I asked of my reflection
Tell me, what is there to do?
Willow was flapping her arms wildly and whimpering when Spike got back downstairs. Under the panicked assault of her flailing arms, Giles attempted to mollify with soothing words, but he appeared to have little luck. Spike remained on the landing while Giles steered her away from the foyer and into the lounge.
"I told him to get dressed," he muttered darkly as he finally got her on the sofa.
Shaking her head, Willow blurted, "It's not that! It's... he's... I mean I've seen naked guys before; it's not like I was always gay, you know."
"I realize it's a bit of a shock even on a good day. One doesn't exactly expect one's safe haven to be harboring naked vampires."
"No, really not the problem." She squeezed her hands into fists. "It's... it's because it's Spike."
"Well, yes..."
"No." She took a deep breath. "I mean -- it's Spike. Lover of the girl I tried to kill. Vampire. Evil." She hooked her fingers into claws and bared her teeth. "Grrr."
"Oh!" Giles said, and the penny dropped for Spike, as well.
He came into the room and stood in the doorway, pitching his voice as low as he could, softening his stance as much as possible. "I'm not here for revenge, if that's what's got you worried, Red."
But her fearful glance told him that she was, indeed, petrified. Her hands shook and she clutched at Giles's arm when he sat down next to her. Tears shimmered at the edges of her eyes.
"Spike didn't know... what happened... until he got here, so that wasn't why he came. I would never have let him in the flat if I'd thought he was here for revenge." He patted Willow's hand.
Spike had to hand it to the fella, he knew how to comfort the young ladies when it was needed. "Sorry about the stark-bollock naked thing," he said sheepishly. "Really wasn't expecting you here so quick. And I didn't mean to scare you."
It took some time but eventually Willow calmed down, though she kept looking at Spike's hands as if she was waiting for him to produce a weapon. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but fragile and fluttery wasn't on the list. There was a damaged quality to her that had been immediately apparent. Not cosmetic damage; deep enough so that you could tell the gears weren't working well. He'd often felt a warmth towards her and sometimes for the girlfriend even back when he didn't like anyone much at all, so it was distinctly painful, in this new skin, to glimpse the fear he inspired.
"So, if you're not here to kill me, then..."
"It's a long and stupid story," Spike answered with a grimace. "But, see--"
"It's not important right now, anyway." Giles scowled at Spike. "Maybe you could find other diversions for the time being? Let Willow settle in?"
Spike motioned for Giles to come into the hallway with him and then whispered hostilely, "If you want my arse on the next train back to London, we should just get it over with. Let the witch make up her mind."
"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to do you a favor! Right now, there's no way she'd agree to help, but if you give her some time to stop worrying you're here to rip her to pieces, she might consider something. Are you that thick you don't see it?"
Spike pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling. "Yeah, all right. You got me there."
"Can't you just hang about quietly?"
He'd forgotten how librarianish Giles could be. "I'll just make some brekky, why don't I?"
"It's three in the afternoon, you lazy sod."
"Different schedule, I told you. Lots to adjust for."
"It's been how many months?"
"Oh, pack it in. Go attend to your guest and let me get out of her hair." Spike walked away, waving his fingers dismissively.
When Giles returned to Willow, she was sitting on the sofa, staring at her hands. He sat down. "I apologize again. He seems to make me do the exact wrong thing, you know? Even if it's against my better judgment, and even after all these years, I let him goad me into things."
"We need cell phones. Or mobiles, I mean. We never have the chance to give each other the heads-up. Make technology work for us."
Giles rubbed his eyes and looked at her. She was still upset, except it obviously wasn't about Spike anymore. "But it's not really him, is it?" he asked in his gentlest voice.
She hitched in a deep breath, still on the verge of tears. "He reminded me, that's all. Um. The last few days he was around, some seriously bad things happened. And it's hard not to connect him to Buffy now. Or to everything that happened after he left. It's like I take a couple baby steps towards getting better, and then a huge step backwards over the tiniest little thing." She wiped her hand across her face and looked helplessly at him. "If he wanted to kill me for hurting Buffy, I couldn't blame him."
