Title: Visitation (Pt 12 of NA)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.. Just Borrowing
Summary: Tara has been shot. The Scoobies try to decide where to go from here....
Visitation
The silence was deafening. It was more quiet than any five people should be able to generate. They sat around the familiar table in the Magic Box, staring down at the wood grain as if all the answers to the meaning of life and death were contained in the molecules of timber. The silence covered them like a blanket. They had lost their collective conscience.
Finally, Anya spoke up. " I called Giles," she said, tapping her fingers on the table. The sound pierced the blanket like a stake ripping through flesh.
"Good, honey," Xander replied, putting his hand on hers. He had to stop the drumming.
"Is he coming?" Buffy asked, her voice measured, steady. Her eyes were tired and wet.
"He said tomorrow," Anya answered, still trying to drum under Xander's palm. Her foot began to tick under the table when she realized her hand was silenced.
"Good," Buffy replied in the same careful tone. " How's Will?" she asked, turning her eyes to Xander.
"A doctor at the hospital gave her a sedative. She's asleep on my couch," Xander answered, letting his fingers twine gratefully through Anya's soft hand. " But we should be getting back soon."
"I should go," Buffy said, staring at her clasped hands. Spike visibly tensed, but said nothing. Xander remembered his look on the porch. Xander understood the look.
"Buff, you need to stay here," Xander answered. "I'll take care of Willow. Warren was...is... looking for you. You are better off here."
"But Willow needs me," Buffy said, trying to be strong. Ignoring the gnawing fear in the base of her skull.
"Buffy, stay here, " Dawn pleaded, her eyes tearing again. Both Summers girls stared over at Spike.
Spike thought for a moment, fingers tracing the edges of the mug in front of him. "I think you're better off here, Pet," he finally said, "but it's your choice."
Buffy sat thoughtfully for a moment. "Can you bring her by tomorrow?" she directed at Xander in the same measured voice.
Xander glanced over at Spike. "Let's see what she's up for," Xander answered carefully. Spike's shoulders relaxed. Buffy was silent.
"What do we do about Warren?" Anya asked. They were all silent again. This wasn't some supernatural demon. This was just a very evil man.
Spike spoke up. "I've put some ears out for him. But we have other things to deal with first. I'll take care of it." Buffy shot over a concerned glance ,then realized she was too tired to fight.
"What about the funeral?" Dawn asked.
"It's taken care of," Xander said softly, touching Dawn's soft hand. "Day after tomorrow." Dawn just started to cry. Spike instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"I think we've all had enough," Spike said, cradling the younger Summers against his chest.
"We'd better get back to Willow," Xander stood and pulled out Anya's chair. She rose quietly. "See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight," Buffy answered, turning her attention back to Dawn and Spike.
"Slayer, I need to patrol a while," Spike began once the room was empty save for the three of them.
"Let me come with," Buffy pleaded. Spike nodded over at the sobbing girl under his wing.
"Think you and Niblet could use some rest," he said softly, standing and pulling Dawn to her feet. Buffy followed quietly as he took them back through the tunnels to the crypt.
"I'll be back, Love, " he whispered, brushing his lips against Buffy's. She took Dawn against her and nodded. Not the night to fight.
*****
It was as if even the creatures of the night were mourning the loss of the good witch, Spike thought as he walked about the desolate graveyard. Not a vampire, a demon, not even a mouse. It was silent. He was a creature of the night, really, even if he tried to fool himself into thinking he was a man. And he was missing Tara already.
Spike had walked in lazy circles for an hour, not seeing anything out of place. The silence spread throughout the night. It was about time to go home. Spike needed her tonight. Needed to know she was alright. 'Something wicked this way comes', he thought, as he headed toward the crypt. And we will be in the center of the storm.
"Spike?" he heard as he approached the front entrance. Spike reeled around at the sound of the woman's voice. He knew Buffy's every sound. This was not her.
"Spike?" he heard again. He wheeled the opposite direction. There she was. Standing next to a granite angel. Light, serene, and pretty.
"Tara?" he asked, walking toward the monument. She glistened, shimmered in the moonlight. He sniffed the air and tasted nothing.
