Breathe out, so I can breathe you in
Buffy picked her way along the unfinished sidewalk in front of the unfinished house, stepping over broken concrete and roots poking up through the cracks. All this time living in Sunnydale and she'd never been out here to the Estates. Giles must have been seriously asleep on the job for not telling her there was a whole demon squatter community here; though, she supposed, if it was mostly demons just trying to get by and not bothering anyone, like Clem, then maybe there was a good reason he'd never ponied up the info. Or maybe he'd just never found out about it, since even Spike said it was kind of a community secret even he hadn't known about till he started hanging with Clem. Heck, maybe there was even a glamour on it, and other demons and people couldn't even see it. Buffy had always thought Clem was a good influence on Spike -- and in some ways, this seemed like more proof that Clem was (kitten poker aside) trying to keep Spike on the up and up. Still, Spike's choice to remain living with demons... it was hard to get a handle on. He hadn't been obligated to come here, to try to fit in again. He didn't have to wear the demony cloak, especially the good demony cloak, yet it was, she supposed, his only real connection to her. At least, that might be how he saw it. She'd almost kind of given up trying to get him to see her side of the whole thing.
Buffy knocked on the door; really, though, maybe that was more politeness than a squatter home deserved? Spike was used to people coming in and out of his space. Except, she remembered, that he'd hated it -- accepted it, yeah, but liked it? Never. Everything felt so weird and bad-dream-freaky lately. All the things that had passed between them had carved such a huge chasm that despite her efforts to set things right, to build a friendship again, she didn't think she could bridge it.
From an upstairs window, Spike poked his head out. "Slayer!" he yelped. "Hang about for a mo."
She heard running footsteps and then some whooshing sounds, pattering and clattering; eventually the door opened and Spike scowled at her. "What you doin' here?"
"What, have you got a girl in there, or something? What's with all the surprisey face and running around like a chipmunk on 'roids?"
He swept a hand inside, ushering her in. "I wasn't expecting visitors."
"Aaand that would answer my question how?" She looked around. Nearly empty except for a few necessities like lamps, a chair... not much different from the disheveled mess that he'd had at the crypt.
"No girls. I was asleep." He crossed his arms in front of his chest tightly, and she realized that he was still very uncomfortable around her. Probably especially uncomfortable with her visiting him in his new place.
"I like it. It's almost like a real house. So all this time, there've been demons here, huh?"
"Apparently so. Very much on the down-low, though. Most of them I've met are harmless; they probably didn't want the nasties twigging to the fact that they were here at all."
"Well, at least it's a roof over your head, and it's not damp and moldy or has dead things."
They watched each other warily for a moment, uncertain how the other would respond, both of them wondering about the memories that would dredge up. Finally Buffy moved off to give herself a tour, Spike following.
"You sleep a lot these days, don't you?"
"Afraid so."
"Because of the coming back wrong thing."
He flinched, but nodded with that skeptical look he was so practiced at. Everything she said or did seemed to arouse some kind of suspicion or doubt in him. Would they ever be able to get back on some kind of level ground with each other?
Halfway up the stairs she paused and turned to face him. "I'm sorry about the other night. I didn't know how to react to all of that. And I'm sort of tired of all the sooper sekrit stuff going on, with people seeing and knowing and the not telling to the slayer. I was kind of hoping... wishing we'd gotten past that, you know?"
"Course."
"And I shouldn't have yelled at you but when you started yelling back it kind of made me madder."
"Well, you see, that's why I'd kept it secret. I wanted to find a way to tell you that wasn't shocking. And because I didn't really know how to tell you about the other things."
"Aren't you afraid?" She came down a couple steps, standing almost eye to eye with him.
"All the time."
"Spike... there has to be something we can do. Isn't there?" She put her hand to his face, and his skin was so cool. But not vampire cool anymore, more like that kind of sick clammy cold. From sleeping, she guessed, but... it was so weird.
"Not so's Wes and Giles tell it. I think the only one who may be able to do it is Willow. And she's not ready for that. God only knows what I might end up as. Toad would be one of the better possibilities. But it's more than simply reciting a spell, I'm meant to believe, or so Wes says. Rituals and incantations and cycles of the moon, or something like that. 'less I want to be turned the old-fashioned way, and that means sans soul. Since it's never been done before, no one knows for dead cert."
"You and Willow spent some time together, didn't you?"