"That's nonsense. Everything we've taught you since you came here should tell you different."
Her shoulders moved up and down with her huge, racking sigh. "I want to believe in what you guys are saying, but it's like... no go there when I'm confronted with what I did. I know what you're telling me, I wish I could believe it, but... stuff like this just reminds me how far away that is."
"It will get better with time, I can assure you."
"You've been saying that and it's not. Or, well, it's a little better, but not enough." Sometimes Willow had such an overpowering need to quit that it felt nearly suicidal. To lie down and sleep forever would be the best medicine she could take. Giles and the coven were so kind to her, and they had such a positive outlook, that they couldn't know how hard it was to tamp down this black rage, to maintain control so tightly that the smallest increase in tension would snap the restraints.
In some respects Willow felt more connected to Spike, just in the few minutes she'd seen him now. He was always so... obvious. All the lines were straight and you knew what you were looking at. In a way, she almost wished that he was here to avenge her treatment of Dawn and Buffy. If people would just punish her, that would be freeing. With punishment, you just took your whupping and moved on, knowing that like was met with like. But this kindness and understanding, this gentle guidance, freaked her out.
"Why don't you take your stuff upstairs and come down when you're ready. If you want, I'll get rid of Spike right now."
"No! No, I mean... he... I'd like to talk to him. Has he been back home?"
"Not yet. There's some things to tell you about, but they can wait."
"He seems different. I don't know why, but something's..." There was a quality she sensed in him, not unlike her own -- delicate, fearful. Something she'd never seen in his eyes before. And it wasn't nameable, but an intangible link that made her want to reach out to him. Not a feeling she'd ever associated with Spike before.
"Perhaps a nap or a bath might make you feel rested."
"Giles, I don't need rest! It's like a ninety-minute coach trip from there! You lived in California long enough, you know we'd drive that distance for food." She sat up straighter and put on her stern face. "You need to tell me what's up or I'll die of curiosity. And how would that look? 'Recuperating witch dies at mystic's Bath flat. Film at eleven.' "
Giles exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes. "He's human. Spike is human again. The full kit -- soul, conscience, everything."
Okay, she hadn't been expecting anything quite that dramatic. Willow stared at him, open-mouthed. Eventually she found her voice and squeaked, "What? How? Why?"
Giles raised his eyebrows. "It is, as he said, a long and stupid story. And one I think might be best heard from him, if you're willing. It's really you he came here to see, not me."
"Oh." Willow pondered that for a moment and repeated, "Oh. Well, I guess... I guess if he's human, he can't really hurt me. Or, like, maybe he could, but in a regular way, and so we're more evenly matched. Mano a mano." She made little kung-fu hand motions.
"If you want, I'll stay with you. In case of the mano thing." He smiled, something that always lifted her spirits.
"No, let me put my junk upstairs and I'll go talk to him." She didn't feel very courageous right now, but sometimes it was best to follow the ads' advice and just do it. For the first time in a long while it was like being back in high school, feeling timid and nervous and always looking behind her to see if anything threatening lurked there. But maybe... maybe there was a reason that Spike was here, maybe all this was supposed to happen as part of the interconnectedness the coven was teaching her about. Maybe Spike in her life again at just this time was meant to be. She picked up her bags and went up the stairs.
Spike was downing the last of the bacon when Willow walked into the kitchen and stood near the fridge, arms crossed over her chest. He'd never thought of her as tiny before, but realized now that she was barely larger than Buffy. The hair had grown longer, and she was thinner now than he could ever remember seeing her, but she still had the huge eyes and the cute little mouth.
"Hey," was all she said.
"Hey." He watched her tentatively, trying to discern if the hard set of her mouth was an indication of mood, and just what he should say in response to that mood. Usually he could read her well, but he wasn't certain if it was radio interference from the being human, or just that she'd changed so much, now he couldn't gauge her disposition.
"So. Big news."
"Yeah. Pretty big." He motioned to the other chair, but she made no effort to sit down. "He tell you everything?"
