Lost and Foundering
~**~**~
Chapter Six
~**~**~
It was almost impossible to choose. Anya had been clueless about how
many decisions she would be forced to make as a bride planning her
wedding. Flowers, location, dresses--just the reception alone would be
enough to scare a Yaggath demon into celibacy.
And the price! This wasn't like the game of Life at all, where she
could just spin a wheel, land on a pastel-colored square, and she would
have $20,000 to spend on a lavish wedding. The money had to come from
somewhere, and tradition said it fell on the bride's parents--or in
lieu of that, the bride herself--to pay for it.
"Agh! What an archaic system," Anya complained to no one in particular,
but to Giles' regret, he fell within the sound of her voice and thereby
felt obligated to respond.
"What are you going on about now, or should I even ask?"
"It's this wedding ritual hoopla, Giles. Why does the bride have to
pay? I mean, the guy buys the dinners, pays for the movies and the
ring--why can't he shell out for the ceremony as well?"
"I suppose it's pointless to argue this with you, but the man doesn't
have to pay for everything, you know. In these more enlightened times,
women have been known to split the cost of a date."
Anya looked at him like he'd grown a second head, which in Sunnydale
was entirely possible. "Great. I should've known you'd be unsympathetic
to my dilemma."
Giles sighed and forged on ahead, despite the voice in his head that
clearly told him he was insane for doing so. "You're having trouble
funding the cost of the wedding?"
"Not just that. It's all these choices I have to make. Do I have
ushers, or not? What colors should I have? Should I have an afternoon
wedding with a cake and punch reception, or do it in the evening and
have a dinner reception? And who should I invite?"
"Anya, you only know six people, seven if you count Spike. I think it
would be fairly obvious."
"I know, but how am I supposed to get a lot of gifts if I don't invite
a lot of people?"
Giles shook his head in a mix of amusement and despair. "If you have
only a set amount of money you can spend, I recommend you start with a
budget and go from there. If you can't have certain things, then you'll
have to make do."
"I don't want to make do," Anya pouted. "I want a wedding that'll make
everyone jealous and wish they were me."
The door to the Magic Box opened and in came Buffy and Dawn, who were
talking animatedly about something as they headed in their direction.
Giles whispered thanks to whatever power was listening, and beat a
hasty retreat over to where a pot of tea waited for him.
"Hey, what's up?" Buffy asked, swinging her arms and looking generally
happy.
"I've been trying to plan my wedding, but Giles is no help. He thinks I
should have a budget and 'make do'."
Dawn smiled crookedly and crossed her arms. "Giles, what were you
thinking?"
"I haven't the foggiest, honestly," he muttered as he sipped his tea.
Anya pulled out a thick bridal magazine, already heavily thumbed
through and with several page corners folded down as place markers.
"Buffy, you weren't here to help pick out the bridesmaid dress, so if
you don't like it...well, that's too bad. Here we go," she opened it to
the right page and displayed the choice to the waiting Slayer, who
frowned in dismay.
"It's...peach."
"Well, I haven't decided which color it's going to be. There are five
other colors...see? Wine, Fuchsia, Periwinkle, Moss, and Sunburst."
Buffy winced at the sample of Sunburst on the following page. "It has a
butt bow. And a poofy skirt."
"Butt bows are traditional. It'll make your butt look big in comparison
to mine, and you know that the bridesmaids always have to make the
bride look good."
Dawn's eyebrows raised at that comment. "Where does it say that, Anya?"
"Right here, under the price listings."
Buffy and Dawn squinted as they read, then pulled back. "Oh wow, it
really does say that," Buffy replied.
Anya smiled cheerfully. "So, what do you think about Fuchsia?"
****
Giles insisted on training in the room in the back, and Buffy obliged
him. She would've preferred Spike to be there with her, but since the
sun was still up, there wasn't any way he could show up without risking
his unlife. Dawn left shortly after Buffy starting practicing, off to
her friend's house for the day, and promising to be home before the sun
set.
Spike had been right about one thing the night before--the body
remembered what the mind did not. Her Watcher was impressed at her
remaining agility and skill, even if she had forgotten how to use it
effectively.
The former boyfriend vampire guy was nowhere to be found, which was a
big relief. In retrospect, it hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped;
however, she didn't know what else she could have said. He seemed nice
enough, on the surface. However, if it was true he was cursed with a
soul that could go away whenever he became really and truly, perfectly
happy...how could she have a life with someone like that? Waiting for
the day when the love of your life turns evil was not something she
wanted.
Which somehow lead her back to Spike--not a totally bad thing, in of
itself. His chances of recidivism were lower than Angel's, with the
chip in his head and all. Her friends liked him or tolerated him, her
sister treated him like the big brother she never had, and
Buffy...well, she liked him, too. Seeing how he was with Dawn had been
the clincher. Not only had he bonded with her younger sister, he had
stayed to protect her, according to her friends. If it had been all
about Buffy, Spike should have left town when she died.
He hadn't, though. And not only that, but he'd also become closer to
her small group of friends, even if they didn't want to admit it. She
thought it was rather odd that they had to keep reminding her he was
soulless, as if they did it to remind themselves, as well.
"Buffy, you're dropping your right shoulder," Giles scolded, and she
paused. Hadn't she heard that before? It sounded familiar...
She shook the thought aside, and chalked it up to déjà vu. It hadn't
felt like a memory, just a sense of been there, done that. She focused
on correcting the mistake, and was rewarded with a grin from Giles.
"Excellent. Much better. You need to keep from doing that, because it
telegraphs your punch. It's better not to give the opponent
foreknowledge of what you're doing next."
"Gotcha," she replied, and took a deep breath. Wow, this workout really
had tired her out. "Could we take a break? My punching arm's losing its
punchability. Along with all the other fighty parts."
