Whispers of the Past

Shrieks filled the old building, flakes of paint shaking from the peeling walls, as a roach scuttled across the floor only to be crushed under a heavy booted foot. She nodded in thanks, red hair falling for a moment in front of her tear stained face before she pushed it back. She clutched the phone to her ear, trying to block out the horrible sound that shook her to her very core, the sound of pain, the sound of lost souls, the sound of hell that echoed through the old building. More than anything she wanted to be rid of that sound, to be deaf even. Maybe that was the problem, maybe they had been deaf to her pain too long, let her slip too far.

She placed her palm flush against her other ear, attempting to block out her best friend's hollow screams. The phone rang again, impatience flooding her veins, she couldn't do this amidst this noise, this hollow endless sound; she had to escape it. She just had too. Willow walked over to the heavy door, sending a sympathetic glance back to Faith, who was scraping roach guts off of her favorite boots. Faith nodded at her in understanding as Willow pushed open one of the heavy aluminum doors and strolled out of the building. Come on! She thought, looking up and down the cracked sidewalk, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. Just pick up the phone already!

Halfway across the country Spike's head felt as though it were going to explode. "Aren't you gonna get that?" He shot a daggered glare at his blonde foe from across the plush office.

She rolled her eyes, finishing the pink-coated brush stroke across her long nails. "Hey, you're not the boss of me!" She pouted. "And besides, I'm on a break." She informed him, blowing on her damp nails. The phone continued its shrill persistent ringing on the large black desk that was currently littered with old issues of Vogue, and Rolling Stone, nail polish remover, nail file and used cotton balls. Before she could start her second coat of Barbie Sunset, her head was yanked roughly back as Spike grabbed a handful of her blonde hair, causing her to yelp in pain and spill the nail polish over her new blouse. "Owww!" She cried out. She batted at him with her freshly painted hand. "Look what you made me do, you big idiot!"

But Spike didn't release his grip on her bleached mane; a week trapped in an office day after day with her could put anyone over the edge. "Harm," He growled low and dangerously in her ear. "Pick up the damn phone!" He let go of her head, pushing it forward as it slammed against the desk.

Harmony whimpered, rubbing her forehead with her palm, trying to keep from inflicting any more damage on her nails. "I'm telling Angel!" She pouted as she reached for the black phone, almost knocking over the bottle of nail polish remover.

"You do that." Spike dug in his pants pocket, pulling out a pack of smokes, pressing one firmly between his lips, his Zippo's flame rising to light the stick of nicotine. He knew Angel didn't approve of his smoking, even less when Spike did it in his office, but to hell with em'. He was the one stuck here with the bookworm and his own life sized Barbie doll complete with air between the ears, while he and Gunn went traipsing off to Fiji to kill some demon cult. If he didn't want his furniture smelling of smoke than he shouldn't have left Spike at home with the girls. His own bloody fault, Spike mused as Harmony finally picked up the receiver.

Spike lowered himself into Angel's favorite black leather chair, the one Angel had warned him expressively was off limits. He was just about to reach for an issue of Rolling Stone when he caught Harmony's recognizing tone. "Oh, it's you." She sighed, messing with her now stained top. "No, he's not here. God! What am I, his beeper?" Spike had to smile as he listened to the part of the conversation he could hear. "Keeper. Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I told you, he's not here." Pause. "I dunno, some demon tropical thingie." Another pause. "I am only his secretary!" Harmony protested. "It's not my job to know where he is, or how to reach him, or when he'll get back! " There was yet another long pause in which Spike could make out the mumbling clucking noises over the other end. He almost felt bad for the caller... almost. He was evil after all, big bad and all that, and it was a rare treat to watch Harmony torture someone, other than himself that is. "Here." The blonde vampire trusted the black phone into Spike's grasp. "She wants to talk to someone else."

An annoyed scowl crossed Spike's face, as he squished out the cigarette on Angel's new desk. He had no urge to help these wankers. That was Angel's bit. He was only in this game for one reason and one reason only. "Hullo?" He brought the phone to his ear.

"Spike?" Came a familiar voice from the other end.

"Red?" Spike's eyes grew wide; he actually missed the witch. He missed them all, though he would rather stake himself than admit it. In fact he had been constantly questioning himself as to why he agreed to play nursemaid to a bunch of wankers, and work with the poof when he could be basking in the cloudy winters of Cleveland with Willow and the rest of the gang. Actually, he knew the reason, a certain smart-ass blonde slayer, one who would never love him as much as he loved her. "How you doin-" He stopped abruptly, mind traveling down the possible paths for Willow's call. "Wait, don't tell me this call is to warn me someone thinks we're betrothed, no Wind Beneath My bloody Wings?"

"Huh?" Willow was sure she missed a step somewhere.

Spike chuckled low in his throat; he could almost see Willow's face scrunched up in confusion, her eyebrows arching high. "No magic mumbo jumbo I should be worried about? No ending of the world? Random engagements?"

"Hey!" Willow cried in offense. "Is anyone ever gonna let me live that down? I mean sure, there have been like one or two-"

"One or two?" Spike interrupted, teasing her.

