your decisions.” Giles turned to look at Spike.
“I’ll avoid the traditional ‘hurt her and you’re dust speech’ and simply
say good luck. Oh, and that if I have to, I’ll find you. Wherever you
may
hide.”
“Why aren’t you helping me!” Buffy shrieked. “He’s a demon, a killer
and
he’s stealing our Willow! Okay, I’ll do it myself! Like usual.” The
last
sentence was muttered under her breath, and only Spike heard the egotism
it
contained.
Willow sighed as Buffy rose from her seat. She took something from her
pocket and threw it at the slayer. As she did so, she chanted. “Mea
lumen,
mea lux.” There was a bright flash, and when it had cleared, Buffy
had
gone. In her place was a large and very ugly cockroach.
All eyes turned to the redhead, the expressions ranging from the amused
to
the horrified. She smiled and muttered “Contrario.” Another flash.
When
this flash had cleared, Buffy was standing there, looking confused.
“I warned you Buffy. Next time, I don’t revert you. Am I clear?”
Buffy nodded, stunned. She had no idea what to do. She knew now that
she
would never be able to kill Spike. Her mind recoiled from that revelation.
“I-I want to go home.” Buffy’s voice was small, and scared, like that
of a
frightened child.
“It’s all right, Buffy, I’ll drive you home.” Giles voice was calm and
placid, soothing the fear away. He gently led the blonde to his car,
helped
her in and drove away.
Xander looked at Willow, fear, shock, horror and amusement warring on
his
features. “That was … amazing Wills.”
Willow smiled depreciatingly. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but she wasn’t
going to take no for an answer. I hope she can forgive me. Can you?”
Xander considered the question seriously. “Well … I can forgive you
turning
Buffy into a ‘roach. That was cool. But, I don’t know so much about
Junior.
I’m scared about what’ll happen when he gets his bite back.”
“Now, I’ve kept bloody quiet through this whole mess.” Spike announced,
“And I’m fed up with everyone worrying about Slutty’s feelings. She
damn
near killed me. Would’ve done if Red hadn’t come up with this.” He
rapped
his chest letting the armour plate ring. “I want to know how the pair
of
you feel. Sod Slutty, she doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t care who you sleep with.” Anya’s characteristic bluntness showed
again. “It’s no-one else’s business.”
Xander looked at Anya, surprised. “I really don’t know. And that surprises
me. If I’d been asked it before, I would have said I would have been
the
one with the stakes. I just don’t know Wills. I think I’ll need to
work
things out.”
“Thanks, both of you.” Willow smiled softly. “So, there’s only one person
here who really can’t accept it. Of course, we still have to let Angel
know.”
Spike growled at the thought of Angel’s reaction.
The conversation dropped away, and Willow moved over to Spike, wrapping
herself into him. Spike lifted her to his lap and they sat, whispering
to
one another.
“Are we that bad, Xander?” Anya asked, pointing at the other couple.
“Ummm … I don’t think so, but I’m probably not the best person to ask.”
“You’re never the best person to ask, Xander. About anything.” Giles’
amused voice came from the doorway.
“Well thanks G-spot, I mean G-man.” Xander riposted.
Giles walked into the shop, ignoring Xander, and immediately asked Willow
“What did you do to Buffy? How did you do the spell so quickly?”
“Oh, I worked out a way to--store I suppose is the right wordspells
in
these little crystals. Then when I want to activate it, I throw the
crystal
at the target and intone the words to shatter the crystal, releasing
the
spell.”
Giles looked shocked. “I’ve never heard of that before Willow. But that’s
not really important. What is important is that Buffy’s in severe shock.
Her mother told me Buffy’s phobic about cockroaches.”
“I’m so sorry Giles. She never told me. I knew she got me to kill them,
but
I honestly thought it was the usual girly ewwww thing. Did that make
any
sense at all? I’m babbling, aren’t I? I’ll stop now.”
“Willow, I understand your reaction. You defended your lover. And you
did
it without any intention to harm Buffy. I admire your restraint. However,
we now may have to deal with a mentally disturbed slayer. And yes,
you were
babbling.” Giles sighed as he spoke. The Council had never considered
such
a prospect.
Giles continued “We can’t do anything now. Everyone just go home. Be
back
here tomorrow at sunset. I’ll have more news about Buffy’s condition
then.”
Willow entered Giles’ shop, hand in hand with Spike. It had felt wonderful
to simply be with him, walking along a street at dusk. <The looks
of
jealousy and envy I got were pretty cool too.> she thought to herself.
As they entered, they heard the sounds of quiet conversation coming
from
the back of the shop, and noticed they were otherwise alone. They moved
to
their normal ‘conference’ table and sat. Of course, they didn’t sit
apart
very long. Within a minute, Willow had scooted onto Spike’s lap and
started
to nibble on his lips.
The sound of a very British throat clearing behind them brought them
back
to reality.
“Hi Giles.” Willow waved at her mentor.
“Ripper.” Spike greeted him.
“I do have some news about Buffy, always assuming you aren’t too self
absorbed to listen.”
“Giles. That’s not fair.” Willow was upset at the tone in Giles’ voice.
“We
stopped our ‘self-absorption’ when you let us know you were here. Which,
you have to admit, puts us one up on Xander and Anya.”
