Enemy Incognito

By Wynn

Chapter Three: Tête-à-Tête

Day had come and gone once more. The red haze of sunset filled the quiet hotel room where Willow lay on the bed, watching the fading sunlight. She hadn't moved since her arrival three days ago; basic necessities such as food and water were of no concern to her. She was consumed by her thoughts of Tara, Xander, Buffy, Giles, and Dawn. Her grief and her guilt were slowly killing her.

Willow blinked once as she heard a knock on the door. She turned and drew the thin cotton blanket around her, ignoring the person or persons on the other side of the door. She didn't want to move, and she didn't want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to remember.

The knocking continued, soon turning to banging, a steady rhythm interrupting Willow's attempt to drown out the world. "Go away," she said. "Please. I want to be alone." Her plea for solitude didn't faze the unwanted visitor; if anything, the banging intensified, picking up speed until it seemed to be one continuous bang. Throwing off the blanket, Willow got out of bed and stalked over to the door. She turned the knob and yanked, prepared to yell at the persistent intruder.

The hall was empty.

Eyebrows drawn in confusion, Willow stepped into the hallway. There weren't any signs of the mysterious visitor; whomever it had been seemed to have vanished into thin air. She checked the empty hall once more before backing into her room. Willow shut the door, locked it, and leaned against the wood grain, drawing in a deep breath and closing her eyes. She half-expected the banging to begin again as soon as she re-entered the room, so she remained by the door, waiting to catch the unknown person. After a few minutes of silence, Willow opened her eyes, turned away from the door, and stopped.

There was someone in the room.

Backlit by the dwindling sunset, the last person Willow expected to see was sitting on the bed, hands folded, head tilted, and a warm smile on her face. She was wearing a white flowing skirt and a gold silk top; her hair was piled high on her head with delicate gold beads decorating the elegant curls.

"Tara?"

"Hey, Willow."

***

The Hyperion was quiet. After three days of constant hovering, Spike had finally convinced Fred and Gunn that there was nothing they could do to help Angel and that they should get out of the hotel for a while. The unconscious vampire needed blood and sleep, not nervous friends flocking about him. The pair had gone to see a movie, leaving Spike alone with his grand-Sire.

The blonde pushed open the door to Angel's room and walked inside. He carried two mugs of warm blood and a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. Angel lay on his king size bed curled up in the black sheets; an empty mug with dried blood along its edge sat on his bedside table, next to a picture of the cheerleader. On the opposite side of the bedroom, a lighted lamp shed a muted yellow glow, softly illuminating the brunette vampire's inner sanctum. Spike placed one of the full mugs on the table, and he pulled a black leather chair next to Angel's bed. Setting his mug down on the floor, Spike plopped into the chair, grasped the potato chip bag, and slowly pulled it open. The sound of crinkling foil caused Angel to stir on the bed. Encouraged by the movement, Spike reached into the bag for a chip and ate it, filling the dark bedroom with the crunching sound of a crushed potato chip. Angel twisted underneath the sheets. Spike alternated sipping from the mug of blood and eating potato chips until the brunette opened his eyes.

"Morning, sunshine," Spike said as he set the chip bag beside the chair.

Angel blinked a few times and focused his gaze on the blonde vampire. "Spike?"

"The one and only. How are you today? Well rested I presume. Should be since you've been Sleeping Beauty the past three days. I had to force blood down your throat while you were unconscious, and, let me tell you, that's not an experience I want to have again."

"What?"

Rolling his eyes, Spike helped Angel into a sitting position. He handed the brunette the mug of blood and returned to the leather chair, watching as Angel eyed him warily, clutching the mug in his hands. "If I wanted you dead, Peaches, I would have staked your ass as soon as I pulled you out of the bloody ocean. The blood's perfectly fine. Now, drink it. You're not fully healed yet."

Bringing the mug to his lips, Angel took a cautious sip before gulping down the rest of the blood. He wiped a trail of the warm liquid from his chin and set the mug on his nightstand. Looking at Spike, he said, "What are you doing here?"

"Watching you dribble like a baby apparently." Sighing, the blonde picked up his mug and downed the rest of its contents. He twirled the empty cup in his hands as he said, "I came here because I needed to talk to you. But you had pulled a magical disappearing act, so I called up a witch I knew in LA to do a locator spell on you. Then your two mates and I, well, really it was just me, hauled your ass out of the Pacific and brought you back to your lovely hotel. You've been unconscious since I found you."

"You-you pulled me out of the ocean?"

"The prolonged exposure to ocean water must have turned your brain to mush. Yes, I said I got you out of the metal box you were in and dragged you to the shore."

"Why? Why would you rescue me? You hate me."

Spike grinned. "Yeah, I do. But like I said, I needed… need to talk to you. I couldn't do that if you were chained in a box in the middle of the ocean. Which, by the way, how the hell did you end up chained in a box in the middle of the ocean?"

Angel glanced down at his hands. "Demon."

Spike arched an eyebrow. He knew that Angel was lying to him, and he knew that Angel knew that Spike could tell he was lying. "Must have been some demon."

The brunette focused his gaze on Spike, eyes projecting a deep sorrow and fathomless pain. The two stared at each other for a moment, searching for answers to unasked questions. "Why are you here, Spike?" Angel asked quietly.

Spike broke eye contact and bit his lip. He ran his fingers through his hair and inhaled deeply. "I'm here because I need to talk to you. About me." He looked at Angel again and finished his reply, "And about Buffy."
***

Pushing herself up off the mat, Dawn faced her sister again. It was their first day of training; Buffy had consulted Giles the day before, and they both decided that she should be the one to train Dawn. Something about more time for sisterly bonding and passing on what she had learned. Whatever. The real reason was that Giles had his hands full with a manic Anya who was pushing full steam ahead in the Magic Box rebuilding. He didn't have time to train Dawn. Which left Buffy, who was standing with her hands perched on her black sweat pant clad hips and an intense expression on her face, to attempt to teach Dawn the ins and outs of defense and offense. Not for the first time during the training session, Dawn wished that Spike were here so that he could teach her. At least he would have made the session marginally enjoyable.