"Okay." Willow conceded. "So maybe there have been a few instances where things didn't go as planned! But there have been lots of times that things have worked out great! And- and to hear you talk you would think all my spells always go 'Ka-blew-ie!'" Willow paused when she heard Spike laughing on the other end. Out on the sidewalk, away from the noise, from everything but the chilling wind she let the horrors that were happening inside fall away. "And yes, there has been the occasional 'poofage' but that was before and now I'm like Super Wicca Girl."

Spike shook his head. "Be needin' a cape then, luv." Willow grumbled and Spike could almost sense she was trying to think of the best way to drive something sharp and pointy at him regardless of the miles between them, so he switched gears. "So...you lookin' for Angel?" He shifted uncomfortably in the Italian leather chair.

That brought Willow crashing back down to reality. She glanced guiltily at the door, she should not be wasting time, not when Buffy... She couldn't even bare to finish that thought. Willow, Super Wicca Girl she was, hadn't been able to do a thing for her best friend; in fact she was afraid she might have made it worse. "Yeah. Do you know how I can reach him?"

"No, Red. I don't. Left me here all alone with the girls." Spike answered truthfully, sitting up straighter at the seriousness of her tone and the small sigh she admitted at his reply. "Is somethin' wrong?" Fear coursed through his non-beating heart, Nibblet, Buffy, if anything ever happened to either of them he didn't know what he would do. Miles apart and to him they were his family, his purpose in his undead life, without them this would be pointless.

Across the country, a serious internal war raged within Willow, conflicts of the heart colliding against logic of the brain. She hadn't been so trusting of Spike when he came back to Sunnydale, all souled up, but she liked to think that was because of the First, and the control it had had on him. She had felt awful when he "died", not taking it nearly as hard as Buffy, Dawn or even Andrew, but she still felt his loss, the gapping whole that both Spike and Anya had left in the group. And then he was back, just like that. She was never really clear on how, or why he came back but his return was both unsettling and joyous. A part of her felt like telling him, just to make up for that evil little voice in the back of her head, and the part of her that knew Spike, that trusted Spike, wanted to keep it from him. No one should have to see someone they love go through this. Then why are you trying to find Angel? Her mind fired back. Shouldn't he be spared the sight too? If she was perfectly honest with herself she would admit it was because she was running out of options, they couldn't reach Buffy anymore, she wasn't altogether sure anyone could.

"Witch?" Spike prompted; the silence on the other end deafening. Spike had always loved silence, what with Dru's rantings all bloody day and night, silence became something to be cherished, worshipped even. Then one night changed everything, the night after Buffy jumped to save Dawn, the silence was horrible, filling his mind like a muffled blanket, ears aching to hear her heart beat. Now he understood why so many humans lived for noise, for sound. Because silence, to so many, was death.

The soft-pleading tone in which Spike had pulled Willow's mind back from its meanderings, had made her decision, it was like a bolt of lightening, and she just knew what she should do. She heard that unspoken question, knew what he didn't want to hear, what she didn't want to tell him. So she took a deep breath and did the only thing she could; she kept her mouth shut. "No, no." She shook her head, plastering a look of enthusiasm on her face as if he could see her through the phone line. "Everything's just fine and dandy. Yep," She overcompensated as she always did. "Everything is fine and dandy, and we're all eating candy. And wow, that rhymes! Dandy candy." She repeated, giggling nervously; secret keeping, not one of Willow's best accomplishments.

Spike sighed, knowing damn well what she was up to. "Pet, I know what's going on." Willow gasped unintentionally, cold Cleveland air filling her lungs with a sharp stab. "Don't worry, not gonna tell your little Scooby gang, but Red, you need to lay off the caffeine. Don't need you all twitchy when you’re doing that mumbo jumbo. Not exactly conducive for spell castin'."

Willow exhaled, not even realizing she had been holding her breath, she had been so close. "Yep, me caffeine, non-mixy. Bad, bad Willow! I have to go... and do penance and stuff. You know, for the caffeine, and the caffeine. And I have to go." She wanted off the phone as quick as possible, Spike was far too good at telling when something was up, and he didn't need to be here for this. He didn't deserve that kind of hurt, the kind of anger that builds, sparked by feelings of uselessness, and fed by the horror in Buffy's eyes. But she had called for a reason, Angel still might be able to help. "But ya know, if you hear from Angel, can you please tell him I called?"

"Sure, Pet. I'll make sure to give Nancy Boy the message." He was going to ask if there was anything he could do to help but a screaming chit in the background made him halt.

Amber, a fourteen-year-old slayer they had been training, swung the door open and nearly toppled over Willow. Her normally pale face was flushed red to match her curls that were pulled back into a high ponytail, her green eyes wild and frightened. "Willow!" She screeched, tears cascading down her cheeks, fear flooding from every pore on her body. "Call an ambulance! You need to call an ambulance!"

"What?" Willow grabbed the frantic girl's arm with one hand, her other, with the phone clenched in it, falling to her side.

"Knife!" The girl panted. "Blood... Oh God... So much blood... It's everywhere..." She was beginning to hyperventilate, ears flaming pink, fingers digging into Willow's arm for support.