“I’m sorry Willow, Spike. That was uncalled for. I’ve just had some
rather
bad news about Buffy.” Giles distress and anxiety were clear to see.
“Bad news is always a relative term, Ripper. And no, I’m not mocking
you,
I’m making a point. Do you understand me when I say I hope she’s dead
rather than insane, or paralysed or whatever?”
“Paralysed, that I understand Spike.” Giles said grudgingly.
Willow looked at both of them aghast.
Spike saw her expression. “Listen pet, I know we’re sounding cold blooded,
even brutal. I want you to think a moment about a slayer in a wheelchair.
What would happen then?”
Willow looked blankly at them. Giles picked up the thread of the
conversation. Willow, how do we get slayers?
“Giles! You know that! One dies and the next one’s…”
Giles nodded. “Exactly. That’s the problem Willow, if a slayer becomes
incapacitated, rather than killed, then the next slayer can’t be called.
And that’s what’s happened now. Buffy’s had a complete mental collapse.
She’s been hospitalised indefinitely.”
“And it’s my fault, isn’t it Giles. I did it with that spell.” The anguish
was evident in Willow’s voice.
“No Willow, it wasn’t you. The Doctors said that she’s been on the brink
for a long time. Remember, she’s been the slayer for five years and
more.
I’ve also called the Watcher’s Council. They’re sending a psychiatrist
to
assess Buffy as well.”
“Pet, listen. You saw how she reacted to our … surprise. That’s the
point
at which she lost it. I’m guessing here, Rupert…” Giles was astonished
at
Spike’s use of his first name. “…that she couldn’t cope with someone
else
succeeding where she’d failed.”
“So it was me. I did it by loving Spike.” Willow’s grief and distress
were
palpable.
“No pet, it’s not your fault, or mine, or Giles. It’s not even hers.
Regardless of my opinions of slayers, I also feel sorry for them. They’re
called without any option, and they’re usually dead within eighteen
months
of their being called. Giles,” Spike continued, “is there any record
of the
longest lived slayer?”
“Before Buffy, the record was a little under four years.”
Spike nodded. “How did she die, mate?”
“Err, I don’t recall. I’d need to check the diaries.”
“You do that Ripper. Now.” The tone in Spike’s voice left no room for argument.
Willow began to sob quietly, burying her face into the blond vampire’s
chest. Spike began to murmur to her, stroking her hair, soothing her
as
best he could. His only immediate hope was that either Giles understood
what he was asking, or that the previous record holder had indeed committed
suicide.” He thought he remembered a story told, perhaps by Darla,
about an
undefeatable slayer who had taken her own life.
Giles came back, looking distressed. “Show me.” Spike told him.
Spike quickly scanned the page and then read it aloud to Willow. “‘After
four years, Kamayama Noriko became confused and lost. She had no
understanding of her self or her goals. In this state of mind, she
took her
own life.’ It’s understandable pet. If a slayer doesn’t die they become
emotionally exhausted. I spoke to Buffy about it close to a year ago.
She
wanted to know how I killed the two slayers. I told her then that I
didn’t
defeat them, they defeated themselves.” He handed the book back to
Giles.
Willow began to think, and looked up at Spike and Giles. “Is this all true?”
Giles nodded. “Yes, Spike read verbatim from the diary. And he told
the
truth about Buffy speaking to him last year.”
“So it wasn’t all my fault?”
“No pet, it wasn’t your fault at all. Anything could have triggered
her
off. You can’t be held responsible for who you love. After all, didn’t
you
say that to Buffy when Angelus returned?”
“That’s different. She’s the slayer. It’s important that we help her.
Instead, I hurt her. Real bad.”
“Listen Red, you didn’t do anything. She was the one who went off the
deep
end. In fact, you may have saved her life with that spell. If you hadn’t
done something drastic, she would have attacked me, and with this bloody
chip, I would have had to kill her with a single blow. After that,
I would
have been helpless on the floor. Honest, luv, you did the right thing.”
“Did I really?” The need to believe that the two men could hear in the
tiny
witch’s voice was heartrending.
Giles crouched down, looked at Willow and said, “Yes, you made the right
decisions at every step. Some were perhaps a little overstated, but
you
are, after all, not British. I’m more proud of you than I can possibly
say.”
Willow looked up at the Watcher, tears still streaking her face. “Really?”
“Yes Willow, really.”
They heard the bell ring as Anya and Xander walked in. “How’s Buffy?”
Xander wasted no time in inquiring.
“Not well, I’m afraid Xander.” Was Giles’ reply, “She’s had a complete
breakdown.”
“Oh God! Poor Buffy! How did it happen?” Xander was obviously distressed,
and Anya looked somewhat unhappy about that.
“We aren’t certain Xander.” Giles replied. “It’s likely that she’s burned
out as the slayer. She’s the longest-lived slayer in all of the Council’s
recorded history. It’s bound to have some negative side effects.”
“Hey G-man, we’re talking about a person here. Buffy, in fact. ‘Negative
side effects’ just doesn’t cut it.”
“I know Xander, but how else can we phrase it? We know so little about
the
metabolism and mental stability of slayers.”
“Damn it Giles, you’re making her sound like a science experiment!”
“Giles,” Spike interrupted, “what happens if she’s permanently … disabled?”
