Parts: 11 - 15
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~Part: 11~
Willow stood on the sidewalk, watching the taxi drive away. She lingered until well after the car and Tara were out of sight, at a loss as to what to do next. The young witch hadn't felt this lost and empty since the day Oz left her. She might have been even more confused at that moment, considering the uncertainty of her future.
Xander watched Willow from the porch, worried about his friend. He strolled down the walkway and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Will." He said softly.
She peered wistfully in the direction the taxi took. "When did life get so screwed up, Xand? Everything used to be so simple. It was you, me and Jesse against the world."
"At least against Cordy." He quipped.
Willow sniffled and let out a sad little laugh. "Nothing used to hurt this much then. As long as I had you, I always knew I could survive anything. Now..." Her voice broke on a sob. "Now everything's so mixed up, and my mind's just one big old jumble. I can't think, I can't breathe, and I'm so scared. And on top of all of that Tara's gone, and it feels like my heart's just been broken into twenty-six trillion pieces."
"Not twenty-seven trillion pieces?"
Willow smacked his chest and raised weary eyes to look at her oldest friend. "Not funny." She admonished softly.
He felt contrite immediately. "I'm sorry, Willow. You're right. No more jokes. This is me, the Xan-man, being here for you. Big shoulder to cry on, big ears to bend. You know I'm always gonna be here for you. You're my bestest bud, no matter what."
"Will you, Xander?" She looked sadly at the ground and sniffled. "What if Anya's right? What if I am one of these immortals? How can you always be there for me if I'm never going to die? What happens when you're all gone, and I'm all alone? Who's going to hang out with me and watch bad movies? Angel? I like Angel, but he's not exactly the best conversationalist, ya know? And I can't see myself curled up on a couch with him watching 'Space Monkeys From Mars' either. There's always Spike. He's a little more lively than Angel, no pun intended, but really, think about it. He'd just as soon kill me as talk to me. Hey! I know. I could give D'Hoffryn a chant and we can laugh about old times. 'Hey, do you remember when you offered to make me a vengeance demon? Ahhh, those were the good old days!'."
Willow's voice trailed off, and she suddenly looked very small and scared. Xander opened his mouth and closed it several times. The quipmeister simply had no answers for once, smart alecky or otherwise.
"I wish I knew what to say." He murmured gently. "But I will be here for you...as long as I can be. And, hey! Somewhere along the line I'm bound to have kids, right? You can be Auntie Willow to them and their kids, and their kids' kids. And there will be your kids someday, too right? I mean, I know about the whole gay thing, but there's all that invetro science mumbo jumbo nowadays. You've always wanted to be a mom, and I know you'd make a great one." Xander tried his best to comfort his friend, but she shook her head negatively.
"One of Giles' books said immortals can't have children." Her words were choked, Willow's throat thick with tears.
"Oh, Will." Xander sighed. He pulled her into a tight embrace and held her while she cried for so many things lost in her very long future.
*****************************************
Giles entered the house later that afternoon armed with several volumes on immortals from his own personal collection. One or two were the actual texts he used in his training all those years ago.
The silence that met him was unsettling after the earlier ruckus. He closed the front door quietly behind him wondering where everyone was. Dawn's voice startled Rupert when it suddenly echoed loudly through the house from the direction of the kitchen.
"Willow, do you want something to drink?"
"I'll have a soda." The redhead's softer voice drifted to Giles.
He wandered further into the house and toward the dining room where he could see Willow set up for a round of research, laptop open, and books spread out around her. "Dawn? Willow? I'm back." He called out in greeting.
Willow's smile was weak at best, but it was in place by the time Giles fully entered the room. He took in her puffy eyes and reddened nose. It was probably best to make no comment upon her appearance, he decided.
"Hello, dear." He said gently as he placed the books and a small bag on the table next to her.
Giles looked closer at the tomes surrounding her. They were texts he'd left there during previous research sessions, the very ones he'd straightened up early that morning. Mentally the former librarian cringed, seeing an array of colorful stickum notes marking places on the ancient vellum. If he were a betting man he'd wager each one indicated references to immortal beings.
"Research?" He inquired with a raised brow.
Willow nodded. "There's not too much about the type of immortal that Anya seems to think I am, though. There's lots of stories about fights to the death, people losing their heads, and some mysterious references to a Game. I've found a few general pieces of info, but it's all pretty vague and hush-hush."
Dawn chose that moment to enter from the kitchen, cold can of soda in hand. She offered it to Willow and smiled her greeting.
"Hi, Giles."
"Hello, Dawn."
"Do you want something to drink?" The teen offered politely.
"Well, yes, thank you. Some tea would be nice."
"Great!" She said brightly. "Why don't you come with and show me how the British brew it?" Dawn grabbed hold of Giles' arm and dragged him into the kitchen behind her.
