Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Twenty-Six

The first cracks of sunlight struggled against closed shades, by nature engaged in the never-ending struggle with strategically placed manmade barriers. When that proved ineffectual, it spread to the downstairs, lining sleeping faces of unexpected houseguests. Giles felt it first; tickling one foot that had snaked free from the tangle of blankets he had wound himself into on the sofa. Having forfeited her bedroom for the sake of charity, Dawn was curled on the floor beside him, wide-awake. The night had presented her no hope of slumber.

The first indication of sunshine was enough to arouse everyone that remained outside nocturnal origin to battle lingering strains of useless fatigue. One restless night would not be compensated with a lackluster morning. Willow trekked downstairs, stifling a yawn and nodding her greeting to the stirring Watcher as she turned to brew much needed caffeine. A few minutes later brought Xander, returning from the same room, sporting shiny pajamas and unkempt morning hair.

"Morning all," he said, collapsing tiredly into a rocking chair.

"Hey, Xan," Dawn greeted unenthusiastically. "How'd you sleep?"

"Sleep? Oh...you mean that thing I didn't do last night?" He offered a worn smile that lacked feeling and sank into the cushions of the rocker. "You'd think with all Willow and I have been through together that sharing a bed wouldn't be such a big deal."

The Witch grinned, entering the room with two cups of coffee. She handed the first to Giles and ignored Xander's inquiring expression that silently requested a share. "He's just cranky because I made him sleep on the floor," she explained, taking her seat alongside the Watcher. "Anya never told me he was a kicker."

"That's because I'm not!" Harris looked to Dawn for empathy, but received only an amused smile. "She just made that up so she wouldn't have to share the covers!"

A mild outburst of laughter surged unnervingly through the air, mingled, and died within seconds. Things grew uncomfortable again.

"It feels bad...making jokes," Willow said after a minute. "I feel like we should all be...mourning or something."

"Don't." Giles sighed into his coffee, unable to raise his eyes. "Buffy is fine. She's...she's with us, and it was by her decision. I can't say I approve, or that I believe she...but there's no use in mourning over it. It or...or anything." After a prolonged breath, he looked to the Witch, face expressionless. "I couldn't hear a thing last night. Do you know if they slept all right?" There was no hesitance in voicing the undoubted 'they' in that equation. Even Xander failed to shuffle uncomfortably. Whatever Buffy and William were to each other now was a matter of her personal business, despite rationality and objections.

"I didn't hear much. They went to sleep really late, but I guess that's expected." Willow pursed her lips in thought. "I'll admit to having checked in on them before I came down. Just to make sure...you know. Everything looked all right. Sleeping like the dead." At that, the Witch's eyes widened into saucers, and she clamped her hand over her mouth in astonishment. "Oh God. Really didn't mean that. All...they weren't...ummm...they hadn't..." Her face reddened. "What I mean-"

Dawn cracked a smile in spite of herself. "I think we all get your meaning."

"Besides, she wouldn't," Xander said. "Not with knowing what happened the last time...I mean, when that curse was tested."

"We don't need any reminders," Giles softly confirmed, eyes growing distant. "Well, I'm glad at least those two could find rest after yesterday's emotional revelations. I need to speak with Will sometime today. We have some decisions to make, pertaining to his future."

Willow's face brightened. "Are you gonna make him stay?"

"And you'd be happy about this why?" Xander retorted.

"Because, brainiac, if he leaves, we got a mopey Buffy on our hands. A mopey Buffy who's just made the largest sacrifice of her life." She rolled her eyes at his lack of insight and indulged in a long sip of coffee. "Besides, Spike's my friend, too. I know that's...weird. It's weird enough for me to deal with. The truth of the matter is, he's not Spike. Not like we knew him. Not anymore. He's this really great guy who's had it really rough and is trying to get by with things he's done that haven't been his fault. And crazy as it sounds, I want him around."

"So do I," Giles said softly. "Believe me, returning to London without my cohort was the least of my concerns upon arriving. You all have been wonderful sports about this. This...transformation. But honestly, you don't know him - Will - like I do. If things hadn't taken the road they did last night, there isn't a doubt in my mind to suggest he wouldn't get back on the plane with me to go home. Buffy changed that. Not intentionally, but she did. I think...it would be selfish of me to force him back when it is clearly here he is needed the most."