"Calm down." Willow commanded, her own terror shining from her large orbs. "Breathe. What happened?"

Amber seemed to calm somewhat, breaths still coming in ragged pants, but her mind seemed clearer, the initial panic subsiding. "Buffy. She has a knife. She cut her arm. She's bleeding really badly. It's everywhere. And she's not making any sense again." Her breath hitched, a few double pants as she struggled to gain control over her body. Slayers shouldn't act like this, Buffy had always told her to keep a cool head.

"Where's the knife?!" Willow almost shook the poor child. There had been one close call before in which Buffy had cut deeply and repeatedly into her legs, the doctors had said it was a miracle she didn't suffer any permanent damage to her tendons, she had all but sliced through them. The three days Buffy was trapped in observation were the hardest ones Willow ever remembered, with the exception of the day Tara died. Buffy looked so hollow, so empty, staring at nothing. Not like Buffy at all, but some stranger, some weak child. Not her best friend, Buffy was always strong, Buffy had survived death twice, she had beaten the First, she wasn't weak. She was their leader. But then she seemed to do better, for awhile it was fine, and then came the crying at night, rants at the wall, conversations with no one, and then the screaming fits. Some days she was fine, she was Buffy, and other days... well, it was hard to tell who that girl was.

Amber winced at the pressure on her arm. Willow looked possessed, mad even. "Faith is trying to get it from her." She croaked.

Willow released her Vulcan death grip on the poor girl, dropping the cell phone in the process as it crashed on the cement, and dashed inside, hands held out as her mind sifted through spells of protection and healing. Amber began to sob furiously, convinced she wasn't strong enough to be a slayer, convinced her mentor was dying. She tried to think of what Buffy would do in this situation, she was always so calm in battle, so powerful, so strong. What would Buffy do? She sure as hell wouldn't sit by and watch, she would help, do something, anything. Amber noticed the small cell phone that Willow had dropped and retrieved it, intent on calling 911 when she heard a voice on the other end. "HELLO?!" It shouted at her. "ANYONE THERE?!"

"He-hello?" Amber brought the phone to her ear.

"What happened?" The petulant voice on the other end demanded.

"I-I can't talk right now." Amber said quickly. "Willow will have to call you back." And with that she hung up and dialed 911.

In an office twenty stories up, Harmony sulked. No one ever told her anything! Not to mention Spike had just run through the doors like a bat out of hell and didn't even bother to say he was sorry for her shirt! God, unlife sucked!

Chapter Two


Five heads shot up; mouths slightly agape as Spike strolled across the concrete floor, his boots smacking loudly against the hard surface. He stopped in front of Willow, speaking directly to her, ignoring the looks from the others. "So what is it then? Gonna tell me what that little phone call was really about?" He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, the cool demeanor beginning to slip as he witnessed the spark of worry flash in the witch's green eyes.

"Hey if it isn't my favorite Grateful Dead!" Faith threw a Cheshire grin his way as she leaned over Dawn who was staring speechlessly and stole a slice of orange from one of the bowls. "I was wondering when you were gonna pop by. I've been telling Willow for weeks that we needed reinforcements. I was expecting tall, dark, and brooding but I'll take blonde, dead, and sexy." She hopped back up on the makeshift island and tossed the piece of fruit into her mouth.

Xander’s spine straightened, anger blazing across his features, and distrust engrained in his stance. He flung down the knife he had been using swiftly and with deadly accuracy causing the long handle to stand straight up, the point buried deep in the wood. Faith whistled quietly, obviously impressed but Xander didn’t even hear her. His gaze ran over Spike sizing him up before turning to his best friend. "You invited him?" The words were drenched is loathing. "You don't think she’s been through enough because of him? You wanna see just how far you can push her before she snaps completely? Is that the plan here?"

Willow paled at the accusation, her past mistakes where Buffy was concerned still fresh in her mind. She silently sat on a nearby stool, her legs no longer capable of holding her. Her eyes wide and childlike as if a fairy tale had just been smashed. She opened her mouth to defend herself but the words would not come.

Kennedy noticing the quiet hurt on her lover’s face quickly stepped in. "Back off, Xander! I'm sure Willow has her reasons! And it's not like you’re doing anything to help Buffy." Xander withdrew as though he had been slapped, his heart stinging with hurt at the icy words flung at him. Willow touched Kennedy's hand, a simple connection, telling her to be careful. She softened a bit, her voice becoming warmer. "I didn't mean that. I know you've tried. We've all tried but it's not enough. Maybe Spike can reach her. Willow has her reasons for inviting him."

"That would be true." The red head nodded solemnly. "If I had invited him." Willow looked to Spike, eyes locking, both realizing secrets that were about to spill, the promises that had finally been shattered. "Except for the fact that I didn't. Invite him, that is."

Kennedy raised her eyebrows, sending a questioning glance to her girlfriend. "But if you didn't invite him who did?"

"Yeah." Xander stepped up, his protectiveness for Buffy fueling him. "How did you get here anyway? I thought you were all Bill Cosby and stuck in LA?"

