46. Mere white truth in simple nakedness

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.
Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, act 1

There is more truth in honest lies,
believe me, than in half the truths.
Samuel Butler, Notebooks, pg 52

Truth is after all a moving target
Hairs to split, and pieces that don't fit
How can anybody be enlightened?
Truth is after all so poorly lit
Rush, Turn the page, from the Album Hold your Fire


She could not believe what she’d thought she heard. It just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. Please god, make this a dream, some sort of nightmare. No. That is not what she’d just heard. Giles did not just ask if she’d been in heaven. There was. . . .

Buffy was staring at her Watcher, her father-figure, her friend, absolutely speechless. There was nothing she could say. Spike stood next to her an unmoving solid presence. Everyone was frozen in place, hardly anyone was breathing.

A soft noise sounded in the air drawing everyone’s attention to the doorway by the kitchen. Tara stood there, hand covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes searched Buffy’s needing confirmation of what Giles had just said. Another noise came from the doorway between the front hall and the living room entrance. Dawn was standing there, her backpack falling from her hands, a stunned look upon her face.

“Buffy?” The teen sounded so lost, so scared that it brought tears to her sister’s eyes.

He hadn’t seen that look on her face or in her eyes in quite some time. In fact, the last time he’d seen it, Buffy and he were sitting on the back porch, just after she’d discovered there was something wrong with her mother. Spike felt as useless now as he did then, but this time, there wasn’t any hesitation in her mind what she wanted to do. Turning to face him, she reached for him, a soft sob breaking through her lips, tears now swimming in her eyes.

“Buffy.”

All he said was her name and she crumpled, reaching for him, anguish in every line of her face.

He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them, his arms automatically pulling her close. The storm broke when her cheek rested against his chest and she could feel him all around her, supporting her and keeping her safe.

“Rupert. Have you any idea . . . “ Spike didn’t know what to say. He currently had an armful of crying Buffy, Tara was frozen in shock and Dawn had moved closer into the living room, where the three adults were standing. Giles had stepped forward then back as Buffy had turned into Spike’s embrace.

“See to the girls.” Everything was secondary to making sure Buffy was okay. Holding her close, he dropped his head down to hers, whispering softly into her ear, too low for anyone else to hear.

“Shh . . . Buffy love, I’ve got you. ‘M right here. Hold on to me.” It was nonsense, just his voice sounding over and over, to give her something to focus on, to anchor her to him. Buffy’s arms were circled around his waist, snuggled up against his chest.

Giles had herded the two girls to the couch, his mind reeling. He’d not imagined his questioning Buffy would have been overheard. And he’d not meant for it to sound accusatory. But it had. And he’d spoken, without taking note of who was present, nor had he . . . God. He’d just not thought it through clearly.

He turned to face the two still figures his gaze resting on the smaller of the two.


******************************** ***************************************

Xander had gotten out of work early, planning on meeting Willow at the Magic Box for lunch. His oldest friend had called him while she was between classes looking for a sympathetic ear and some support. She’d said she needed to talk to him about a couple of things but hadn’t said what exactly was on her mind. But he had a few ideas what might be bugging her.

That scene last night was . . . god he’d been embarrassed for both of them.

He was walking into the Magic Box when Willow’s voice calling his name caught his attention.

“Xander!”

“Hey Will.”

Grabbing his arm, Willow pulled him away from the door, urging him toward the Espresso Pump. “So, what’s the dire?”

“Buffy’s sleeping with Spike.”

“Don’t wanna know this, saw it with my own two eyes.” Taking a deep breath, Xander continued, “did you need to rub this in, coz, gotta say, so not needing the reinforcement.”

Willow was shaking her head, “I mean really sleeping with him.”

“Aaaaaahhhhhh! Stop Will, don’t need visuals.” Missing Willow’s guilty flush, Xander said, “I really don’t wanna talk about this.”

“But Xander, we’re her best friends and you know, she should be trusting us not him and so. . . not with the trusting him and . . . hey, I rescued her from a hell dimension!”

Willow got more agitated the longer she talked about it dragging Xander into outrage with her.

“If we could just . . . maybe she’s under some sort of spell or something?” Xander was still trying to figure out Buffy’s attraction to Spike.

“She needs our help Xander. Buffy needs us – her real friends.” Willow looked around moving closer so they weren’t overheard. “We just have to prove to her that Spike will always be evil and she’ll get rid of him.”

She had his full attention now. Xander trusted Willow, she was smart and well, he’d known her most of his life, so yeah, he’d go along with pretty much whatever plan she could come up with. “All right Will, what should we do?”


******************************** *****************************************

Tara’s voice was the first to break the tense silence. “Is it true? What Mr. Giles asked?”

Lifting her forehead from where it rested against Spike’s chest, Buffy shared a look with the vampire, drew in a steadying breath and gaining strength from his proximity, she said softly, “Yes it is.”

Dawn’s indrawn breath broke on a sob while Tara’s hand shook as she raised it to her mouth. Giles closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself.

Holding onto Spike, Buffy wiped her eyes, then faced the girls. Dawn was hugging one of the pillows against her belly, her face pale, the shock clearly visible. Tara was no better the implications of Willow’s actions weighing very heavily. She at least was aware of the possible complications and the huge consequences of Willow’s reckless and thoughtless actions.

“Its not. . . . “ Buffy’s voice broke, then taking a deep breath, she tried again. “I didn’t want you to know. It’s not your fault. I’d never . . . “ and it happened again, only this time she looked up at Spike for assistance.

Finding whatever she was looking for in his eyes, she continued, “neither of you knew what Willow was planning, so not your fault.”

But Tara was shaking her head, trying to force words to her tongue. “We . . . we . . I didn’t know. Buffy, I would’ve stopped her.”

For the first time, Dawn spoke, her voice harsh and sounding very, very old. “No. She would have figured out something else. She would have tried again and again until it worked.”

It was, Spike thought, exactly what he’d been thinking, and a more than fair assessment of Willow’s character. Buffy broke from his embrace, moving toward the obviously distressed Tara.

“Hey. Its really not your fault. I don’t blame either of you.” Reaching her side, Buffy crouched down in front of Tara, then slid onto the coffee table. “Look, I know you wouldn’t have done this, tried something so dangerous. I know it. What Willow did . . . you aren’t responsible for it. Please, Tara, don’t feel like you . . . it wasn’t your fault.”

Tara turned anguished blue eyes toward the floor shaking her head. “I cccould’ve figured it out. Tttried to ssstop her.”

She was so upset her stutter was very pronounced. Buffy wouldn’t let go of her hands and Tara was very aware of the tears sliding down her face.

Dropping her gaze to their joined hands, Tara could see tiny lines, scars of long healed minor wounds criss-crossed on the backs of Buffy’s hands. Her hands were so small, fine boned and delicate, almost child-sized, yet they wielded extraordinary power, delivering death to demons, saving the world. So much rested on those delicate hands.

“Tara.” Spike had stepped up behind Buffy his hands resting on her shoulders. He rarely used anyone’s real name, especially when talking directly to them, so she knew whatever he was about to say was important.

“Tara.” He repeated, forcing her gaze upward by the strength of his tone. “Aside from being duped, you had nothing to do with Willow’s spell, yeah?” When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up a hand, motioning her to wait. “Red kept it from you both, didn’t say a word to anyone save the boy and even then she lied to him. You’re no more responsible for what Willow did than Buffy is. She used you both. Hell, used all of you, Dawn, you and Buffy.”

His face wore a look she’d never seen before, his features stern and forbidding, a dangerous glint in his eyes. There was no forgiveness in those blue depths, none at all. Tara realized she was looking into the eyes of a man who had no compunctions about taking a life, a man who had no remorse.

Glancing down at Buffy, Tara found the same look staring back at her.

“I’m so sorry” slipped from between her lips before she could censor the thought.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Buffy’s voice hadn’t wavered. “I’m sorry that you found out like this.”

For the first time since blurting out his question, Giles spoke. “That is my fault.”

Apprehension was written in the depths of Giles’ eyes and it was clearly visible that he feared an eruption of monumental proportions was about to occur. He was braced for it.

What he got instead was a Buffy who just turned wounded doe eyes up and him and her softly worded “I didn’t want to upset them Giles, its not fair to them. They didn’t know.”

“I am very sorry.” His regret was evident.

They stared at each other, neither one able to find the words to heal this latest breach between then, but aware it needed healing.

It was Dawn that mended the tiny crack.

“Not even half as sorry as Willow should be.” And she remembered the scene outside Buffy’s bedroom last night and figured, what the hell, Willow’s already in deep. “OH! Last night, she was listening outside your bedroom door.”