"Dawn, you're well aware of how I prepare my tea. What's this all about?"
She waited until the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room came to a standstill before leaning forward conspiratorially, and whispered, "Tara's gone. She left about two hours ago."
Rupert's eyes widened in surprise. "So soon?"
Dawn nodded. "Uh-huh. She took a cab to the airport, and from there she was going to stay with an aunt in Pennsylvania."
"Willow?" Giles looked worriedly toward the closed door.
"Cried like a baby. Xander hung around a little longer until she calmed down, but he had to go into work for a little while."
"Damn." Giles felt a headache coming on.
"Yeah. I just wanted to warn you. It's probably not a good idea to mention Tara around her right now." Dawn nodded sagely, or as sagely as a fourteen year old could appear.
"Hmm, yes. I see your point." He glanced around the kitchen and frowned. "Dawn, it was awfully quiet in here when I arrived. Where exactly is the Buffy-bot? You didn't send her to the convenience store again, did you? You remember what happened the last time..."
"Calm down, Giles. The bot's in the basement ironing and doing laundry."
"Well, thank goodness for that."
"Trust me. I learned my lesson the hard way the last time it went out unsupervised." Dawn shivered, remembering the mess they had to clean up when the bot was offered and accepted free samples of a new beef and bean burrito. It took her and Willow hours to clean out the insides of it. "Gross." She whispered and wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Yes, well, do make sure that it doesn't wear down its power pack. We will need it to patrol this evening."
Dawn's eyes flashed fearfully at the older man. "You're going out again tonight?"
Rupert heard the unspoken 'after what happened last night', and tried to reassure the girl. "Just a simple patrol through the cemeteries. I'd like Willow to remain here with you as well. I think it may be a bit too soon for her to go out with us, considering recent events."
Silently nodding her agreement, Dawn finally put some water into the teakettle for Giles. "I'm glad you came over. I was getting really worried about Willow. She got so quiet after Tara left, and then Anya had to go to The Magic Box, and Xander had to go to the site for a meeting."
"Actually, I was wondering if you had anything planned this afternoon. You've been staying at home so much lately. You're young, Dawn. Perhaps you could call a friend and go do whatever it is that you teenagers do these days." Giles suggested lightly.
Dawn eyed him suspiciously while turning on the stovetop and settling the kettle atop a burner. "Are you trying to get rid of me? 'Cause if you're trying to be all sly and sneaky-like, it's just not working. For a guy who belonged to a secret organization for years you're being like, totally obvious."
Rupert sighed his exasperation. "Fine. Yes, I have some things to discuss with Willow, and I thought it might be best if we were alone when we spoke. But you have been staying at home too much. I know the last six weeks have been hard, but Buffy wouldn't have wanted you to stop living just because she did."
Tears welled in Dawn's eyes as she recalled her sister's last words to her. Buffy told her to live. She would live...she would, eventually. It just seemed really hard right then, so soon after the slayer's death, and now Willow's, too. "I know."
"What about Janice?" Giles prodded gently. "When was the last time you saw her?"
Dawn shrugged. "I dunno. She did call to ask me if I wanted to go to the mall tonight, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to leave Willow alone."
"Well, she won't be alone now. Call Janice. Tell her you'll go with her. Just don't stay out too late and make sure you take precautions."
"I know. I know. Stake and holy water, they're like MasterCard. Don't leave home without them." She rolled her eyes at the older man.
****************************************
It didn't take long for Dawn to receive Willow's approval for the teenage rite of hanging out at the mall, and luckily Janice and her mother hadn't left yet when she called. Within fifteen minutes Dawn was gone, the house was quiet again, and Giles was sipping his second cup of tea.
Willow sat back, hands falling away from her laptop, and stared at the suspiciously quiet man. "Okay, Giles, why the mad rush to get Dawnie out of the house?"
He pulled out the chair closest to her and meticulously sat his cup and saucer down. Folding his hands before him, Giles peered at Willow over the tops of his glasses. "I believe I know what kind of immortal you are, and I want to help you, if you'll let me."
~Part: 12~
Willow stood in the kitchen and stared at the paring knife in her hand. Inhuman healing. It was one of the upsides of being immortal that she and Giles discussed. He didn't know the actual rate of said healing, though, and that kind of had her curious. She took a quick peek over her shoulder and listened intently. She could hear his footsteps upstairs, as that one loose floorboard Xander kept saying he would fix creaked under Giles' weight.
After hours spent pouring over musty old books, the watcher finally relented, admitting to needing a break. He'd gone to make sure the Buffy-bot was fully charged for that evening's patrol, and he also mentioned 'using the facilities.' Willow loved Giles, silly, stuffy British man that he was, but why couldn't he just say he had to go to the bathroom?