"Yeah." Faith piped up, brow furrowed. "How did you get here anyway? Not that I’m not happy to see a fellow reform student but-" She stopped suddenly, cocking her head to look at Xander. "Bill Cosby?" She questioned sure she had missed a step somewhere.

She was obviously not the only one who had missed the connection. "Umm…" Kennedy scratched the back of her neck before a thought slammed into her head. "Jell-O! Didn’t he do all those commercials for Jell-0? Xander is saying that Spike is all soft like Jell-O since he is a ghost and therefore cannot work out..." She flayed helplessly before caving. "Pass."

Faith shrugged. "I got nothing."

Willow picked up the gauntlet. "All I can come up with is that cartoon he did."

"I remember that." Faith turned to Spike, eyes sparkling dangerously. "Fat Albert right?"

"Oi!" Offense shown in Spike’s face, his ego taking a blow. "Fat?! Jell-O?! You birds must have your wires crossed! Unless…" He opened his mouth, running his tongue over his human canines as he began to circle Xander slowly. "Unless that’s what the boy is trying to say."

With a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes Xander ignored Spike’s unspoken threat and instead focused on his own wounded pride. "Bill Cosby! Ghost Dad! Pop culture movie of the late eighties!"

"Still drawing a big ol’ blank." Willow replied with a small sad smile.

"Make mine a question mark." Kennedy bit in.

"You girls really need to brush up on your eighties trivia." Xander sulked, arms crossing over his chest. "In the movie he dies but he can’t stray to far from the kids. Sorta like how Casper here was leashed to LA." He drew the comparison for them.

"Leashed?" Spike howled in protest. "Like a bloody dog?" He scoffed. "Like you’re really one to talk. I mean you’ve been the Slayer’s lackey for how many years now? Begging for scraps from her. Leashed, my arse!"

"Oh. Not your best joke." Willow added helpfully.

"Ya know what, Harris? I’m bloody sick of all this name calling crap. You want a fight? I’ll give you a fight." Spike continued to rant to himself as he took a step closer to his foe, invading his personal space.

But the invasive front seemed to go unnoticed by Xander, who instead threw a sharp glance the witch. "I think I got that when everyone missed the punch line." He shot back, fingers in a steeple position at his lips, his whole body seeming to radiate anger and mistrust.

Willow had seen that move before. In another lifetime she had memorized every detail about Alexander Harris in a girlish fantasy. She knew it was something he did to try to calm himself, to keep his temper under wraps. A little late for that, she thought bitterly. "I wasn’t trying to-"

"Of course you weren’t, Will." Sarcasm dripped from his lips like honey. "You don’t ever try to do anything. Or wait I’m sorry, it’s just me you never tried to help."

"Hey." Faith hopped down from her perch on the workbench. So far she had felt this wasn’t her fight and she should keep a low profile but enough was enough. "Hold off there, Xand! Did you even give the girl a chance to explain in between all those pity parties you’ve been throwing yourself?"

"Oh I'm sorry!" Xander threw his large hands up in the air, barely missing Spike. "Was I singing your song? 'Look at me. I'm Faith'." He mocked in a whiny voice. " 'Buffy ruined my life! It was all 5 by 5 till she came along.' Please! Get over it." His raised voice cause a few curious SIT's to peek around the open doorway.

Faith turned her head, finger twirling in the belt loop of her dark denim jeans. She didn’t like to get involved and this was the reason, it always came back to her in the end. It was better to stay detached, stay away, to tuck yourself safely behind that wall. But over the past months the Scoobies and the girls had slowly eroded away her once hardened shell, with understanding and acceptance they filed away at it till nothing was left. So words that normally would have rolled back struck a chord, a cold violent chime ringing through the group. If it hadn’t been for the wide-eyed young girls standing at the doorway Xander would have been in a heap on the floor, knocked out cold. That was what Faith knew; someone hurts you, you hurt them back before they do it again. She started to stomp out of the room, pausing once she reached the doorway. With one last withering look back at Xander she said. "Ya might want to be careful, ya never know when people will just stop taking your crap." She cocked her head, telling the SIT’s to scram and smiled sadly at Spike. "Glad to have ya back."

"Well that was interesting." Spike drawled. "I thought she would have at least gotten in one good punch. Oh well." He shrugged. Guess I’ll have to do it for her."

Xander rolled his head to finally face Spike. "Oh would you please shut up? In case you forgot you’re a ghost. Whatcha gonna do? Yell ‘Boo’ real loud?"

"Umm…Xander?" Willow rose from her seat and pulled at his flannel shirttails. "There is something I forgot to tell you. Do you think we can go in the other room?"

He brushed her off. "Hold on, Will. Casper here was just gonna explain how he intends to kick my ass. Wasn’t that right, Blondie?"

"Xander?" Willow pleaded again, urging him to back down.

