Title: Kindred Spirits
Author: Mia
Rating: PG for now, maybe NC-17 later
Summary: Set after 7.3, Spoilers for S7. W/T, B/S, X/A
Warning, this is my first fic, so please review!
Willow moved quickly through the cemetery, a bouquet of daisies in hand. She had waited till sundown, putting off the visit until the last second. It wouldn't be too smart to be caught visiting one of Sunnydale's twelve cemeteries after dark. She wore one of her old crosses, one Xander had given her in high school, just in case any vampires decided to seek out an early breakfast.
She moved through the headstones, quickly, wishing she could have made herself come during the day. "But depression is a funny thing," she said aloud, to no one in particular.
As she approached the grave, she felt her stomach start to knot.
Buffy and Xander picked well, she thought, she would have liked this. Or maybe it was Dawn...
She stopped in front of a small marble angel, next to a small weeping willow tree. Funny, thought Willow, 'cause here, Willow will always be weeping. "Irony, huh,babe?", she addressed the marble nameplate.
Slowly, she sank to her knees. "I brought you daisies, today, 'cause....well, I guess it seemed like a daisy day."
So unreal, so unreal, so unreal, her mind began to chant.
She arranged the flowers. "I wore my floppy hat today, to keep my hair out of my face. Yesterday wasn't so pretty when I left, hair and the crying and mucus. Not that I'm trying to look pretty, I just don't want everyone thinking I'm crazier than...." she trailed off, tracing the letters of the marble nameplate with two fingers.
TARA MCCLAY.
Beloved
How could this be real?
Willow remembered thinking the same thing when Buffy died. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone, not real life. Not her life. She started to shake. She knew she should go, because after the shaking came the crying, and after the crying she ususlly threw up. But she she sat there, on her knees.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry....."
The tears began flowing as she thought about the last four months, images flashing in her mind. Tara dying, her black magic binge, killing Warren, her almost ending the world. She had been almost comatose when Giles put her on the plane to England. When she became coherent, she was in his flat in Bath. And he had helped her. She had tried to kill him, and he helped her.....
And then he sent her home. Alone, to face friends who couldn't even see her. She was invisible to her friends. Not Anya, not to Spike, but to Buffy and Xander and Dawn. She had been out of phase. The magic that would never leave her, that she had to learn to manage made her invisible. But the worst part was, she became invisible because she wanted to be invisible. She was so ashamed. No, not invisible, she thought, but dead. She wanted to die.
"It should have been me."
Sobbing, she pitched herself forward on the grave. And a figure watched the sobbing red headed witch from behind a tomb, cigarette in hand and his own tears, rolling down his face.
--------------------------
Nine nights, he thought. He wiped his eyes and threw his cigarette on the ground. He
stopped, and looked at the ground.
Littering is bad, I'll have to pick these....Oh bloody hell! Poncey soul!
He kicked the tomb. Spike shook his head. Instead of the vamp with a soul, I'll be the
vamp that doesn't litter, he thought ruefully. Glancing at Willow again, he decided to
give her two more minutes.
She had been coming here every night since she came back. He was patrolling the
cemetery the first night, nine days ago, avoiding Buffy, when he saw her.
She was talking to Tara, and he hadn't wanted to interrupt, when she began screaming
through her tears, "Why can't they see me?" over and over again. She was in such
distress, Spike had been unable to stop himself from running to her and taking her in his
arms.
"Shhh, Red, it's okay, shhh," he had murmured it over and over into her hair. They sat on
Tara's grave and Spike had rocked her like a child, until her sobs had become sniffles.
Wearily, she looked up at him, her eyes red, and asked, "Why can you see me?" After she
had told him about how the other Scoobies couldn't see her, he had taken her to Buffy's.
He quickly explained the situation to Dawn, and she had called the Scoobies. When Anya
arrived, she could see her, and he had left. Left before the whelp had come.
But he felt...responsible. And as long as she was going to be in the cemetery after
sundown, he should keep an eye on her. She probably knew about his new soul by now,
and maybe, just maybe she could empathize. Not that I deserve it, he thought. So he came
here for the last nine nights, watching her cry, and watching her back all the way to
Buffy's.