He arched an eyebrow.
"I talked to her today. She and Giles are coming back tomorrow. I was thinking of having a little party or something. It might be easier since I think it's gonna be kind of awkward."
"Uh... not sure that's a good idea, Buff."
Buffy sat down on the step, and after a minute's hesitation, Spike joined her. The wood was cold on her ass; it looked as if the carpet had been laid only on the ground floor before they abandoned this place. "I take it you know something else you're not telling me?"
Scratching his neck -- the bite still hurt and even though Wes and Fred had found a potion to heal wounds, it never really cleared up all the way -- and considered the best way to tell her. "She... we... were attacked by a vamp pack one night. I was next to useless in fighting them off, but she worked some black mojo on them and turned them into--" he waved his hands dramatically in the air "--big giant fireballs of death. Bird packs a wicked punch, too -- got hit with a blast of energy or something that knocked me into a skip."
"Oh my god."
"Well, wasn't as dramatic as all that, but she hit a bit of a rough patch getting through it. Told her my theories on it, but I don't know what all ended up happening after I left."
"Do you think she could step over the line again?"
The possibility had occurred to him, but he mulled it over. "Nah, I think she's better, really. She just... has a lot of doubts about herself she needs to work out."
"Is Giles helping?"
"Think so. But low-key is the way to go on anything for-she's-a-jolly-good-fellow."
"I get that. Okay. Maybe just a little friends welcome home."
"Good idea."
"You'll come?" It was the way she asked, almost pleading, that threw him. He smelled the leather of her jacket, the tuberose and gardenia scents within the perfume she wore. Cucumber, too, which must have been the shampoo. There were times he still felt as if he had all his vampire senses intact, especially when he was around Buffy. Though he had no idea what that could possibly mean.
"Well, yeah. Sure."
They sat on the step for a while until Buffy glanced at him curiously. "Hey. I was thinking. You can, like, go outside in the daylight and stuff now, right?"
"Yeeesss..."
"You wanna do something? Shame to waste a Saturday afternoon. And before, we could never do anything during the day. It would be fun!"
"What exactly do you think would be fun?" It wasn't that he disdained the idea of an afternoon with her, not at all, but this seemed rather out of the ordinary. Having "fun" with him had never exactly been on her To Do list before.
"Well, I don't know. Something." She put her thinking face on. Spike loved her thinking face, the crease in the middle of her brow, the way her mouth pursed into a little O. "Hey! When I was a kid, my parents took me to this cool place out on Highway 10 that had these big giant plaster dinosaurs. I thought it was really cool. You could go up into the brontosaurus where there was a gift shop. I saw it on the Travel Channel or whatever the other day... and I just wanted to go back so bad when I saw that."
"Reminds you of your folks being together."
"I guess. Well, yeah. But more than that, it was just fun. I always liked road trips when I was a kid. Mom once told me that she had to put me in the car sometimes and drive me around to get me to go to sleep."
"Funny that, you being the non-driver and all."
"Maybe I just like it when others do the driving." She flashed a charming, aw-shucks smile that left him with butterflies flittering around in his stomach.
"All right then, dinosaurs it is. Dawn coming, or is it a private party?"
"She has dance class."
"Dance class? Oh, you are getting very normal suburban, aren't you?"
"After last year, I wanted to try to give her something as close to normal as possible. When she was a kid... well, my memories of the girl the monks created... she had dance class all through childhood."
For the first time Spike dared to really touch Buffy, and put his palm to her cheek, pushing her hair back behind her ear. "You're a good big sis. Much better than you know."
She moved her hand up and down, playing airplane within the stream of desert air that swept over arm. Even with sunglasses the bright light out here was so startling. The minute you got out of town, away from that film of brown haze that extended all the way up to Santa Barbara and down to San Diego, everything felt different. Spike tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the radio, occasionally glancing her way, smiling. He looked so gaunt and worn down out here in the light, but she had never had the chance to see him like this, in the sunshine. Except once, and they'd been busy trying to kill each other, so that really didn't count.
"So, Palm Springs, eh?" Spike asked.
"Yeah. All the time, at least, it felt like that back then. Mom and Dad played tennis, so it was always this resort holiday thing. We were bored up the wazoo. That was before tanning by the poolside and chasing boys, though."
"You never struck me as the boy-chasing type. Should think they always came after you."