"He’s alive." The words came quietly from Dawn, causing the whole room to still. She had not said a word since Spike made his entrance and no one dared speak over her. "OhmyGod. You’re alive!" She ran across the floor, throwing herself into his strong arms, nearly knocking him to the ground. "You’re alive, you’re alive.’ She repeated between sobs. Spike returned the heartfelt embrace, hugging her close and lifting her a few inches from the ground. Tears prickled against his cool skin as Dawn’s willpower fell away, leaving only a seventeen-year-old girl who had lost too many people in her short life and was worried about losing her sister. She could lie down her burdens; allow the cracks in her armor to show. Spike was here. He would take over the weary loads. He would ease them from her shoulders. He would make everything better. He would make her better.

Kennedy and Xander silently digested this piece of information, their mouths slightly agape at the shock, eyes glued to the scene in front of them. If they had not been watching so intently they might have noticed Willow’s unfazed reaction. For Willow wasn’t shocked. No, she wasn’t shocked at all, and as she looked at Dawn sobbing in Spike’s arms, a line of worry drew itself on her face.

"I’m here, lil bit." Spike soothed the crying brunette. "That’s right. Let it all out. Daddy’s here."

"He’s touching her?" Xander stood bewildered, searching from recognition of what his eyes were telling him. "He’s touching her! He’s a ghost and he’s touching her!" His gaze roamed between Kennedy, Willow, and the not so ghost. "He’s touching her."

"You really are a clot, aren’t you?" Spike spoke over Dawn’s head, not breaking the connection.

"A baby horse?" Xander questioned, mind completely jumbled.

"That’s a colt." Willow answered quietly.

Xander spun to face Willow. "But he’s touching her!" He protested once again, his mind stuck on that single track. Over and over it replayed in his head. Spike’s a ghost. But he’s touching Dawn. But he can’t Spike’s a ghost.

Willow’s green eyes flashed with worry as she glanced over at Spike. "You really are thick." Spike sighed as Dawn finally relinquished her hold on him, pulling back and wiping at her tears. "Of course I can touch her, you pillock. I’m not a bloody haunt."

"How? When? How?" Xander scrambled for answers.

"It’s really you?" Dawn stood back a step, gazing at him.

"Yeah, luv. It’s me."

"And you’re alive?" She added hopefully.

"Haven’t been alive in a long time." He smiled, a bit of sadness shining from his eyes. "Still got that pesky sun allergy or I would have been here sooner.’’ His glance caught Willow’s who averted her eyes.

"Sooner?" Dawn raised an eyebrow. "How did you know Buffy would-" Off a look from Xander she redirected the question. "I mean how did you know to come."

"I got a ring." His gaze caught Willow’s, who again averted her eyes to the concrete floor. "Heard a bit of ruckus, thought I’d come by and check it out."

"Umm…Excuse me," Kennedy raised her hand, as if in class waiting to be called. "But how long have you been undead?" Spike sent her a pointed look at her mistake. "I mean how long have you been touchable? Why didn’t you just come here right away? Why wait for a ring?"

"Funny thing." Spike stalled. "I mean not funny but interestin’. The thing is-"

Dawn’s face fell, eyes darkening under the crushing blow. He didn’t even tell her. If he hadn’t gotten that phone call she never would have known. He would have never told her. "You didn’t tell us? You didn’t even call to let Buffy or me know?"

"Oi! It’s not like that, lil bit." He tried to plead his case but Dawn would have none of it, in her easily offended teen minded the jury had already decided guilty and was now pondering proper punishment.

"Just save it." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and with a toss of her head flipped her brunette strands back. ‘I mean how could you do that to me? To Buffy? Don’t you remember how upset she was when she saw you? When both you and Angel had decided to keep your ghost thing a secret? Why would you do that again to me? I mean, us." She kept her head held high even though tears threatened to spill, her injured heart bleeding out it’s sorrow through her puppy dog orbs. She tried to focus on the anger, on the blazing fire within. She worked her mind into a path of her poor sister’s feeling, fighting for detachment. He obviously didn’t care about her, if he had he would have at least told her. Well then she didn’t care about him.

Gathering her wits, Willow inhaled, allowing the breath to calm her body. "Dawnie, it’s not his fault. I asked him to stay away."

"Away? Why?" Dawn spun to face her, eyes large with unspoken questions.

"I-I." Willow stammered as three piercing stares from those nearest and dearest to her bore through her body. "I just didn’t want to make her worse. And there is some stuff she doesn’t know about." Her eye line ticked to Spike, who shoved his hands deep within his pockets as if a boy about to be scolded. "Some big stuff that both Angel and I thought it was best to keep from her."

"Ohhhh!" Xander spoke up. "So you three just decided to keep this from her? Cuz that has worked so well in the past. I mean I can’t wait to see how she reacts to this. ‘Oh Buffy your crazy ex would be rapist is here and he’s no longer a ghost! By the way did we mention that both your ex honey and your best friend knew and didn’t bother to tell you.’ Yeah." He rolled his sierra eyes. "I’m sure that will go over real well. Maybe this time she will just try to hang herself instead."

"Xander." Dawn cried out, tears cascading down her cheeks at the mention of how far Buffy had fallen. While anger blazed within her at being kept in the dark she sent her once crush a devastating look and once simple command. "Don’t."

He faced her, apology evident. "I’m sorry, Dawnie. I really am. But I am not going to sit around why these two railroad everyone. I’m not gonna risk Buffy doing something stupid because she feels betrayed."