Willow smiled tightly to herself, struck by a whim of irony. "I never thought that one day we'd be sitting in the family room debating over where Spike was needed. Really needed. Besides an ash tray."

"Still objectionable," Xander quipped, quickly assaulted with affronting glares that he compensated for with a smile. "But all this is beside the point. How is Buffy doing? I didn't really get a chance to talk with her last night. She was so..."

The Watcher nodded understandingly. "I know. She's...terribly misplaced. There's no sense in denying it. Anyone would be, after what she was put through. I spoke with her a little last night, and from what I gather, she's most concerned with her future. Hers and yours alike." He sighed. "I truthfully don't know what to think. Every slayer has...well, Buffy has twice denied plausibility. There is no furthering her death sentence. To..."

"The next step is something we won't see," Harris said firmly. "No. Not after this."

"I agree. Another slayer was called upon her death. There will be four now. Faith, Buffy, and the two following. I just wish...there will be no sanctuary for her. You understand that, right? Everything she had before Willow..." Giles caught himself and swallowed, gaze darting away from her line of vision. "Before she was denied eternal rest. That only comes with another death. A final death."

"No one considered that," Dawn murmured.

"There wasn't enough time for consideration." The Watcher sighed and removed his glasses, free hand subconsciously patting the girl's head in unfilled reassurance. "You know your sister. If you're in anyway implicated, her choices come at a separate expense."

Xander bit his lip and leaned back. "She's changed everything forever. She knows that, right?"

"Of course." The Witch took a deep breath, shaking her head free. "What Giles is saying is, despite what she says or tries to do, Buffy can't not save the world. She can't just up and give up her calling. You've seen it - she trusts the world with no one but herself, even if she does resent it. It's a paradox. And now she's trapped. Possibly forever."

"It's senseless worrying about the future when we're unsure what is going to happen tomorrow," Giles said, shaking his head free, as though trying to convince himself. "Willow...you should probably head to the butcher shop. I don't know when to expect them up...William never slept terribly late into the day."

Xander grinned somberly. "And you know that how...?"

More irritated glares. The Watcher rolled his eyes and stood. "Because every time I arrived at the library, he was up. His flat was just above the..." He stopped and frowned. "Why am I explaining this to you? Why don't you go with Willow to the butcher? She might need help bringing back such a large order."

"Large order?" Dawn's eyes widened. "How much are we getting?"

"Enough to feed three vampires for the rest of the day." Giles removed his glasses and consigned them to the hem of his shirt. "In the meantime...Dawn, I know we have already discussed this at length...but I need you to go through all the details once more...what the Master told you before..."

At that, the young girl balked, hands going up in ode to her annoyance. "God! Will you just...give me a break? We went over this, and over this, and over this yesterday. I didn't hear much of anything, okay? He told me, but I wasn't paying attention. I thought I was dead! I thought-"

"Ummm...we're gonna...go..." Willow and Xander were already out the door before either could register their departure. It was expected - redundant, in a fashion. The first sign of trouble and all who were not implicated seized the easiest out.

In this instance, neither seemed to notice. Dawn's eyes were dark, swollen and hurt from a lifetime's worth of crying spilt in the matter of a day. A thick silence settled between them; the sort that screamed without saying a word. There was no need for words. Not at first. As great as the tension soared, it was nothing in comparison to the shared sense of empathy.

When she did speak again, her eyes were glued to the floor, broken from a penetrating, however understanding gaze. "He was going to kill me, Giles. Don't you get it? I mean...sure...naïve Dawn. Boohoo. Things like that don't occur to you when you're being used as a vampire's chew toy. I should've thought...should've listened...should've realized it wasn't me they were after. But hey - everyone makes mistakes. All I knew was that he was...he said I was going to die, and that Buffy wouldn't be there to rescue me."

"And all the times that you've been told that, you picked then to believe it?" Giles retorted incredulously. When she looked away in aggravated shame, he sighed again and sat down. "It doesn't get any easier, I understand. But you should know...you should always know...never give up hope unless it is for absolute certain that help is not on the way. Buffy would never let you go without making sure her face was the last thing you saw. What happened...what she did for you should be evidence enough."

The girl's eyes welled with tears, muffled sobs contorting her voice as the first quivers consumed her. A new morning's sorrow. "I know..." she gasped. "God, I know. But I don't get it. She needs...she can't do this forever. She can't keep jumping in and saving me. Someday...she's just gonna...gonna have to..."