"Hmm? Oh yes, let's take a few minutes, by all means," he answered, and
sagged into a nearby couch. Buffy was tempted to join him, but she felt
like going outside the training room for a little while. He made no
comment as she wandered into the shop area and sat down at the table,
eyeing the people as they browsed the magic items for sale.
Despite her best efforts, she still felt disconnected to everything
around her. At first, she had assumed it was part of the whole upheaval
of her life, but with things beginning to settle down, she continued to
feel like an alien inside her own skin. She desperately wanted to know
more, hoping that it would make the oddness go away, but it rarely
helped. In fact, it only illuminated the gulf between her present state
and the way things used to be.
From what Giles had been telling her, she was likely to die again in
the next few years, if not earlier. Slayers didn't live long, and
regardless of her trip back from the beyond, it looked to be a
trustworthy fact. At least her mom wasn't alive to see her daughter
die.
Buffy blinked away sudden tears, forbidding them to fall. Especially
not here, and not now. There would be time for crying at home, in her
bedroom, with the door closed and the pillow handy for muffling the
sounds of her grief.
She rested her head on her arms, tired not just from the fighting but
the emotional turmoil as well, and unknowingly fell into the oblivion
of slumber.
****
Once the sun had set, Spike set out for the magic shop, expecting Buffy
to be there. Knowing the Watcher, he'd probably started her right into
training. No rest for the weary, or the formerly dead.
He meandered in, glancing at the magical knickknacks on his way through
the foyer and into the bulk of the shop. The sight of Buffy asleep as
she sat at the table softened his gaze, and he watched her for an
indulgent handful of seconds before coming closer.
"She's asleep," Anya whispered helpfully from behind the counter, and
he gave her a look to let her know he wasn't blind nor stupid.
He didn't want to wake her, not when she looked so peaceful and
unguarded and, well, beautiful. A stray tendril of hair was draped
across her face, and he gently tucked it away, not caring if the ex-
demon was watching. Buffy shifted slightly, as if aware of his
presence, and against his better judgement he sat down near her at the
table, taking advantage of the tranquil moment.
After a few more seconds, she stirred and awoke, her eyes fixing
straight on him as she gathered her senses. Then she smiled lazily, in
such a way that he instantly forgot they weren't alone and sitting in a
public place.
"Hey, what're you doing here?" Buffy asked with a growing sense of her
surroundings. "Aren't you--wait a minute. It's dark outside."
"That it is," Spike remarked breezily, amused at her disorientation.
"Oh crap. What time is it?" She was now in full tilt alarm, sitting
straight up and looking for a clock.
"It's after seven, love."
"Seven?? I've been asleep for...four hours?" Buffy fixed her sights on
Anya. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Giles said to let you rest. The fact that you fell asleep on *that*
table shows how wiped out you were," Anya replied, mollifying the
Slayer. "The rest of the gang should be here shortly, so you timed your
nap fairly well, all things considered. Giles left a couple hours
ago...he wanted to get cleaned up and ready for tonight."
"While I'll continue to be all grody and disgusting," Buffy remarked
sourly, just realizing her post-training condition.
"Well, you don't live too far from here, and I'm sure your pals will
wait for you if you're late," Spike mentioned to her as a way to help.
"And I'd better make sure Dawn is home," she replied, sounding so much
like the Buffy he knew that he nearly said it out loud. "Spike, would
you like to come with? I doubt I'll run into any baddies on the way
there and back, but I'm not feeling too sure about my own skills at the
moment."
He caught Anya's startled glance at him, and suppressed a strong urge
to smirk in response. "Yeah, of course. Let's go."
****
The gang noticed Buffy's absence when they arrived, and Anya informed
each one as they came in that Buffy and Spike had left to go to her
house, so they could check up on Dawn and so Buffy could take a shower.
Each member took the news differently. Tara looked thoughtful, yet
worried; Xander's eyes bugged out in an unflattering way, then muttered
something about horrible images of Buffy, Spike and a shower; Willow
was quickly troubled, and openly fretted about what was going on
between the former enemies. Xander took her side, while Anya was a bit
confused about the whole thing and Tara kept silent.
Giles came in while they talked, and soon he was up to speed on the
Buffy-closeness-with-Spike issue. "Dear Lord. Haven't we been down this
road once already?"
"Twice," Xander corrected him, squirming slightly. "And might I add,
not a road I want to travel down a third time."
"But we don't know there's been any...um, overt closeness, do we?" Tara
asked. "Like of a romantic kind?"
"Well, no...they've just been really friendly. Buffy's in a vulnerable
stage right now, though. She doesn't know Spike like we do, like she
used to," Willow replied. "I don't want to see her get hurt because we
didn't say something."
"She might not remember, but she's still Buffy. If she can like Spike
now, then maybe she would like him regardless of what she knew of him,"
Tara offered meekly. "I mean, right before she died...she was being
nicer to him, and everything."
Giles cleared his throat, then said, "True, but I'm concerned that
Buffy won't be as wary and cautious, without knowing who and what Spike
truly is."
The door opened, and Buffy came in with Spike, looking happy and
content in a rare moment. "Hey, gang's all here. Sorry about being
late. I was--"
"We know. Anya told us," Willow said, her tone deceptively light.
"Spike's here, too. Hi Spike."
He gave her a curious look, knowing something was definitely not right.
"Look, why don't I take leave of you all, let you have some time
to...do whatever you had planned, eh?"
"Wait--then who's gonna walk me home?" Buffy asked, and the room fell
silent. It seemed their worst fears were already coming to pass.
"Buffy, one of us can take you home. It's no problem." Xander smiled,
but she wasn't mollified.
"You don't mean walking, right? You mean driving me home?"
"Well..." he trailed off, not really understanding the difference.
"What does it matter?"
Giles realized what she meant, however, and regretted not seeing it
earlier. "She means that it's not safe for her to go out at night,
unless someone's there to protect her. If the demons and vampires in
Sunnydale find out that she's back..."