"Buffy?" Spike’s ears caught the words as he fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle. Buffy. The Call. Something Stupid. "Is she alright?"

"She will be without you around."

""Where-where is she? I need to see her." He kept his hands in his pockets, fists clenching in worry at the leather as he looked out the open doorway.

Xander held out a hand to stop him. "Where do you think you are going?"

"Are you completely daft?!" He yelled. "To find Buffy where else?"

"Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged." Spike bit back.

"Diffloare! " With that the two men where blown apart, slamming into opposite walls with a loud thud. "Sorry." The red head added before spots began to dance before her and her legs gave way. Kennedy moved with lightening speed to catch her lover before she hit the ground.

"Hey you okay?" She peered at the witch’s sallow complexion as she helped her sit on one of the stools.

"Yeah." Willow peered out of tired eyes. "Just magicked myself out."

"Maybe you should lie down and get some rest."

"No!" Kennedy jumped back at this sudden exclamation to her suggestion before realizing Willow wasn’t speaking to her. Both Spike and Xander were edging there way towards the door. They halted at her word.

"I’m going to see her." Spike insisted, eyes flashing dangerously.

"No, you’re not." Xander argued.

"Xander?" Willow thrusted her tired but powerful glare at him. "Shut up."

Spike smiled at that, large grin growing across his face. "Havin’ a bit of a row with your mates? Way to go, Harris." He smirked. "Well if you’ll excuse me I have a girl to go see."

"No, you’re not." Willow replied with a forceful tone, though she was weak they both knew who had the power here.

He stopped and looked at her. "Red, don’t make me hurt you."

"Don’t make me hurt you." She countered wearily.

Dawn looked over the group anxiously. There could be a real problem if Spike and Willow went head to head, throw Kennedy and Xander into the mix and you have a big batch of uglies. But Spike did not move to attack. "You can’t mean to keep me from her?" His blue eyes rang with chimes of sadness and longing.

"No, you can see her." Spike let out an audible sigh of relief. "But not yet. There are some things you don't know. Some important stuff about Buffy. First you and I will have a talk, and only then you can go see her."

"Will." Xander begged. he had lost so much to darkness and battles. He lost his eye, the love of his life, he even came close to losing his best friend, and he wasn't about to let Buffy slip through his fingers. Gone were the days where he waited for her to rescue him. He no longer played the damsel. He tossed off the costume of youth and insecurity. He no longer feared what went bump in the night. He had seen fear, he had seen in Buffy's hallow eyes and in Willow's dark soul. He had seen fear and had nothing to fear but losing them. Buffy needed a hero and it was his turn.

"I know." Her heart softened at his soft spoken plea. "I'll make it okay, Xand. I promise. Just trust me." He had much to not trust her about at the moment, withholding the spell, not telling him about Spike, but he nodded. Even though he silently cursed his too soft a heart. Willow was his best friend he would follow her on the path to hell if she told him to but he wouldn't take Buffy with him. "Why- why don't you go sit with her? Maybe read her a book?"

"Or comics? Whatever is lying around..." He grinned a lopsided smile but Willow noticed it didn't reach his eyes as he trudged out the door and up the steps.

"Kennedy?" Willow prompted once Xander had left.

"Filling in Faith and helping with the girls." She replied with a sigh. "I'm on it."

"Spike? Why don't you follow me." She started for the door before remembering Dawn was still standing there. "Umm... could you maybe make Spike a bed and clean up in here?"

"Sure." She nodded as Spike followed Willow like an obedient puppy. "Joy." She muttered to herself. "I get the clean up." She started to wash off the knives and cutting boards when something caught her eye. Finally she just couldn't take it, she sat down on a stool at the workbench and sobbed. She sobbed until she was spent, bitter tears only capable in the very young. The apples were already turning brown.

Chapter Three

"This isn’t good is it?" Kennedy questioned Faith once she had filled her in on the soap opera drama she had missed by her early exit.

"Honestly?" Faith asked as she sat sprawled out on her cot. Kennedy nodded and she shrugged. "I don’t know, man. I mean for B? Possibly. With Xand? I’m thinking something’s gotta give with that boy. He’s wound a little too tight these days, he’s just gonna snap if he doesn’t loosen up. For Spike? I might’ve at least filled him in on things if I were Willow before he hopped a 747."

"But she didn’t know he was gonna just show up." Kennedy insisted, loyalty for her girlfriend running through her veins. All it had taken was a little implication, that if the girls were still so awake that she could work in a little more practice, to get the SIT’s to scurry off to their makeshift rooms. The warehouse was humming quietly with low whispers in the dark giving Kennedy a chance to let Faith in on a few details she had skipped out on, not to mention share some of her own fears. She could never question Willow about any of this, she was too close, too embedded heart and soul but Faith? Faith was in the thick of it, no doubt about that, but she didn’t seem to take any personal stance about Spike’s return to the fold.

"I guess you’re right." She stretched her long limbs over her head in a move that was half stripper, half cat and all Faith. "I guess it doesn’t matter when he hears it," She sighed, laying her head back on her folded arm. "He still isn’t going to like it."

