CHAPTER 2: WAKE

Here it comes again
Taste of jagged glass and rusty can
There are just black holes
where the stars would be watching
Just black holes
where the stars should've been

            ~ Exterminating Angel, The Creatures
_________________________________________________________________


"Damn."

Willow slammed shut the heavy tome and rubbed at her eyes in irritation, promptly forgetting whatever boring description she'd been reading. Two weeks of reading about boring rituals, sacrifices, dances and prayers. Two weeks of fruitless searching, sleepless nights and endless frustration. Her eyes burned with the strain of many hours' worth of reading and her neck ached from all the time spent hunched over the desk, poring over dusty books with hopeful eyes. Her very heart ached, tired and worn as the rest of her, and she laid her head upon the musty cover, folding her arms around it.

"Late night?" asked a voice from behind her. The voice was low, sweet, and so gentle that it didn't startle her, even though she hadn't sensed anyone behind her. She raised her head from the book, trying to smile as she turned, then stopped as she felt a pair of hands settle on her shoulders, massaging the tense muscles there.

Willow let her head droop back down, forehead touching the tome as she relaxed her neck muscles, and she sighed with all the frustration and despair that had begun to build inside her. Even the touch of her lover did little these days to bring a smile to her lips, and sometimes she wondered if there was anything that could assuage the ache in her heart. "Yeah. Again."

"Well…" Tara's hands seemed to hesitate on Willow's shoulders, stuttering there for a moment before moving on to Willow's neck. It was a slight pause, an almost natural one given that her hands had changed position; it didn't occur to Willow to think of it as any more than that. "You have been doing some pretty heavy reading." She leaned over Willow's shoulder and glanced at the spine of the magical volume. "The Book of Seker?" She didn't recognize the name, but given Willow's interest of late, it nevertheless conjured up images of dark rituals and deals with death, and she couldn't repress a shudder.

Willow reached up and patted her lover's hand reassuringly before letting her own drop back down against the desk in defeat. "Don't worry," she grumbled, managing to sound sulky and sarcastic at the same time. "The only necromantic power this book has is its ability to bore me to death."

"No luck?" Tara asked, her tone sympathetic. She didn't like to see her lover unhappy, but she couldn't help feeling just a touch of relief.

"Big fat zero," Willow said in disgust. "Though if you want to know how to cut out the heart of a phoenix without severing the vein, I can tell you all about it in painstaking detail."

Tara let her hands slide down over Willows shoulders, wrapping her arms around her lover's neck in an intimate embrace. Resting her chin on Willow's shoulder, she tilted her head slightly to the side and tried to catch a glimpse of her lover's expression, smiling gently. "If there's a way, I know you'll find it."

Willow shifted in Tara's embrace; turning to look at her, and Tara could suddenly see all the nameless fears reflected in her lover's anxious eyes. She looked haunted, plagued by ghosts of memory and doubt. "What if I can't?" she asked quietly, giving voice to perhaps her biggest fear of all.

Tara let go, arms sliding from Willow's shoulders and slowly stood. "Well…" she said carefully, her hands twisting nervously together as she gathered the courage to speak her mind. Her heart found the strength, but her eyes lost their nerve, and her gaze slid to the floor as she spoke. "W-what if you can't?" The words didn't ring of challenge--her tone was too uncertain-- but there was no mistaking her meaning.

Willow blinked, looking flustered, twisting around further in her chair and staring up at her in surprise. "Tara—what? But-- But Buffy," she said, almost gently, urgently, as if in reminder. And then her eyes regained their former frantic look, skittering over the room as if in hopes of escape. "There has to be a way! There has to be! She could be trapped… We can't just leave her!"