“I don’t know Spike, I really don’t. The issue has just never arisen before.”
What we will have to do though,” Giles continued, “is to take over Buffy’s
patrolling duties. I propose that Spike and Willow work together, as
will
Xander, Anya and myself. That gives us two teams of roughly equal competence.”
“Works for me Watcher. What about you pet?” Spike’s solicitousness touched
all those watching.
Anya looked at the blond quizzically. “Now I know what was meant when
I was
told you ‘stink of humanity.’ The description was most apt. I think
it’s
rather sweet myself.”
Spike’s head shot straight up. “What? How did you hear that?”
Anya smiled. “I was just solving a problem for one of your minions.
She was
very angry with Dalton. So I put his soul back, and hid it so no-one
would
know, not even him. Then the Judge and Dru made the girl’s wish come
true.”
“Bloody Hell Anya! I liked Dalton. He was the only one I could have
a
halfway intelligent conversation with.”
“Sorry.” Anya said, her face making it obvious she was anything but.
“I think we can handle it. After all, I still feel guilty about Buffy.”
Willow responded to Giles and Spike.
Spike held Willow close. “Pet, how can we convince you?”
“There’s nothing to say Spike. I precipitated this, however you look at it.”
Spike sighed, drew the emotionally shattered redhead even closer into
his
arms, looked at the Watcher and said, “I think we should start this
routine
tomorrow, mate. I don’t think anyone other than me is in any condition
to
try anything now.”
Giles nodded. “Yes Spike, you’re quite right. I don’t think Sunnydale’ll
suffer too much from one night without patrolling.”
* * * *
Spike walked Willow back to what he had already began to think of as
their
home. He could tell that Willow was thinking, and he had a solid suspicion
that guilt was the major issue. He knew that she could not get past
the
idea that it was her fault, and hers alone, that Buffy was ill.
As she opened the door, she looked at the blond vampire who had become
such
a fixture in her life so quickly and so completely. As they walked
in, she
whispered, “I need to be punished,” to herself.
“What pet?” Spike asked. He had heard her murmur quite clearly, but
wanted
to try and understand her motivations.
“N-Nothing. I was just thinking.” Willow answered, blushing furiously.
“Uh huh.” The tone in his voice spoke volumes. “Now, pet, why don’t
you
tell me. You know I’ll only work it out in the long run. So, why put
yourself through it.”
“Umm-umm-Oh God!” Willow blushed bright crimson and fled for her bedroom.
Spike ran after her. He reached her just as she entered the room, and
moved
through the door before she could slam it shut. Willow spun on her
heel,
surprised that he’d got there so quickly. He grinned at her and said,
“Red,
talk to me. Something’s eating at you. I don’t mean what happened to
the
slayer, but I’ll bet it’s connected.”
The now profoundly embarrassed redhead sat on the bed and looked down,
trembling but remaining silent.
“Pet, what is it?” Spike sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her
shoulder. “Luv, you have to talk to me about this, I can tell it’s
really
messing with your mind.”
Willow looked at him again, seeing only concern and worry in his face.
<He’s worried for me?> Wiping the tears away, she sniffed and reached
for a
tissue. “W-Will you promise to j-j-just listen while I tell y-you something?”
“Okay pet, I’ll just listen. No commentary, no interruptions. I promise.”
Willow smiled very softly, and began to talk. “This will probably take
a
while. You know that my parents are away a lot of the time. Well, it’s
been
going on since I was thirteen. I’d guess that since then they’ve been
here
for about ten to twelve weeks each year on average. So, most of the
time
I’m alone. I can’t even say they neglect me, they aren’t here often
enough
for that.”
Spike watched the girl as she began to open her heart, her eyes were
almost
glazed, and she was obviously not seeing her surroundings, but something
truly horrifying. He realised that, on one level, she did not realise
he
was there.
“Even when they were here,” continued Willow, “they tried to be ‘modern’
parents.” The word modern was spat out like the vilest insult of which
she
could think. “They reasoned, counselled, discussed and assessed. They
never
took notice of me! It was like I was a child-rearing project. They
never
showed me love or affection. Never allowed me to show any emotions
toward
them. I did the only thing I could think of. When I was bad, I punished
myself.”
Spike was sitting, listening to her, tears trailing unnoticed down both
cheeks. He couldn’t believe the emotional purgatory the woman next
to him
had suffered. <People may call me a monster, but I know of two real
monsters now. These people are just unbelievable.> Spike thought.
Willow was continuing to talk. “I used to hurt myself in all sorts of
ways,
just so I could know that I could feel. So that I knew that I had been
chastised. Look.” Willow spread her fingers to show Spike the multiple
layers of scarring in the webbing. “I used to do that with a compass
point.
And this.” Willow lifted a foot, and removing her trainer and sock,
showed
him similar scars in the webbing there. She continued, showing him
burns
from molten wax, cut marks across the inside of her elbows, the remaining
marks of the glass cuts on her stomach. Seeing them, Spike shuddered,
only
too aware of how much the incident with the broken bottle must have
effected her.
“How can you love someone as sick as me, Spike? I’m mad, not like Buffy,
but mad just the same. And I made Buffy mad. I’m vile.”