*****

"So then after we found out about the call of Detatarius we had a way to locate the new slayers. I mean it’s not an easy spell, we had to go see the coven and Xander had pretty much insulted them by going ‘What’s up wicked witches in the monkey monk robes,’ that took some time to sooth over but once they meet Buffy it was like ‘Hello Elvis has just entered the building’."

"Red? Is this gonna stumble across a point anytime soon?" Willow blushed, her cheeks flaming red to match her hair.

The two of them were sitting in the living area, or more accurately Willow was sitting, Spike was pacing. She looked tiny sitting on the sofa by herself; her body seemed to curl inward, making her appear far younger than her years. And as Spike watched her he could hardly equate her with the girl that had magicked him into a wall less than an hour ago. She didn’t look in charge; she didn’t look like the most powerful person in the building. She looked like a child waiting to be led, lost in the darkness.

And in a way she was. She was fumbling along with no light to guide her, no books to inform her, no Buffy to give her courage, not even Giles to work along side of her. She was on her own, set apart from the others who looked up to her. Everywhere she turned there were faces and hands reaching out, asking her to lead them. Food had to be bought, the girls had to be watched, volumes had to be looked in to find the source of the newest evil, bills had to be paid, clothes washed, new slayers located and brought into train, everywhere she turned there were faces expecting so much of her, wanting a leader when she was nothing more than the girl who had stood silently in the back row all her life and was content to do so. Now she was thrusted into the spotlight and all along they silently pleaded for Buffy, they wanted her back, they wanted her better, they wanted her as their leader. They looked to Willow to make her well, make her whole, to take care of them, to lead them, and the strain was beginning to show.

When she had asked Spike where he wanted her to start his answer had been at the beginning. Of course that might not have been the case if he had realized she was gonna explain every misadventure the group had been on since he had left the fold. And he had the distinct feeling the witch was trying to talk around the point, lose him in a circle of mindless details and inconsequential knowledge.

The actual reason was not nearly so malicious. The plain and simple truth of it was Willow didn’t know what to leave in and what to leave out. Some of it she was sure Angel had filled him in on but maybe she was overlooking something-anything that could help Buffy. She, more than anyone, had begun to doubt her ability to lead, and even the most meaningless and simple tasks left her feeling hollow with failure, because on the horizon lurked another and another. Never ending armies of chores that must be done zapping her energy. She had the feeling that the answer to Buffy’s sudden down turn was staring at her if only she could sit and think, really concentrate, but there was no time for that, there was too much that had to be done. So she laid it all out in front of Spike, hoping against hope that his keen eyes would detect a pattern hers had missed.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Spike beat her too it. "Look, I know you mean well but maybe we can skip all the good for you fairytale crap and get right down to it." He knelt in front of the witch, blue eyes probing her green ones, silently insisting on an answer. "What’s wrong with her?"

She shivered slightly as if a draft of cold air had just blown through the deadly still room, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She worried her lip between her teeth, turning her head from his gaze to the upstairs room where a soft light was filtering from beneath the door, then finally meeting his eyes. "She’s insane." There was no tremble in her voice, much to her surprise, the words were forbidden and there was a childish fear that some catastrophe would befall if they were spoken aloud.

But the sky did not fall, nor the earth fail to turn. Spike’s eyes merely darkened, but his face remained placid, his voice cool. "Gone off her nutter, has she?"

"Spike…" Whatever reaction Willow had braced herself for this was not it. He seemed unfazed, as if it were nothing more than a joke.

"Sorry, luv." He smiled lightly. "Just this isn’t exactly the first time she’s gone to the dark side, is it? So come on, what did Goldilocks do this time that has your panties in such a bunch?"

But Willow couldn’t speak. She just stared at him in a horrified sort of manner, as if he had killed someone in front of her. And to her he might as well have. This was Buffy they were talking about and he was taking it all so… lightly. Didn’t he see how tense things were; feel the electricity and unease crackling in the air? Didn't he care?

"What?" He looked about him as if searching for his blunder, but finding none or at least none he could detect he pressed on. "So what is it this time? Another big stick by some demon and thinks we’re all figments of that overactive imagination of hers? Or is it just the usual craziness? Ya know the one where she thinks the world is out to get her and God forbid you disturb that chip on her shoulder?"

A feeling of such intense anger flooded Willow that for a moment she fought to surface in the ocean of dark energy trying to wash over her, control her. She was on her feet in an instant, barely missing stepping on Spike as he crouched below her, still looking vacantly at the spot she had occupied mere seconds before. Rigid lines formed, cutting deep into her skin, dissolving away an image of her being a lost child. She was dangerous, exuding anger, her whole body seething with hatred. Hatred at him for not caring, hatred at the others for placing this impossible burden on her small shoulders, and even for a moment at Buffy for not being here to help and guide her like a best friend should. "Get out." It was quiet, but crisp, a sharp order.

Spike finally rose, standing above her now, looking down on her, his feet planted on the floor. He didn't have to tell her 'no', his body language spoke volumes.

"I told you to go." She repeated, her eyes blackening for a heartbeat but he didn't budge. She could blow him to bits for all he cared; he wasn't going anywhere, especially without seeing Buffy.