All eyes had swung toward her at the first comment but at the second, two pair narrowed further.

“What?!”

“When was this Niblet?”

Dawn rolled her eyes, clearly not wanting to say exactly when she’d busted Willow listening, but judging by the looks on various faces, everyone had pretty much figured it out. Which was good, coz she really didn’t want to blurt that out.

If it was at all possible, Spike’s expression hardened even more. Buffy looked both embarrassed and pissed off, which was hard to do, but Dawn figured in this case, both worked.

“Maybe we should think about taking the basement.”

“Maybe its time we taught Red a lesson” was Spike’s comment back at her.

And none of them could argue with that.


******************************** ***************************************

For once in his life, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was grateful for the fact that vampires slept during the day. And that this particular vampire preferred to sleep in the afternoon.

He was, therefore, alone when the call came in. Nearly the last two people on earth he’d expect to call to speak to Angel were on the phone. And he got that tingle in the back of his neck, the one indicating something wasn’t right, the one that right now was agreeing with the gut feeling he had this phone call wasn’t about anything good. Unsure if the two even knew he’d been in Sunnydale recently, since he’d seen neither one of them while he’d been there, Wesley was certain this had something to do with Buffy.

With the phone hung up, Wesley sat at his desk not seeing what was in front of him, instead his mind was on the non-conversation he’d just had with two of the slayer’s friends. He couldn’t imagine what they were hoping to accomplish and how Angel was supposed to assist them in whatever they were planning. At this rate he was going to be calling Sunnydale once or twice a day.

Heaving a sigh, he reached for his phone and had half dialed the number when Angel wandered in to his office. He hung up, warily eyeing the vampire pacing around, watching him carefully. When he spoke, Wesley mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Have you found anything about this? About Darla’s condition?”

Looking down at the books opened on his desk Wesley had to admit that it had been slow going. His only lead had come from Giles, who admitted the information was in the Council’s library, which was closely guarded. It was more than possible he could find more there, but that would entail going back to England, and that was something Wesley had zero intention of ever doing. “I’ve gotten something about a hybrid getting pregnant by a vampire but nothing else so far. Darla’s not a hybrid. She was fully human when she got pregnant.”


“Yeah. She was.” Angel thought for a moment then looked at Wesley. “Could it have something to do with her being brought back from the dead? She died twice, maybe there’s a connection there.”

He was staring at the vampire, a myriad of thoughts running through his head. Could that be it? Twice dead; returned the second time by mystical means. The implications of that had him reeling. It was as good a theory as any other he’d heard. And, oh dear gods.

Buffy. And Spike.

They were living together.

Wesley realized he really needed to call Sunnydale.


******************************** ***********************************************

Giles knew he’d hurt Buffy. Knew his question was ill-timed. He’d been so focused on getting a straight answer from her he hadn’t thought it all through.

He tried again, needed to assuage his conscience. “Buffy, I am sorry.”

“Not you too.” Noting his confused look, Buffy shrugged a little. “Pulling me from heaven – not your fault.”

“I meant about the way I asked.” Giles shook his head. She was so very impulsive.

“Oh. Yeah, very much your fault.” She looked back at Tara then glanced at her sister. “Was thinking about maybe baring my soul – only telling you.”

Getting up from the coffee table, she laced her fingers together. “Just didn’t want anyone to feel bad.”

“Not something you should’ve kept secret though.” Giles knew he wasn’t completely off-the-hook, just temporarily forgiven. “The thing is, I know why the hounds are here.”

When he didn’t say anything for a moment, Buffy said, “spill.”

“They’re here to exact payment or restitution for your release from heaven.”

Buffy shot a glance at Spike that was laced with anger. “Don’t say it.”

Spike grinned unrepentantly. “Not goin’ to. You are.”

“Nahuh.” Buffy crossed her arms and set her features.

“Have to, pet.” He was trying badly to suppress a grin.

“Fine.” Grimacing, Buffy ground out, “Spike wanted me to tell you because he translated the part Wesley couldn’t. And he was right.”

Tara’s and Dawn’s watery giggles broke the silence. “Spike’s right?”

Dawn was laughing at her sister.

“Hahah. Very funny Dawnie. He’s only right this once.”

Dawn laughed harder. “Oohkay Buff, whatever you say.”

“Spike? Got a moment?” Giles knew he had to talk to him before he said anything else to drive a wedge between himself and Buffy.

“Yeah.” Sharing a look with Buffy, he shrugged, not knowing what Giles wanted.

Giles walked out of the room and headed downstairs to the basement. At the bottom of the steps, he looked about, noting the boxes piled up outside the new bedroom. Spike’s heavy tread hit the stairs and Giles said as he walked down toward him, “are you leaving?”

“No. Tara’s taking this room. She’s given Red the boot.” Spike wandered inside the room, sitting on the bed, waiting for Rupert to blast him.

“Where are you going to sleep?” At Spike’s pointed look understanding dawned in the older man’s eyes. “Ahh. I see.”

“Actually I need to talk to you about something.” Motioning him to wait, Giles hesitated then blurted out, “Darla’s back in Los Angeles. She’s eight months pregnant.”

“What in fucking hell?”

“That was about my reaction.” Waiting a bit, Giles then said, “its also Angel’s.”



 

47. Innocence creates my hell.

Passions are generally roused from great conflict.
Titus Livius, Histories III

And through the heat of conflict keeps the law
in calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
William Wordsworth, Character of the Happy Warrior

I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their desires.
Susan B. Anthony


He was laughing. It was the only thing he could do at the moment. No doubt Darla was . . . oh god. Spike convulsed in absolute hilarity, his eyes tearing up.

It took him a while, but finally Spike wiped his eyes and, taking note of Giles’ expression, said, “how’d this happen then?”

“Obviously they slept together before Drusilla re-sired her. And somehow she got pregnant.”

Well this certainly was a kicker. Not something he’d ever imagined hearing. “Is there a prophecy? What’d Oxford say about this?”

“Wesley told me late last night. I called him about something else, about the texts and he told me this.”

Spike was well and truly gobsmacked. Angel had done the nearly impossible. “Its an old legend, ‘bout vamps getting human women w’child. Somethin’ mystical always around it, jus’ don’t know the p’ticulars. Not exactly talked about yeah?” Spike had shifted on the bed, clearly uncomfortable.

“She’s . . . Dunno how she’s likely to react.” He shook his head. “Suppose you want me to tell her.”

Giles looked at him. This wasn’t fair to put on Spike’s shoulders. Not that he wanted to be the one to tell her either. She was already not happy with him. But, he knew about this first so, the task was rightly his.

Before he could say anything his phone rang. Lifting it from his pocket, Giles saw the incoming number and said, ‘its Wesley.”

“Good. I need a word with him.” Spike motioned for the phone. Handing it over, Giles prepared to listen.

“You bloody wanker.”

If he was surprised at the greeting, Wesley made no mention of it. “I suppose he just told you.”

“Yeah. How come you didn’t say anything earlier?” Spike’s growl was barely controlled.

“Wasn’t sure who was listening. These two lines are secure.”

“Were you plannin’ on sharing with the rest of us?”

“Soon as I had more information.” He paused, then, “look I”ve not much time, Angel asked if Darla’s pregnancy might have something to do with her being brought back from the dead by mystical means.”

Spike nearly dropped the phone. Closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath, Spike said, “has the ring of truth.” And then he looked at Rupert. “You tell him. Hold on. Oxford wants to tell you somethin’.”

Giles’ face blanched visibly upon hearing Wesley’s news and Angel’s new theory.

“Oh good gods.”


******************************** ***************************************

The three girls sat in silence for a bit, each one of them deep in thought and then at some signal, all three of them spoke at once.

“What was heaven like?”

“I can’t believe she did this.”

“I didn’t want to hurt either of you.”

Relieved laughter rang through the room then just as quickly as it started it stopped. Motioning for one of the others to go first, Tara forced a smile. Buffy looked at Dawn, who just repeated her question.

“It was quiet, peaceful . . . sort of like being in a big comfy bed with soft pillows and just . . . safe.” Buffy shrugged, unable to find the words to describe exactly how it had been, other than quiet and safe.

“Was Mom there?” Dawn’s voice wavered.

“It wasn’t really like that. There was no need for names, just . . . I didn’t really see any one else either. Sorry Dawnie.”

Dawn didn’t quite understand, but she’d think about it for a while before she said anything else. Before she realized it, she’d said, “guess its kinda hard being back here, huh?”