"Let you go?"

"Yes! I know she loves me. I know I'm her only family. I mean, Dad is so unaware." Angrily, she drew her arm across her face and wiped stray tears away. "She's died what...three times now? He's never been in on that. Never known what she's gone through. What I've gone through. He didn't care enough to try to take care of us when Mom died. If he did, it wouldn't be because he wanted to. We're it. Buffy and me. We're all each other has. And I can't lose her again! Not after what she put me through."

Giles sighed again, looking down. "I wouldn't worry about that now, Dawn," he replied softly. "After we deal with the Master...Buffy is finished. With slaying, with it all. She ought to have her peace."

"But you said...you and Willow..." The girl shook her head in disagreement. "And you were right. She can't stop, ever. Even if she wants to. I know she wants to. But that doesn't mean there are any less people out there that need help. Buffy just can't stand aside and watch the world about to end without doing something to stop it. You know that."

"Of course I know that. She does as well." He stood and paced steadily to the opposite corner of the room, hands finding purchase at his hips. There was a beat of silent consideration. "As long as she's on the Hellmouth, she'll never stop being the Slayer. There will always be an apocalypse to stop. A new evil to defeat. Something to hold her to her calling. She doesn't deserve that, Dawn. She shouldn't endure an eternity of this godawful violence after what she has been through."

"Then what? Are you going to take her away from here? Is that it?" Her face darkened a shade with intense ferocity. "Don't even think about that, Giles. Don't...you can't do that to me!"

The Watcher grumbled in frustration. "I said nothing of the sort. I would never hazard to make decisions for her. But you cannot be selfish in these matters. Don't you see how hard it would be for her to stay here? To watch her friends and you grow old and die without her? Then again, it would kill her spirit to be away from her family. I have no solution. She can't stay and she can't leave. But none of this makes any difference unless we stop Geryon before he has the chance to fulfill his threat. You must go over everything again. Just once more. I need to know what to research."

At that, Dawn looked down, her nerves calming. Her body was shaking, heaving deep breaths and wracked with sleepless tension. "All right," she complied quietly. "But just one more time, okay?" She waited until Giles nodded in understanding before continuing. "The Master...he came in...started talking about a gate. At first I was wigged, you know. Thought he would try to use me, being all Key-y and such. He...laughed at me. I didn't say a word and he knew what I was thinking. I hate that. He called it the Gate of...something that starts with 'A'. I swear that's all I know. Nothing about how to close it, how it opens, or what it does. But I'm guessing it has a definite part in this entire 'hell on earth' thing."

"Yes." The Watcher was no longer there. Every contour of his face was driven with worry. For long moments, they sat in silence. There was nothing left to say. No further interrogation to conduct. A minor lead that inevitably initiated a night surrounded by books.

Dawn sighed at last and stood. "Look...I didn't sleep much last night. Since Willow's not using her bed, I'm going to borrow it for a while, 'kay?"

Giles immediately zoned to the present, blinked at her unthinkingly, and nodded. "Erm...yes, of course. I don't believe any of us acquired much rest. Go do that. I need to be up to help them when they get back from the butcher."

"Yeah." She turned and made the slow, steady retreat. When she stood at the foot of the staircase, she saw the Watcher had made no effort to move. He was staring at the same spot on the wall, face blank and emotionless. Lost in a labyrinth of deep thought and a pounding clock that ticked each second with cruel diction. The sight troubled her. It wasn't often she saw Giles so unprepared - without theory or suggestion. And while her faith in his abilities never wavered, the slightest lapse rocked the wobbly legs she depended on. Dawn bit her lip and cast her gaze downward, clearing her throat. "It'll be all right, won't it?" she asked. "In the end...it'll all be all right...right?"

He looked up and met her nervous eyes. His own were not much for reassurance. It was a bit late to make speculation on how all right everything in its nature was. And the Watcher would not lie to her. No matter how ugly the truth was, he would never keep it from reaching her ears.

What he did say was perhaps the worst. "I wish I could say."

Dawn hadn't felt a shudder that dark in a long time.