"I'm not goin' anywhere." He straightened his spine, standing as tall as he could, chin held high, shoulders squared. The ink didn’t return to Willow’s eyes at his defiance, instead they seemed to grow large with imploring. And suddenly Spike realized his mistake. "This is bad, isn’t it?"

Willow’s stance softened, she sighed quietly, eyes ticking up to where Buffy rested. "In a word? Very."

*****

"Hey lil sis, where do you think you’re going?" Faith’s hand was stretched out over the backdoor out of the warehouse, her body language causal unlike her eyes.

"Out." Dawn glared, attempting to push her arm out of the way.

Faith ignored the vain attempt the littlest Summers was putting up in order to move her. "Out where? I mean, not that I don’t mind a little teen rebellion and all but somehow I don’t think B would appreciate it if she woke up from Will’s magic coma to find out I let her sister play appetizer for some blood thirsty vamps, ya know what I’m sayin’?"

Dawn begrudgingly backed up a step; she knew she could never physically touch Faith but then again there were other ways to get what you wanted. "Since when do you care what Buffy thinks? I mean she never liked you anyway, not from the very moment she met you." She saw a lighting strike of hurt flash in Faith’s eyes, quickly illuminating them and disappearing just as quickly. Bingo. "Do really think she gives a damn if you decide to play mother hen for awhile? Do you think she’d appreciate it?"

Faith smiled at that, a Cheshire grin crossing her face. "Ya got me there." She admitted. "But maybe this isn’t all about B. See I’m thinking saving your little neck just might start making up for all the times I tried to snap it."

"Balance the scales?"

"Ya know it. So hows about I make you a little deal? You tell Auntie Faith what you’re up to and I won’t go rat you out to the rest of the little Scoobie Gang."

Dawn grimaced but what option did she have? "I’m going to borrow Willow’s car and go get some blood for Spike. Okay?" She glared at the rogue slayer.

"Borrow?" Faith quirked an eyebrow.

"Fine!" Dawn threw up her hand but quickly remembered to lower her voice. "I’m going to steal it. But just for a little bit. I’ll bring it back. Plus it’s not like I haven’t done it before."

"I know you have." Faith looked on approvingly. "Which is why I also know Willow magicked up a wicked spell on those keys so no one but her can find them."

"Damnit!" Dawn swore. "I forgot about that." She sighed heavily, pulling her jacket tighter around her slim body. "I guess I hoof it. I hate Cleveland winters." She was surprised when Faith stepped aside and let her pass but didn’t question it.

"You could do that…" Faith mused, her voice halting Dawn in her tracks. "Or I could just teach you how to hotwire it?"

Dawn spun around, a disbelieving look ablaze on her young face. "You would do that?"

"About time you learned." Faith grabbed a nearby denim jacket, one that belonged to Buffy and threw it on. "So ya comin’ or would you rather walk?"

Dawn broke out into a grin and followed Faith; just as they closed the aluminum door behind them a question rose in Dawn’s mind. "Don’t you think we should tell someone where we’re going? Otherwise they might miss us?"

"Isn’t that the whole point?" Faith stopped in front of a creamy Saturn parked about a block down on the street, whipping out a Swiss Army knife she instructed Dawn. "Watch and learn, princess."

*****

Willow spoke until her voice gave out and tears ran from her eyes like rivers overflowing its banks. She told Spike as much as she could bear, and some that she couldn’t. She used words like self-mutilation, suicide attempts, Cyclothymic disorder, and a host of other phrases, which boiled down to Buffy was in trouble. She was having episodes, some of depression, some of mania, some where she would hurt herself, some where she would sit and have hour long screaming fests at the walls, or her lamp, and then sometimes she was fine. If she remembered these episodes Willow didn’t know and never pressed her, it was so painful to watch she could imagine what it would be like to be living it. When she finally stopped, tears soaking Spike’s shirt, it was hard to tell who was holding who together, both looked lost, shattered sitting there on that old stained sofa.

"It’s okay, pet." Spike patted Willow’s back as she tried to explain something about Faith and Buffy but her words were so mangled that was about all he got. For how long they sat there Spike didn’t know, but it felt like an eternity, every word seemed to cut deeper into him till he was convince he was just gonna die right there, but he couldn’t. She needed him. And it seemed to him that Buffy wasn’t the only one who needed a hand, Willow looked ready to crack, Xander-well he was always a poof, but the lil bit- she had already been through so much, how much more could they keep piling on before she lost it?

Willow sat up, wiping her eyes, fingers of a blush rising on her neck and cheeks. She had just cried on Spike’s shoulder, the thought was embarrassing to say the least. Even when Buffy had died she would have impaled herself before showing that sort of emotion in front of him. There was part of her that she guessed would never grow out of being timid Willow, the girl at school who everyone ignored, it didn’t seem to matter how many demons she fought or baddies she squished, that Willow was still lurking beneath the surface. She noticed Spike’s eyes rise to the room where Buffy lay. "Do-do you want to go see her?" She asked softly, feeling a bit forward.

She didn’t need to ask twice.

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