Spike drew Willow into another embrace, his tears still streaming down
his
face. “Willow, I love you because of your faults, not in spite of them.
You’re the furthest thing from vile that I can imagine. I’ll never
leave
you alone. I promise. Now, pet, go to sleep. There’s nothing else we
can do
tonight.”
Spike lay her down on the bed, and then sat next to her, holding her
hand
until she eventually drifted off.
Willow stirred, and felt something cold and solid next to her. She rolled
over and saw Spike, sleeping on the edge of her bed, still fully clad,
down
to his ammunition boots. Willow felt oddly cheated and strangely comforted
at the same time. Spike hadn’t taken advantage of her weakness the
previous
night, and that he had kept his promise not to leave her alone.
She looked at him, motionless and to all intents and purposes dead.
She
realised that she could examine him, rather like a sculpture. She looked
at
the lean musculature under the tight black tee-shirt, the astonishing
cheekbones, the peroxided hair. She leaned closer and looked at the
short
hairs behind his ears. <Oh Goddess! William the Bloody’s a curly
top!> went
through her mind. She continued to explore, visually, every inch of
her
man’s body. She dwelt on the slender whipcord muscles of his arms,
and
although the jeans were not tight enough to tell her the same about
his
legs, she was fairly sure they were equally well defined. She also
lingeringly eyed the bulge at his groin, quietly amused that vampires
seemed to have the same ‘morning’ reaction as mortal men.
She sighed. After last night’s revelations, he certainly would not want
her
any more. In her own mind, she was truly beyond redemption.
Spike woke, and immediately sensed her eyes on him. He rolled over to
look
at her, stunned once again by both her beauty and her unawareness of
that
beauty.
“How’re you feeling luv?”
Willow looked at him, confused. Why was he talking to her? She knew
she did
not deserve his attention.
“Ummm … okay, I guess.”
Spike looked directly at her and, fixing her with his eyes, said, “Pet,
after last night, you know you aren’t ‘okay’. You told me things which
you’ve always kept hidden. Seeing how you reacted, I’d say you’re thinking
you’re worthless, undeserving, bad.”
Willow looked up at him, amazed at his insight. “H-how did you know?”
Spike smiled gently and whispered to her, “Been there, done that, got
the
bleedin’ tee-shirt.”
“What?”
“I’ve felt like you do luv. I’ve felt rejected, neglected and abused.
The
only difference is that it happened to me somewhat later in life, well,
after my life actually.”
Willow looked at him, confused. “Darla and Angelus. They treated me
much
the same way your parents treated you. As an afterthought, a responsibility
they’d rather do without. Dru was somewhat better, but also so bonkers
she
didn’t know her arse from breakfast. Which left me out in the cold,
like.”
Willow was shocked. He did understand her neglect. Did that mean it
was
possible for him to understand the rest?
The blond vampire grinned at her. “Pet, why don’t you get up and change.
Have a shower. I’ll make you breakfast. Should I microwave Rice Krispies?”
Willow took a moment to realise he was teasing. “Oh you … you…” she
trailed
off.
Spike took one of her hands in his. “Are you kosher, pet?” He asked seriously.
“You remembered!” Willow was thrilled at the simple question. “No, not
a
kosher girl. But at least you asked. That was so sweet.”
“Now, go get showered and I’ll make you something to eat.”
* * * *
After the shower, Willow dressed and then entered the kitchen, to the
smell
of bacon frying. Spike was cooking. <Hmmm, another thing I didn’t
realise
he could do.> In fact, he had cooked a vast quantity of food. She looked
around, seeing eggs, both scrambled and poached, tomato, sausages and
fried
bread. He was just finishing the bacon as he saw her. “Sorry luv, I
couldn’t find any kidneys, so it’s not really a proper brekky.”
“Proper?” Willow squawked. “Who’re we inviting over? A fraternity?”
“Er, this is just for us pet. It’s just a decent English breakfast.”
“Does everyone die at forty-five over there?”
“Huh?” Was Spike’s intelligent reply.
“This stuff is loaded with cholesterol.”
“You don’t want it?” The disappointment in Spike’s voice was self-evident.
“Did I say that?” Willow grinned as she asked him. “I was just surprised.
But, honestly, you can forget the kidneys. Ewwwwwwwwww.”
Spike was confused and taken aback by the redhead’s babbling. Pressing
her
advantage, she asked, “Why are you doing this? I was surprised to even
see
you here after last night. You’ve kept me moving so fast this morning,
I
haven’t had a chance to ask before, so give. Why did you bother to
stay
around someone so fucked up?”
“Willow, I love you. Why else would I be here?” Spike sounded genuinely
confused.
“But, I’m horrible. I-I hurt myself, I’m a monster.”
“Red, you’re not a monster. Trust me on this. I ought to know a monster
when I see one. After all, I’ve been around Angelus.”
“Maybe,” Willow agreed reluctantly, “but I’m certainly not normal.”
“Listen, lover, I know what’s happened to you. I mean psychologically
as
well as physically. I have just one question at the moment. Do you
trust
me, implicitly?”
Willow nodded, eyes wide at the intensity and the seriousness she heard
in
his voice.