"Did you notice how I dodged your punch? If you can't hit me, you can't hurt me. Dodging blows is always less painful than blocking them. Plus dodging throws your opponent off balance, allowing you the opportunity to strike."

Dawn rolled her eyes and dropped into a fighting stance again. Her long brown hair was arranged in a French braid, and she wore a t-shirt and a pair of blue cotton workout pants.

Buffy folded her arms across her grey tank top and stared at her little sister. "Dawn, I know this is basic stuff that any idiot can figure out. Hit equals hurt isn't rocket science. But it's necessary and it's important. It could save your life one day."

"I know. But you're the one dodging and I'm the one falling flat on my face."

"And after enough times of falling flat on your face you'll learn to control your momentum so you won't be left open for an attack." Buffy sighed at the look on her sister's face. If looks could kill, Dawn wouldn't need combat skills; she could eviscerate her opponent with a narrowing of her blue eyes. "Why don't we stop for today? I still have to patrol, and I need to start looking for a new job."

Walking over to the water cooler, Dawn said, "So you were fired from the Doublemeat. After you showed up at the Magic Box a half hour after your shift started, I figured they fired you." She took a long drink of water and wiped her forehead on towel. "I just didn't want to say anything about it because you looked pissed."

"Saving the world tends to interfere with flipping burgers. The world of fast food frowns on no shows. Especially after a week of no showing."

"You hated it anyway. I don't see why you were pissed about being fired from a job you hate."

Buffy grabbed a cup of water and sat down on the floor of the Magic Box training room. As Dawn sat beside her, she said, "I wasn't upset about not working for the Doublemeat Palace anymore. I was upset that they fired me. Me. I should have at least had the opportunity to quit and walk out in a dignified huff. Instead I was fired from a minimum wage fast food place because I was out trying to save the world. Again."

"Speaking of saving the world… any word from Willow?"

Buffy shook her head. "It's probably too soon for her. She needs some time to recover from… everything."

"Like trying to kill you, me, Giles, Anya, and Xander? Not to mention destroy the world."

Setting her cup down on the floor, Buffy faced her sister. "Dawn, Willow was out of her mind with pain and rage. She watched Tara die. It's hard watching your lover die in front of you. I know. You feel like you've lost control over everything, over yourself, the world, and you do things that…you wouldn't normally do. Things that one would feel really guilty about after it's done."

"Like Spike?"

Buffy stood and walked away from Dawn. "I don't want to talk about Spike."

"Well, I do." Dawn followed her, circling around her so she could face Buffy. "I want to talk about Spike and what happened between the two of you."

"It's complicated."

Dawn remained silent for a moment, gritting her teeth. "I know it's complicated," she said quietly, trying to quell the need to scream. "Everything is complicated. That doesn't mean that you can avoid talking. Everyone did that for the entire year, and look where it got us. Tara's dead. Willow's gone. Spike's gone. Xander and Anya aren't together anymore." She unclenched her jaw and grasped her sister's hand. "You can't keep shutting me out Buffy."

Buffy pushed a strand of hair behind Dawn's ear. She smiled sadly at her younger sister. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I don't know exactly where to start about me and Spike. What happened between us wasn't entirely his fault, no matter what Xander told you. I did things that I'm not proud of, and I don't want you or anyone else to know about them." She paused. "But you need to know about them and about what happened. You deserve the truth."

Dawn pulled Buffy into a hug. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank me when we're finished."
***

"T-Tara? You're not real. Why are you here? How are you here? I saw you… watched you… I miss you so much."

Tara reached out and cupped Willow's face. The redhead felt a wave of love and warmth and comfort spread through her from Tara's touch. "I'm here but I'm not here. I came to help you but I can't stay. They haven't given me much time before I have to be back."

"They? They who?"

Tara shook her head. "It's not important. Not as important as what you're doing to yourself. Why did you leave Sunnydale?"

Willow stood and walked to the window. "How could I have stayed after what I did to them? They must hate me so much, and I-I couldn't bear to be there and have them hate me." She felt Tara approach so she turned to face the blonde Wicca.

"They don't hate you Willow. They never have. And they never will."

Tears formed in Willow's eyes as she stared at her love. "They should. I tried to kill them. How can they not hate me?"

"Because they love you."

Willow sank to the floor, sobbing. She reached for Tara, and the two held each other. Tara smoothed Willow's hair and pulled out of the embrace; she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lover's lips. "They love you like I love you. Forever and always. That's never going to change, no matter what happens, or what you do. And that's why you can't stay here forever, reliving everything that's happened. You have to go back to Sunnydale and face them, and you have to keep living, even if it is hard and painful."

"But I don't want to keep living. Not without you."

"You won't be. I'll be with you always. In your heart and in your soul and in your mind. I love you, Willow, from the first moment I saw you, and I always will." She stood. Holding out a hand, she helped Willow up off of the floor and pressed her hand to her lover's cheek. "It's time."

"No, baby, no. I need you here with me. Don't go. Please."

"I have to. It's time." With one last kiss, she moved away from Willow towards the hotel room door. She glanced over her shoulder and said, "They'll forgive you. It won't be easy, but then nothing ever is. Especially love."

"I love you."

"I love you." Tara turned to the door and passed through it, leaving a fading glow of amber light.

Willow watched the disappearing light as she whispered, "Goodbye, Tara."

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