“Yeah it is.” There wasn’t anything else she could say. Now that the truth was out, no point in hiding the rest of it.

“I’m ssso sorry Buffy.” Tara’s voice was thick with unshed tears.

Turning to look at her, Buffy nearly started crying again. The anguished guilt was stamped upon her features and it wasn’t even her guilt to bear. “Tara. Please stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t you. Please.”

“You should be angry.”

“Well yeah. But not with you or Dawnie or Spike or even Giles.” Buffy searched the other girl’s face. “I’m so not happy with your ex-girlfriend or with Xander.” She hesitated, taking a deep breath, “you’ve done so much for me, so much for Dawnie. Without you, we’d be in a mess.”

Pausing a beat, she continued, “I can do laundry and cleaning but cooking, not so good. We’d be eating lots of take out.”

She got half-hearted laughs from the other two, but she figured that was progress.


******************************** ****************************************

On the fourth try, she got lucky. She’d kept trying after talking with Wesley the first time and getting the run around, Willow didn’t give up.

Finally Angel answered the phone. The conversation was short and not so sweet. She’d chickened out in the end, the news that Spike and Buffy were a couple somehow unable to leave her lips.

Oh, Willow had wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t force herself to say those words.

Angel had sounded a bit distracted though, like there were other things on his mind more important than Buffy, which she didn’t understand. She started having some doubts about involving Angel anyway, but then she’d remember it was Buffy and that Angel would want to know she was back and Buffy would be grateful for that.

She’d called the Hyperion from one of the phones at school and then headed toward Revello Drive. There was still the situation with Tara to resolve. Checking her watch she figured it was a half hour walk to the house, which would get her home around four.


******************************** ***************************************

Neither man spoke after Giles hung up.

Independently they both arrived at the same thought, the same conclusion. Buffy had to know, because if Angel’s theory proved correct . . . .

“Not sure you should be the one to tell her.” Was Spike’s first comment.

“How is she likely to react?” Giles was concerned.

“Dunno Rupert. Still not sure how she’s feelin’ from your little bombshell.”

Ouch.

But he deserved that.

Spike exhaled loudly. “Dunno . . . she’s likely to pitch me out on my ear or just as likely to not.”

“Would just as soon hold off on this . . . tellin’ her.”

Giles shot him a look that was more father than watcher. “And what happens if she ends up like Darla?”

Spike’s look was pure venom. “You thinkin’ I’ll skip out? I’d walk away?” He stood up, crowding the older man. He poked a finger at his chest, punctuating his words. “Not likely. Not the leavin’ type, an’ if that’s mine she’s carryin’ you’d have to sweep up m’dust to get rid of me.”

Dropping his eyes Spike shifted away. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

The phone ringing upstairs caught their attention. Sharing a glance, the same thought was in both their minds. Before the third ring, Spike was at the top of the stairs, bellowing out, “Don’t answer that!”

Which stalled Buffy’s hand from picking up the receiver.

The confusion was clear on her face as he burst through the doorway, but when Angel’s voice sounded on the answering machine, Buffy smiled at him. It faded a bit listening to Angel’s message.

“Dawn. Dawn, its Angel, pick up the phone.” A pause. “Willow just called to tell me Buffy’s back. What the hell’s going on? Dawn . . . please pick up the phone.”

Buffy turned a pained look in his direction, asking “why would she do that?”

“‘Spose she’s not happy ‘bout me being here, ‘bout what she saw last night.” He couldn’t think of any other reason.

She could see the concern, the worry in his eyes, no doubt the same look her own eyes had. “I don’t understand Spike.”

“Me either love.” His hand reached out for hers and Buffy met him halfway, then pushed forward into his arms. Her head found its natural spot beneath his chin and she held on until his arms circled round, holding her tight.

He looked up to see everyone in the kitchen, watching them. Dawn had tears in her eyes and Spike just opened his arms and she was clutching both of them.

Giles leaned against the kitchen sink watching them.

“He’s going to keep calling right? Maybe I should call him back, tell him to stay away until you’re better.” Dawn broke away from the pair, moving to sit on one of the stools.

Sharing a look with his fellow Englishman, Spike said, “its up to your sis how she wants to handle this.”

“I think it’s a good idea.” Tara spoke from the doorway. “Willow’s going to be here soon, and we – may not need to use the basement.”

“What?”

“Why?”

“No, you can’t leave.”

But it was Buffy’s voice that really caught Tara’s attention. “No Tara you can’t leave. You’re family. And family stays.”

No one missed the implication that Willow might not fall into that category anymore.

“Call him Dawn. Tell him I’m not ready for a visit. Tell him whatever you want but convince him that I’m not ready to see him.” Buffy had turned to face her sister still within the circle of Spike’s embrace.

Looking at the clock, Buffy turned to Spike, “is it okay to . . . can you make it to the sewers at this hour?”

“Sure. Not a problem, kitten. What’s this about?”

Buffy looked at Giles, “can you stay the night and make sure the girls are okay?”

“Of course. Buffy, what are you planning?” Giles stood up straight, watching the slayer awaken.

“Not planning anything. Not sure I want to see Willow right now . . . and . . don’t want to hear Angel giving Dawn a hard time.”

She laid her head against Spike’s chest. “I’m just not ready for all this . . “

Spike brushed a kiss against her hair. “Might be best if none of us were here when Red gets back.”

“I think I need to do this alone anyway.” Tara weighed in, looking from one face to the next.

“You sure Glinda? Don’t mind stayin’.” Spike wanted to make it clear he was willing to protect her also, but Tara was shaking her head. “No. Buffy needs you. Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere.”

“Dunno, pet. I’ve a funny feeling ‘bout this. Maybe we should stick around.”

Buffy started to speak, but in the next moment it didn’t matter, because the front door opened and Willow’s voice was ringing out a cheery “hello!”


******************************** ****************************************

“You knew she was back, didn’t you?” Angel was pacing the Hyperion’s lobby apparently waiting for Wesley’s return.

He stilled halfway down the steps. Unslinging his backpack, Wesley hesitated before answering. “I did.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?” Angel was facing him now, arms crossed over his chest, his features deceptively without expression.

“I don’t think she’s ready for emotional confrontations. She barely leaves the house.” It was the only answer Wesley could come up with that wasn’t another outright lie.

“What makes you think it would be a confrontation?” Angel hadn’t moved, effectively blocking Wesley’s further entry into the hotel.

“The possibility exists. She’s not ready for it.” Wesley had had enough of Angel’s posturing. Brushing past him, Wesley headed for his office, Angel trailing after him.

“What makes you so sure she’s not ready to see me?” Angel was beginning to sound petulant, something that Wesley found exceeding boring and not to mention childish.

“Angel. She’s just not ready. She’s barely talking and she’s still skittish. Give her another couple of days and then maybe, if she’s ready, go see her.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Wesley rolled his eyes and sat down at his desk. Spare me lord, he prayed, from hormonal vampires.


******************************** ****************************************

It was too late for any of them to leave now. Willow was back and unless they all managed to slip out the door, they were all going to be present for the confrontation.

“Showtime” was Dawn’s low voiced comment. As she grabbed a drink and some fruit, she said to the adults, “I’m going upstairs. I’ll call Angel from my room.”

Walking past Tara, she whispered “good luck.”

Rushing out into the hallway, Dawn pointedly ignored Willow, not returning the red-head’s chipper greeting.

“‘M heading downstairs.” Spike figured the other two would either follow or not, but he thought the girls needed some privacy.

Giles glanced around, then stated, “I’m going into the shop. There’s some research I need to do about the Cwn Annwn. I’ve a theory on how to send them back.” Heading for the back door, Giles said, “are you patrolling tonight?”

At their mutual agreement, Giles replied, “stop in before you go. Hopefully I’ll have a bit more to go on.”

And the men were gone, leaving only Tara and Buffy in the kitchen when Willow wandered in.

“Hey.”

There was a definite chill in the atmosphere, the comfortable feeling of moments ago replaced by something else. Buffy shivered as the hairs on her arms and neck stood up. This was the first time she’d be in Willow’s presence without Spike’s protection and she was feeling the lack. Suddenly wanting to be elsewhere, Buffy waited for the first possible moment to best escape.

“Hey Wills.” She tried smiling but it felt funny on her face.

Tara still hadn’t said anything.

Moving toward the refrigerator for something to drink, Willow watched as Tara stiffened when she walked past her. Uhoh, not a good sign.

Deciding to face this head on, Willow turned around, facing her girlfriend. At least I hope she still is.

“Tara baby, can we talk?”