"There's more than just being human?" Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
"Oh, yeah. Lots more."
"Giles said you came to see me."
He got up to clean off his plate. Suddenly he felt afraid to ask for what he wanted, overcome with worry that she would panic and turn him into a frog or something. "I did. I wanted... I don't want to be human."
"'Cause it's better being a dead guy?" she asked sarcastically, voice rising.
"Well, in my case, yes. Thought you might be able to reverse it. You being so powerful and all. But... I didn't know when I came here what had happened after I left. What you've gone through." He put the dishes in the sink and turned to face her, but kept his eyes on the floor. "I still want that, but it's more complicated now."
"Oh." Her voice was small and quiet. A flashing glimpse of the mousy Willow he remembered from early days. "How come... how come you'd go get human and then not want it?"
"Uh, it was a mistake. A misrepresentation of services, if you will. See, there was this demon..." He scratched his fingers through his hair and then looked up at her. "Look, how 'bout I tell you the tale and we bask in summer out in the garden? It's a nice day, and look, ma, no flames." He held his hand in a shaft of sunlight coming through the window.
She glanced suspiciously at him, but shrugged her shoulders in a why not kind of way.
"Besides," he said through gritted teeth, "the watcher's crap hippie music is killing me. I hate the fucking Grateful Dead. Why can't he at least listen to the Doors? If I was in the nick I'd confess to any crime rather than listen to that shit."
"The window's open, though," Willow pointed out, grimacing. "Summer and all."
"Bugger. Well, let's soldier on."
Once they'd parked themselves under the shade of a tree, Spike told her the whole sordid story. Willow listened in silence, sipping from her bottled water, face impassive.
When he finished, she stared at him, scrutinizing his features. "Boy, and I thought I was fucked." But she was smiling.
"Never heard you use that kind of language before."
"I've changed."
"No joke."
"And so, you wanted me to poof! you back?" She waved her hands.
"Well, with minor adjustments. Like the soul. Keep that, the rest can go."
"Because, what? Buffy's so hung up on a soul? That's gonna make it all right? She does that for a reason, you know. What's going on with you and her is a lot more than just about stuff with souls and things. She draws a line, but... you know. If you had to kill things with souls, it'd get a lot more complicated. That's why... why... she tried so hard to not kill me, even... when she should have. When I wanted her to." Her mood had instantly shifted from amusement to despair, and her lower lip trembled. Spike reached over and patted her arm.
That was all it took and she began sobbing uncontrollably, streams of tears glimmering down her cheeks. Spike had no idea what to do or how to react; he'd only ever known how to comfort Dru when she lost control. He put his arm around her shoulder and whispered, "It's all right, it's all right."
Willow cried it out all over his shirt, his arms around her and his low voice comfortingly droney. Even if he wasn't a vampire anymore, he still felt strong and powerful to her, and she let him carry the weight of it for just a little while -- though he wasn't really any more capable than she was. Sometimes he rocked her a little, until gradually she couldn't feel any more sobs coming from down in her diaphragm and the tears had dried up. But he didn't take his arms away. The last time he'd had his hands on her, he was trying to kill her.
"All cried out now?" he asked, and she nodded against his neck.
"I miss her so much. I miss who I was so much."
"Buffy?"
"No. Tara. Me with Tara."
"Oh. I liked her, you know. Much as I liked anyone then, and that wasn't usually a lot."
"That was my girl. People just liked her."
He stroked her hair, curling it behind her ear. "People liked you, you know. I did. You think they won't forgive you, don't you, because you can't forgive yourself. But they will."
Willow pulled away and stared hard at him. "I see by taking away your special vampire powers they didn't take away that freakish ability to nail what someone's thinking. That is so creepy."
He laughed, the first time she'd ever heard him laugh. "It's not special. Just watch and listen. The thing is, see... they can forgive you because they've always loved you. No one ever could stand me, even when they tolerated me. So I haven't got a snowball's chance, you know. You can make a lot of mistakes, and their love will let you -- even though it doesn't look like it now. Me... well, I am, as you say, fucked."