Her two minutes were up. Spike slowly approached Willow from behind, walking heavily
so she would hear him approach. Buffy had given him his duster back, so it made a little
noise in the wind. She sat up slowly, sniffling and wiping her tears, but she didn't turn
around.
"You have a soul," she said quietly.
"How'd ya know it was me, pet?", he asked.
"The magic. The magic will never be gone now." She turned around and peered up at him
from under her hat.
"Walk you home, Red?", he smiled gently and stuck out his hand.
Then she did something that surprised him. Willow took his hand, and when he helped
her up, she went right into his arms. It startled him, a human sliding so voluntarily into
his arms, and he took an unnecessary breath before he allowed himself to hug her back.
He felt like clinging to her, her warmth, but he let her go. Otherwise, he might start crying
again, and that wouldn't help anyone.
"You follow me anyway, you might as well walk with me tonight," she whispered.
Before they left, Spike gave her his duster, and after she shrugged it on, she turned back
to the headstone.
"Goodnight baby. I love you."
And she kissed two fingers and pressed them to the marble. When she turned back, he
offered her his arm.
They walked toward the house on Revello Drive in silence. When they got there, Willow
took off his coat and handed it back.
"Thank you for the coat. It's starting to get chilly at night."
"Yeah, well..." he began to stammer, almost shyly.
"And thank you for watching out for me. I just need some time to mourn, I guess."
Spike nodded, and ducking his head, turned to go. She walked up the steps, and then
decided she had to know.
"Spike!" she called. Surprised, he whirled around. And there she was, her huge eyes
almost pleading with him.
"Does it hurt? Your soul? Knowing all the awful things you did?" she blurted.
He looked at the ground. And then he swallowed and met her gaze evenly. His eyes are so
blue, like ice, she thought.
"It's bloody killing me, pet." He cocked his head to one side, studying her, waiting for her
reaction.
"Me too, Spike. Me too." She gave him a tired half-smile, and turned, going into the
house.
He stood there a moment, staring at the door. "Kindred spirits, then," he whispered, and
disappeared into the night.
to be continued................
Author: Mia
Rating: PG for now, maybe NC-17 later
Summary: Set after 7.3, Spoilers for S7. W/T, B/S, X/A
Warning, this is my first fic, so please review!
Willow moved quickly through the cemetery, a bouquet of daisies in hand. She had waited till sundown, putting off the visit until the last second. It wouldn't be too smart to be caught visiting one of Sunnydale's twelve cemeteries after dark. She wore one of her old crosses, one Xander had given her in high school, just in case any vampires decided to seek out an early breakfast.
She moved through the headstones, quickly, wishing she could have made herself come during the day. "But depression is a funny thing," she said aloud, to no one in particular.
As she approached the grave, she felt her stomach start to knot.
Buffy and Xander picked well, she thought, she would have liked this. Or maybe it was Dawn...
She stopped in front of a small marble angel, next to a small weeping willow tree. Funny, thought Willow, 'cause here, Willow will always be weeping. "Irony, huh,babe?", she addressed the marble nameplate.
Slowly, she sank to her knees. "I brought you daisies, today, 'cause....well, I guess it seemed like a daisy day."
So unreal, so unreal, so unreal, her mind began to chant.
She arranged the flowers. "I wore my floppy hat today, to keep my hair out of my face. Yesterday wasn't so pretty when I left, hair and the crying and mucus. Not that I'm trying to look pretty, I just don't want everyone thinking I'm crazier than...." she trailed off, tracing the letters of the marble nameplate with two fingers.
TARA MCCLAY.
Beloved
How could this be real?
Willow remembered thinking the same thing when Buffy died. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone, not real life. Not her life. She started to shake. She knew she should go, because after the shaking came the crying, and after the crying she ususlly threw up. But she she sat there, on her knees.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry....."
The tears began flowing as she thought about the last four months, images flashing in her mind. Tara dying, her black magic binge, killing Warren, her almost ending the world. She had been almost comatose when Giles put her on the plane to England. When she became coherent, she was in his flat in Bath. And he had helped her. She had tried to kill him, and he helped her.....