He didn't need to finish. Spike nodded, his own understanding of the
group's behavior beginning to take form. "Yeah, that's pretty much in a
nutshell. Don't worry, ol' Spike hasn't been taking moonlit strolls
with your Slayer. She's not in fighting trim yet, that's for sure."
"And how would you know that, Spike?" Giles asked, his voice taking on
a hint of deadly curiosity.
"I just--you know, it's funny..." He stopped when he felt Buffy's hand
on his arm.
"It's all right. I'll tell them--they might as well know." She preceded
to relate the entire story of what happened in the cemetery, which
didn't thrill her friends in the least.
"And then you went home, right?" Anya asked.
"Well, we talked for awhile--Spike told me about everything in his
past, all the bad stuff, and some of the recent stuff as well." They
looked at her and Spike skeptically, and she added, "No, really. He
told me the truth."
"Oh yeah? And what did he say about why you deinvited him from your
house?" Xander queried.
"It was because he told me he was in love with me, and I assumed it was
an obsession and something very not of the good. I didn't want him in
my house, especially after the whole Drusilla returning and chaining up
thing. I could go into further detail on that if you want...?"
"Um, no, that's okay. It sounds pretty accurate," Xander replied with a
nervous smile on his face. "Not that I knew much before. Uh, not that I
wanted to, of course."
"Spike," Willow cut in, her tone filled with disapproval of his
naughtiness. True, he apparently hadn't glossed over the truth with
her, but this still didn't bode well. "What did I tell you a couple
days ago?"
He frowned at her, until comprehension dawned on him. "Oh."
"I'm gonna have a talk with you later, mister," she replied in the same
tone, and was rewarded with the sight of the vampire looking penitent.
Tara shifted in her seat nervously, and asked, "Um, shouldn't we be
having a meeting?"
"Yes, quite right, Tara. Everyone, have a seat. Spike, if you want to
stay, well...you will, I guess," Giles added, not quite believing the
whole situation.
Spike flashed a wicked grin, then settled down at the table. Unknown to
Giles, he'd been at several of these gatherings, and had no intention
of leaving when it was clear that he was still welcome. Buffy joined
him, and soon Xander began by revealing last night's patrolling fun,
with noticeably less vampires. Word must have spread about Buffy being
back, which was both a blessing and a curse; it meant that quantity
would soon be replaced by quality, something Buffy was in no condition
to face.
Plans were formed, schedules made, and there was a general relief that
no major problems seemed to be cropping up; for a meeting, it was
rather productive. The patrolling for the night was left to Willow and
Spike, so they both walked Buffy home afterwards and headed straight
for the cemetery.
Spike knew the tongue-lashing was coming, so it was no surprise that
shortly after passing through the gate, he heard Willow call his name
from behind him.
He winced, then turned around to face her. "Yeah, Will?"
"Did you really tell her everything? *Everything*, everything?"
He contemplated the redheaded slip of a girl, wringing her hands
anxiously, and decided it was safer to be honest. "Actually, that and
more. Well, it was stuff she didn't know before, at any rate. You don't
need to worry--she knows all about yours truly, now. What I can't
figure is why she's still tolerating me. She even wants to be friends."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. Baffling, isn't it? But when her memories come back, that'll
be the end of it," he said matter-of-factly, with no small amount of
sadness underneath. "I know you probably won't believe me when I say
this, but I really don't want Buffy being all pleasant to me because
she's got amnesia. Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it, but...it's not
the same."
"I know how you feel. I want Buffy back--our Buffy. I mean, she is our
Buffy, but she doesn't remember being in high school, or being a
Slayer..."
"Or you," Spike added knowingly.
Willow swallowed. "It's hard. I feel like I've lost my best friend
twice. I know it's not the end of the world, but still...it's not the
same."
They walked in silence for a time, listening for the approach of a
vampire or demon looking for some action. When none appeared, Spike
attempted to bring the stalled conversation into an area he knew the
witch wouldn't like.
"Will, what if Buffy...what would you do if Buffy got her memories
back, and she still acted the way she does now? Like with me, for
instance?"
It was a tenuous and unrealistic hope he held in his undead heart, but
the notion had been fanned into a small flame thanks to Buffy's
continuing behavior. For some reason, he wanted Willow's reassurance
that she wouldn't interfere if Buffy--by some unfathomable miracle--
still wanted to be around him.
The young woman squinted in thought, trying to envision such a
scenario, no doubt. "I don't know. I guess, if she's doing it with
everything back in its rightful place...it would be her business, not
mine. But you're not thinking--"
"No, not thinking, exactly. Supposing, or maybe hoping is the better
word," Spike answered, then cursed himself inwardly for revealing that
fact to the Slayer's best friend. "Hope is all it is, though. I know
that."
"Good. I wouldn't want to have to take you on if you tried anything
inappropriate."
Spike smiled weakly, thankful that the girl couldn't read minds. Or
could she? Willow appeared oblivious to his sudden panic, but continued
with a knowing tone, "I don't have to worry about that, now do I?"
"No worries about me, Will. I'll be a perfect gentleman."
She grinned with an innocence he almost believed. "Great! Well, it
doesn't look like there's a lot of action going on tonight, so I think
I'll be heading home. You'll lock up the cemetery after me, won't you?"
"Yeah, no problem."
The young witch headed back towards the entrance, her posture showing
the confidence she'd recently acquired. The backbone she'd displayed
months ago had taken him completely by surprise, but not in a bad way.
He respected her, and in some corner of his mind, he was glad Buffy had
such a devoted friend. Lord knew he'd had no one half as constant when
he'd been human.