She could feel the urge to cry bubbling up again. "What are we going to do, Spike?" she whispered, and he pulled her to his shoulder again.
"Don't look to me for answers. I'm a witless prat. Obviously, or I wouldn't be here."
"But, I mean... How do we live with what we've done?"
He thought for a moment about what he could say that wouldn't undo everything she'd learnt here with Giles. Nothing came to him. Instead he took his arm from around her shoulders and rolled up a sleeve, showing her the map of cuts. She sucked in a deep breath. "We don't, really." His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.
"Poor us," she said tenderly. Her eyes were so big and so frightened.
"The walking wounded." He leaned his cheek against her sweet, fruit-scented hair. "We'll come up with a secret handshake later."
Upstairs in his study, Giles looked out over the garden, tea in hand. The two of them were holding each other, and it looked as if Willow was crying. Strangely, he felt no alarm, no need to rush down and remove her from his influence.
Whatever it was that Willow needed, it was mirrored in Spike's face now. All the little things Giles hadn't been able to give her or fully understand, Spike might. And just maybe, when she had healed and learned, she could help him. Not because she was powerful enough to change him, but simply because she wanted to. He went back to his desk and read some more.
When he wakes it is still dark, silent and cold in the waning hours before dawn. Stepping barefoot on the grass, he shivers as the dew ices his skin. She stands by a tree, surrounded by a deep forest of such impenetrable blackness he thinks it might go on forever. Her dress is silver in the moonlight, floating around her on the whirlwind that caresses her body. In her hand she holds a glowing orb, and she's smiling at him, a smile made wicked by the blackness of her eyes and how her red hair has gone jet.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Your soul," she says. "It's mine now."
He wonders about that, when it became Willow's instead of Buffy's. Didn't everything belong to Buffy? He could make a grab for it, or just leave it. Decisions are too hard to make these days, and they always seem to bring negative consequences. Then he notices her off in the dark woods -- the other witch. Tara. She sends out a silvery cloud from her hands, and it swarms around Willow like fireflies, glittering in the night. A veil of stars. Everything feels comforting now; Willow relaxes and drops her hand, and the orb is gone. Tara holds a finger to her lips. "Even the devil was an angel once," she says to him, and he nods as if he understands. When he turns around, there is a long road stretching out before him, lined by shimmering linden trees. He can't see Giles's flat there at the end of it. All he can see is a figure, indistinct. It might be Buffy, so he runs. But he hits an invisible wall, locked out, unable to go far enough to find out who waits.
Spike made an extra effort to get up earlier the next day, to Giles's obvious approval; he'd also opted to sleep in most of his clothes this time, just in case Willow decided to have a midnight snack. They'd spent a pleasant night watching television, with Giles sharing his good whisky, not to mention his beer. If he wasn't careful, Spike would almost think Giles was starting to like him now that he was human.
Willow stuck close to Spike's side, often touching him in a way that was more like petting a cat. While he knew he shouldn't get attached again -- Giles would be expecting him to leave soon enough -- he was surprised at how much he enjoyed the contact. There were vague feelings half-remembered of a dream last night, as if he and Willow were connected mentally and she'd been right inside his head, but he couldn't pull up any details. Certainly the witch had been inside his head before; it wouldn't be anything new.
Both of them puttered and chattered around the flat for the better part of the day until Giles grew increasingly agitated. For what reason, Spike didn't know, but then the geezer shoved them out the door and it didn't matter. "I have a long distance telephone call to make, and I need quiet," was all he said, as if they were merely screaming five-year-olds running maniacally around the house instead of a couple of morose adults trying to come to grips with their murderous histories.
They both stood blinking in the sunlight on the steps, wondering what had happened.
Spike turned to her. "Well, where do you wanna go? Could nick a car, go for a drive."
All he got was a mock frown. "Um... I don't know. It's weird, I mean, I've been here for a couple months now, but I've never really wandered around town or anything. We've been mostly out at the coven's estate, and I've spent most of my time in the country."