That said, it was kind of a good thing he was upstairs at the moment. If he even had the teeniest idea of what she was contemplating she'd be in such big trouble! Seriously, though, how much could one little nick hurt? It should be a snap compared to what she lived through, well, okay, died through the night before. Just one teeny tiny little cut... She lowered the blade slowly to her forearm and prepared to test her new healing abilities.
***************************************
Spike stared at the house from across the darkened street. Lights were on both upstairs and downstairs, but he dreaded the darkness inside. He just wasn't in the mood for these humans and their depressions, not even Dawn's. He had enough of his own depression to deal with surrounding Buffy's death, but he'd promised to look after this moronic bunch. He was a bloody fool.
Tossing down the butt of his cigarette, he crushed it under his boot heel before crossing the street to face the House of Gloom. Arriving on the porch, Spike frowned. He could only sense two heartbeats inside. Niblet and Glenda were probably holding down the fort while the others were out making arrangements for Red's funeral.
Crossing the entryway, he looked around. One upstairs, one at the back of the house. He followed a soft heartbeat towards the kitchen, and slammed the swinging door open. "Where the bloody hell is everyone?"
Willow yelped at the unexpected intrusion and jumped, causing the paring knife to slice deeper than she'd intended. She hissed at the cold stinging pain, dropped the blade with a clatter, and covered the cut with her hand. Spinning around, Willow glared at Spike, but his expression stopped her in her tracks. Well, that was different. It wasn't everyday you got to see a big bad master vampire in shock. The look on his face would have been pretty gosh darn funny if she wasn't bleeding all over herself at that given moment.
Spike's mouth worked soundlessly, opening and closing, trying to get a grasp on the situation. Standing before him was a perfect replica of Red. A living, breathing, heartbeat-having Red. Finally, he managed to stutter out some words. "What the...? How...? How did you...? What the fuck are you?"
He charged Willow and pinned her against the countertop with his lower body, and gripped both of her wrists in one hand, slamming them against the cupboards overhead. His free hand gripped her chin and held her still, Spike's eyes gleaming amber as he stared intently at the frightened young woman. His game face slid into place, and he growled at the supposed intruder.
Willow's eyes were wide and frightened. "Spike! It's me, Willow!" She struggled against his unrelenting grip, then whimpered when his hand tightened around her wrists. She could practically feel the bones grinding together.
Spike leaned closer, snarling into her face. "You may look like Red, but obviously you're not. I watched the real Willow die last night. Oh, and look! I can hurt you, too." He grinned menacingly at her pained expression. "That makes you a demon, luv, which means I get to kill you."
"Not a demon! Not a demon!" Willow squealed. "Just not so human anymore. Ask Giles. Giles! Giles!" She yelled, turning desperate eyes towards the kitchen door, praying the watcher would come rushing in and explain to the very scary vampire that it wasn't okay to kill her. Not at all okay.
Spike's head shifted, and he leaned closer to sniff the blood now trickling down her arm. Willow stilled, then shivered when his tongue darted out and lapped at the trail of viscous fluid. As she watched him warily, Spike groaned at the taste of warm, rich blood. When he pulled back, Willow could see his eyes flaring with bloodlust.
"Spike, don't do this." She begged in a quavering whisper.
He pulled back and opened his mouth wide, hungrily staring at her rapidly fluttering pulse point. Spike struck like a rattlesnake, fast and vicious, but his fangs barely pierced the pale flesh of Willow's neck when he felt a wall of energy push him back.
She muttered the spell again, and this time Willow's voice was steadier and more powerful. Her magic slammed into Spike and sent him airborne, flying across the kitchen, over the breakfast counter, and into the dining room.
Giles and the bot, who came running at the sound of Willow's screams, stumbled to a halt at the bottom of the steps just as Spike sailed through the air and crashed against the wall.
Rupert stalked forward and glared down at the collapsed vampire. "What did you do?"
"Me?" Spike's tone conveyed his disbelief at the watcher as he scrambled to his feet, wincing slightly. "You do know there's a demon in the kitchen impersonatin' Red, right? Some kind of bloody shapeshifter, it is."
"It's not a shapeshifter, you fool! It's Willow." Giles practically growled at the vampire, before turning his attention back in the direction of the kitchen. "Willow? Willow, are you quite all right?"
The shaken girl peeked out of the kitchen, her hand pressed to her neck. "I'm okay, Giles." She shuffled into the room slowly, leery eyes watching Spike. Willow hedged her way over to the watcher's side, who quietly fussed over the blood coating her hand and arm.
"What happened here?" The watcher demanded "How did you get hurt?"