“In that case, believe this. I love you Willow, the person who has been
formed by her whole background. Including the ‘bad’ bits of your
upbringing.” He emphasised the word ‘bad’ with finger quotes. “If you
want,
we can talk about these particular feelings and needs of yours later,
but
not yet pet, you just aren’t ready.”
The redheaded witch nodded, tears slowly trickling down both cheeks.
She
had never experienced anything like this before. Her parents, Oz and
Tara
were all non-communicative people, and to have someone spell things
out,
and leave no room for doubt effected her profoundly.
“Now, pet, let’s mop those tears up and then get around to eating
breakfast.” Spike began to dish up a meal that Willow could barely
comprehend.
“I don’t eat that much at dinner Spike! This is only breakfast!”
Spike simply smiled and said, “Eat!” There was no room for debate in
the
voice he used. <I’d do anything if he asked in that voice.> Willow
reflected.
Willow began to eat, discovering that Spike was not only a quantity
cook,
but a quality cook as well. She discovered an underlying hunger that
stimulated her appetite, and the more she ate, the more she wanted.
Spike
smiled as he saw her tucking in. <I’ll bet the little chit skips
too many
meals when there isn’t anyone on her back to eat. She needs someone
to look
after her.>
“Feeling better pet?” he asked as Willow finished. She nodded, and at
the
same time managed to look ashamed at the amount she had consumed. “And
don’t look at me like that. If you’re starting some intensive physical
training, you’re going to need an increased diet.” Willow looked up
at him,
and gave him a small, tentative smile.
“So, what now, oh glorious leader?” She asked mockingly.
“Well, pet; you’ve got a day to laze around in, or you can go out and
catch
a tan, or you can sleep, or you can start your training, or you can
start
my training, or we could nip upstairs and be very very naughty.”
Willow’s jaw dropped, and then she grinned. “We could. We could go into
my
mom’s closet and try her clothes on like when I was a little girl.”
Spike laughed. “Pet I really don’t have the legs for a frock. Just trust
me
on this.”
Willow joined in the laughter. <Goddess, Everything about him is
right.
He’ll joke with me, play with me, be with me, love me unconditionally.
How
the hell did I get to be so lucky? Especially when I’m such a cow.>
Spike held his hand out to her and as he took it, he raised her from
the
chair and led her gently upstairs. As they reached the upper landing,
he
looked at Willow and asked, “Your bed, or the double?”
“Ummm, errrrr, I dunno!” Willow squeaked.
“My decision then pet?” Willow nodded in agreement, too afraid to speak,
in
case the moment was lost. Spike led her into her own room. As he did
so, he
leant down to whisper to her, “Your room first, Red. Let’s make some
new
memories there.”
Willow looked at him shyly and nodded. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
He led her to the bed, and sitting next to her, brushed his lips over
hers.
As he did so, he moved in closer, beginning to truly taste her. His
tongue
slowly became insistent, demanding entrance to her mouth. Willow
capitulated, opening her lips and mouth and drawing his tongue inside.
Their tongues embraced, each probing at and exploring the other. Their
lips
parted, allowing the redhead to draw in some much-needed air. Spike
looked
at her, seeing her pupils dilated and hearing her breathing becoming
ragged. He scooped Willow up and lay her on the bed. Lying next to
her, he
began to kiss her again, and once more he felt her respond. The need
was
building in Spike, and with his enhanced senses, he could tell that
Willow
was reacting in the same manner.
Spike broke the kiss once again and looked into Willow’s eyes. He asked
a
simple one-word question. “Ready?”
Willow nodded, whimpering softly as she did so.
Spike kissed her forehead, then pulled back and whispered to her, “We’ll
do
this right.”
He sat up grinning at her as he untied his boots. Shrugging both the
boots
and socks, he rocked onto his back, turning towards the motionless
girl.
“Sorry pet, I just can’t stand men who leave their socks on.”
Willow looked at him and giggled. “D-did you know that…” she trailed
off
into helpless laughter.
“Oh no, pet, don’t tell me Wolf-boy left his bloody socks on!”
Willow nodded, now helplessly laughing as she rolled from side to side
on
the narrow bed.
Spike looked at her, then shuddered. “That was an image I really didn’t
need.” Spike then lay back with her and held her as her mirth slowly
subsided.
“Why are you so good to me? Everything you do is so perfect. Even this.
Most men would have been jealous that I’d mentioned a former lover.”
“I could make observations about my exceptional emotional maturity,
but
that wouldn’t be true luv. The simple truth here is that I have an
advanced
sense of the absurd.” He sighed. “That’ll teach me to hang around and
snack
off Dadaists.”
“You were in Paris back then?” Willow was surprised. She had not really
seen Spike as the artistic type.
He grinned at her and murmured “I’ll tell you all about it later pet.
We
have some more important things to do now.”
So saying, he leant forward to draw her tee shirt over her head, exposing
her delicate, almost alabaster skin, marred only by a plain white cotton
bra. After doing so, Spike rose to his knees to draw his own black
tee over
his head as well, demonstrating by actions that he wouldn’t leave her
vulnerable. He was aware that, whatever Willow’s proclivities, and
he
certainly intended to investigate all of them later; at present she
was too
fragile for anything other than the tenderest of attentions.