He grimaced sourly, unwilling to dredge up bitter memories. It didn't
seem like much had changed, even after a hundred and score years. Here
he was, friendless save for a Slayer who didn't know any better, her
younger sister who *did* know better and ignored common sense, and a
group of people who seemed to tolerate him, more often than not. He was
waiting for them all to wise up and stake him, or even worse, force him
out of town and out of their lives. It was a fate he couldn't bring
himself to contemplate.
With a sigh, he took another circle around the graveyard as he'd
promised Will he would do. To his regret, he found no sign of any
demons and went back to his crypt, noticing not for the first time the
echoes resounding off the walls of stone. Empty and lonely echoes.
He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the chest, untouched for weeks, and
regarded for a moment. Then he placed it back in the chest and closed
the lid, deciding that for tonight, he wouldn't drown his sorrows with
drink. Instead, he flipped on the telly and delved into the fictional
lives of perfect people who, he could imagine for just a while, were
people who liked him and wanted to be in his presence.
****
It was strange, Willow noted as she walked up the steps of the Summers'
home the next morning. Two--or was it three?--days ago, she was doing
this exact same thing, leaving her apartment to meet up with Tara. Only
now, Buffy was alive again by some miracle. It was weirdly wonderful
and strangely correct. After all, why *wouldn't* Buffy be in her house?
The last three months felt like a horrible nightmare from which she'd
been allowed to awaken. However, there was one bitter aftertaste to
deal with...one Willow hoped she could rectify soon.
The spell apparently hadn't worked, which only surprised her because
she thought she was finally over that phase. It had to be the
ingredients. Well, at least nothing bad had happened afterwards, like
with the others.
She rang the doorbell, and Tara answered it with a confused look on her
face. "Willow? W-what's up? Do you need to talk to Buffy?"
Willow frowned. "No, silly. I came to see you. I thought since we
didn't spend our spell time together earlier, we could do something
today before my shift starts."
"Oh," Tara replied, suddenly looking penitent. "I, um, I went ahead and
make plans. With my wiccan friends...we were going to go into L.A. for
some charm shopping."
"Without me?" Willow asked weakly, hurt.
"Honey, I'm so sorry. I-I thought you'd want to spend time with Buffy.
You know, continue with the catching up?"
Willow walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Well,
yeah, I can do that, but it doesn't mean anything to her, not like it
does to me. Why can't I just cast a spell on her to make her remember?
Poof, and she's back!"
Tara's eyes flashed, "Willow, you have to let her recall things
naturally. Not everything can be fixed with a spell."
"Oh, right, I forgot. Wiccans don't mess with nature. Except for the
times when they do."
A horn honked outside, and Tara looked from her to the window. "They're
here. Look, I don't have time to go into this. You know I'm only
concerned about you..."
"No, it's okay," Willow put on a sunny smile, hiding her
disappointment. "Go. Have some shopping fun."
Tara gave her a hug and kiss, then grabbed her bag and went out the
door with a wave and a vaguely concerned look on her face. Willow waved
back as if nothing was wrong, and watched as her lover left.
Footsteps broke the silence, and Willow looked around to see Buffy
standing there, rubbing her temple. "Did Tara leave already?"
"Yeah, just now. I didn't know she was going out."
Buffy didn't catch the somberness of her tone as she closed her eyes in
pain. "Well, neither did she until last night. It was kinda last
minute. Did you...come over to see her?"
"Originally, that was the plan. But plans are made to be broken, so
let's forge ourselves some new ones out of the shards of the last one,
okay? Speaking of okay, are you...?"
"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little headache. I took something for it
already," she replied as a dismissal, then shrugged. "So, I'm ready to
be enlightened some more. Ooh--maybe we could do a trance, like
hypnosis? I've heard that works on people with amnesia."
Willow stared, then gradually smiled as a thought came to her. "Yeah, a
trance. But not hypnosis. I know something even better than that..."
****
It was quiet downstairs, which unnerved Dawn to the point of leaving
her room and checking out the lack of activity. Through her sleep-
induced haze, she'd heard Tara leave, but Buffy and Willow were still
downstairs...weren't they?
She found them sitting in the living room. Willow had moved a chair
around so that she was facing the couch, opposite Buffy. Both had their
eyes closed, and looked as if they'd fallen asleep while sitting up.
Dawn reached over to shake Willow, when she noticed the note on the
table, sitting near one of three lit candles. Seeing that it was folded
over and had her name written in large letters, she carefully picked it
up and read the contents.
"Dawn,
I'm sorry I didn't do this in person, but we figured that we'd let
you sleep in, in case this doesn't take very long. At least, I hope it
doesn't. All we're doing is a spell like the one I did to bring Buffy
out of that catatonic state she was in. I think I can find her
memories, if they're still in there. My watch says 9:12 a.m., so in a
few minutes we'll be starting the trance. If something goes wrong, or
if this lasts longer than three hours, call Giles.
See you soon, Willow"
Tearing her eyes away from the paper, she looked at the clock hanging
on the wall--it was 9:44, which meant they'd been like this for a half
hour, at most. Should she call Giles, anyway? Willow said to do it only
if something went wrong, or after three hours...but what if something
*did* happen, and it wasn't something that could wait for Giles to
arrive?
She shuffled nervously, not sure what to do. Maybe she could wait a
full hour, then call Giles. Anya said that's how long it had taken
before, so if they didn't come out of it by then, well, then she would
call him.
In the end, she couldn't wait that long. Sometime just past 10 o'clock,
she went into the kitchen and called the Magic Box, hoping he was
there. He wasn't, but Anya gave her the phone number of the hotel room
where he was staying, with a warning about how he was still trying to
sleep off a case of jet lag.
His room phone rang five times before he finally picked up. "This had
bloody better be good," Giles replied darkly.
"Giles? I need your help. It's Willow and Buffy. She told me not to
call you unless something went wrong, but I don't know what to do and
there's no one else I can ask--"
"Dawn! Slow down, take a deep breath." She did as told, then Giles
continued, "Now, what's this about Willow and Buffy?"