Willow blushed and squirmed uncomfortably. "I, uh, slipped. Actually, the knife slipped when Spike came in. It's no biggie, see?" She held out her arm and watched the last bit of torn flesh seal itself as traces of electric blue sparks danced over the wound. It left her skin smooth and perfect once more. "Wow, inhuman healing! You weren't kidding, Giles." Willow gaped at her arm, holding it up to the light and rubbing away the last traces of blood for a better look.
From across the room, Spike keenly observed their interaction. The Buffy-bot practically skipped over to his side and smiled brightly at the confused vampire. "Hello, Spike. You're looking very evil and sexy tonight."
His eyes darted back and forth from the fawning robot to where Giles was examining what he assumed to be a Willow look-alike. Finally, Spike glared at the pseudo-Buffy and batted its hand away from where it was caressing his chest. "You," he pointed at the bot, "shut your mechanical gob!" The vampire then turned his anger and confusion on the other two in the room. "Watcher, what the hell is goin' on?"
Spike's demanding roar startled Willow and Giles, who both jumped and spun to face one very frustrated vampire. The bot remained at his side and continue to smile adoringly at him.
"You're very handsome when you're angry, Spike. It makes me want to..."
"Shut. Up!" The vampire tugged up the bot's shirt, dug into the front panel, and turned off the power. The machine blinked once, closed its eyes and lowered its head, appearing to sleep while standing.
Spike stalked across the room to confront Willow. "You were dead." He poked her roughly in the chest to emphasize each word.
She pulled back and gingerly rubbed the tender area. "Owwww. Was that necessary?" Willow frowned at Spike.
"That's another thing. I can hurt you. Bloody hell. I bit you and didn't get so much as a tickle from the chip." His fingers wiggled in the air next to his temple.
Giles peered harshly from behind his wire rims. "You bit her?" His attention immediately turned back to Willow, searching for evidence of the bite. All he could find was a small smear of blood on the right side of her neck.
She brushed his concern away. "It was just a little nip. I was able to push him away before it did more than sting."
"His chip didn't activate when he hurt you? Fascinating." Giles rubbed his chin, brow furrowed as he absorbed this new and disturbing tidbit of information.
Willow only smiled sadly. "I guess I'm not exactly human anymore, huh?"
Spike's frustration was apparent, his lips pursed and jaw clenched. "What are you people babblin' about? Care to explain to me how Red here, who you swear is the real deal, came back from the dead? I was there last night. I heard her heart stop, felt her growin' cold. Now here she stands, as lifelike as can bloody be. I stayed long enough to know no other vampires came near, so even if she wasn't dead, she wasn't turned."
"I believe Willow is an immortal. Have you heard of them or encountered any in your travels?" Giles inquired as he turned his attention back to the vampire. He looked hopeful that he wouldn't have to go through the whole process of explaining details on immortality again.
"What do you mean, immortal? Immortal, immortal? No chance of death, indestructible immortal? Or immortal who's going to live a bloody long time until someone finds out her weakness and kills her?" Spike stared speculatively at the redhead, eyeing her up and down looking for any visible changes.
"Oh, I can die. I've actually done it twice in the last twenty-four hours, but I keep coming back, at least until someone chops off my head. Anyway that's what Giles thinks, but there are all of these bad guys out there like me, not that I'm a bad guy, but immortals like me who go around chopping off other people's heads in some weird sort of power struggle. All to win some sort of crazy game where no one knows what the prize is. It's like that old game show, Let's Make a Deal. Pick what's behind curtain number three, but for all anyone knows we'll win a squirrel carved out of blocks of cream cheese, you know? And that's just a little insane, if you ask me." Willow's chest heaved as she took a deep breath and looked back and forth between the two men. "Don't you think?"
Spike blinked slowly, and turned to face Giles, confusion marring his sharp features. "Huh?"
"She can die permanently if someone cuts off her head, but otherwise she should revive over and over from any other form of death. There are immortals of her kind that collect other immortals' heads to gain power, and the last one standing becomes the winner of some unknown prize. These Headhunters will come for her, so I need to teach her how to defend herself using swords instead of magic. It's one of the rules. They must fight alone, and no magic is to be used. There are other nuances that go along with her version of immortality, but those are the basics."
Spike shook his head slowly, taking it all in. "Oh, sure! Everyone wants to be a soddin' immortal." His voice raised into a falsetto. "I want to live forever!" Returning to his normal tone, he waved a finger at Willow. "Just you remember, Red. I died first. That means I've got seniority around here."
"Seniority?" Willow asked, a bit confused by the vampire's ramblings.
"Bloody right. I'll show ya how to fight."
Giles' eyebrows arched in surprise, and he responded in disbelief. "*You'll* teach her how to fight? With swords?"
"Sure. Angelus made me learn. Now it's my turn to torture someone else. 'Sides, Watcher here will only teach you how to fight fair." Spike waggled his brows at Willow. "I'll teach ya how to get down and dirty, pet."