"Sounds like a convent or something." He shivered, remembering a time when the four of them, Angelus, Darla, Dru, and he, had wiped out a convent in a matter of hours. It hadn't been enough to just kill and feed; he and Angelus had raped their way through it, and Dru and Darla had done their fair share. Angelus had taken great glee in defiling as many of them inside their chapel as possible. Spike's stomach spasmed with the need to vomit; he took deep breaths to regain some control.
She laughed, though, and made it all right again. "No, it's way cooler than that. They're... they're great ladies. I've learned a lot."
Spike was staring at her in that way he had, dark eyebrows pulled together and the big crease in the middle of his forehead. Almost scowly. "You learnt all that stuff you knew on your own? You never had any guidance before?"
"Well, no... I mean. No. Giles used to chastise me. He thought I shouldn't be getting into it, and I had such a crush on him that I felt like I had to prove something. Show him how good I could be. Maybe he saw whatever's in me and all along he knew it would lead to this."
Starting off down the street, Spike said lightly, "Doubt it. He probably just reckoned you needed something like your own version of a Watcher. Might have been easier in the end. You had a crush on Rupert?" he asked incredulously, while she made a sheepish face. "Huh. Well, I guess it's not like Giles is a bad-looking bloke. He has a certain style when he tries."
That made her want to laugh. Those two would hiss and spit at each other until the apocalypse. "You were really mad yourself when I resurrected Buffy." They'd never discussed it, but she knew what he'd said -- Anya's mouth was way too big to keep that a secret.
"Yeah. I was. The thing you did wrong was not understanding that there are consequences. Or maybe you refused to believe there would be, that you were above them. That's what pissed me off. But you know that now. Magic's always got the nasty loopholes and clauses and lingering aftereffects."
"No shit. Thank you, Gandalf."
He smiled. "Hey, that's what we could do -- we could go see a movie, yeah?"
"Oh! Yeah, that would be great! Something cheesy and lame. An action movie or stupid comedy."
"What, no foreign dramas about dysfunctional families? Sweeping epics about fighting world-destroying evil?"
"Brrrrr."
"Gotta warn you, though. Brit theatres... not like Yank ones."
"That's okay. We'll have a good time. Then we could get something to eat afterwards."
Willow and Spike walked down the hill towards the center of town, each lost in thought, as if their momentum to be normal stopped whenever their mouths did.
"So, do you... do you, like, think about blood anymore? Or does it gross you out?"
"Oh! Oh, no, I don't really even think about it. Suppose I ought to test it out, see what happens. But there's no appeal, not like a nice trifle or a good pint of bitter or something."
"You know, everyone told me the food would be terrible here, but it's not! I've found all kinds of things I like, especially the scones and the clotted cream."
"Cream teas!" Spike said gleefully. "Oh yeah... I'd totally forgot them, and it's great sitting in some cozy little caff with a nice cup of milky tea and some scones."
"I like the English version of scones a lot better. And oh! Giles and I were in Cornwall, and my god, Cornish cream is like heaven on earth. You can just hear your arteries clogging."
"Yeah. Those American behemoths they call scones are not the real thing. I read somewhere that scones themselves aren't what's supposed to get the attention. That the scone is merely a vehicle for butter, cream, and jam. Sounds about right to me."
"Yeah."
They were silent until they reached the theatre, where they found the earliest showing they could of the most mindless movie they could. Willow watched him occasionally, wondering what it must feel like to sit there with Buffy's best friend, thousands of miles from Sunnydale, believing his life was destroyed -- at least, the life he wanted.
He had such an unusual profile, and she'd never really thought of him as a hottie before, but judging from the way many of the young women around them had acted, she'd been missing the obvious. He shared his movie snacks with her, and she would smile at him each time she took something. Fortunately the movie wasn't worth paying attention to. All she could think about was her history with him, the entire Scooby history with him, and try to order this new being in her brain. If he knew Willow was constantly watching him, though, he never showed it, and she liked him even more for that.