~**~**~
Chapter Six
~**~**~
It was almost impossible to choose. Anya had been clueless about how
many decisions she would be forced to make as a bride planning her
wedding. Flowers, location, dresses--just the reception alone would be
enough to scare a Yaggath demon into celibacy.
And the price! This wasn't like the game of Life at all, where she
could just spin a wheel, land on a pastel-colored square, and she would
have $20,000 to spend on a lavish wedding. The money had to come from
somewhere, and tradition said it fell on the bride's parents--or in
lieu of that, the bride herself--to pay for it.
"Agh! What an archaic system," Anya complained to no one in particular,
but to Giles' regret, he fell within the sound of her voice and thereby
felt obligated to respond.
"What are you going on about now, or should I even ask?"
"It's this wedding ritual hoopla, Giles. Why does the bride have to
pay? I mean, the guy buys the dinners, pays for the movies and the
ring--why can't he shell out for the ceremony as well?"
"I suppose it's pointless to argue this with you, but the man doesn't
have to pay for everything, you know. In these more enlightened times,
women have been known to split the cost of a date."
Anya looked at him like he'd grown a second head, which in Sunnydale
was entirely possible. "Great. I should've known you'd be unsympathetic
to my dilemma."
Giles sighed and forged on ahead, despite the voice in his head that
clearly told him he was insane for doing so. "You're having trouble
funding the cost of the wedding?"
"Not just that. It's all these choices I have to make. Do I have
ushers, or not? What colors should I have? Should I have an afternoon
wedding with a cake and punch reception, or do it in the evening and
have a dinner reception? And who should I invite?"
"Anya, you only know six people, seven if you count Spike. I think it
would be fairly obvious."
"I know, but how am I supposed to get a lot of gifts if I don't invite
a lot of people?"
Giles shook his head in a mix of amusement and despair. "If you have
only a set amount of money you can spend, I recommend you start with a
budget and go from there. If you can't have certain things, then you'll
have to make do."
"I don't want to make do," Anya pouted. "I want a wedding that'll make
everyone jealous and wish they were me."
The door to the Magic Box opened and in came Buffy and Dawn, who were
talking animatedly about something as they headed in their direction.
Giles whispered thanks to whatever power was listening, and beat a
hasty retreat over to where a pot of tea waited for him.
"Hey, what's up?" Buffy asked, swinging her arms and looking generally
happy.
"I've been trying to plan my wedding, but Giles is no help. He thinks I
should have a budget and 'make do'."
Dawn smiled crookedly and crossed her arms. "Giles, what were you
thinking?"
"I haven't the foggiest, honestly," he muttered as he sipped his tea.
Anya pulled out a thick bridal magazine, already heavily thumbed
through and with several page corners folded down as place markers.
"Buffy, you weren't here to help pick out the bridesmaid dress, so if
you don't like it...well, that's too bad. Here we go," she opened it to
the right page and displayed the choice to the waiting Slayer, who
frowned in dismay.
"It's...peach."
"Well, I haven't decided which color it's going to be. There are five
other colors...see? Wine, Fuchsia, Periwinkle, Moss, and Sunburst."
Buffy winced at the sample of Sunburst on the following page. "It has a
butt bow. And a poofy skirt."
"Butt bows are traditional. It'll make your butt look big in comparison
to mine, and you know that the bridesmaids always have to make the
bride look good."
Dawn's eyebrows raised at that comment. "Where does it say that, Anya?"
"Right here, under the price listings."
Buffy and Dawn squinted as they read, then pulled back. "Oh wow, it
really does say that," Buffy replied.
Anya smiled cheerfully. "So, what do you think about Fuchsia?"
****
Giles insisted on training in the room in the back, and Buffy obliged
him. She would've preferred Spike to be there with her, but since the
sun was still up, there wasn't any way he could show up without risking
his unlife. Dawn left shortly after Buffy starting practicing, off to
her friend's house for the day, and promising to be home before the sun
set.
Spike had been right about one thing the night before--the body
remembered what the mind did not. Her Watcher was impressed at her
remaining agility and skill, even if she had forgotten how to use it
effectively.
The former boyfriend vampire guy was nowhere to be found, which was a
big relief. In retrospect, it hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped;
however, she didn't know what else she could have said. He seemed nice
enough, on the surface. However, if it was true he was cursed with a
soul that could go away whenever he became really and truly, perfectly
happy...how could she have a life with someone like that? Waiting for
the day when the love of your life turns evil was not something she
wanted.
Which somehow lead her back to Spike--not a totally bad thing, in of
itself. His chances of recidivism were lower than Angel's, with the
chip in his head and all. Her friends liked him or tolerated him, her
sister treated him like the big brother she never had, and
Buffy...well, she liked him, too. Seeing how he was with Dawn had been
the clincher. Not only had he bonded with her younger sister, he had
stayed to protect her, according to her friends. If it had been all
about Buffy, Spike should have left town when she died.
He hadn't, though. And not only that, but he'd also become closer to
her small group of friends, even if they didn't want to admit it. She
thought it was rather odd that they had to keep reminding her he was
soulless, as if they did it to remind themselves, as well.
"Buffy, you're dropping your right shoulder," Giles scolded, and she
paused. Hadn't she heard that before? It sounded familiar...
She shook the thought aside, and chalked it up to déjà vu. It hadn't
felt like a memory, just a sense of been there, done that. She focused
on correcting the mistake, and was rewarded with a grin from Giles.
"Excellent. Much better. You need to keep from doing that, because it
telegraphs your punch. It's better not to give the opponent
foreknowledge of what you're doing next."
"Gotcha," she replied, and took a deep breath. Wow, this workout really
had tired her out. "Could we take a break? My punching arm's losing its
punchability. Along with all the other fighty parts."