~Part: 13~
The next few weeks were sheer torture for Willow. In addition to the few summer classes she was already enrolled in, she cleaned house, cooked for herself and Dawn, patrolled with the others and even picked up a few shifts at the Magic Box for some extra cash. After paying off Joyce's medical expenses that weren't covered by her health insurance there wasn't much of the life insurance policy left. Buffy had a huge policy in her name, however since they hid all records of her death it didn't really do them any good. Every possible penny had to be pinched. Every quarter found between the couch cushions was a bonus.
As if Willow wasn't exhausted enough from her old responsibilities, she'd begun Immortal Swordplay 101, training twice daily. She worked with Giles in the morning and Spike in the evenings before patrol. Their methods were so different that she left each night with her head spinning. Willow was definitely improving, but she didn't have the instinctive gift that Buffy did that let her step right in and master her lessons. Her hand was accustomed to wrapping around an athame or a stick of incense, not a sword. The large weapon still felt awkward and unwieldy.
The nights were the absolute worst, though. After patrol, after the house grew quiet, it was then that her bed felt cold, lonely and the size of a football field. She missed her snuggles with Tara. Willow missed hearing her girlfriend's soft breathing and occasional snuffled snore when the other girl had a stuffy nose. She missed waking up wrapped in someone's arms.
Her melancholy thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she was unceremoniously slammed to the floor. Willow's breath rushed from her lungs in a violent whoosh. All she was able to gasp out as the ground connected with her back was a grunted "Ooof!" She was left staring at the dull ceiling, noting that a spot had been missed when the training room was repainted.
Spike's face popped into her line of vision. "Up and at 'em, pet."
Willow's eyes fluttered closed as she painfully sucked air into her empty lungs. "Spike, please. I'm so tired." She whispered hoarsely.
"You can sleep when you're dead. Might be sooner than you think the way workin' tonight. Gotta pay attention if you want to keep your head, luv." He reached down to grip her forearm and pulled a protesting Willow to her feet. She stumbled slightly and fell against his chest. Spike caught her around the waist and stepped back only after she'd regained her footing.
Exhausted, Willow raised pleading eyes to her current training partner. "Can't we just stop for a sec, please? Wouldn't you like a nice blood break?"
One scarred brow rose and Willow received the typical Spike smirk. "You offerin', Red? Seem to recall you were a right fine drink. All that warm blood, pumping through your veins, rich and spicy with magic, sweet with fear." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, scenting the desired ambrosia just under her soft skin.
"Spike!" Giles stalked to the vampire's side in warning. He'd been observing the training session from the far corner of the room, close enough to the doorway to hear if Anya called for assistance on the shop floor. "That's enough! I thought we were clear on this matter."
After they'd found out Spike's chip didn't apply the term 'human' to Willow any longer, Giles set some strict guidelines. The vampire could spar with Willow. He could train her to defend herself. Spike could even be a bit aggressive to give the young woman a better idea of what to expect in a true confrontation with another immortal. However, under no circumstance was he to seriously harm her. The final but most stressed rule? No biting allowed.
Spike argued the rule until Giles was red in the face, sputtering like mad and polishing his glasses to within an millimeter of their usefulness. It didn't seem fair to him. Not like draining Willow would kill her...not permanently anyway. Oh, he knew the bloody Watcher and moron would never relent. They'd never tell him 'Just a sip." Watching them turn into ranting and raving zealots was reason enough for him to draw out the argument, though. Might be why he was never left alone with the girl. They still didn't trust him. Not that they should. After all, he was a very bad man.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, mate. Just playin' with the little witch." Spike waved dismissively at Giles and sauntered to the couch where his duster lay. Digging into a deep pocket, he pulled out a crushed box of cigarettes. "Could use a smoke break, though."
"Not in here." Giles glared at the insolent demon. "If you're going to smoke, I insist you take that outside."
With a shrug, Spike ambled to the back entrance, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back in five. Be ready for a rematch, pet."
After the door closed behind Spike, Willow staggered to the couch on wobbly legs where she proceeded to collapse in an ungraceful heap.
"Willow, are you all right?" Giles approached, concern edging his features as he took in her limp limbs.
"Just tired, Giles." She sighed and threw a forearm over her eyes, effectively blocking out the bright, overhead fluorescent lighting.
"I know you've been working very hard, dear, but..."
Willow lowered her arm, and glared at the man standing a foot or so away from the couch. "Giles, I'm exhausted. I can't keep doing this. I may be immortal, but I don't have slayer stamina. It's getting to be too much. Taking care of Dawn and hiding Buffy's death are the two most important things I do. That means cleaning, cooking, charging the bot, feeding the school cover stories and making nightly repairs after patrol. Then there's college. I refuse to drop out. Working here, learning all of this...," she waved a hand at the mats and abandoned swords, "and patrolling on top of it all...I just don't know how long I can keep it up."