"Hi, Spike," Tara said, shyly.
"But you're..."
"So are you," she retorted, smiling. He could not help but return it. Slowly, his smile turned to a pained grimace.
"You weren't....turned?" Spike asked, craning his head to look at her neck.
"No," she whispered with the same serene smile. "This is just my....spirit."
"So your witchy stuff even works upstairs, girl?" Spike chided. Tara chuckled in response.
"Guess so," she answered.
"What brings you back here?" he asked, his eyes mesmerized by her silvery glow.
"I needed to tell you something."
"Me? Why?" he asked, incredulous. "Shouldn't you be whispering sweet nothings to your lady friend?"
Tara's face when blank. Spike shuddered imperceptibly at the change. "Spike, something's coming," she continued, all humour gone from her voice. "You feel it. You know it."
He nodded cautiously. "Something wicked this way comes," he muttered.
"It could end you all," Tara spoke, her tone utterly even.
"Who could? What?"
"That is not mine to give," she replied, blinking slowly. But he saw something cross her face. A shadow of her former self. Darkness.
"Can you help us?" he asked, admitting his fright to himself, swallowing it like fire. He had been afraid more since Buffy had let him into her life than he had in the previous 120 years of his existence. Fear did not sit well with him.
"You can stop it," Tara answered. "Only you. You have to drain it almost dry."
"Tara, I don't...I won't..." Spike sputtered.
"To save them, you will have to drain it, Spike. And you will have to journey. What happens then is out of my realm."
"I don't understand...." Spike said, completely dazed by her shining, dancing..
"Bye, Spike," she whispered, pushing up onto her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. "See ya round."
She was gone.
He stopped a moment, trying to drink it in. 'You're mad', he muttered to himself, starting back toward the crypt. "Bloody Hell."
*****
Spike crept through the door, only to find the Slayer and her sister on the couch, the telly flickering softly in the background. Dawn was sound asleep with her head in Buffy's lap. Buffy's fingers lazily smoothed her sister's hair.
When the door opened and clicked shut, Buffy craned around her tired, knotted neck. He stood still in the doorway, staring at her beautiful face peeking up above the back of the sofa. Holding that face in his mind. Watching her watching him. Time was short.
Spike walked to the couch, silently scooping Dawn into his arms and carrying her down to her bed. Buffy followed, watching him, smiling softly as he tucked the teenager into her bed and brushed her tear-matted hair from her cheeks. Slowly, he turned back to Buffy, taking her hand, leading her back to his room. His bed. Their bed.
"Spike, you alright?" Buffy asked. He had not said a word. She began to slip out of her sweater, her pants. He sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. She came to him, only in her little lace tank top and pretty pink panties. Spike rested his hands on her hips, studying her. Her big hazel eyes, her pretty coral lips, her graceful neck, the hollow of her throat, her beautiful chest, the gentle rise of her belly, her strong, smooth legs. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. For all he had right now, this moment, may not be the same for long. He believed Tara. He knew she was right. The perfect world he had finally made may soon disappear. As long as he could keep Buffy, he could live with it.
"Spike?" Buffy asked again, leaning down to kiss his lips. Hers were warm, sweet, soft against him.
"Yes, Love?" He was trying not to let his voice betray him.
"You OK?" she queried, her warm hand brushing against his cheek.
"Everything's fine," he said, smiling up at her. She grinned back. He still loved that he could make her do that. "One thing though?"
"What?" she asked, climbing onto the bed, straddling his denim clad knees.
"Can we start off in the same bed tonight?" he asked.
"I was going to ask if it was alright if I stayed here," she answered, rocking back on her heels, sitting on his knees. Spike ran his hands over her shoulders, her arms, her tiny hands.
"Please," Spike said, leaning back onto the bed, pulling her down with him. He cradled her against him, her head nestled under his chin. "Buffy?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"You know I love you, right?"
"Yes," she answered, nestling closer, her leg thrown over his waist.
"I'll always be with you," Spike said, kissing her forehead tenderly.
"I'm glad," Buffy answered, her hands lazily brushing over his chest. "I don't think I would like it much without you."
He couldn't stop the tears.