“I don’t know. Not sure there’s much to . . . left to talk about.” Tara fidgeted a bit, shifting from one foot to another.

“We had a disagreement, a little fight . . . over not so big a deal. Lots of people fight. We can work through it. Be like before.” Willow dropped the pretense of getting something to drink, facing Tara, pleading with her eyes.

“I don’t think we can. You don’t see what you’re doing is wrong. What you did was wrong.” Tara’s voice was soft but strong. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind what Willow had been doing was wrong. And if the only way to get her to see that was to break up with her, well, so be it.

“How do I know you aren’t doing more of this when I’m not around to say something?”

Neither blond missed the guilty flush that graced the red-head’s features.

“Oh my gods, Willow, what have you done?” Tara was horrified.

“Nothing.” Willow’s stance got even more defensive. “Just moved some things around. No biggie.”

“Willow. What you’re doing isn’t right.” Staring into her eyes, Tara let Willow see her hurt and disappointment. “I can’t trust you right now. What are you thinking?”

“I’m not hurting anyone. I’m just . . . I’m not hurting anyone.”

“You’ve hurt me and Dawnie.” Tara didn’t want to say anything about how Willow had hurt Buffy, that was for her to say, but it was there, on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be said.

“Your actions, especially your magical actions always have consequences, Willow, sometimes really unexpected ones. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

The anger started bubbling in Willow’s belly, a purely defensive anger, because some part of her knew there was more than a bit of truth to Tara’s words.

“No. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or Dawn.”

“Maybe so. But you did anyway.” Tara was shaking her head. “I don’t trust you any more Willow. And its not a relationship when there’s no trust, at least on some level.”

Willow was pleading now, hoping to get through to Tara, hoping to make her change her mind. “How can you say that. I love you, I’d never mean to hurt you. I’m just doing what I think is best.”

Buffy’s voice broke in. “And that means calling Angel?”

“What? I didn’t call Angel.”

Raising an eyebrow, Buffy moved the short distance to the answering machine and hit the play button. For the second time that afternoon, Angel’s voice filled the kitchen.

And Willow had no defense.

Hanging her head, Willow fought tears. “Please baby, I . . . please. . . I was just . . . I thought he should know, that’s all.”

“No Willow. I just don’t understand.” Tara glanced once at Buffy, waiting for a moment to see if Buffy was going to speak.

“Just like you thought I should be rescued from hell?” Buffy couldn’t help the words spilling out of her mouth. “What if that’s not where I was? What if I was someplace else? Did you think of that?”

Willow was shaking now, finally becoming aware she might have made a huge mistake. “No . . . . no. Glory was from a hell dimension.”

“Yeah she was. But the key opens all dimensions, not just hell dimensions. It wasn’t hell you rescued me from.” Buffy had her arms folded across her chest, mostly to stop the shaking. She felt rather than heard Spike’s ascent on the stairs, drawing comfort from his nearing presence.

Willow looked from one girl to the other, the inescapable truth dawning in her eyes. She tried one last time, hoping one of them would relent.

“Tara, baby?” Then in a half breath, “Buffy?”

“Baby please . . . “

After long silent moments, Dawn’s voice came from behind Tara, “I think you need to go.”

Spike slid through the doorway, his arms reaching for the visibly trembling slayer. Dawn stepped forward, out from behind Tara, her face set, her stance equally resolute.

One last ditch effort.

“Baby?”

“No Willow. You need to go.”

 

48. Never break the chain

And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
George Gordon Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, canto iii, stanza 32

Only the broken-hearted know the truth about love.
Mason Cooley, City Aphorisms, 13th selection

Love is dead; let lover’s eyes,
locked in endless dreams,
the extremes of all extremes,
ope no more, for now love dies.
John Ford, The Broken Heart



It was an odd thing, watching a couple fall apart, seeing two lives separate. Especially when it wasn’t anticipated.

This wasn’t how she remembered her parents’ split up, there had at least been signs of that happening. The fights, the long nights listening to her mother cry, the missed dinners and family moments, all escalating until they weren’t a family, until her parents weren’t a couple. That end had almost been inevitable.

This was different. This was a zephyr, a blitzkrieg, a rapid strike, this was lightening in a bottle. One moment things were fixable and in the next heartbeat everything was broken.

And now she was the one watching as Willow despondently tried packing up her belongings, using the boxes Spike had emptied earlier. Tears were sliding down her cheeks, dripping off her chin, plopping indiscriminately onto clothes and papers.

Ordinarily, Dawn would have been moved to pity, moved enough to plead for some form of reprieve, a sort of forgiveness. But this wasn’t ordinary, not even by Sunnydale standards.

Willow paused, the flood of tears rendering further movement impossible. Burying her face in her hands, Willow sobbed broken heartedly.

Dawn was singularly unimpressed. If anything, her sympathies lay completely with the dark blond girl downstairs, who was sitting in the living room with a much calmed Buffy and a still agitated Spike.

By default, Dawn had been the one to stay with Willow while she packed what she could on such short notice. Xander was coming by after bowling, sometime around nine or so, and he would be taking Willow back to her parent’s house. And also by default, Dawn and Tara were going to be the only two home when he arrived, little over three hours from now.

Willow gathered herself and continued packing, while Dawn watched, a silent unforgiving sentinel.


******************************** ***************************************

It took him about an hour or so of soul searching before he reached a decision. It was two hours since he’d called Buffy’s house in Sunnydale and no one had called him back.

Darla was sleeping, her belly lumping up under his sheets. She was constantly uncomfortable, her body weighed down by more than the unlikely pregnancy. Guilt prayed on her mind, like rabid mice nibbling away on a round of cheese, the souled infant within infecting her.

He loomed over the bed, torn in two. He should stay, watching over Darla, guarding her and protecting the others from her. A part of him wanted to stay, wanted to be here for Darla, but an equal part of him was urging him to go to Sunnydale, to at least see Buffy, to prove to himself she was back in one piece.

Two hours now and still no word from Dawn. No call back from Buffy. His mind refused to believe that Wesley might be right, that Buffy wasn’t ready to see him, wasn’t ready to see anyone.

And Spike was there. No telling what kind of damage he was doing to the two girls.

He told himself that he wasn’t making this decision to go to Sunnydale now, because Spike was there, with two defenseless girls. He told himself he was going because he loved Buffy and needed to see her.

That’s what he told himself.

But he wasn’t entirely sure even he believed it.

Shackling Darla to the bed, Angel figured he could be in Sunnydale long before nine.


******************************** ****************************************

He eyed the girls warily. If he could, he’d take them both out, get them both away from the house while Willow packed up her things. He probably could get them out, if either of them gave an indication that they wanted away.

Neither did. In fact, sprawled on the couch as they were, neither one looked inclined to move. Shell shocked the pair was. He, on the other hand, was not.

After settling the pair on the couch, Spike had stalked into the kitchen needing something. He’d grabbed a drink, but that hadn’t worked. He needed to hit something, to pound away and work out some of the anger, work off the aggression. There was no way he’d be able to contain his temper until it was time to patrol.

Shortly after moving in, he’d set up some equipment, hanging a punching bag, things he could bash at will without fear of the chip firing.

Stepping back into the living room, he took in the scene before him. Buffy was curled up on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her, talking softly to Tara, who was now sitting on the floor next to her.

Girl stuff. Grinning a bit, he waited until they noticed him watching them. “Goin’ downstairs.”

Buffy caught on immediately nodding her understanding. She smiled knowingly going right back to her conversation with Tara.

When Spike was gone, Tara said, “Buffy, what’s he doing?”

She laughed a bit, saying, “he’s gonna beat on the bag for a bit. Work out a couple of things.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.”

“He’s worried about us.” Buffy smiled again, seeing the confusion in the other girl’s eyes. “Doesn’t like to see either of us upset.”

“I think you mean you.” Tara was shaking her head, disagreeing with Buffy’s words.

“Nope. I mean us. He’ll probably never tell you this and would be all denial guy if you asked him, but he likes you.” At Tara’s disbelieving look, Buffy continued, “oh yeah, too late to get out now. You belong to William the Bloody, you’re one of his.”

Her eyes were twinkling so Tara at first thought Buffy was just teasing her, but when she looked closer she realized that Buffy wasn’t teasing her at all, she was just reacting to her own expression.

“Is that a good thing?” She couldn’t help herself.

“Well, it’s a thing.” Buffy was laughing now.

It was a good sound, Tara realized. Something that had been sadly lacking in the house for a long time.

At least now it wasn’t tinged with tears.