They went to a pub for dinner, and Spike regaled Willow with stories of real life in the Victorian era, which she seemed to find appropriately fascinating. If she was pretending, he was indebted to her for the kindness. Afterwards they started back up the hill to Giles's. Spike was still anxiously trying to work out in his mind how he could ask about her decision regarding transmogrifying him, when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his skin tingle.
He stopped. "I think... I think something's... oh, bloody hell." Coming slowly out of the darkness were two vampires. Paralyzed, he stared helplessly at Willow. They both looked around, scanning for any kind of a wooden or bladed weapon, but all Spike saw were trees along a street lined with cars. The vamp closest to Willow snarled low in his chest and sprang at her. Scared into action, Spike sprinted to the nearest tree as Willow screamed and flailed at the vampire. He wouldn't know that she was a seasoned veteran of vamp attacks, some of them Spike's own.
He grabbed a branch and yanked. Nothing happened. He threw all his force behind it. All it did was bend. He pushed it the other direction and then pulled hard. Still nothing happened. Fucking hell.
The other vampire was now making a run for him so he zigzagged towards Willow, who had managed to poke her fingers in her opponent's eyes, disabling him for just a moment. Spike grabbed her hand and pelted hard towards an alley, hoping that in the rubbish there would be something wooden or sharp. But Willow's vampire caught up with them, latched on to her other arm, and hauled her back. Spike stopped to look down at the ground, spying a produce crate under a pile of bags. Just as Willow screamed, Spike stomped on the crate and bent to grab a broken slat. He wasn't sure he had the strength to ram it into the vamp's chest, but it would have to do. Just as he rose and pivoted with his makeshift stake, he was hit with a blinding light and a hammer of air that knocked him off his feet. The vampire fell on top of him, and Spike limply raised the slat, driving it down on his foe's back. He staggered to his feet but didn't turn to dust, the slat fixed in the middle of his back like a lever. But when he snarled and crouched to pounce, Spike didn't notice, because he was trying to see past the vibrating wall of light.
She was standing right inside of it while the vamp beside her was engulfed in flames, shrieking and wailing. Turning towards Spike, Willow's obsidian eyes shone in the glow, exactly as they had in his dream. His feet were stuck to the ground.
In one swift motion she raised her left hand and sent a bolt of lightning at the other vamp, who also went up in flames. The crackle of energy glanced off him to hit Spike sideways. He flew into the side of the skip, dazed, not certain if the dimming of the light was him sliding into unconsciousness or Willow's Light of Death going out.
As the light faded it tore through Willow's body, leaving her shaking. She stood there for a moment, trying to regroup, feeling the power drain away down the back of her mind. Blackness closed over her. Finally she crawled back out of it and looked around for Spike.
The back of his head was bleeding when she got to him, and he lay sprawled on the cobbled street of the alley, flecks of wilted produce clinging to his jacket and jeans. But he was conscious. She extended a hand. He neglected to take it, raising himself up first on his elbows, then leaning back against the Dumpster. Willow sat down on the remains of the crate he'd broken and cried.
"Oh, now, don't start with the waterworks." Only there was no anger to his voice, just a soft resignation.
"I'm sorry, Spike. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Nah, just... stop it, all right?" She didn't know if he was more upset because of the flinging, or because he hadn't been able to save her from the vamps now that he was human.
"I... I..." and then she lost it completely. After sobbing for a while she looked at Spike, who just sat there, staring at her with glazed-over eyes. She couldn't bear to ask him what he was thinking, but asked anyway.
"My head is still playing Flight of the Bumblebee. I'll have to get back to you." He didn't know what to say to her, really. But he knew now with certainty what her answer would be about giving his vampire status back. You could tell yourself you knew what a person was capable of, but until you actually saw it... Maybe it had been the same for those people he'd known when human to confront his vampire self for the first time. How did you prepare for coming face to face with the wildness unleashed inside a safe, familiar form?
They'd both dug themselves into their own holes and now had to climb out, separate and alone. The answer had to be no, because to try to help him meant her own certain failure. He felt so sorry for her, sorrier than he felt for himself, even. Willow didn't really see what she truly was, and Giles still hadn't taught her that.