"Hmm? Oh yes, let's take a few minutes, by all means," he answered, and
sagged into a nearby couch. Buffy was tempted to join him, but she felt
like going outside the training room for a little while. He made no
comment as she wandered into the shop area and sat down at the table,
eyeing the people as they browsed the magic items for sale.
Despite her best efforts, she still felt disconnected to everything
around her. At first, she had assumed it was part of the whole upheaval
of her life, but with things beginning to settle down, she continued to
feel like an alien inside her own skin. She desperately wanted to know
more, hoping that it would make the oddness go away, but it rarely
helped. In fact, it only illuminated the gulf between her present state
and the way things used to be.
From what Giles had been telling her, she was likely to die again in
the next few years, if not earlier. Slayers didn't live long, and
regardless of her trip back from the beyond, it looked to be a
trustworthy fact. At least her mom wasn't alive to see her daughter
die.
Buffy blinked away sudden tears, forbidding them to fall. Especially
not here, and not now. There would be time for crying at home, in her
bedroom, with the door closed and the pillow handy for muffling the
sounds of her grief.
She rested her head on her arms, tired not just from the fighting but
the emotional turmoil as well, and unknowingly fell into the oblivion
of slumber.
****
Once the sun had set, Spike set out for the magic shop, expecting Buffy
to be there. Knowing the Watcher, he'd probably started her right into
training. No rest for the weary, or the formerly dead.
He meandered in, glancing at the magical knickknacks on his way through
the foyer and into the bulk of the shop. The sight of Buffy asleep as
she sat at the table softened his gaze, and he watched her for an
indulgent handful of seconds before coming closer.
"She's asleep," Anya whispered helpfully from behind the counter, and
he gave her a look to let her know he wasn't blind nor stupid.
He didn't want to wake her, not when she looked so peaceful and
unguarded and, well, beautiful. A stray tendril of hair was draped
across her face, and he gently tucked it away, not caring if the ex-
demon was watching. Buffy shifted slightly, as if aware of his
presence, and against his better judgement he sat down near her at the
table, taking advantage of the tranquil moment.
After a few more seconds, she stirred and awoke, her eyes fixing
straight on him as she gathered her senses. Then she smiled lazily, in
such a way that he instantly forgot they weren't alone and sitting in a
public place.
"Hey, what're you doing here?" Buffy asked with a growing sense of her
surroundings. "Aren't you--wait a minute. It's dark outside."
"That it is," Spike remarked breezily, amused at her disorientation.
"Oh crap. What time is it?" She was now in full tilt alarm, sitting
straight up and looking for a clock.
"It's after seven, love."
"Seven?? I've been asleep for...four hours?" Buffy fixed her sights on
Anya. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Giles said to let you rest. The fact that you fell asleep on *that*
table shows how wiped out you were," Anya replied, mollifying the
Slayer. "The rest of the gang should be here shortly, so you timed your
nap fairly well, all things considered. Giles left a couple hours
ago...he wanted to get cleaned up and ready for tonight."
"While I'll continue to be all grody and disgusting," Buffy remarked
sourly, just realizing her post-training condition.
"Well, you don't live too far from here, and I'm sure your pals will
wait for you if you're late," Spike mentioned to her as a way to help.
"And I'd better make sure Dawn is home," she replied, sounding so much
like the Buffy he knew that he nearly said it out loud. "Spike, would
you like to come with? I doubt I'll run into any baddies on the way
there and back, but I'm not feeling too sure about my own skills at the
moment."
He caught Anya's startled glance at him, and suppressed a strong urge
to smirk in response. "Yeah, of course. Let's go."
****
The gang noticed Buffy's absence when they arrived, and Anya informed
each one as they came in that Buffy and Spike had left to go to her
house, so they could check up on Dawn and so Buffy could take a shower.
Each member took the news differently. Tara looked thoughtful, yet
worried; Xander's eyes bugged out in an unflattering way, then muttered
something about horrible images of Buffy, Spike and a shower; Willow
was quickly troubled, and openly fretted about what was going on
between the former enemies. Xander took her side, while Anya was a bit
confused about the whole thing and Tara kept silent.
Giles came in while they talked, and soon he was up to speed on the
Buffy-closeness-with-Spike issue. "Dear Lord. Haven't we been down this
road once already?"
"Twice," Xander corrected him, squirming slightly. "And might I add,
not a road I want to travel down a third time."
"But we don't know there's been any...um, overt closeness, do we?" Tara
asked. "Like of a romantic kind?"
"Well, no...they've just been really friendly. Buffy's in a vulnerable
stage right now, though. She doesn't know Spike like we do, like she
used to," Willow replied. "I don't want to see her get hurt because we
didn't say something."
"She might not remember, but she's still Buffy. If she can like Spike
now, then maybe she would like him regardless of what she knew of him,"
Tara offered meekly. "I mean, right before she died...she was being
nicer to him, and everything."
Giles cleared his throat, then said, "True, but I'm concerned that
Buffy won't be as wary and cautious, without knowing who and what Spike
truly is."
The door opened, and Buffy came in with Spike, looking happy and
content in a rare moment. "Hey, gang's all here. Sorry about being
late. I was--"
"We know. Anya told us," Willow said, her tone deceptively light.
"Spike's here, too. Hi Spike."
He gave her a curious look, knowing something was definitely not right.
"Look, why don't I take leave of you all, let you have some time
to...do whatever you had planned, eh?"
"Wait--then who's gonna walk me home?" Buffy asked, and the room fell
silent. It seemed their worst fears were already coming to pass.
"Buffy, one of us can take you home. It's no problem." Xander smiled,
but she wasn't mollified.
"You don't mean walking, right? You mean driving me home?"
"Well..." he trailed off, not really understanding the difference.
"What does it matter?"
Giles realized what she meant, however, and regretted not seeing it
earlier. "She means that it's not safe for her to go out at night,
unless someone's there to protect her. If the demons and vampires in
Sunnydale find out that she's back..."