******************************** ****************************************

Giles was sitting in his office at the shop trying to ignore the ranting that was currently being conducted in the main area and it was proving difficult at best. Anya was typically unsympathetic, alternating between telling Xander to be quiet because he was going to drive away customers and then making snide remarks that went right over the boy’s head.

While he’d hoped for something different Giles was pragmatic enough to realize that something had gone wrong after he’d left the house. He was tempted to call, but had no doubts that the situation there was even more fraught with tension than the one here. Despite his inclination to stay out of their personal lives, he found himself increasingly acting as a surrogate father to nearly all of them, which was disconcerting. Giles never imagined he’d be the father of seven. Not that Spike really needed a father figure. Or Anya. But sometimes the others. . . . Giles sighed, realizing that, by the sound of Xander’s voice, he needed to either quiet the boy down or make him leave.

“I just don’t understand how Buffy would make Willow leave. Its got to be Spike’s influence. He’s going to keep us all away from her and then he’s going to . . . do stuff.” Xander was sitting at the table, while Anya was dusting around him. Neither one noticed his approach.

“Xander. Spike isn’t going to hurt Buffy.” Anya moved about the shop, fixing things, straightening up before the evening rush.

“How do we know that Ahn? We can’t trust him. He’s a vampire. Vampire equals non-trusty.” It was so very clear and black and white to Xander.

“I’ve met some vampires that were very trustworthy. In fact, some of them actually keep . . . ”

Xander cut her off, “not the point. This is Spike we’re talking about. Spike who tried to kill us.’

Anya was shaking her head, “Spike never tried to kill me.”

Giles spoke up, unwilling to let this go further, “you are forgetting Glory and everything he’s done this past summer.”

Both of them looked at him, Anya welcoming his interruption, while Xander’s expression narrowed on the older man. “How can you defend him? He’s a vampire. Aren’t you like sworn to remove them from existence?”

“I’m sworn to help the Slayer and any assistance I receive on behalf of the Slayer is welcome. From wherever it comes.” Giles moved further into the research area, reaching for a cup and setting the automatic teapot to boil. “Its not the first time a Watcher has accepted assistance from an unconventional ally. It isn’t even the first time I’ve done so.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s Spike.” Xander was being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.

“And you are blaming Spike for what now?” Giles wanted to bring this to a conclusion, end Xander’s diatribe.

“Willow has to move out.” His tone and expression were both petulant.

“This is Spike’s fault how?” Giles knew changing Xander’s opinion of Spike was going to be probably the single most difficult task of his life.

“Because . . . he’s Spike. Its got to be his fault.” The petulance was wearing very thin.

Anya caught Giles’ eye and rolled her own eyes at Xander’s childish insistence on blaming Spike.

“Has it occurred to you that perhaps this has nothing to do with Spike at all? And that this is mostly between Willow and Tara?”

Xander gaped at Giles. “Why would you say that?”

Anya’s voice was carefully modulated. “Willow’s using magic without worrying about the consequences. She’s not listening to anyone else. She’s playing with fire and she just doesn’t understand what she’s unleashed.”

Seeing that everything she’d just said went completely over her boyfriend’s head, Anya broke it down again. “She hurt people Xander. Stole something from Tara and Dawn.”

Xander thought for a minute, but his natural reluctance to distrust others surfaced. “How do we know that? I mean, Tara’s the one that keeps saying that. Dawnie doesn’t.”

“Dawn isn’t even talking to Willow.” Anya tossed that out over her shoulder.

“Oh.” There was nothing he could say to that. “Well okay. So why does Tara get to stay? She’s the one doing the breaking up. Maybe she should leave.”

Knowing what he did, Giles couldn’t let that go without comment. “Tara has no place else to go. No dorm rooms and no place else, Willow has a family she can go back to. Tara has none.”

He neglected to add that Buffy had all but insisted Tara stay, with the only alternative that the girls take separate bedrooms. Apparently that compromise hadn’t worked.

It was clear that Xander hadn’t thought of that and his opened mouth indicated as much. “Didn’t think of that.”

Sharing a look with Anya, Giles realized the same thought was in both their heads. Thinking and Xander were usually mutually exclusive things.


******************************** ***************************************


Tara had gone upstairs a little while ago, needing to relieve a headache that had sprung on her unexpectedly, so she was left to her own devices. She could hear the occasional noise from upstairs as Willow piled up boxes by the stairs and a thud beneath her when Spike gave a particularly good hit. Buffy didn’t feel like moving from the couch, but she also didn’t feel like feeling guilty if she didn’t go up to help Willow.

Instead she followed her feet. And obviously her feet missed Spike because that’s where they were leading the rest of her body. Silly feet. How could we miss Spike – he’s always around, doesn’t give us a chance to miss him. As quietly as she could, Buffy slipped down the basement stairs to watch him.

His movements were fluid, controlled, his sleek muscles flexing beneath marble white skin. Not bothering with taping up his hands or any other preparation, Spike had just started pounding away at the bag. Now, over an hour later, his movements hadn’t slowed or faltered or changed in rhythm. His proximity set off two sets of bells within her, the first was master vamp and the other was pure Spike.

She’d know him anywhere. In a dark hole at the ends of the earth, all senses stripped from her, she had a feeling she would know if he was near.

And she knew he’d know her too.

Just like he’d known she was here the minute she opened the basement door. But he’d kept on, working out his frustrations. He paused a moment, adjusting for the bag’s return swing and she finally spoke.

“Save some of that for patrol.”

“I’ll be fine, jus’ havin’ a go.”

“Its been a day.” Her sigh was deep and heartfelt.

“That it has love, an’ hours left.”

He didn’t need to be facing her to see the grimace. Deciding that now was as good a time as any, Spike grabbed the bag and said, “need to talk to you Buffy.”

“Gonna look at me while you do it?”

With a slight grin, Spike turned, saying “could look at you all day, kitten.”

She gave him a delightful blush as a reward.

“Giles had more news.”

“Figured that. What’s the 411?”

Shaking his head at her deliberate misuse of English, Spike stood in front of her as she sat on the stairs. “Darla’s back in LA.”

“No . . . oh god. Is everyone okay? Is Wes?” She was immediately on edge.

“Yeah. They’re all in one piece. Darla’s not in any condition to be torturing innocents.”

Spike heaved a sigh, drawing one of her hands up to his mouth for a quick kiss. “Seems Darla’s got a bit of a condition.”

“Is it fatal? Coz that would be of the good.”

“Dunno, love, not sure how this is goin’ t’ end. She’s pregnant. And before you ask, it’s his.”

“What? I thought . . . Spike, what’s going on?” She was confused and the confusion showed clearly on her face.

Threading their fingers together, Spike launched into the tale as best he could, leaving out nothing. Getting to the part about Angel’s theory, Spike wouldn’t look at her. This affected them both, if Angel’s theory had any weight at all, this was something they had to at least be aware of.

Buffy watched him throughout, knew when he was fighting his own nature to try and lie to her, to try and hide the truth. She was very aware of everything, the hard wood beneath her, the gentle swing of the punching bag, the smell of bleach and unwashed socks, her own heartbeat echoing in her ear. And him.

Standing over her, studiously avoiding her upturned gaze, Spike’s whole body was taut with tension. Her eyes traced his averted face, idly noting his clenched jaw. Dark lashes covered his crystal eyes and Buffy got a sudden vision of a baby’s face with his eyes. Her breathing hitched and her heart beat changed. Enough for him to notice, enough for him to steal a glance at her features, to tighten his grip on her hand. Mistaking the changes as triggering a different reaction, Spike was surprised when instead of tears he found an enigmatic look on her face and a faraway stare in her eyes.

“Buffy?”

“Angel got Darla pregnant.” She stopped, aware of just how strange that sounded. “After she came back from dust.”

“Yeah, sounds a bit dicey.”

“And I thought weird stuff only happened on the hellmouth.” Buffy’s words were laced with sarcasm.

“You’re not upset?” Spike’s voice was laced with perplexity.

“Should I be? Angel isn’t part of my life anymore. Hasn’t been for two years. Aside from the creepy factor, its no big thing.”

He peered at her, trying to sense any change in her that may have indicated she wasn’t being completely truthful. Far as he could sense she was fine.

“What ‘bout the other?”

“Angel’s theory?” Buffy looked straight at him, almost daring him to look away. “Is it a bad theory?”

“Opposite. Has the ring of truth.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Sometimes he just didn’t understand this girl. He loved her deeply but he just couldn’t figure her out.

“I don’t think so, but you need to know.”

Buffy tugged him closer, whispering, “I don’t either.”
 