"Mostly." She smiled at him, unable to resist being happy when he was grinning like that. His sharp white teeth still seemed very vampirey.
"You getting all nostalgic again?"
"Not so much. No danger of killing my friends so I can stay locked away in my cozy mental insane asylum or anything."
"Good to know."
"But Willow coming home... this stuff with the Bringers... I think in some ways it's made me want to ramp up the fun. Do relaxy non-slayer things. I have this weird bad feeling kind of sitting in the back of my mind, like all of this, even you... the humanness, it means something."
"Such as?" Spike cut out around someone to pass, muttering darkly in British obscenities.
"Just... Big Doings. Some of the dreams, they're kind of apocalyptic. Not that I don't already get that a lot -- you know, apocalypse yawn, but it gives me a reason to want to do the whole carp dime thing."
"Carpe. Carp's a fish. And diem for day, not dime." There was a bemused look on his face. "Though I reckon you could say fish the day, too. I think we're there," Spike said, waving a hand at the landscape ahead. "Unless those are real dinosaurs and we've just landed in Jurassic Desert." On the horizon they could just see the head of a brontosaurus. Or something, he wasn't entirely sure he knew his dinosaurs. All of that came long after his time. Most of the creature was obscured by restaurant signs anyway.
"Oh, cool!" Buffy squealed, bouncing in her seat. Really, if he'd had any idea all it took to get her this jolly and excited was a drive out to Cabazon to see some plaster dinos, he'd have nicked a car and hit the gas way back when. Xander he might have expected this from, but most certainly not Buffy. They pulled in to park and she was out of the Jeep like a rocket, beelining for the T. Rex. They had to visit each dinosaur, including the wee added-on-later fellows who didn't seem to get as much attention as the big two, and Buffy demanded Spike take her picture at each one. Then they had to go up into the belly of the... Apatosaurus, it said in the shop, where Spike amused himself by watching Buffy pick up ridiculous merchandise for everyone in Sunnydale. She truly was the most adorable thing when she got like this, all pocket-sized sweetness and cheerleader glee. Finally he was able to tear her away for a food break.
Across the way at the A&W, they sat outside with a couple of root beer floats and enjoyed the heat of a desert afternoon. It was really the first time he'd ever just chatted with Buffy about mundanities -- she told him more about her childhood, and asked him questions about what things had been like when he was growing up. Angel had told him once that Buffy didn't like talking about his human life, as if that made her all too conscious of the strange situation and the fact that she had feelings for someone she was supposed to be enemies with. And Spike had always noticed that she rarely responded to remarks he made about being alive. Maybe now that he was human again, it had warmed her to the topic, or maybe it was just his impending demise. Regardless of the reason, he enjoyed it. As it got on toward sunset she asked if they could go back to the dinos one more time, like she'd never have the chance to simply drive out here and recapture a bit of her childhood again. Spike was beginning to think there was a lot more apocalypse in her imagination than she was willing to let on. They drove back across the street, but this time when she got out, she was more serious, concentrating.
As she stood on top of a little turtley thing, silhouetted by the deepening orange pink of the sunset, Spike thought he saw more of the little girl still inside her than any other time he'd known her. Gazing down at him, Buffy put her hands on either side of his face, stroking her palms over his cheeks. "Thank you for a great day," she said quietly. "The kind of day I don't really get to have much."
"Glad I could be of service." That was all he could say, really -- normal had never been in their vocabulary, and so a normal, fun, wasted afternoon doing silly things had never been an opportunity. And that she was willing to ask him -- her old enemy, the one who attacked her -- to be part of this opportunity meant so much that he would never have the vocabulary to truly express it. He could only gaze up at her mournful face with the eyes that turned down so sadly at the outside corners, smile at her as if to say something deeper, more important.
Her ability to forgive seemed boundless; no matter how hard done by she was, Buffy always found some way back to the people she cared for. The strangest thing, Spike realized as she put her arms around his neck and he helped her hop down, was that she included him in that category now.
Buffy kissed him lightly on the mouth, her lips tasting of root beer and vanilla, and then she grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the car. In the pantheon of kisses it was average and unremarkable; to Spike, though, it was the zenith of kissing achievement, carrying a significance for greater than any mere pressing together of mouths could hold. He put the car in gear and tried hard not to give in to the smug smile he was fairly sure was growing on his face anyway.