To be contd..
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.. Just Borrowing
Summary: Tara has been shot. The Scoobies try to decide where to go from here....
Visitation
The silence was deafening. It was more quiet than any five people should be able to generate. They sat around the familiar table in the Magic Box, staring down at the wood grain as if all the answers to the meaning of life and death were contained in the molecules of timber. The silence covered them like a blanket. They had lost their collective conscience.
Finally, Anya spoke up. " I called Giles," she said, tapping her fingers on the table. The sound pierced the blanket like a stake ripping through flesh.
"Good, honey," Xander replied, putting his hand on hers. He had to stop the drumming.
"Is he coming?" Buffy asked, her voice measured, steady. Her eyes were tired and wet.
"He said tomorrow," Anya answered, still trying to drum under Xander's palm. Her foot began to tick under the table when she realized her hand was silenced.
"Good," Buffy replied in the same careful tone. " How's Will?" she asked, turning her eyes to Xander.
"A doctor at the hospital gave her a sedative. She's asleep on my couch," Xander answered, letting his fingers twine gratefully through Anya's soft hand. " But we should be getting back soon."
"I should go," Buffy said, staring at her clasped hands. Spike visibly tensed, but said nothing. Xander remembered his look on the porch. Xander understood the look.
"Buff, you need to stay here," Xander answered. "I'll take care of Willow. Warren was...is... looking for you. You are better off here."
"But Willow needs me," Buffy said, trying to be strong. Ignoring the gnawing fear in the base of her skull.
"Buffy, stay here, " Dawn pleaded, her eyes tearing again. Both Summers girls stared over at Spike.
Spike thought for a moment, fingers tracing the edges of the mug in front of him. "I think you're better off here, Pet," he finally said, "but it's your choice."
Buffy sat thoughtfully for a moment. "Can you bring her by tomorrow?" she directed at Xander in the same measured voice.
Xander glanced over at Spike. "Let's see what she's up for," Xander answered carefully. Spike's shoulders relaxed. Buffy was silent.
"What do we do about Warren?" Anya asked. They were all silent again. This wasn't some supernatural demon. This was just a very evil man.
Spike spoke up. "I've put some ears out for him. But we have other things to deal with first. I'll take care of it." Buffy shot over a concerned glance ,then realized she was too tired to fight.
"What about the funeral?" Dawn asked.
"It's taken care of," Xander said softly, touching Dawn's soft hand. "Day after tomorrow." Dawn just started to cry. Spike instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"I think we've all had enough," Spike said, cradling the younger Summers against his chest.
"We'd better get back to Willow," Xander stood and pulled out Anya's chair. She rose quietly. "See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight," Buffy answered, turning her attention back to Dawn and Spike.
"Slayer, I need to patrol a while," Spike began once the room was empty save for the three of them.
"Let me come with," Buffy pleaded. Spike nodded over at the sobbing girl under his wing.
"Think you and Niblet could use some rest," he said softly, standing and pulling Dawn to her feet. Buffy followed quietly as he took them back through the tunnels to the crypt.
"I'll be back, Love, " he whispered, brushing his lips against Buffy's. She took Dawn against her and nodded. Not the night to fight.
*****
It was as if even the creatures of the night were mourning the loss of the good witch, Spike thought as he walked about the desolate graveyard. Not a vampire, a demon, not even a mouse. It was silent. He was a creature of the night, really, even if he tried to fool himself into thinking he was a man. And he was missing Tara already.
Spike had walked in lazy circles for an hour, not seeing anything out of place. The silence spread throughout the night. It was about time to go home. Spike needed her tonight. Needed to know she was alright. 'Something wicked this way comes', he thought, as he headed toward the crypt. And we will be in the center of the storm.
"Spike?" he heard as he approached the front entrance. Spike reeled around at the sound of the woman's voice. He knew Buffy's every sound. This was not her.
"Spike?" he heard again. He wheeled the opposite direction. There she was. Standing next to a granite angel. Light, serene, and pretty.
"Tara?" he asked, walking toward the monument. She glistened, shimmered in the moonlight. He sniffed the air and tasted nothing.