49. The girl from all those songs

A love that dies has never lived.
Franz Grillparzer, Notebooks and Diaries

The girl from all those songs
who made everything feel right
she came in like an angel, into your lonely life
and filling your world with light
oh and everybody told you “you’re oh so lucky”
Genesis, Evidence of Autumn



He was speechless. Gobsmacked. Buffy was sitting on the basement steps, her hand fisting in his shirt, smiling up at him. Spike wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly or that he was understanding her completely.

“Buffy?”

Pulling him closer, she looked up at him, mischief in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“You hearin’ me?” Spike wasn’t exactly fighting her off or resisting, he just wanted to make sure she had heard him and understood.

“Loud and clear.” Their faces were inches apart and her warm breath blew across his lips.
His nostrils flared, catching her scent woven with traces of his own, and the need for her rose up in him like a big cat scenting his mate. His knees collapsed onto the riser below where she sat, her legs opening, brushing against his flanks. Spike tilted his head just watching her breath, a knowing smile playing across her lips. Her hand slid up around his neck, playing with the fine hairs at his nape, her touch burning against his skin.

“Buffy?” Her name rolled off his tongue, dark chocolate intertwined with the roughness of whiskey and leather, his fingers reaching out to brush against her cheek.

“Mmmm?” Was all she said, closing the gap between their mouths, her eyes lazily drifting closed. He held himself away, teasing them both, drawing out the moment.

His tongue reached across the distance, unable to resist tasting her, licking across her lips. Opening hers, Buffy smiled, breathing him in. Taking the smile for the invitation it was, his mouth invaded hers, slowly, gently but strongly without fear of rejection. Her breath caught in her throat as his hand drifted down her side, cupping her breast, running his fingers over the shielded surface. Pulling her close, Spike deepened the kiss, lifting her in his arms and staggering to his feet.

“Love you so much.” He whispered against her ear, his cool breath ruffling her hair. “Never leave you.”

Buffy tightened her arms around him, her heartbeat speeding up at his words, her head falling against his shoulder, just listening to the sound of his voice. Smiling against his skin, she breathed out “I know.”


******************************** ***************************************

Xander had finally left, taking off to go bowling and then pick up Willow and her hastily packed belongings. Giles was drinking a cup of strong Earl Grey, watching Anya as she filled out orders.

“Giles we should think about expanding.” Checking their current stock of deadly herbs behind the counter, Anya quickly inventoried their supplies.

Fighting a smile at her efficiency, Giles asked “and why is that?”

“There’s clearly a market niche for our services and if we expand via the internet and mail order business, we’ll have minimal overhead and lots more money.”

“Mail order is very time consuming. One of us would spend an enormous amount of time daily just filling orders.” Giles found himself watching her carefully, noting, not for the first time either, that she was very perceptive. The others wrote her off as being blunt and singleminded in her pursuits, but Giles found her candor refreshing, so long as it wasn’t at his expense. Her willingness to work hard was a definite asset.

“Well,” she said interrupting his musing, “we could hire someone just to do mail orders. This way I wouldn’t lose any valuable consumer interaction time.”

“Obviously you’ve thought this through. There are a few drawbacks though.” Anya turned to face him, her arms crossed in front of her, waiting for his next words. “We’d have to get a website running and we’d have to . . .”

She waved off his objections. “Already done. And before you ask, I didn’t use Willow. I got Jonathon to do it.”

“How?” He shook his head in near disbelief.

“I told him he owes us for saving his life all those times. And that I’d give him a discount on any purchases for one year.”

Raising an eyebrow, he waited for her to continue.

“Its good business. Besides, its only a prototype, a test site. If we like it, he gets the discount. If not, he gets nothing.”

Creative blackmail. Giles was convinced she was a bloody financial genius. So far every single marketing ploy she’d implemented had made them money. He had no reason to doubt her now.

“All right. I’ll take a look at it. How many days do we have to test it before we agree?”

“Thirty.”

She turned away when the overhead bell at the door rang. He watched her greet the incoming customers, an amused half smile on his features.

She really was a remarkable girl.


******************************** ****************************************

Willow and Tara were both upstairs, although in separate rooms. Tara was currently napping in Dawn’s bed while Willow was still packing up her belongings. The remaining three were downstairs in the living room, the television on as background noise and the glass living room doors closed off to block the hallway. They ate in comfortable silence, Dawn sitting on the floor between them, two pizza boxes on the coffee table. She kept stealing Spike’s wings, giggling every time one disappeared into her mouth.

Buffy had watched them, laughing right along with her sister, whenever Spike growled at her.

This was fun.

Fun like it hadn’t been in a very long time. Since long before their mother got sick.

Buffy decided it was over far too soon because suddenly it was time for them to leave.

“Dawnie. We’re taking the cell phone. If anything happens, call and we’ll come right home.”

“You mean other than Xander being a jerk?” Her eyes darted between the two standing in the hallway.

“Yeah, other than that.” Buffy shot a glance at Spike.

“He’s not likely to get too bad ‘s long as I’m not here. Should be fine Platelet.” Spike pulled her hair, then play shoved her when she smacked him.

“He’s gonna say something stupid though.” Dawn made faces at Spike, trying to distract him.

“Well wouldn’t be him if he didn’t.”

They were out the door and long gone before Dawn realized he’d tied her hair in knots.


********************************* *************************************

When he drove into Sunnydale, it was just past eight thirty, the night sky was settling into full darkness. He headed straight for Restfield, parking as close as possible to the nearest entrance. The place was quiet, no one wandering about, no vampires or other creatures of the night out seeking prey. In fact, the only one on the premises was him.

Angel made his way slowly to the spot where they buried her, reluctant to view the evidence of her death once more. He’d spent the last two hours thinking about his conversation with Wesley, realizing reluctantly that perhaps he shouldn’t just knock on the door, announcing his uninvited presence.

The ground had been disturbed. There was evidence that something had happened here. He didn’t know the particulars, hadn’t bothered to get the full story from Wesley, or even find out if the Englishman even knew the whole truth. It didn’t matter. Angel’s temper began to simmer, believing that somehow Spike was at fault for all this. He couldn’t imagine anyone else daring enough to attempt something of this magnitude. Or quite as stupid.

Giles was still in Sunnydale. Still owned the Magic Shop. Angel made his way out of the cemetery, his stride covering the distance back to his car in mere moments. He had no illusions that Spike’s latest sins were going to set the watcher against him.

He just wanted to be there to help take care of Spike.


******************************** ******************************************

They walked into the shop, hand in hand, laughing like they hadn’t a care in the world. It was a sight that Giles hadn’t seen in a very long time. Probably, if he truly thought about it, he’d never seen such a glimmer in her eyes. They might be unconventional, even by hellmouth standards, but as a couple they made a striking pair.

“Hey Giles.”

“Hello Buffy. Spike” Motioning them both to the table, he spoke quietly so the few customers wouldn’t overhear. “Everything all right?”

“We’re doing okay. Everything else? Not so much.” Buffy looked around, noticing that Anya had her hands full, saying “Willow’s all weepy and Tara’s, well, she’s doing okay I think.”

“Glinda’s all right.” Spike nodded his agreement with Buffy. “So long as the whelp keeps his yap shut.”

“Little chance of that happening. He was rather vocal earlier. I take it nothing went well?”

“Well” started Buffy with heavy inflection and drawing out the one word to sound like three, “I hadn’t planned on being outburst girl and . . . She lied to us right there about calling Angel.”

“Oh dear.” Giles took off his glasses, peering at the two of them. “And Tara asked her to leave?”

It was Spike who answered. “No, Niblet did it. Th’ other two were . . . Glinda told her after, yeah, but ‘t was Niblet who said it first.”

“Dawnie said Willow’s going back to her parents for a bit.” Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know what’s happening, everything. . . When did stuff get so weird?”

She sat down in one of the chairs, looking up at the two men. “I don’t understand her anymore.”

Unfortunately, neither one of them had a good answer for her. “So not wanting to deal with this.”

“I think you should, well, perhaps its for the best that she go to her parents for a while.” Giles wasn’t really sure how he felt about this turn of events. It would probably be safer all around for someone to keep a close eye on Willow and the easiest way to do that was to have her stay in Buffy’s house. On the other hand, given Willow’s actions of the past few weeks, and the message from the Huntsman, some distance might be better all around.

Changing the subject, Giles drew their attention to one of the books that was opened on the table. “I’ve found something of importance, regarding the Wild Hunt.”

“The who-hah?”

He could tell by the look on her face she was teasing him but Giles fell for her ploy. “Really Buffy, must you?”

His only answer was a soft giggle.