Each time Spike glanced over at the other three Scoobies that made up their little airport welcome committee, he was seized with a desire to grab Xander's ridiculous yellow sign and bash him about the head with it. Partly his simmering rage was based on the fact that they wouldn't listen to him, maintaining a jittery, wary chatter that wouldn't stop, ignoring the fact that he'd told them Red was okay and wouldn't turn them into a big flamey ball of molten lava the instant she stepped off the airway. But mostly, really, his annoyance came from Xander and that absurd sign, and Xander's unceasing loop retelling the yellow crayon story that saved the world. Much as he was grateful that anything at all had saved it, in fact, the low- to nonexistent self-esteem driving Xander to repeat the story ad nauseum was enough to cause a fellow to lose it and kill everyone in a spree of good old-fashioned violence.
Finally passengers began disembarking. When Willow got off the plane Spike thought briefly about hiding. As if he didn't have the right to be here with this close-knit group, so tied together by things he could never fully understand. He hung back to let the main group have their reunion. But then after all the hugs and kisses and tears of joy and recrimination, he was pummeled by Red when she hurled herself at him, shouting, "Spike!" and squeezing the bejesus out of his not-especially-healthy lungs. "You're really here, I'm so happy!"
Prying her off him, he said, "Couldn't miss your homecoming, yeah?"
She stood back, brushing herself off, looking a bit embarrassed. "Sorry, got a little carried away. All those months with reticent British types."
"The feelings, they just explode out of you once you're back on home soil," he said dryly.
"Well, yeah, especially when they've been locked away keeping a stiff upper lip."
Xander slid between them. "So hey, welcome home," he said, except he was facing Spike. A clear warning to get out of the way, since this homecoming was for the real Superfriends only. All that did was make Spike more eager to keep Willow close to him. Spike narrowed his eyes and grinned, getting ready to strike.
"Hey! Hey!" Buffy said, stepping in with a perky warning smile. "Party time at my house!" She took Willow's arm and began steering her to the baggage claim. "Not, like, a big scary party, like my welcome home that one time -- just us. But I thought it might be nice to have some food and etcetera to get you readjusted to West Coast time. I was reading an article that says eating a light meal and trying to stay up as late as you can might help you readjust more quickly."
"Or I could do a spell." Willow watched Buffy's face contort into a rictus of anxiety, but she couldn't hold her serious on very long. "I'm kidding! Oh god, I can see it's gonna be a long time before there will be jokes allowed." She put her hands over her eyes.
Dawn piped up from behind, "It might be a good idea for a while if you do that wink wink, nudge nudge thing, just to let us know you're not planning to kill anyone again. Sort of like training wheels and then we'll tell you when you can take them off."
Willow glanced sideways and raised her eyebrows. She was ready for this, she was, even though she felt monumentally tense and nervous. They would have to joke about the death and destruction, it was their way of getting through such crazy events. But still she wasn't sure just how much was coming from an attempt to lighten things up, and how much was residual anger. Not that they didn't have a right to it. It would be a while before everything settled down. And if they never forgave all the way, she understood that, too.
Maybe that's why it was so easy to deal with Spike. They'd already been through it all. As they walked to baggage claim, he leaned over and asked, sotto voce, "We could escape if you're interested. I'll create a distraction and then... clean getaway."
She smiled. "I'll tough it out. It's part of the program, anyway."
He nodded. She got the distinct impression he'd been through all the steps before. When they got home, she would definitely have to ask him how it had all gone over enough so that they would invite him to the airport.
They found the carousel and everyone stood around awkwardly for a second, until Willow suddenly remembered the most important news of all. "I can't believe I almost forgot about this!" she blurted, and everyone turned an interested face toward her, hoping to be saved from uncomfortable small talk questions. "You know how Giles was coming in later? It's gonna be more later than that -- Buffy, the council... it was blown up yesterday. All of them. Or most of them, there was a big meeting that Giles grumbled about not being invited to. The whole building came down."
Buffy blinked a few times, obviously shaken, but trying to appear strong. It could go either way when she was like that, and Willow wasn't sure if she was going to belt her for not telling sooner -- or maybe better -- or start crying.
"They blew up? H-How?"
Xander whistled. "Well, that's one way to get them off your back."
Dawn punched him on the arm.
"Hey! Watch the ow!"