"Hi, Spike," Tara said, shyly.
"But you're..."
"So are you," she retorted, smiling. He could not help but return it. Slowly, his smile turned to a pained grimace.
"You weren't....turned?" Spike asked, craning his head to look at her neck.
"No," she whispered with the same serene smile. "This is just my....spirit."
"So your witchy stuff even works upstairs, girl?" Spike chided. Tara chuckled in response.
"Guess so," she answered.
"What brings you back here?" he asked, his eyes mesmerized by her silvery glow.
"I needed to tell you something."
"Me? Why?" he asked, incredulous. "Shouldn't you be whispering sweet nothings to your lady friend?"
Tara's face when blank. Spike shuddered imperceptibly at the change. "Spike, something's coming," she continued, all humour gone from her voice. "You feel it. You know it."
He nodded cautiously. "Something wicked this way comes," he muttered.
"It could end you all," Tara spoke, her tone utterly even.
"Who could? What?"
"That is not mine to give," she replied, blinking slowly. But he saw something cross her face. A shadow of her former self. Darkness.
"Can you help us?" he asked, admitting his fright to himself, swallowing it like fire. He had been afraid more since Buffy had let him into her life than he had in the previous 120 years of his existence. Fear did not sit well with him.
"You can stop it," Tara answered. "Only you. You have to drain it almost dry."
"Tara, I don't...I won't..." Spike sputtered.
"To save them, you will have to drain it, Spike. And you will have to journey. What happens then is out of my realm."
"I don't understand...." Spike said, completely dazed by her shining, dancing..
"Bye, Spike," she whispered, pushing up onto her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. "See ya round."
She was gone.
He stopped a moment, trying to drink it in. 'You're mad', he muttered to himself, starting back toward the crypt. "Bloody Hell."
*****
Spike crept through the door, only to find the Slayer and her sister on the couch, the telly flickering softly in the background. Dawn was sound asleep with her head in Buffy's lap. Buffy's fingers lazily smoothed her sister's hair.
When the door opened and clicked shut, Buffy craned around her tired, knotted neck. He stood still in the doorway, staring at her beautiful face peeking up above the back of the sofa. Holding that face in his mind. Watching her watching him. Time was short.
Spike walked to the couch, silently scooping Dawn into his arms and carrying her down to her bed. Buffy followed, watching him, smiling softly as he tucked the teenager into her bed and brushed her tear-matted hair from her cheeks. Slowly, he turned back to Buffy, taking her hand, leading her back to his room. His bed. Their bed.
"Spike, you alright?" Buffy asked. He had not said a word. She began to slip out of her sweater, her pants. He sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. She came to him, only in her little lace tank top and pretty pink panties. Spike rested his hands on her hips, studying her. Her big hazel eyes, her pretty coral lips, her graceful neck, the hollow of her throat, her beautiful chest, the gentle rise of her belly, her strong, smooth legs. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. For all he had right now, this moment, may not be the same for long. He believed Tara. He knew she was right. The perfect world he had finally made may soon disappear. As long as he could keep Buffy, he could live with it.
"Spike?" Buffy asked again, leaning down to kiss his lips. Hers were warm, sweet, soft against him.
"Yes, Love?" He was trying not to let his voice betray him.
"You OK?" she queried, her warm hand brushing against his cheek.
"Everything's fine," he said, smiling up at her. She grinned back. He still loved that he could make her do that. "One thing though?"
"What?" she asked, climbing onto the bed, straddling his denim clad knees.
"Can we start off in the same bed tonight?" he asked.
"I was going to ask if it was alright if I stayed here," she answered, rocking back on her heels, sitting on his knees. Spike ran his hands over her shoulders, her arms, her tiny hands.
"Please," Spike said, leaning back onto the bed, pulling her down with him. He cradled her against him, her head nestled under his chin. "Buffy?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"You know I love you, right?"
"Yes," she answered, nestling closer, her leg thrown over his waist.
"I'll always be with you," Spike said, kissing her forehead tenderly.
"I'm glad," Buffy answered, her hands lazily brushing over his chest. "I don't think I would like it much without you."
He couldn't stop the tears.
To be contd..