"We should probably go," she said in between hitching breaths. "People could have seen what happened and the cops might come."
"When my legs mend, we can go." He tried to stand, but they were still too rubbery. His head had the entire Seventh Cavalry riding through it at a gallop.
"Are you that badly hurt? Should I call an ambulance?'
"Dunno. Never felt like this before. Kinda... kinda reminds me of when Glory got her claws in me."
An anguished little wail came trailing out between her lips. She put her hand over her mouth. All these months of trying to control herself, and this was all it took. Spike wouldn't understand the terror Willow experienced at losing control, at killing again, even if they were just vampires. Right now, demon slaying was still too much like slaying of any kind, and slaying rhymed with flaying... and that was a whole thing she couldn't deal with. Giles would be so disappointed in her. What if she never did get better? What if they could never help her with it, and they had to lock her in some kind of protective cell, like Magneto?
"I don't have the words to say how sorry I am. I just... I was afraid and neither of us is strong enough to take on two big vamps and this isn't Sunnydale. Please, please forgive me, Spike." The corners of her mouth pulled down, and more tears swam at the edges of her eyes.
"I had no idea. I mean, I've seen you put the whammy on people; hell, I've had you put the whammy on me. Watched you take on Glory. But what Giles said... didn't really mean anything. Didn't get it."
"This is everything I'm afraid of. What if the coven can't help me? What if I do it again?"
Spike's hand snapped out and he grabbed her wrist hard. "What if. You could spend your life with the what ifs. That's what's wrong with you now."
She made no move to take her arm away, but she was afraid of him. There was a light in his eyes that was dangerous, like old Spike. Like a vampire. "What do you -- what do you mean?"
"Red. Listen to me. This isn't new. It's always been there. A person gets turned, the demon doesn't replace what was in them, it just takes over. The good gets pushed out by the evil, and the evil doesn't just materialize out of thin air. The demon is part of what we all have inside us. It was always there."
She thought suddenly of herself as a vampire, of how frightening it was to see that part of herself unleashed. And how malevolently fascinating it had been. "What are you saying? That I was always going to be evil?"
"Are you being deliberately thick?" He ran his hand over hers, clamped it hard. "I'm saying both things exist in you, good and bad, always have. Stop trying to pretend the bad doesn't exist. It'll kill you. You can't control it till you admit it's there."
She stared at him for a long time, until the edge of the crate poking into her ass motivated her to stand up. Holding on to his hand, Willow yanked Spike up from the ground and brushed the lettuce bits off. But she didn't let go of his hand.
When Giles heard them downstairs, he went to the kitchen and snapped, "What is this? A transport caff? You're going to eat me out of house and home."
"We were hungry," Willow said around a mouthful of sausage roll.
"Spike has been hungry since he got here, it seems. I'm going to have to go shopping now, and I haven't time for this, I really haven't."
"And how long did your phone call take?" Spike asked disingenuously.
Giles really hated the way Spike was able to conjure up such an angelic face at times. "It... there were things to do... I think I have a right to some private time, don't you? This isn't the bloody Plaza."
"Course. That's why we're down here eating, so we won't bother you. We've been gone for hours, though, you know."
Giles rolled his eyes. Then he noticed that Spike was covered in flecks of what looked like... produce. "What the hell happened to you?"
Willow's mouth twisted in a grimace, and her eyes went huge. "We were attacked. By vampires. Which, you know, seems really wrong here in Bath, if you ask me. This just doesn't seem like a vampire town."
"Any town is a vampire town," Giles said. He sat down opposite Spike and took the last piece of the very expensive Stilton wheel that Spike had demolished in his three days here. Spike mock-scowled at him. "How did you come to be covered in refuse?"
"Uh. Well." Spike looked to Willow, who just stared down at the table. "Our girl had a bit of a setback, in a way, but she saved my arse, so there's mitigating factors."
Willow finally gathered enough strength to look at Giles. "I killed them. It just came out of me -- light and fire. I didn't even... I couldn't stop it."