He was just about to show them something else, when the bell over the door rang. Glancing up automatically, Giles stiffened, moving to block their view of the entrant.

“Hello Giles.”

Buffy froze then looked at Spike, who was sitting across from her, his movement stilled. Oh god, oh god, not this not now. Please, I’m dreaming this, this isn’t real. Buffy’s eyes closed, her hand automatically seeking Spike’s. She didn’t know how he did it, but he was round the table and at her side before her breathing returned to normal.

His voice was pitched low, so that only she could hear the words, though Giles was intensely aware of the shift behind him, and Spike leaned in close to her. “Kitten? It’s goin’ to be all right. I’m here.”

She clutched at him, her fingers constricting around his, holding on tight. “Spike?”

“Right here love.”

Buffy collapsed against him, her head dropping down to rest on his shoulder, her arms pulling them together.

“Angel.” Giles moved to shield them, blocking Angel’s view of the table.

Spike silently moved them into the corner, so they were further blocked by the display shelves. She was shaking in his arms panting breaths heaving against his skin. “Hey, kitten, slow down . . . shhhh . . . I’m here.”

His voice was softer than a whisper, felt rather than heard. Buffy raised her head from his shoulder, her warm fingers sliding around his face, resting against his cheeks. Her forehead rested for an instant against his then she moved back fractionally. “Spike? Promise me . . . . “

“Always Buffy. Goin’ to stay always.”

Tears fell from her eyes only to be caught by his cool fingers. Her lip quivered as she drew in a steadying breath. His thumb brushed over her face, ending at her lips and she kissed it as he smoothed it over them.

“I love you” he whispered, “always.”

They held still, lost in each other, while Giles spoke above them.

“Why are you in Sunnydale Angel?”

Anya had drifted closer standing next to him while he faced the vampire.

“Willow called me. Told me Buffy was back.”

The girl at his side flinched but Giles had suspected this would happen sooner or later.

“I see.”

Angel had come no further into the shop than the steps using the added height to intimidate. “How did he do it? Used black magic?”

“By he I assume you mean Spike?” Giles was going to enjoy blasting holes through Angel’s misconceptions. Sharing a glance with Anya, Giles smirked a bit. “It wasn’t Spike. Willow brought her back.”

“Willow?” That set him back momentarily, but Angel leapt right back into his assumptions. “So he got Willow to do his dirty work? Typical. I told you he couldn’t be trusted.”

Angel looked smug. At least until Anya spoke up.

“Hardly. Willow did this all on her own. Used Lethe’s Bramble on Tara and Dawn and, well, I think the power’s going to her head.” Anya chirped that last bit conspiratorially, causing Giles’ smile to widen.

“What? Willow did all that?” Angel shook his head. “Are you sure Spike wasn’t involved in some way?”

Not once taking her eyes from Spike’s, Buffy spoke up “positive.”

“Buffy?” Angel’s voice held a thousand differing emotions and he fairly flew down the steps to circle around Giles and Anya. What he witnessed stopped him in his tracks.

She was there. Whole. Safe.

Kissing Spike.
 

50. Words like violence

Memories are just where you laid them
drag the waters ‘till the depths give up their dead
what did you expect to find?
was there something you left behind?
don’t you remember anything I said
when I said
don’t fall away, and leave me to myself
don’t fall away and leave love bleeding
in my hands, in my hands again
love lies bleeding
Fuel, Hemorrhage from the album Something Like Human

There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted
more than to feel you deep in my heart
there was nothing in the world that I ever wanted
more than to never feel the breaking apart
all my pictures of you.
The Cure, Pictures of you, from the album Disintegration

The turning point in the process of growing up
is when you discover the core of strength
within you that survives all hurt.
Max Lerner, The Unfinished Country


He couldn’t be seeing what his eyes were looking at. There’s no possible way he was seeing this. This was not happening. Angel blinked, then looked at Giles, who wasn’t moving to separate the two. He blinked again hoping the vision would go away. Anya sighed a little, which drew Giles’ attention, then smiled wistfully.

Angel tried one more time. He cleared his throat and the two blondes broke apart reluctantly. Buffy’s head rested against Spike’s and even his ears didn’t hear the words murmured between the two. All he could hear was the low vibrations of Spike’s voice and Buffy’s answering murmur.

“Buffy?” He didn’t realize he’d spoken until the others looked at him.

Spike lifted his head away from Buffy’s, raising his eyes to meet Angel’s intense gaze. Neither man looked away. Anger was rolling off Angel in waves, both humans feeling it. Buffy turned around, holding onto Spike’s hand, all signs of her previous tears gone.

“Hello Angel.”

“What the hell is going on?” His tone was snappish.

“Nice to see you too.” Buffy wasn’t in the mood for this, wasn’t ready for this confrontation at all, but apparently today was full of major badness. She offered nicely, “sit down Angel.”

“I’ll stand.” He shot back, not even waiting for her to finish speaking.

“Angel please sit.” She tried again, this time sounding more weary that anything else.

“I’d rather stand.” His hands were fisted at his side, tension tightening his jaw.

“So you can be all looming guy?” Buffy paused, leaning back against Spike. “Please sit down.”

Spike kicked one of the chairs, pushing it away from the table in a belligerent invitation then dropped Buffy’s hand. “Sit you bloody great git. Do as the girl asked.”

If anything, Spike’s actions had broken the other two from their inertia. Giles turned away to go lock the front door, while Anya hurried over to the last customers. Angel, however, wasn’t impressed.

“What are you doing Spike?” He still hadn’t moved.

“Angel please just sit down.” Buffy tried one last time, almost pleading with him.

He finally looked at her, and something in her eyes pierced his anger because he sat down, after pulling out a different chair from the one Spike had kicked.

“Thank you” was all she said.

They sat in awkward silence for long minutes. Buffy was leaning against Spike, her eyes downcast, trying to avoid Angel’s pointed stare. She was very conscious of the fact there were complete strangers in the shop and her mind was desperately seeking and discarding different ways to avoid the coming confrontation. She knew there was going to be one. The moment Angel had walked in the door that had been a foregone conclusion. Why did he have to come? Why did Willow do this? What the heck am I gonna do now?

It was impossible not to feel the increasing tension in Spike’s body. He hadn’t taken a breath since she’d turned around to face Angel and she was suddenly desperate to make him understand she was scared and worried and upset and confused . . . but not about him. Shifting in her chair, her head resting against his upper arm, Buffy knew this wasn’t enough contact. Wriggling around, she nudged his arm, bumping up against his hard bicep. Her fingers reached for his under the table, squeezing hard when she found his. For long seconds he didn’t move, but when she nudged him again, Spike took the hint. He leaned back, almost lounging in the chair, his right arm circling the back of Buffy’s chair. Their left hands were melded together, Buffy clinging tightly, their legs pressed against each other from hip to knee.

Angel watched them, his expression growing more thunderous by the second. “Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” His tone was harsh, the words clipped and terse.

“Ease off you bloody jackass.” Spike’s voice was low and dangerous, almost growling.

“Tell . . . me . . . what . . . is . . . going . . . on.”

“Quit makin’ demands peaches.” His actions hidden by Buffy, Spike moved his right hand, sliding it under her shirt, needing to touch her skin. She relaxed against him, an unconscious sigh of relief shuddering through her. “Ask nicely an’ we might tell ya.”

Angel clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth, laying a fisted hand on the table. Buffy imperceptibly shrank back against Spike. Giles came to stand beside the pair, lending his support, his eyes boring into Angel’s.

Caving in, Angel unclenched his jaw long enough to say, “please.”

Buffy opened her mouth to start, but Giles’ voice sounded from above her, saving her the explanation.

He narrated it almost dispassionately, clinically, laying out only the bare facts. It was a marked contrast to the way they’d explained things to Wesley and those who were there for both encounters knew it.

Spike watched the imperceptible reactions displayed by Angel. Only someone who knew the vampire well would be able to see them and he’d spent nearly twenty years learning all the nuances of the Irish vampire’s moods. Angel was in a towering rage – the kind that only he used to incite – the kind that only a good bloodletting would assuage.

Who that rage was directed at was anyone’s guess.

Which was why, despite his thumb running across Buffy’s back, Spike was poised for action.

A long silence filled the shop when Giles finished.


********************************* ***************************************

Her boxes were all packed, waiting by the door for Xander to come and load them into his car. Everything she’d accumulated in two years was in those boxes. Her life encased in cardboard. Willow stood in the kitchen, waiting . . . hoping that Tara would come downstairs before she left, before it was too late.