He didn't need to finish. Spike nodded, his own understanding of the
group's behavior beginning to take form. "Yeah, that's pretty much in a
nutshell. Don't worry, ol' Spike hasn't been taking moonlit strolls
with your Slayer. She's not in fighting trim yet, that's for sure."
"And how would you know that, Spike?" Giles asked, his voice taking on
a hint of deadly curiosity.
"I just--you know, it's funny..." He stopped when he felt Buffy's hand
on his arm.
"It's all right. I'll tell them--they might as well know." She preceded
to relate the entire story of what happened in the cemetery, which
didn't thrill her friends in the least.
"And then you went home, right?" Anya asked.
"Well, we talked for awhile--Spike told me about everything in his
past, all the bad stuff, and some of the recent stuff as well." They
looked at her and Spike skeptically, and she added, "No, really. He
told me the truth."
"Oh yeah? And what did he say about why you deinvited him from your
house?" Xander queried.
"It was because he told me he was in love with me, and I assumed it was
an obsession and something very not of the good. I didn't want him in
my house, especially after the whole Drusilla returning and chaining up
thing. I could go into further detail on that if you want...?"
"Um, no, that's okay. It sounds pretty accurate," Xander replied with a
nervous smile on his face. "Not that I knew much before. Uh, not that I
wanted to, of course."
"Spike," Willow cut in, her tone filled with disapproval of his
naughtiness. True, he apparently hadn't glossed over the truth with
her, but this still didn't bode well. "What did I tell you a couple
days ago?"
He frowned at her, until comprehension dawned on him. "Oh."
"I'm gonna have a talk with you later, mister," she replied in the same
tone, and was rewarded with the sight of the vampire looking penitent.
Tara shifted in her seat nervously, and asked, "Um, shouldn't we be
having a meeting?"
"Yes, quite right, Tara. Everyone, have a seat. Spike, if you want to
stay, well...you will, I guess," Giles added, not quite believing the
whole situation.
Spike flashed a wicked grin, then settled down at the table. Unknown to
Giles, he'd been at several of these gatherings, and had no intention
of leaving when it was clear that he was still welcome. Buffy joined
him, and soon Xander began by revealing last night's patrolling fun,
with noticeably less vampires. Word must have spread about Buffy being
back, which was both a blessing and a curse; it meant that quantity
would soon be replaced by quality, something Buffy was in no condition
to face.
Plans were formed, schedules made, and there was a general relief that
no major problems seemed to be cropping up; for a meeting, it was
rather productive. The patrolling for the night was left to Willow and
Spike, so they both walked Buffy home afterwards and headed straight
for the cemetery.
Spike knew the tongue-lashing was coming, so it was no surprise that
shortly after passing through the gate, he heard Willow call his name
from behind him.
He winced, then turned around to face her. "Yeah, Will?"
"Did you really tell her everything? *Everything*, everything?"
He contemplated the redheaded slip of a girl, wringing her hands
anxiously, and decided it was safer to be honest. "Actually, that and
more. Well, it was stuff she didn't know before, at any rate. You don't
need to worry--she knows all about yours truly, now. What I can't
figure is why she's still tolerating me. She even wants to be friends."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. Baffling, isn't it? But when her memories come back, that'll
be the end of it," he said matter-of-factly, with no small amount of
sadness underneath. "I know you probably won't believe me when I say
this, but I really don't want Buffy being all pleasant to me because
she's got amnesia. Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it, but...it's not
the same."
"I know how you feel. I want Buffy back--our Buffy. I mean, she is our
Buffy, but she doesn't remember being in high school, or being a
Slayer..."
"Or you," Spike added knowingly.
Willow swallowed. "It's hard. I feel like I've lost my best friend
twice. I know it's not the end of the world, but still...it's not the
same."
They walked in silence for a time, listening for the approach of a
vampire or demon looking for some action. When none appeared, Spike
attempted to bring the stalled conversation into an area he knew the
witch wouldn't like.
"Will, what if Buffy...what would you do if Buffy got her memories
back, and she still acted the way she does now? Like with me, for
instance?"
It was a tenuous and unrealistic hope he held in his undead heart, but
the notion had been fanned into a small flame thanks to Buffy's
continuing behavior. For some reason, he wanted Willow's reassurance
that she wouldn't interfere if Buffy--by some unfathomable miracle--
still wanted to be around him.
The young woman squinted in thought, trying to envision such a
scenario, no doubt. "I don't know. I guess, if she's doing it with
everything back in its rightful place...it would be her business, not
mine. But you're not thinking--"
"No, not thinking, exactly. Supposing, or maybe hoping is the better
word," Spike answered, then cursed himself inwardly for revealing that
fact to the Slayer's best friend. "Hope is all it is, though. I know
that."
"Good. I wouldn't want to have to take you on if you tried anything
inappropriate."
Spike smiled weakly, thankful that the girl couldn't read minds. Or
could she? Willow appeared oblivious to his sudden panic, but continued
with a knowing tone, "I don't have to worry about that, now do I?"
"No worries about me, Will. I'll be a perfect gentleman."
She grinned with an innocence he almost believed. "Great! Well, it
doesn't look like there's a lot of action going on tonight, so I think
I'll be heading home. You'll lock up the cemetery after me, won't you?"
"Yeah, no problem."
The young witch headed back towards the entrance, her posture showing
the confidence she'd recently acquired. The backbone she'd displayed
months ago had taken him completely by surprise, but not in a bad way.
He respected her, and in some corner of his mind, he was glad Buffy had
such a devoted friend. Lord knew he'd had no one half as constant when
he'd been human.