He lay back down, next to the tiny redheaded girl who had turned his
emotions upside down and kissed her cheek softly, and then began to
trail
his lips, butterfly light, along the line of her jaw, from the base
of her
ear to her chin. Willow gasped involuntarily at the pleasure, the desire,
Spike was generating. He continued, gently, lovingly and yet remorselessly;
running the tip of his tongue up the other side of her jaw, from
her chin
to her earlobe. He began to suck, very softly, on the lobe, murmuring
as he
did so. Willow began to become entranced by the small, overtly erotic
sounds, just as surely as she was already entranced by his foreplay.
He
eventually ceased his assault oh her ear, seemingly months later, and
began
to kiss down the side of her neck, occasionally brushing against her
carotid and jugular with blunt teeth, teasing her with what could be.
As he continued down her neck, he reached her collarbone, and
simultaneously slid a hand under her back to unhook her bra. She arched
to
allow him unfettered access to the clip, and moaned with passion as
he
eased the offending garment off.
Spike looked down at her small, but exquisitely shaped breasts. The
pale
pink nipples already partially erect. He leant down to kiss the upper
curve
of her left breast, and then flickered his tongue across her pectoral;
it
danced over her flesh as her arousal increased. Spike could smell her
arousal, and Willow felt the slowly growing heat in her loins.
“Please, faster.” She moaned semi-coherently. The pulses and urges of
her
desire were beginning to play havoc with her reasoning, and she felt
as
though she were sinking into a pit of need and desire, controlled by
her
most basic instincts.
Spike chuckled. It was a low deep sound, coming from the back of the
throat, and as he did so, his mouth slipped over her nipple, sucking
it in.
His lips suckled the hard nub as his tongue began a slow, erotically
cruel
laving with his tongue. Willow began to sink into the sensations, becoming
one with her feelings and leaving reason far behind.
Spike moved again, releasing Willow’s now rock solid breast. As he did
so,
she whimpered with loss and frustrated desire.
The blond vampire slid down the bed and hooked his fingers into the
waistbands of both her jeans and panties. Unbuttoning and unzipping
the
jeans, he slid both down, her hips automatically arching up to assist
him
as he did so.
Spike moaned reverently as he saw Willow naked for the first time. She
was
a paean in red and cream. Even the thick mass of darker curls at her
sex
were like an exclamation point, a completion of a visual poem.
He leant forward again, brushing his lips over her ribcage, tasting
her
flesh. Underexposed, compared to her face, it was softer and somehow
sweeter. It was intoxicating. As he did so, Willow’s cries and moans
became
a continuous chant of desire, lust and need.
He continued his torturously slow way down over her stomach, getting
closer
and closer to her core. Her scent almost overwhelmed him, and he needed
to
concentrate to avoid reacting too quickly. This was about her. About
Willow
reclaiming her life. About making memories worth keeping in this room.
He lowered one hand to unfasten his jeans as the other continued to
caress
Willow’s thigh, his lips never leaving her abdomen. He continues to
kiss
down further, through her pubic patch, to her accompanying gasps. His
tongue began to dance again, teasing the top of her thighs. Willow
felt
them part of their own accord. She was in sensory overload.
Spike, now naked, slid even further down the bed; feeling the bedspread
rubbing against his erect cock. His head slid easily between her open
thighs. He could feel the warmth radiating from her arousal as he leant
forward and gently kissed her clit.
Willow squealed. The feeling was amazing, and slightly shocking. She
knew
vampires were cold, but the effect was noticeable and … interesting.
“My
Lady! Spike, that feels … oohhhhhhhh.”
Spike chuckled again as he set to his task of reducing the passionate
redhead to total incoherency. His tongue and fingers moved ceaselessly,
teasing and arousing her. They danced from clit, to lips, to the top
of her
thighs and back in a random pattern, He moved continually, bringing
Willow
closer and closer to release. Willow’s wetness now began to slick the
top
of her thighs and her uncoordinated hands reached down in hopeless
attempts
to grasp his hair, to hold him and force him to bring her to orgasm.
Spike sensed that she was ready, on the verge of release. He moved up,
manoeuvering his hips between hers. He ran the head of his cock over
her
wet and welcoming lips, continuing to tease her.
“Please! Now!” Willow implored him.
Spike grinned as he suddenly thrust deep inside her, feeling her heat
open
to allow him access. “Godddddddd!” The groan made by Spike was long,
drawn
out and heartfelt. He had never felt anything quite like it. The mortal
warmth, the wetness, the reciprocated desire and need were all familiar
to
him, but the unutterable rightness was new and different.
His movements were strangely gentle for him. Spike’s thrusts were tempered
by his control of his demon. He knew that releasing the demon at this
point
would only scare the beautiful woman he was making love with.
Willow closed in on the release that Spike had so carefully avoided
allowing her. She reached round to grasp his buttocks and pull him
closer.
She needed to cum. Now! She ground her pelvis up, trying to abrade
her clit
against his pubic hairs, desperate for the stimulation.
As Willow drove her hips up to meet him, Spike thrust deep into her,
feeling the tip of his cock scraping the sponginess of her cervix.
That,
and Willow’s incohate cries, drove him over the edge, just as she peaked.
Their mutual orgasm created a blend of Willow’s overheated fluids,
and
Spike’s cold seed; a combination which neither had felt before. The
raw
eroticism stunned them both even further, and they collapsed, exhausted
into one another’s arms.