And then he sent her home. Alone, to face friends who couldn't even see her. She was invisible to her friends. Not Anya, not to Spike, but to Buffy and Xander and Dawn. She had been out of phase. The magic that would never leave her, that she had to learn to manage made her invisible. But the worst part was, she became invisible because she wanted to be invisible. She was so ashamed. No, not invisible, she thought, but dead. She wanted to die.
"It should have been me."
Sobbing, she pitched herself forward on the grave. And a figure watched the sobbing red headed witch from behind a tomb, cigarette in hand and his own tears, rolling down his face.
--------------------------
Nine nights, he thought. He wiped his eyes and threw his cigarette on the ground. He
stopped, and looked at the ground.
Littering is bad, I'll have to pick these....Oh bloody hell! Poncey soul!
He kicked the tomb. Spike shook his head. Instead of the vamp with a soul, I'll be the
vamp that doesn't litter, he thought ruefully. Glancing at Willow again, he decided to
give her two more minutes.
She had been coming here every night since she came back. He was patrolling the
cemetery the first night, nine days ago, avoiding Buffy, when he saw her.
She was talking to Tara, and he hadn't wanted to interrupt, when she began screaming
through her tears, "Why can't they see me?" over and over again. She was in such
distress, Spike had been unable to stop himself from running to her and taking her in his
arms.
"Shhh, Red, it's okay, shhh," he had murmured it over and over into her hair. They sat on
Tara's grave and Spike had rocked her like a child, until her sobs had become sniffles.
Wearily, she looked up at him, her eyes red, and asked, "Why can you see me?" After she
had told him about how the other Scoobies couldn't see her, he had taken her to Buffy's.
He quickly explained the situation to Dawn, and she had called the Scoobies. When Anya
arrived, she could see her, and he had left. Left before the whelp had come.
But he felt...responsible. And as long as she was going to be in the cemetery after
sundown, he should keep an eye on her. She probably knew about his new soul by now,
and maybe, just maybe she could empathize. Not that I deserve it, he thought. So he came
here for the last nine nights, watching her cry, and watching her back all the way to
Buffy's.
Her two minutes were up. Spike slowly approached Willow from behind, walking heavily
so she would hear him approach. Buffy had given him his duster back, so it made a little
noise in the wind. She sat up slowly, sniffling and wiping her tears, but she didn't turn
around.
"You have a soul," she said quietly.
"How'd ya know it was me, pet?", he asked.
"The magic. The magic will never be gone now." She turned around and peered up at him
from under her hat.
"Walk you home, Red?", he smiled gently and stuck out his hand.
Then she did something that surprised him. Willow took his hand, and when he helped
her up, she went right into his arms. It startled him, a human sliding so voluntarily into
his arms, and he took an unnecessary breath before he allowed himself to hug her back.
He felt like clinging to her, her warmth, but he let her go. Otherwise, he might start crying
again, and that wouldn't help anyone.
"You follow me anyway, you might as well walk with me tonight," she whispered.
Before they left, Spike gave her his duster, and after she shrugged it on, she turned back
to the headstone.
"Goodnight baby. I love you."
And she kissed two fingers and pressed them to the marble. When she turned back, he
offered her his arm.
They walked toward the house on Revello Drive in silence. When they got there, Willow
took off his coat and handed it back.
"Thank you for the coat. It's starting to get chilly at night."
"Yeah, well..." he began to stammer, almost shyly.
"And thank you for watching out for me. I just need some time to mourn, I guess."
Spike nodded, and ducking his head, turned to go. She walked up the steps, and then
decided she had to know.
"Spike!" she called. Surprised, he whirled around. And there she was, her huge eyes
almost pleading with him.
"Does it hurt? Your soul? Knowing all the awful things you did?" she blurted.
He looked at the ground. And then he swallowed and met her gaze evenly. His eyes are so
blue, like ice, she thought.
"It's bloody killing me, pet." He cocked his head to one side, studying her, waiting for her
reaction.
"Me too, Spike. Me too." She gave him a tired half-smile, and turned, going into the
house.
He stood there a moment, staring at the door. "Kindred spirits, then," he whispered, and
disappeared into the night.
to be continued................