She wanted to see her face once more, gaze into her blue eyes, hoping to find some trace of the love they’d shared still within her. But Tara wouldn’t come down, was still upstairs in Dawn’s room, secluded away from Willow.

Willow was afraid to go upstairs to confront her – afraid of the rejection she was almost certain would happen. She hadn’t . . . Dawn had ignored her, refusing to even look in her direction after all her boxes were packed and piled up beside the front door. The teenager was watching television, flipping channels, pretending she was alone.

Xander was due any minute.

And Willow couldn’t stop the tears.


******************************** ****************************************

“So Willow did all this on her own?” It wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular and Giles once again chose to answer.

“Yes. She waited until I was on my way back to England and Spike was out patrolling.”

“And Willow retrieved you from a hell dimension?” He paused, then, “that explains this,” motioning at the blond pair.

“Angel.” Buffy leaned forward, letting Spike’s hand go, dropping her hand to grasp his thigh. “Stop it.”

“Well have you got any other explanation for what you’re doing?” He got up, no longer able to keep still. “This is . . . I didn’t leave so you could fall into the arms of . . . Spike?”

“In the room.” Spike’s voice was very dangerous.

Angel tried ignoring his statement, just like he’d been ignoring Spike’s presence since he’d arrived. Pacing around, Angel turned around to face Buffy.

“What are you doing? What is this?” Angel’s voice was harsh and full of disdain.

She was very conscious of Spike beside her. His body close, his irregular breathing wafting across her shoulder. Buffy wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation. His hand flexed against her back then let go. She tensed, knowing Spike was about to launch into a verbal attack, trying to come up with some way to divert it.

It came from the most unlikely source.

“Why does everyone think Buffy was in a hell dimension?” Anya was shaking her head, “she was probably stuck somewhere very boring, someplace heroes go, unless it was Valhalla.”

Smiling very brightly, Anya continued, “well, she’s a hero right, the Chosen One. It just is logical for her to go to well, some sort of reward.”

Rocking forward, she smiled wider, noticing the shared looks. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Buffy shook her head in disbelief that Anya, of all people, would figure out something this important on her own. “It wasn’t a hell dimension.”

Spike’s hand slid back under her shirt, his fingers splayed across her warm skin. She leaned back resting against him. Angel narrowed his eyes, watching the two of them. “So what, you came back from Valhalla and just decided to take up with William?”

He said his name with such contempt that Buffy flinched. “Stop it Angel.”

“No Buffy, I don’t get this and I’m not going to stop.” Angel was leaning on the table, looming over the blond pair.

“Get over yourself peaches, the girl obviously has.’ Spike’s posture was deceptively lazy.

Giles thought he was watching a bear trying to incite a panther into fighting over a particularly good kill, but the panther already had the prey. It was a fitting analogy, only he wasn’t entirely comfortable with thinking of Buffy as prey.

Squeezing his thigh, Buffy turned her head to share a look with Spike. Neither one spoke, just stared at each other, then Buffy leaned into him. He kissed her forehead and smiled grimly.

“Angel come with me.” Buffy got up from the table, moved purposely toward the training room, not waiting for any acknowledgment from him.

Spike watched her go, watched Angel as he stood there stunned, a knowing smirk playing across his lips. Angel whirled around, following after Buffy.

The smirk disappeared and Spike’s voice sounded softly in the air. “Bloody fucking hell.”

******************************** ******************************************

She was standing in the middle of the training room, running her hands over the pommel horse, her back to the inner doorway. He stood watching her for a moment, unsure of what was about to happen, unsure what to say. Welcome back felt really inappropriate.

“I loved you so much you know. With everything I had, everything. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for you.” She paused, not looking at him. “I defied Giles, lied to him and everyone else for you – even after everything you did when you were Angelus.”

He must’ve made some noise, because she turned further away from him. “No. Its my turn to say this. Let me say this first. I loved you . . . and I thought you loved me back.”

“But . . . I don’t know anymore.” She stopped moving, ducking her head down, studying the floor. “People in love don’t make decisions alone, they don’t hide from each other. They don’t treat . . . . they don’t make the other person feel like something less than what they are.”

Angel took a step closer to her. “Buffy I didn’t . . . “

“Oh yes you did Angel. You treated me like something you needed to protect – like a possession. Like I wasn’t smart enough to make a decision without you.”

“You always made pronouncements or issued orders and expected me to just . . . go along with what you decided was best for us.”

“I made the right decisions.”

“You made easy decisions Angel. They weren’t always the right ones.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angel wasn’t understanding her.

“It was easy to walk away. Easy to run to LA. Easy to give up being human to protect me.” This time she did look at him.

“How did you know about that? That was supposed to be erased from your memory.”

“See, making a decision you thought was best.” Pausing, she said, “I remembered a lot of things after I died. . . . and even more when I came back.”

“Buffy, it as for the best, what I did that day.”

“Keep telling yourself that. You made that decision alone, just like when you decided to spy on me one Thanksgiving.”

“Buffy, I wasn’t spying, was just trying to spare you. It was torture for me that day. I didn’t want to hurt you further by being there.”

“Another time you tried making a decision for me.” She shifted on her feet, prelude to some other movement, then thinking better of it, stood her ground.

“So you spared my feelings by hiding and stalking me? What was that? It hurt more to find out that you’d been here and didn’t want to see me.” She held up a hand to forestall his retort.

“That’s not love Angel. I’m not sure what it is, but its not love.” Buffy folded her arms across her chest, craving the comfort of Spike’s arms, but knowing she had to do this alone. “You never once asked me what I wanted, what I needed.”

“I was thinking about what was best for you.”

“You know what? Not impressed with other people thinking they know what’s best for me. Its kinda my decision to be making.”

“And that includes deciding to be with Spike?”

“Funny thing about Spike. He doesn’t decide what’s best for me, he lets me figure it out on my own.” Buffy reflected on how Spike had gotten her to change her mind about telling Giles where she’d been. “And he isn’t always happy about my decisions, but he lets me make them.”

She waved a hand, “and so not the point.”

“It is the point Buffy. You’re making a mistake. He’s not . . . what about the chip in his head? What happens when that goes haywire?” Angel couldn’t believe his ears.

“Not worried about that right now.” And she wasn’t. But she wouldn’t talk to Angel about the chip before talking to Giles or Spike. In fact, he was probably the last one she would talk to about Spike’s chip.

“This isn’t about Spike. This is about you and me, Angel.” Buffy moved a step away as Angel moved closer into the room.

“He’s a killer.”

“So are you. So am I.” Buffy stopped moving when he did.

“What we had Angel wasn’t real. Wasn’t love.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because Angel, love doesn’t go away when you don’t see the other person, it doesn’t just stop. Love doesn’t die. Love stays . . . even when you’re gone. When there’s no hope of ever seeing that other person again. Love . . takes care of the ones you care about . . the ones you left behind. Love never leaves . . . and love is there when you come back against all odds.”

There were tears in her voice, matching the ones that sprang to her eyes. Angel looked at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

“What we had wasn’t love. You never loved me Angel.”

“I did” he paused, “I do, Buffy, I still do.”

“No you don’t.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, fighting off the nonexistent chill. “Tell me something Angel, would you have stayed for Dawn, to take care of her?”

“What?” He was surprised by her sudden change of subject.

“If the others hadn’t been around, if Spike hadn’t been here, would you have stayed in Sunnydale to take care of my sister after I died?”

“Buffy, I . . LA. . that’s my life. I couldn’t just abandon that.”

“Not even for my memory.” Buffy echoed Spike’s words. “No, of course you couldn’t.”

“That’s not love Angel.”

“And what, you’re telling me that because Spike had no where else to go, that’s love?” Angel almost laughed, but Buffy’s expression stopped him.

“He could have gone anywhere, he is still a master vampire of the Aurelius line.” Buffy shot back at him, anger rising in her belly.

“Spike stayed because I asked him to, the night I died. Because he loves me and Dawn. Because he doesn’t know how not to love. He stayed and took care of Dawnie and patrolled and he even took care of my friends and he hates some of them. Spike did all that because he loves me.”

The tears were openly sliding down her cheeks now, her shoulders shaking with emotion.

“It was Spike who rescued me that night – took care of me . . . “ her breath hitched, caught on a soft sob, “he’s been taking care of me since. That’s love Angel. . . “

She smiled then, like sunshine breaking through clouds, the tears drying up. Her eyes focused on something behind him and before he turned around Angel knew it was Spike.

“Go back to LA, Angel – go back to Darla.”

And he watched while Buffy crossed the room, walking toward Spike, an expression he’d never seen on her features.

 

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