Giles sat next to her on the couch and fidgeted with his glasses as a means to avoid her eyes. "You may not have to patrol much longer." He stated quietly.
Willow's eyes narrowed and she dragged herself slowly into a sitting position. "Why wouldn't I? It makes more sense for me to do it than the others. I can get hurt, but more than likely I won't die-die."
Rupert stood and began to nervously pace in front of the couch, still avoiding Willow's prying gaze. "Actually, I'm working with the council to bring a slayer in to guard the Hellmouth." He stopped and suddenly found a loose piece of duct tape on the pommel horse absolutely fascinating.
"What? How?" All sense of exhaustion left the redhead and she sat up straight. "I didn't think the line went through Buffy after Kendra was called."
Giles nodded slowly. "That's true."
Willow felt a sickening twist in her stomach. "Were they able to activate a new line? Some fancy schmancy Watcher hocus pocus?"
"No, no. The line remains the same." Giles tugged the duct tape free and saw the padding bulging out from a rip in the equipment's leather covering. He'd have to remember to patch it up again.
"Are they planning on taking out a hit on Faith while she's locked up...you know, in the big house?" She gulped nervously, then decided she'd watched one too many old gangster flicks with Xander. She needed to cut back before she started calling people 'dollface' and talking about 'whacking' demons. When an answer wasn't forthcoming, she prodded lightly. "Giles?"
He wasn't answering. Why wasn't he answering her? The council couldn't possibly think about...
"We're working on a pardon for Faith."
~Part: 14~
Willow gaped at Giles, stunned by the new disclosure that the council was trying to get the once rogue slayer released.
"You're kidding, right? Faith? Murderous, here-Willow-let-me-hold-a-knife-to-your-throat-for-the-fun-of-it Faith?"
Rupert tried to placate the redhead before she began hyperventilating. "Now, Willow, I know you and Faith have had your differences..."
"She wanted to kill me, Giles!" Willow stood, arms waving wildly in protest. "The only reason she didn't was the mayor thought I'd make a good bargaining chip. Chock one up for the uber-evil mega-worm."
"Angel has kept me updated on her progress. He truly feels she's ready for a fresh start. He believes she's remorseful for the things she did in the past."
Willow looked doubtful, but at least her arms stopped flapping and she didn't look like she was going to take flight anytime soon. "Angel said that?"
"Yes. He's been visiting her in prison, along with Wesley." Rupert smiled gently, hoping she was calming down finally.
"Wesley? Didn't she try to kill him?" Willow crossed her arms and tapped her foot while shooting Giles a look of disbelief.
"Um, yes, well, it was never actually determined that that was her intention."
Willow snorted softly and rolled her eyes. She'd heard the story about the torture Faith put her former watcher through before Angel convinced her to turn herself in to the authorities. "Do you really think the California penal system is going to let a convicted murder walk free just because the council asks politely?"
"Willow, you forget. The council has contacts all over the globe, and pull in many different arenas. They are working toward a pardon for Faith, and the chances of it going through are better than average. Just five minutes ago you were complaining about how tired you were. We're all tired, Willow. You must remember, though, that we live on the Hellmouth. We need a slayer.
Now, I expected this kind of behavior from Xander, but not from you. If Faith does come back to Sunnydale, I expect you to put the past in the past. Do I make myself clear?" Giles peered at her over the tops of his sparkly clean glasses.
Willow pouted a little. She didn't like having Giles reprimand her. It was like being yelled at by her father, not that Ira ever bothered to raise his voice to her, but still! She didn't think her feelings were irrational in the least. Once again Willow was starting to think that hers was the level head and Giles' was the one things would roll off of.
Spike chose that moment to reenter the training room. "Ready for another round, witch?"
Willow stared at Giles, tightlipped, before giving the clueless vampire a curt nod. Without a word, she strode to the punching bag. Her strides were sharp and jerky. Willow began yanking on the cloves with a vengeance, muttering beneath her breath during the entire process.
Spike turned to Giles, a questioning look on his face, and received a glare for his trouble. "A bloke leaves the room for five minutes and suddenly it's cold as Siberia in here. What the hell's goin' on, now?"
Both Willow and Giles whirled on the vampire, daggers shooting from frustrated eyes. "Shut up, Spike!" They chorused angrily.
"Here, now! No need to bite off my head! Stupid humans." He grumbled and sulked his way over to the punching bag, holding it for Willow as she began taking aim and hitting lightly.
"Is that you, Red, or did a fly land on the bag?" He mistakenly taunted the emotional redhead.
Angry green eyes glared at him, but her next jab was a bit harder.
"Focus your energy, Willow." Giles instructed from across the room once more. He stood with his arms folded as he took in her form.