Willow shot him a look. "They don't know for sure what happened, but there were a couple of watchers who weren't there, including Giles, and they're trying to figure things out. One of them knew what the meeting was about. Something about First Evil or First Blood or something. I didn't really get it all. Giles was kind of... he went into full librarian mode. Very stern and ready for work, the heroic dignity face."
"Kind of like Braveheart, but with research," Xander said, nodding sagely.
"Well, shock, more like it," Willow responded.
Buffy walked over to the long Plexiglas board that listed all the phone numbers and locations of area hotels, and leaned down on it, trying to catch her breath. As much as she'd grown to hate the council and everything they stood for, she couldn't wish all of them dead. Maybe a couple of them, but not everyone. And certainly not like that, not at this time. Worse, maybe, was that she might have been able to warn them. In a dream the other night, she'd seen something like it. Buffy had thought for certain it was only just more of the general sense of apocalypsy weirdness that infected her sleep. After all, nothing else in the dreams had come to pass yet -- the robed guys were familiar, but no potential slayers had been knifed that she knew of. So why had the council been blown up? How were they connected, and did this mean her dreams were more than just foreshadowing? If she dreamed a million dollars, would she suddenly get it?
Willow put her hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Buff, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you like that. I forgot and then it was sort of... I guess I never thought you'd well, of course you'd care. Stupid of me not to think you would."
"It's not that. I have no love lost for them, not at all." She sucked in a huge breath, let it out. Tried to center herself. "I saw it in a dream a few days ago. I should have said something, warned them. I don't owe them much, but there's still a connection, even if I don't want it."
"You you saw it? Them getting all blowed up?"
"Not specifically. It's hard to explain. But I knew it was the council and I knew they were gone. And that something terrible had happened."
"You always did get the creeptastic dreams as part of the slayer package."
"No kidding. There are these other things, like I think I'm seeing potential slayers who could be called, and they're getting killed off by these creepy guys, the ones I called you and Giles about the other day."
"This is getting kind of..."
"Disturbing? Welcome to my world, won't you come on in?"
"I was going to say big, but disturbing will do, too."
From behind them, Spike said, "Because nothing like that happens very often round here."
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at Spike. "It was the Bringers. Harbingers. Whatever the hell they're called."
"You know that for sure?" he asked, though Spike mostly just asked things like that because he was trying to get her to think ahead, not because he doubted her ability to figure things out.
"Well, unless they find some surveillance tape of ooky little robed guys with their eyes sewn shut and their tongues cut out skulking around the council headquarters, my slayer dreams are probably the best we're going to get. But they've usually been pretty reliable before."
"No worries. I know you see things. Maybe we should give Giles a call, eh? Let him know what we know."
"He's got a cell now, right?"
Willow nodded. "That's the number you got him on the other day. We were out in a big field."
"Giles and technology... it kind of boggles the mind, doesn't it?" Buffy asked.
"Oh hey, my bag!" Willow shrieked, and bounced off to go get it.
Buffy looked at Spike. "Remember how I was convinced that all the fun was going to end soon?"
"The burden of always being right weighs heavy on the shoulders," he said acidly. "You're a veritable Cassandra."
"Who?"
"Never mind. We'll do the mythology tutoring later."
"Whatever. My gut says there won't be much time for road trips and root beer floats anymore." She sighed and grabbed Spike's hand, and the look of shock on his face was worth the suspicion and scorn that Xander instantly shot her way. "Come on. I have a feeling we've got some world-saveage coming up."
The party was a little too small to call a party, really. Clem was there, though hanging to the side of the room, watching Willow suspiciously, jumpier and more scattershot than ever. Anya had decided to come, even though she was still nursing a deep grudge against Willow, and the group in general. It would have been better with Giles, but he wouldn't be joining them for at least another day or two, depending on how the situation with the council sorted itself out.
They all had a chance to talk to Willow, except Clem who pretty much stayed in the corner with the lamp. Buffy was glad that everyone was getting a lot of the water swept under the bridge, or something like that. Spike always corrected her about getting sayings wrong, enough so that her head swam with metaphors and similes. She should be annoyed with him for that sort of thing, but it actually endeared him to her more.
"Looks like Will and Dawn are mending the proverbial fences," Xander said from her left. Buffy glanced up at him and nodded. "I was kind of leery of that one. Not that I expect the ice to thaw with Anya and Will anytime soon, but Dawnie... she had a lot of baggage already."