*~*~*

The first thing she was aware of was the degree of silence that spread across the room like wildfire. It singularly was unlike anything she had heard before. A still nothingness. No breaths mingled in the air, no telltale rise and fall of the man whose chest so protectively cradled her in an emptily warm embrace. Instinctually, Buffy drew in a deep gulp of air, reveling in the uselessness that soared with it. She thought of all those times she had splurged on ice cream or other fattening goodies, only to berate herself later for putting something into her body that she wanted but would never need. The suggestion that oxygen had reached that pivotal plane was not a happy one. And yet working her lungs required more effort, and for that, she was too drained.

When she finally opened her eyes, Buffy saw they had fallen asleep in the same position he held her in the night before. William's body cupped hers, the feel of his skin comforting her. She adorned his black tee, his arm draped over her shoulder, and their hands were laced together. What few breaths he subconsciously took tickled her neck, filling the air with much-needed sound before everything once more fell flat and dead.

Dead.

That's what she was now. Dead. Again, but not so. Deader than dead. The undead. The living dead.

Silence. Silence meant death, when boiled down to a simple conclusion.

Buffy squeezed William's hand tightly and earned one in minor response. Her companion murmured lazily in his sleep, nuzzled her hair, and stilled once more. Pursing her lips, she settled again, eyes fluttering shut. How she wished to just will the world away. Fall asleep and let this day along with all the rest melt into one magnanimous frame of consistency. The thought of facing the downstairs household was not a pleasant one. There was work to do, prophecies to investigate, a world to save. Again.

That resurrected the promise she made to herself the night before returned with all its aching glory. An empty one at that, but a vow she would lose herself repeatedly to upkeep. This could not continue for an eternity. She would not let it.

Taking a deep breath of comfortless air, Buffy conceded that further rest was improbable. Her mind was much too full to let her lose herself in slumber again. Reluctantly, she untangled herself from William's arms and edged out of bed. The room looked foreign to recently reborn eyes: filled with things that denoted herself as the Slayer. Half these artifacts she could no longer touch. The crosses in her chest. The vials filled with holy water. The necklace Angel gave her a lifetime ago. Forget the note of fairness in this cursed damnation; the logistics alone would prevent her from fulfilling her calling. How was she supposed to fight the forces of darkness when touching anything more than a stake affected her more than the demons roaming the earth?

She knew the air was cold, but she couldn't feel it.

Buffy's eyes watered and she looked down. Whatever she had been fighting for, wasting away for all these years seemed lost. A whirlpool of never-ending mockery. She fought to heave a sigh through tired lungs, wiping frustrated tears away with a sniff. If anything, there was no sense crying over it now. There was an eternity to spend roaming this earth - unless she found herself at the end of one of her own sharply pointed stakes - and such consistent boohooing about her lot in life would do little good. After spending so many years specializing in self-pity, however hidden she kept it, the Slayer would have to force herself to maintain the adulthood the weight of her decision carried.

When she looked up, her eyes caught the mirror and the contemptuous nothingness it threw back at her. That was all it took. Chosen or not, this was not how it was supposed to be. Buffy trembled and her inward fortitude collapsed. She didn't realize she was sobbing until she paused where she would normally gasp for a timely breath. There was nothing. No reflection of swollen eyes, of the tears skating hotly down her otherwise cold cheeks, no picture to accompany her sorrow.

A sudden tightness around her middle took her by surprise, but only for a minute. William hadn't made any move as he sat up, said nothing as he cradled her against him, softly, wistfully caressing her neck with feather-light brushes of his lips. She choked out a sigh, reaching to rub the arm that held her. The mirror echoed nothing, of course. Nothing of the tenderness he exhibited, the love he showed with every infinitesimal indication of her returned affection. He was accustomed to that, but she wondered if it was something he ever missed with uniformity.

He was still coating her neck with kisses, comforting and somehow chaste, in his own respect. "It takes some gettin' used to, pet," he murmured as he nuzzled her. "Lookin' without seein' a bloody thing. I know. Lots takes gettin' used to."

Buffy exhaled once and nodded. "And you're here to help, I know. We don't have to go through this again. It'll...just take some time."

She felt his smile against her throat, and he held her resolutely in a firm, reassuring squeeze. "Tha's right."

For a moment she went rigid, and delightful as it was, William's warm affection served as only a minimal comfort. The feeling that resided in the pit of her stomach had made itself at home. The sensation of complete and utter loss of oneself, and try as she might, it wasn't something she could release with any measure of ease.