The phone rang again. “I said, go away!” This time, Spike slammed the
phone
down.
* * * *
Ten minutes later there was a massive banging on the front door. Both
Willow and Spike woke up, and looked confusedly at one another. “I’d
better
get it,” Willow announced. “I definitely don’t want you frying on me
now,
Mister.” She shrugged on Spike’s tee shirt and went down to answer
the
door. Spike flopped back bonelessly into sleep.
Willow opened the door to see a distressed Giles and an anxious Xander
standing there. “What?” She was not quite as surly as Spike, but a
wonderful afterglow had interrupted. <This had better be damn good.>
Willow
thought. “Come in.” She turned to lead them into the lounge.
“Do you need Spike as well? He’s asleep. I was too,” she said grumpily.
“And don’t even think about being a smartass, Xander. I’m really not
in the
mood.”
Giles and Xander both looked shocked. This wasn’t the Willow they knew.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, Giles pressed
ahead
with their reason for calling. “Yes, we will need Spike as well.”
“I’ll get him. Draw the curtains and then sit down.” She turned and
went
upstairs. Walking to her room, she began to dress. Then she sat on
the bed
and gently bit Spike’s ear. “Get up, Giles and Xander need to see us.”
Spike looked blearily at her. “Can I just eat them instead? I wonder
if the
chip works when I’m asleep?”
Willow laughed. “At the moment, that thought’s disturbingly attractive.
But
no, please don’t eat my friends. You can ‘eat’ me again later if you
want
though.”
Spike groaned as he got up. “Christ, I’m too old for this!” He complained.
“Hell, pet, I’m older than dirt. If Slutty staked me, I wouldn’t turn
to
dust, I’d turn to fossil!”
Willow had drawn on her panties and jeans, leaving Spike’s shirt in
place.
Spike just bothered with his jeans. “Spike,” Willow ventured, “Have
you
noticed that our jokes aren’t funny to anyone else when we first get
up?”
“Yes pet, that’s because a sense of humour requires brain function.
We
aren’t awake enough for that yet.”
“Oh.” They walked back downstairs, hand in hand.
“What do you wankers want?” was Spike’s first question as he walked
into
the lounge.
Neither Giles nor Xander were ready to see the results of their
interruption. It was obvious that they had intruded on something special
and intimate between the couple. The new closeness between Spike and
Willow
was self-evident.
“Well,” Giles began, “I had a call from the council. They’re sending
the
psychiatrist I mentioned. They’ve chartered a Concorde, so he should
be
here some time tonight. It’s obvious that they’re extremely worried
about
the situation. They’ve also asked for your particular help, Willow.
There
is apparently a ritual for cases like this.”
“What does the ritual involve, Ripper?” Spike’s anxiety for his lover
was
obvious.
“I really don’t know, all I’m aware of, presently, is that it’s designed
to
make an incapacitated slayer appear dead to the spirit world, so that
the
next can be called.”
“So she doesn’t die?” asked Willow.
“No, but she does lose her powers, I’m afraid. Permanently.” Giles replied.
“That’s terrible. If she could get well, but needed a lot of time, that
could make her permanently insane!” Willow was horrified at what the
council was intending. “I will not help unless non-Council psychiatrists
diagnose Buffy as incurable. And you can tell them that. Oh, while
you’re
at it, you can also tell them that if they try to do this ritual without
me, they’ll regret it. I’ll find every last one of them and use Ethan’s
spell on them. Then I’ll let Spike play.”
Giles was taken aback with Willow’s stridency, but very pleased. “Good,
that was what I was hoping you’d say, although your … vehemence is
somewhat
surprising.”
“Giles, she may have wigged over Spike and I, but that’s a symptom of
her
illness, it’s not who she really is. And we should care for and protect
our
friends.”
Giles nodded, thinking through the possibilities. “Well, I suppose we’d
better see if we can get some more concrete information from her Doctors.
And they aren’t going to tell us willingly. I don’t suppose you have
a
truth spell locked into one of those crystals?” Giles asked, more in
hope
than expectation.
“No, sorry Giles. I never envisaged needing to rapid fire a truth spell.
I
could come with you and cast it there though.”
Giles nodded his thanks. Spike looked irritated at the decision, knowing
that he would be unable to accompany them.
* * * *
The three of them walked into the Mental Health together. Giles was
slightly ahead of Xander and Willow. The witch was already muttering
the
preliminary incantations under her breath, preparing to intone the
final
phrase when it was needed. She could feel her hair beginning to stand
on
end from the power she was holding within herself, and a remote corner
of
her mind hoped that it would not be noticeable.
Walking confidently to the front desk, Giles politely asked the
receptionist, “We’d like to see Buffy Summers, please.”
“Are you family?”
“Not in the traditional sense.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t allow you to see her.”
“Could we see her treating physician then?” Giles remained polite as he asked.
“I’ll try to contact Dr Barlowe.” The receptionist made it clear from
her
tone that she was doing them a favour. “Please take a seat.”
“Thank you.” Giles smiled.
They sat and waited. After five minutes, Willow realised that she would
have to store the spell or lose it. She dug a spare crystal from her
pocket
and muttered over the crystal for a moment. Then she simply held it.