"Yeah, things were pretty tense anyway, after the accident. I think it's easier sometimes when you're all going through the crap times together and you're the same age, trying to work everything out. Dawn didn't have the same frame of reference."
"Oh, listen to Counselor Buffy! You almost sound like you know what you're talking about."
Buffy smiled, trying not to look smug. "Remember once you were finding out you had a special talent for carpentry?"
"Point taken. Score one for the Buffster."
"You seem unusually chipper."
"Well, I am. Spike's sinister presence aside, it's nice to have the old gang back -- minus Giles, I know -- and that shiny happy people feeling. Even if it we know it won't last long, it's... it's good. Feels like a family again."
"I know what you mean. Spike and I went out for a drive yesterday, just out to the desert, and for a little while I felt like my life was almost... average."
Xander looked sideways at her. "You're liking his humanness, aren't you?" He had to admit to a certain grudging pleasure at knowing Spike could no longer kill him like he was an ant, and it did tend to make him more forgiving of Spike.
She sighed heavily, playing with the fringe on her shirt. "It's not that, not really." Then she looked up at him, and her eyes were abruptly filled with a kind of pain and tenderness he hadn't seen in them since back in the Angel days. "I think he was right a long time ago when he said I needed a little monster in my man. Hard as it is to admit it, more and more, I'm realizing he was right. A lot of the things I liked about him before, the things that made us friends before we... before everything went weird, they were sort of part of his vampireness. And he's so unhappy. Maybe it's because he's going to die -- or thinks he is -- but he really believes he's better off being a vampire. He just wanted a soul. To be better. And that makes me feel very... affectionate, I guess, towards him. I don't know. I don't know how to make it make sense."
Xander had never thought of it that way, how tied to the supernatural world Buffy's feelings were. But he got that, he really did, especially because it was like a bell ringing in his head: that was what he'd loved about Anya, in a way. Her learning to accept her humanity, her desire to do the right thing, even if she didn't understand it all. And that she'd done it because she loved him... He could feel the corners of his mouth tugging downward, something stinging at the back of his eyes. So he squeezed Buffy's arm and nodded, and then went into the kitchen. As he passed by Anya and Willow, he heard Anya say, "I should hope you'd want to help rebuild the Magic Box, since you're the one responsible for its destruction!"
For a long time he'd wanted to blame it on her, believe that she'd taken D'Hoffryn's offer and changed back because that was what she wanted most anyway. But now Xander really could see how hopeless she must have felt, and he was the one who'd pushed her to do it. Almost as if her choice had been no choice at all, just like Spike had felt he had no options. He thought Buffy was always the better person, the kind of person who could see things like that, who could understand. Forgive. And no matter how much he might wish it, Xander couldn't imagine Anya being willing to ever forgive him, not totally. He didn't deserve it. He grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, sucked in a deep breath, and went back out to the living room. Anya was still giving Willow an earful, but she almost -- almost -- smiled when she saw him. That would have to change: He'd have to work on making that a full-fledged smile.
Scene of the crime. That was all Willow could think of as she puttered around the Magic Box, putting things back on the shelves Xander had either made or remade because they were at least salvageable. Most of the trashed stuff had been taken to the dump, but the books and other sturdier items were still there, waiting to be restocked and reorganized. Over by the front Buffy was helping Xander put up new drywall -- he loved having an assistant who was strong enough to hold two sheets at the same time, one in each hand. Dawn was helping Willow organize the books, and every once in a while she'd glance over, that frowny look creasing her face, as if she was waiting for Willow to open one of the dark magic books and go all wicked again.
So she joked and talked endlessly to keep Dawn's fears at bay, telling her about Giles, about the coven, what English life was like. Xander had put Spike to work nailing together the standalone shelving, and occasionally the hammering would be punctuated by snarled English obscenities, or else by Anya's incessant arguing with vendors as she attempted to restock everything at a demon discount. Willow had asked her about that at the party, why she'd prefer to reopen the Magic Box rather than just be a vengeance demon, and Anya had looked wistful when she said, "Well, the vengeance game just isn't the same anymore." Then she'd turned her gaze to Xander, and Willow realized the decision to reopen was mostly because she still loved Xander, despite every terrible thing he'd done to her. She wanted to stay on course for him, even if she didn't know it herself.