He grimaced sourly, unwilling to dredge up bitter memories. It didn't
seem like much had changed, even after a hundred and score years. Here
he was, friendless save for a Slayer who didn't know any better, her
younger sister who *did* know better and ignored common sense, and a
group of people who seemed to tolerate him, more often than not. He was
waiting for them all to wise up and stake him, or even worse, force him
out of town and out of their lives. It was a fate he couldn't bring
himself to contemplate.
With a sigh, he took another circle around the graveyard as he'd
promised Will he would do. To his regret, he found no sign of any
demons and went back to his crypt, noticing not for the first time the
echoes resounding off the walls of stone. Empty and lonely echoes.
He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the chest, untouched for weeks, and
regarded for a moment. Then he placed it back in the chest and closed
the lid, deciding that for tonight, he wouldn't drown his sorrows with
drink. Instead, he flipped on the telly and delved into the fictional
lives of perfect people who, he could imagine for just a while, were
people who liked him and wanted to be in his presence.
****
It was strange, Willow noted as she walked up the steps of the Summers'
home the next morning. Two--or was it three?--days ago, she was doing
this exact same thing, leaving her apartment to meet up with Tara. Only
now, Buffy was alive again by some miracle. It was weirdly wonderful
and strangely correct. After all, why *wouldn't* Buffy be in her house?
The last three months felt like a horrible nightmare from which she'd
been allowed to awaken. However, there was one bitter aftertaste to
deal with...one Willow hoped she could rectify soon.
The spell apparently hadn't worked, which only surprised her because
she thought she was finally over that phase. It had to be the
ingredients. Well, at least nothing bad had happened afterwards, like
with the others.
She rang the doorbell, and Tara answered it with a confused look on her
face. "Willow? W-what's up? Do you need to talk to Buffy?"
Willow frowned. "No, silly. I came to see you. I thought since we
didn't spend our spell time together earlier, we could do something
today before my shift starts."
"Oh," Tara replied, suddenly looking penitent. "I, um, I went ahead and
make plans. With my wiccan friends...we were going to go into L.A. for
some charm shopping."
"Without me?" Willow asked weakly, hurt.
"Honey, I'm so sorry. I-I thought you'd want to spend time with Buffy.
You know, continue with the catching up?"
Willow walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Well,
yeah, I can do that, but it doesn't mean anything to her, not like it
does to me. Why can't I just cast a spell on her to make her remember?
Poof, and she's back!"
Tara's eyes flashed, "Willow, you have to let her recall things
naturally. Not everything can be fixed with a spell."
"Oh, right, I forgot. Wiccans don't mess with nature. Except for the
times when they do."
A horn honked outside, and Tara looked from her to the window. "They're
here. Look, I don't have time to go into this. You know I'm only
concerned about you..."
"No, it's okay," Willow put on a sunny smile, hiding her
disappointment. "Go. Have some shopping fun."
Tara gave her a hug and kiss, then grabbed her bag and went out the
door with a wave and a vaguely concerned look on her face. Willow waved
back as if nothing was wrong, and watched as her lover left.
Footsteps broke the silence, and Willow looked around to see Buffy
standing there, rubbing her temple. "Did Tara leave already?"
"Yeah, just now. I didn't know she was going out."
Buffy didn't catch the somberness of her tone as she closed her eyes in
pain. "Well, neither did she until last night. It was kinda last
minute. Did you...come over to see her?"
"Originally, that was the plan. But plans are made to be broken, so
let's forge ourselves some new ones out of the shards of the last one,
okay? Speaking of okay, are you...?"
"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little headache. I took something for it
already," she replied as a dismissal, then shrugged. "So, I'm ready to
be enlightened some more. Ooh--maybe we could do a trance, like
hypnosis? I've heard that works on people with amnesia."
Willow stared, then gradually smiled as a thought came to her. "Yeah, a
trance. But not hypnosis. I know something even better than that..."
****
It was quiet downstairs, which unnerved Dawn to the point of leaving
her room and checking out the lack of activity. Through her sleep-
induced haze, she'd heard Tara leave, but Buffy and Willow were still
downstairs...weren't they?
She found them sitting in the living room. Willow had moved a chair
around so that she was facing the couch, opposite Buffy. Both had their
eyes closed, and looked as if they'd fallen asleep while sitting up.
Dawn reached over to shake Willow, when she noticed the note on the
table, sitting near one of three lit candles. Seeing that it was folded
over and had her name written in large letters, she carefully picked it
up and read the contents.
"Dawn,
I'm sorry I didn't do this in person, but we figured that we'd let
you sleep in, in case this doesn't take very long. At least, I hope it
doesn't. All we're doing is a spell like the one I did to bring Buffy
out of that catatonic state she was in. I think I can find her
memories, if they're still in there. My watch says 9:12 a.m., so in a
few minutes we'll be starting the trance. If something goes wrong, or
if this lasts longer than three hours, call Giles.
See you soon, Willow"
Tearing her eyes away from the paper, she looked at the clock hanging
on the wall--it was 9:44, which meant they'd been like this for a half
hour, at most. Should she call Giles, anyway? Willow said to do it only
if something went wrong, or after three hours...but what if something
*did* happen, and it wasn't something that could wait for Giles to
arrive?
She shuffled nervously, not sure what to do. Maybe she could wait a
full hour, then call Giles. Anya said that's how long it had taken
before, so if they didn't come out of it by then, well, then she would
call him.
In the end, she couldn't wait that long. Sometime just past 10 o'clock,
she went into the kitchen and called the Magic Box, hoping he was
there. He wasn't, but Anya gave her the phone number of the hotel room
where he was staying, with a warning about how he was still trying to
sleep off a case of jet lag.
His room phone rang five times before he finally picked up. "This had
bloody better be good," Giles replied darkly.
"Giles? I need your help. It's Willow and Buffy. She told me not to
call you unless something went wrong, but I don't know what to do and
there's no one else I can ask--"
"Dawn! Slow down, take a deep breath." She did as told, then Giles
continued, "Now, what's this about Willow and Buffy?"