Spike blinked quickly. The look on her face was pure pissed off. Concentrating harder, he caught the words she was mumbling beneath her breath.
"Stupid council."
Jab!
"Idiot watchers."
Jab! Jab!
"How dumb..." Jab! "Do you have to be..." Jab! Jab! "To release a murderer..." Jab! "So they can baby-sit demons?" Jab! Jab!
Spike's brows shot upwards. 'What was this silly chit babblin' on about?'
"Willow, you're dropping your right shoulder." Giles called out hesitantly. He sensed her anger, but there was nothing to be done. The decision had been made, and the wheels were all ready in motion.
Spike was surprised by the force behind the witch's next punch, but even more startled at the low growling sounds emitting from her throat. 'So the kitten has claws.' He thought to himself.
"I expect more from you, Willow." She muttered. Jab! "Put the past in the past, Willow." She scoffed. Jab! Jab!
"Put a bit more of your weight into it if you please." Giles continued to coach warily.
With a very un-Willowlike snarl, she threw a flurry of jabs and punches at the defenseless bag. Spike stood in shocked silence as the force of her blows increased to the point where he actually had to brace his feet against the mat to hold the bag in place.
With one final blow she spun on her heel, panting and ready to breathe fire.
"Happy?" She yelled at Giles.
"Well, yes. That was much..." Rupert was cut off in mid-sentence by the angry young woman.
"I'll be civil, Giles, but don't expect me to be all buddy-buddy with her. I'll be a good little Scoobie. I'll research and make with the mojo when we need it. But if you think I'm going to sit around sharpening stakes and singing Kumbayah with her you can...you can..." Willow's voice rose with each word until she was practically yelling, and on the verge of sobbing at the same time.
"Kiss your arse?" Spike offered with a grin. He was amused and intrigued by the apparent dissension in the ranks.
"What?" Willow spun on her heel and blinked owlishly at Spike. In her anger she'd forgotten he was even there. "No."
She turned her attention back to Giles, her posture slumped, and her voice softened with resignation and exhaustion. "You can forget it, Giles. I'll never trust her, and she'll never be able to replace Buffy."
With those final words, Willow dropped the sparring gloves and left the training room. Giles stared after her sadly before he was startled out of his own melancholy by the snarling vampire behind him.
"Would somebody tell a bloke what the bloody hell is going on around here!"
~Part: 15~
To say Spike wasn’t thrilled with the news a new slayer might invade the Hellmouth would be an understatement, and his reasoning wasn’t exactly complex.
A. He was a vampire, and, as a slayer, Faith’s job was to kill his kind.
B. With the damned chip in his head Spike would be unable to defend himself if said slayer got it into her head to use him for target practice. For several days following Giles’ announcement the vampire tried to wheedle, in a manly way, of course, a guarantee out of the watcher that he was indeed off limits as stake fodder. Oh, sure, the moron made a great show of hemming and hawing, making Spike nervous before Willow snapped at the git to quit picking on him. She assured Spike she wouldn’t let Faith so much as lift a toothpick against him. The little witch was really starting to grow on him.
C. His third and final reason. A slayer was going to defend Sunnydale once again, and that slayer wasn’t Buffy. It just didn’t seem right. There’s this funny thing about vampires. Their demon can always sense its ultimate enemy, a slayer, and Spike had started associating that cold, tingling chill at the back of his neck with Buffy’s presence. He would have to recondition himself to recognize the sensation as a threat once again. Red could promise him amnesty all she wanted, but the fact remained that Faith was a loose canon, and Spike would be damned if he would turn his back on her anytime soon.
Hell, even Chubs didn’t want her in town. Demon girl found out her boy toy and the psycho slayer knew each other intimately, as in the biblical sense, and she wasn’t letting him out of her sight. Anya commenced constant groppage of the boy and whispered naughty nothings in his ear. Some days preternatural hearing really blew, and listening to the girl tell Xander she wanted to tie him up and spank him made Spike want to heave up his morning breakfast of blood and Wheat-a-Bix.
The next two weeks passed slowly with tension building between Giles and the others. The "F" word wasn’t mentioned in daily conversation, but it didn’t mean the rogue slayer’s potential presence wasn’t felt throughout the group. They still gathered, researched, and patrolled, but it seemed everyone was quietly waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Sixteen days after Giles’ startling announcement about Faith’s possible pardon, the Scoobies gathered as usual at the Magic Box for their nightly tour of duty around the cemeteries and streets of Sunnydale. Xander ruffled Dawn’s hair as he passed her on his way to the weapon’s cabinet in the back room.
"What’s the who, what, when and where for the night, G-man?"
Willow and Spike followed Giles from the training room into the shop. "Are you still taking Dawn home after you close the shop?" Giles inquired of Anya as he eyed the locker for a choice weapon to bring along for the evening’s activities.