Things were looking pretty good, if she did say so herself. Anya had spent a lot of the summer away, she wouldn't say doing what but they were all pretty certain it was a mix of vengeance and vacation; when she'd come back, she'd slowly started sorting through the rubble. But this was the first large-scale effort at rebuilding. There was something about being back with everyone, even if it was the scene of her crimes, that energized Willow. And she liked having Spike here, even if Spike hadn't wanted to come initially. First he'd tried feigning illness -- "I'm dying; don't you people have any respect for the dying?" -- but when that didn't work, he'd explained patiently that just because he was human didn't make him want to be human and do rubbishy things like help rebuild places that were better left dead. Buffy had just fixed him with that famous glare and he'd caved instantly. For some reason, Spike made Willow feel... well, safe, she supposed was the right word, as if no matter what happened, he would be there to watch out for her, keep her in check. Or shore her up. He seemed to get everything in a way that she wasn't certain others could. They were peas in a pod.
Wiping sweat off her forehead, she hefted another pile of books up the loft stairs. As she put them on the shelf, she held one in her hand and looked at its familiar cover, stroked her hand over its worn leather binding, so comforting and beautiful. Tara's favorite grimoire, and the first one Willow had really committed to learning: translated from the old French, it was called The Book of Philosophies and Magics. She took it over and sat down on the steps, opening its weathered, foxed pages, checking to see if there'd been any lasting damage from her rampage. Dawn cleared her throat.
"Um... maybe you should let me... you know... take care of that."
Willow glanced up, but didn't turn around.
From the main floor Spike took nails out of his mouth and said, " 's all right, Popsicle. She's fine." He flashed Willow a sharp smile and put the nails back between his lips.
Reaching behind, Willow grabbed at Dawn's hand and squeezed. "Don't worry."
Dawn sighed an "Okay," and then went back to stocking.
Everything still seemed intact: histories, incantations, potions. Toward the back was the section on darker spells -- nothing black in here, but it recognized demonic aspects of magic with a kind of practicality that many other books didn't. Most of them were all doom, gloom, and violence when it came to demons, which made it sort of hard when half your world seemed to consist of the good ones fighting it out with the bad ones. With the coven, that had become an important part of her training -- her extensive background and contact with demons of all kinds, and how darkness and light coexisted in the world, how they were connected. A lot of the same stuff Spike had been trying to tell her.
She closed the grimoire and put it on the shelf, picked up some more books. Something at the back of her mind made that little whirring noise, though, the one that always told her to take a breather and think. She leaned over the railing, staring down at Spike, who was shoving some cases together in the middle of the floor, examining how they looked, and then moving them around again in different patterns. The book talked a lot about vampires; when she'd first started studying it, a lot of the information had suddenly made her gay vampire double from the alternate universe make sense. Maybe... if it had something about alternate universe vampires... and there was that section about recovering lost souls...
She grabbed the book off the shelf and furiously leafed through to the back, putting a hand on Dawn's shoulder for a second to say, "No, this is good." She ran down the stairs, trailing Dawn behind her. Shoving diagrams and woodworking tools off the table, she slammed the book down, startling everyone else. Anya held the phone away from her ear, her mouth hanging open.
"No, no, calm down, you guys. It's good, this is good." There. Vampires: appetites-p. 404; blood, drinking of-p. 400; death and undeath of-p. 399; resurrection-p. 689; soullessness-p.699; spells against-p. 408; violence-p. 417; warding-p. 410. Right there, set apart by hundreds of pages. That's why it never made the connection in her mind. She flipped to the pages on resurrection. It was such archaic syntax and some of the words were still unfamiliar to her. "Dawn, you're large with the research now, right?" She nodded. "Go get the big encyclopedia of Eastern Europe, the one with the crescent moon cover." Dawn scurried away and came back. Willow was reading so fast, her lips were moving; she knew she looked like a geek, but it didn't matter. This was everything.
"Um... this one kind of got a little trashed in the ... event." She made air quotes and Willow tried not to laugh. It really wasn't that funny, but sometimes... well. "What am I looking for?"
"The section on Gypsy curses. Cross reference with vampires and the location of their souls once they're turned."
"Oookay."
Everyone was coming toward them and each person looked stern or scared. Except Spike, who stood there with nails sticking out of his mouth, looking even geekier than her.