She leant over and whispered to Giles. “I had to store the spell. I
can
activate it with one spoken line, but now it’ll effect everyone within
the
area, not just the doctor.
Giles nodded and sighed. “We’ll just have to deal with that. I’ll also
let
Xander know.” He whispered back. So saying, he leant over to murmur
the
information to Xander.
Willow looked around the spartan waiting area, and saw nothing to distract
her from her worries. She sighed and rummaged in her bag, dragging
out a
somewhat battered notebook. She began to write.
Giles fished a paperback out of one of his jacket pockets.
Xander looked around, then peered at what Giles was reading. “G-man,
really! I didn’t think you read things like … that.”
Giles looked up at the younger man, perplexed. “Pardon?”
“Georgette Heyer. Isn’t that just a bit … y’know … girly?”
Giles sighed. “Xander, you really are an unmitigated pillock, aren’t
you.
Has it ever occurred to you that authors are capable of writing in
more
than one genre? Ms Heyer wrote some excellent pieces on Regency and
Restoration history. Good scholarly monographs.”
“Well, colour me stupid.” Xander responded.
“That suggestion is perhaps the most truly redundant I’ve ever heard.
Now,
do be a good chap and be quiet.”
The trio waited for almost an hour before anyone came to them. None
of them
noticed when a man in a white coat drew near.
“You’re here about Buffy Summers?”
“Yes. Doctor Barlowe, I presume?” Giles grinned slightly at the ancient
witticism.
The doctor simply nodded, and said, “Come with me, please.”
He led them to an empty conference room and ushered them inside. “How
can I
help you”” The doctor asked.
“It’s about Buffy, we need to know if a cure can be expected.”
“I’m afraid I can’t talk about any patient’s condition or treatment,
other
than to their registered next of kin.”
Willow looked at the doctor and snapped, “Consummatis Est!” dropping
the
crystal containing the prepared spell at his feet. She looked at Giles
“I
know it’s bad Latin, I didn’t want anyone invoking it by accident”
Willow smiled at the doctor. “Buffy’s my best friend. All I want to
know
is; will she get better?”
Dr Barlowe looked at Willow, “You know I can’t tell you anything, Ms…?”
“Rosenberg. Please, it’s not as if I’m asking for anything more than
the
most general prognosis.” As Willow began to babble, she attempted,
mentally, to perform another spell; this one to weaken the will of
the
doctor. “I mean, I’ve known Buffy for over five years, ever since she
moved
here, and this is just so out of character for her, doctor. I wonder
if
it’s my fault. I almost feel like it’s a form of mea culpa!” The babbling
had been a cover for her to introduce the last cadence of the spell.
“I quite understand, Ms Rosenberg. To be brutally honest, your friend
will
recover, but I expect it to be some months at least. Her prognosis
is
mediocre at best. She’ll get the best possible care here, of course,
but
even with that, the time taken for her to heal will be extensive.”
“Thank you, Dr Barlowe. Is there any particular term for what Buffy’s
suffering from? Something I can research and learn about?”
“Technically, it’s called a ‘psychotic break’. She’s delusional and
liable
to interpret what happens in the real world through her own filters.
For
example, she seems to think that your boyfriend is a vampire!” He laughed
heartily at such a ludicrous idea.
Willow smiled weakly. “That’s understandable. She’s teased him about
being
a vampire for ages. He has porphyria.” Willow felt relieved to have
been
able to use the excuse she had planned to use with her parents. It
would
make life easier.
“Oh! That’s very helpful. Thank you Ms Rosenberg, that means her delusions
are nowhere as severe as we initially thought. That’s a good sign”
Willow smiled again. “Any time, doctor. Can we see her?”
“I’m afraid not, she’s in no condition to be seeing anyone, yet.”
Willow nodded. “Thank you for your time, doctor.” She led them out of
the
hospital
* * * *
Willow opened the door to her house, ushering Giles and Xander inside.
Leading them to the living room, they saw Spike, sprawled asleep on
the
couch. She motioned them to sit as she walked over to the blond vampire
and
shook his shoulder, hard. “Wake up Spikey-wikey!”
“Huh? What did you call me?”
Willow giggled. “Something dreadful.”
Spike sighed. Then he began muttering in a stage whisper “‘Meet a sane
person,’ they said. ‘Discover the joys of rational conversation,’ they
said.” Then he looked up at Willow and quite deliberately poked out
his
tongue “They never said anything about being mature.”
Willow shook her head helplessly, leant over and kissed him.
“Well, pet, what’re the tuppenny headlines saying?”
“Short version.” Willow answered “Buffy’s insane for the foreseeable
future, but it is curable. From our point of view, the worst of all
possible outcomes.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah, we can do without the balance being out of whack
for
that long. I suppose we could bust the other slayer out of gaol, but
that’d
crimp her style just a tad.”
“Watcher, any ideas?”
“No, Spike, I’m afraid not. And the council is going to try and force
this
project of theirs through.”
“You don’t know anything about the ritual, Giles?”
“No, not a blessed thing.” Giles looked careworn as he said so.
“Shit!” Everyone looked surprised at Willow’s rare use of profanity.
“There’s only one option then. I’ll have to pretend to help and then
sabotage the ritual. So, all we can do for now is to meet this
psychiatrist, and find out what he intends to do.”