"Yes." She replied brightly while running a feather duster over the cash register. "I thought we could play that game again. You know, the one with all of the colorful fake money?"
Dawn rolled her eyes at the former demon. "Monopoly again?"
Anya pouted slightly, and placed her hands on her hips, feather duster still clenched in her right hand. "I like it. I often win and have many hotels and small green homes."
"Excellent!" Giles broke into the conversation before the teen could protest once again. "We will meet back at Dawn and Willow’s after our rounds, then."
Willow and Spike raided the weapons stash after Giles finished. Just as she was pocketing a freshly carved stake, the former watcher cleared his throat nervously.
"If I could speak to all of you before we go, please gather round." He motioned the group closer while nervously worrying the shaft of his crossbow with one hand.
A shiver went down Willow’s spine, and she exchanged an anxious glance with Xander. Firmly clutching the smaller sword Giles presented her with the previous week, she drew closer to stand off to the watcher’s right. The others gathered close as well, including the bot whose overly bright smile made Giles wince just a bit.
"I have some news to share." He cleared his throat once again while Dawn shifted from foot to foot with all the pent up energy only a teenager could possess. "I received a call from Quentin Travers this afternoon."
"What did that old stuffed shirt want?" Xander questioned warily.
Giles continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. "The council has succeeded in obtaining a pardon for Faith. She will be released in three days time once the paperwork is completed. I will be traveling to LA to pick her up with Angel and Wesley. The two of us will then return to Sunnydale the following morning."
Xander sput out a scalding epithet, Willow felt her nails dig into her palms, and Spike’s jaw clenched to tightly that a muscled twitched a staccato beat in his cheek. Dawn immediately fell into a whining game of Twenty Questions, never giving Giles a chance to answer any of them. Her shrill young voice rose to drown out Xander’s string of growing complaints. Surprisingly, Anya seemed to take the news better than any of them.
That changed the moment she burst out with, "Alexander, Lavelle Harris, you are not allowed to give her any orgasms! Not even one itty bitty one, do you hear me, mister?"
All eyes shifted to the emotionally charged former demon, and silence reigned until Willow quietly stated, "Spike and I will take the cemeteries. Giles, you , Xander and the bot can take the parks and the Bronze." She turned to gather her coat from the rack, ignoring the others in the room.
"Willow, you know I’d rather you weren’t alone with..." Giles began as he tried to stop her.
"Do you want me to patrol, or do you want me to yell like Xander and Dawn?" She stubbornly stuck her chin out, Resolve Face firmly in place.
Giles mentally weighed his options and decided his eardrums couldn’t handle another round of shouting. Instead, he rounded on Spike.
"Do not even think of taking advantage of this situation." He glared at the silent vampire.
"Not gonna bite the chit." Spike sniffed indignantly. "Not even hungry. Seems I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. C’mon, Red. I’m in the mood for a spot of violence tonight." He spun on his heel and stalked toward the front door, grabbing his coat from Willow in the process.
She trailed after him into the night, muttering softly, "You’re not the only one."
The door slammed shut behind the duo, leaving bell above it jangling loudly.
Spike and Willow remained silent and continued their brisk pace through the streets of Sunnydale until they were several blocks away from the Magic Box. She jumped, her quiet contemplation broken, when Spike rounded on an innocent mailbox in the shape of a barn. He jerked the post from its concrete base and threw it across the dark street with a frustrated roar. Willow settled for kicking an empty can that had spilled from someone’s overflowing recycle bin situated on the curb.
Spike stood with his head thrown back, eyes closed, and hands on his hips. His chest rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths whose only purpose was to calm the vampire’s raging anger. Anger that the council thought it could replace Buffy so easily. Anger that an unknown enemy was invading his territory. Angrer that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to prevent any of it.
"Fuck!" He cursed loudly into the night.
The distant sounds of a neighbor’s dog was the only response to Spike’s vicious expletive. Willow stared toward the echoing canine barks to give the vampire a moment to compose himself. She really wasn’t in the mood to get her head bit off by a ticked off demon, so...silence was good. Willow noticed his shoulders relax slightly several minutes later, and felt it was pretty safe to speak again.
"Come on, Spike. Let’s go patrol before the people who live here notice their mailbox is sitting in their neighbor’s bird bath."
She laid a gentle hand on his arm and urged him to start walking toward the nearest cemetery. Willow hoped they ran into a few demons. She could really use the stress release and knew Spike could as well.
As if reading her mind, he looked down at the silent witch and murmured roughly, "Found out where there’s a gang of F’numal demons holed up."
A sad smile twitched the corners of Willow’s lips upward, and she linked their arms casually.
"Lead on, McDuff. Let the slayage begin."
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