However, with such a sheath of strength behind her, Buffy sighed heavily, closed her eyes, and finally allowed herself to relax. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered, encouraging his fervent attentions to resume. "The...the thought of what could have happened...had one thing gone differently...I-"

"Shhh..." William urged, lips against her skin. "We'll never 'ave to know, pet." When he sighed in turn, his breath fanned her ear with such simplistic normality that it nearly provoked her to tears. A rush of aggravated shame coursed through her body. It would not do to overreact in such a pubescent manner to every reminder of what mortality felt like. If he noticed, he had enough civility not to voice her pain. "An' even then...I wasn't fast enough. I-"

"Don't," she gasped, eyes flying open. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was."

He smiled expressively. "If you say so, luv."

"I do." A beat of encompassing silence passed between them. "What time is it?"

William paused and lifted his head, and Buffy seized the opportunity to recline comfortably against his shoulder. His eyes wandered to the window where beats of sunshine still struggled against the safety of closed blinds. The intensity of heavenly rays weren't as potent as they were in mid-afternoon. "'Bout 'alf hour till sunset, I'd wager."

"They'll be wondering about me."

"Well, yeah." Reluctantly, he pulled away, hand instinctively running through ruffled platinum strands. "After what you went through? Luv, they'll be wonderin' about you till they're long gone. You've got to know what you mean to the Scoobies. An' now you've made this walloping sacrifice."

Buffy nodded dismally and moved passed him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I know. It's-"

"Going to be hard." William turned to face her with a gentle smile. "We've covered this, pet. Won' become any more or less true the more you say it." His shoulders rolled with captured tension. "I'll bet you're hungry. Feelin' a bit peckish myself. Let's go downstairs. I'm sure Willow's hit the butcher's by now."

She made a face. "Oh joy. More blood."

"'Ey there." A mischievous grin crossed his lips. "Might be right degradin', but I saw you chow down last night. You love it an' you know it."

"And knowing this is supposed to lower the disgust factor...how?"

"Jus' think of it as that sodding diet soda you chug, only with flavor."

Buffy smirked at him, reaching for her jeans. She understood that venturing into the world below adorned in his t-shirt probably wasn't the best impression to make after a night like the one she had had before, but at this point, it didn't seem to matter. Not anymore. Perhaps never again. "You're a riot," she jested, throwing the duster over her shoulders. "All right then...let's get this over with."

It wasn't until she reached the door that she realized William wasn't behind her. Instead, he sat calmly on the bed where she left him, regarding her with a sweet, almost impish smile. A frown flashed across her face, then she understood. "Ummm...I have a shirt or two you can borrow, I guess. They might be a little tight-fitting, but..." That only seemed to heighten his amusement. What he found so entertaining she didn't know, but it was strangely appreciated. Buffy sighed and conceded, shrugging the duster off and tossing it in his direction. "All right. Fine. But no ideas...that's my damn coat now."

She expected the display to heighten his spirits, but instead it worked the reverse. The frisky expression tainting his features fell immediately, as though just informed a favored pet had died. He made no attempt to catch her offering; rather watched it consign itself on the floor. An unexpected shudder coursed through his body, and at last, he stood.

"Take it," William murmured, kicking the duster wearily in her direction. "I can't wear that. Jus' another bloody trophy of mine, right? 'Sides, I told you once...'s a slayer's coat, an' tha's where it belongs. On you."

Buffy pursed her lips. Not a sound reverberated through the room. Not an inkling of life, or the previously uplifted morale she could have lost herself in had the road had been pursued. But no. There was always a reminder of reality. Of what they had to challenge on the other side of that door, whether it come in the form of a knowing look or a familiar article of clothing. There was always something.

With a weary nod, she leaned forward and took the duster in her arms. William wordlessly navigated to her closet and explored all possibilities. The thought never occurred to her to simply return his shirt to him, just as he never asked for it. He settled with a flannel top she had borrowed from Xander a lifetime ago and never given back.

The sun was down by the time they stepped out to face the world, each accommodated in their own awkward respects. At the top of the stairs, Buffy turned to him abruptly, seizing him in a spontaneous embrace. Her will demanded nothing of him but to be held and reassured. No words were exchanged. There was no need. Simply the comfort of being held and cared for, in view of the world of ache they lived in, was more sentiment than any idiom could convey.

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