"You were trying to protect yourself," Giles said quietly.
That eased her worries, just a little, that he would be disappointed in her. As she and Spike had walked back to the flat, they'd talked around what he'd said to her in the alley. Willow knew he was probably right. She'd have to learn both sides of her character before she could really understand that interconnectedness the coven was trying to teach her about.
The hardest thing had been to see Spike's sad acceptance. It reminded her of those learned helplessness experiments on dogs that she'd read about in psych classes. Somehow he'd known, seeing her use her powers like that, that she couldn't help him, not right now at least, and his silent acceptance of it broke her heart into thousands of pieces. Maybe worst of all was knowing he would leave now, and Willow did not want him to go. She loved the way he called her Red, how comfortable he acted, and most of all, that he didn't treat her with kid gloves. He wasn't casual or dismissive of what she'd done, but he didn't act like she was something to run from, either. Willow imagined not many people, maybe not even Buffy and Xander, would ever treat her as normal again.
Sighing, Willow said, "There's protection and then there's, you know, flame on."
"You did what you needed to do, Willow. That's what you're here to learn about -- how to tell the difference." Giles's voice was stern, but his face was kind.
Spike watched her carefully to see if the cracks would show, but the girl was holding herself together well. There was strength inside she didn't know about. He'd miss her; knew he'd see her back in Sunny D eventually, but it still felt like a loss when he'd only just found someone who understood what he was going through.
"Anyway," Giles said, clearing his throat. "About that phone call. I think I may have something for you to pursue in the event that Willow can't help you..." Spike was shaking his head and making a cutting motion across his throat while Giles spoke. "What?"
"She can't help me. Or at least, she shouldn't, not now. You were right."
Willow got that stricken expression, and he sat up straighter. "Don't come over all weepy again, I'm not brassed or anything. Just the way it is right now. I made my own bed." To Giles he said, "If you'll let me kip here tonight, I'll go in the morning."
"Of course you can, don't be ridiculous. But look, I did have an idea and I think it may pan out."
Willow raised her eyebrows and stared at him hopefully. Christ, she was so cute it hurt. It wasn't like how he felt about Buffy, but... a bloke could want to try it on with her, that was certain. If she wasn't already inclined other ways.
"I took the liberty of calling Angel's detective team--"
"Oh, sod that! No you don't! I'm not going crawling to that bastard--"
"Spike," Giles said coldly, bringing him up short. "I'm not asking you to. There is someone who works with Angel, someone who may be able to find a way to get you what you want. He's a former watcher, actually."
"Wesley?" Willow squeaked. "You gotta be kidding. We're talking some serious firepower here. Wesley would burn himself lighting a match."
Giles pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I know this is very big. And while I haven't kept in close contact with him, I have had some ongoing communication and he's really rather... changed."
Willow snorted. "Aren't we all." Spike grinned at her.
"Well, yes. And he's become quite an expert in the field of demonology, not to mention magicks both dark and light. He has managed to amass an astonishing collection of books, from what I understand. He may just be your man."
"Wow, Wes. I mean... he was like the doofiest of doofs, ever. The crown prince of doofuses. Doofi?"
"I can assure you the doofus has been beaten out of him."
If that was all that was left to him, Spike thought, taking a deep breath, then he supposed he had to check it out. But he wasn't certain how he could even approach such a task. It wasn't like Angel would welcome him in and start doling out his friends' help based on their past chumminess.
Giles held something out. "Consider this a gift." It was an airline ticket to Los Angeles.
"I don't think I can take this."
Willow put her hand on his arm. "Don't be stubborn. Okay? Stubborn is what always gets people in trouble."
Women. Always telling him what to do. But he couldn't stand the tremble of her mouth and the way her eyes glistened. Nodding, he took the ticket. "Don't know how I could ever repay you."
"You'll find a way," Giles said. "I trust that much about you now."
It was almost enough to make a fella want to cry.
End Ch. 2
My lovely cover art by X. Don't take or distribute in any way.
6/18/03