"Oh, hey!" Dawn squealed. "There's stuff in here about Angel!" She and Willow both looked up to find Buffy frowning at them. "Sorry."
"I'm not sure this is making sense, but I think... what does it say in there about where the soul actually resides?"
Dawn shook her head. "I... I'm not sure I'm getting this right either, but it seems to say that once the demon takes over, the soul is part of the... firmament?"
"Yeah, that makes sense. It's like... kind of like the atmosphere or something, and we can't see it. Okay, so..." Willow read a few things, half out loud, half to herself. "Oh my god! Oh. Oh, wow."
Finally Spike took the nails out of his mouth and came over.
"I can't believe Wes didn't think of this," she said to him. "Angel's curse, the firmament! The way vampires are resurrected but undead!"
"How about a nice big cup of 'huh'?" Xander asked.
Willow stood, because somehow this seemed like something she should stand for. "Don't ask me to explain it because I'm not sure I could. But I think this book gives me the way to give Spike back his vampirehood... or vampirism... whatever, but keep the soul. I think I get it -- it's not that there's no way to do it, it's just that no one ever needed to do it so there was no way to put the different things together."
Xander made a slightly pained, slightly amused face. "Still waiting for the big light bulb to go off."
Dawn suddenly began flapping her arms and shouting, "Oh! Oh oh oh! Oh, I get it!"
"Well, would you like to share with the group?" Anya asked in her most acid voice.
"The Gypsies had the right idea. I mean, in their own way. When they cursed Angel, they pulled his soul from the firmament. But he was already a vampire. So they only had to do one thing. They must have been familiar with this grimoire, and they knew about the loss of the soul and the resurrection of it as well. It's kind of... connected. Everything's connected. That's what I've been learning all that time in England, about how nothing is ever really disconnected, even in death, from anything else. Even inanimate objects are connected to the rest of the world. It was the same principle that we used to reach through to Osiris when we brought you back. So death... undeath, and then spirit extermination... resurrection. I remembered that there were spells of spirit restoration in this old grimoire. And in that encyclopedia, there are references to curses, one of which is basically a curse of vampirism. You can make a vampire -- not exactly easy peasy, but close. It's transmogrification, plain and simple, only for once, someone has connected the dots to let us figure out how to transmogrify with... well, parting gifts."
"Pleased as punch as I am to be hearing that there's possibilities, I'm not sure I'm getting all this," Spike said casually.
She said tensely, "I think we could do it."
"We meaning you and..."
"Me and me. If you'd trust me."
"No question about that. Question really is, do you trust yourself?"
"Whoa, whoa," Xander said, waving his hands. "You're saying you and Dawn figured out something that the book guys with watcher degrees couldn't? Are you sure?"
"Aren't you happy?" Willow asked earnestly. It was freaking her out that Dawn was the only one excited about the discovery. Maybe they never really would trust her again.
"I for one am a bit gobsmacked, but that's nothing new," Spike said. "Much as I want to say well done you, I'm not sure I see how this works."
"I hate to ask, but maybe we need..."
"No, we can check with Giles. I mean, I want to. I wouldn't do anything without him, I promise."
"Oh, crap," Dawn said from behind her.
Willow turned and looked at what Dawn was pointing to. "Oh, shit."
"What? What? You people have got to stop doing that!" Anya fumed.
She sat down hard. "I guess it was too good to be true."
Spike put his hammer down, and dropped the nails into his pocket. "Straight up, no chaser."
"We could do it. I thought we could do it without you becoming a vampire from being bitten by a vampire, and we can, but..." She sighed. "But you still have to die first. Someone has to kill you before I can put the vampire curse into effect." Her mouth tugged down at the corners and she could feel tears stinging in her eyes.
Xander's hand shot up in the air. "Volunteer, right here."
"Sod off," Spike said, though there was no force in it.
Buffy slapped him on the shoulder, hard, and Xander went flying forward.
"Children present!" Xander added.
"I'm not a child!" Dawn stamped her foot.
"No, it has to be supernatural. Something supernatural... which is just like the old fashioned way. Except that it's not a vampire, just... killing."
"Or you mean... oh god." Buffy's face was ashen. "Or you or me could kill him."
Willow grimaced. "I guess Spike had it right way back when. With magic there's always consequences."
End Ch. 8
01/24/05
My lovely cover art by X. Don't take or distribute in any way.