Tara bit her lower lip and considered. This wasn't easy for her. Disagreeing with Willow never was. But the memory of Joyce's death and Dawn's attempt to resurrect her was still fresh in Tara's mind. She knew Willow was irrevocably committed to this course of action; she had been since the moment they'd finished burying Buffy two weeks ago. Still, with a spell like this, everything was at risk. The consequences on the caster could be terrible, the results, unspeakable, and the price, far more than the caster could afford. Far more. She had to make one more try. "Willow… we don't really know what happened when Buffy went through the portal. Maybe she—"

Willow pushed herself up from the chair in a sudden movement and half-tuned to face Tara, her posture telegraphing clearly how uncomfortable and irritated she was. Her eyes couldn't quite hold Tara's steadily, and they flickered nervously back and forth as she spoke.

"Maybe she died!" she blurted uncontrollably. "M-maybe she saved the world for the hundredth time and died and n-now she's all alone and lost and cold and—and…" Her voice trailed off and she pressed her hands to her face, shaking her head slowly back and forth as the tears came. "Buffy," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Tara went to her without hesitation, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her tight, stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words against her cheek. "Shhh. It's okay. I know. I miss her, too."

Willow leaned hard against her lover, seeking comfort desperately as she struggled to control herself. She shuddered with a sob, voice breaking as she confessed, "I—I have to, Tara. Don't y-you see? I h--have p-puh-ower. I h-have to h-help her. I- I'm the oh-only one who c-can."

Tara heard the helpless guilt in her lover's voice and knew she was right. Maybe Willow wasn't the only one powerful enough to bring Buffy back, but she was the only one powerful enough who would dare try. She had to try, or she'd never be able to live with herself.

If they could find a spell that worked, it would be a dangerous undertaking indeed. The spell itself would go against nature in every way, the spell ritual would be extremely complicated, the risks to everyone involved would be great, and even if it all went perfectly, the chances of success were not very high. Generally, witches had rules against this sort of thing, and Tara understood all too well why they did. But this was Sunnydale, and there was a Hellmouth, and things were different here. The normal laws of nature did not apply. It went without saying that Sunnydale needed a Slayer, and Buffy was the best there'd ever been.  And… Willow was so much more magically powerful than she was, anyway. She had trusted her lover up until now despite her occasional misgivings about the way Willow used her powers, and so far, Willow had never let her down.

Tara smiled and hugged Willow close. "Then I have to help."

Willow sniffled and raised her head, smiling wanly at her lover. She kissed Tara gently and then wiped her teary eyes, eyes that were genuinely deep with gratitude. "Thank you, baby." She laced her fingers through Tara's and squeezed lightly, taking a moment just to look at her.

Tara smiled back shyly and ducked her head, embarrassed by Willow's direct appreciation. Looking away, she tucked a lock of long, blond hair behind one ear. "Um… so, are you ready for bed?

Willow started to nod, then her eyes went wide and she gasped. "Oh no!" Letting go of Tara's hand she turned and ran toward the bedroom door, grabbing her sweater jacket and shrugging into it on the way.

"Willow!"

She stopped halfway out the door and glanced back at Tara, grimacing apologetically.  "I forgot! I told the guys I'd meet them for patrol tonight…" She glanced at her watch and looked back at Tara anxiously. "Three hours ago."

Tara hesitated while reaching for her own light sweater. "You don't think they're okay? I mean they probably would have called if they thought they, you know, couldn't do it without us." She was reluctant to go out tonight if they didn't have to, and the guys were probably handling it fine. "Giles and Xander are very capable."

"It's not Giles and Xander," Willow said meaningfully. "Giles and Anya had some inventory to do at the Magic Box tonight."

Tara paused a moment, thinking, then realized what Willow meant. "Oh!"

Without another word she grabbed her sweater and bolted out the door with Willow.


*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

"I'm going to kill you, you bloody wanker!" Spike snarled, biting off every word as he rushed at Xander's unprotected back.

Hearing Spike's approach, Xander turned toward him with a struggle, eyes going wide as Spike's stake hit its intended mark. A second later, the vampire between them exploded into dust.

Coughing and brushing dust from his shirt, Xander took a step back from Spike, glancing about the graveyard for more vamps. "Next time, do you think you could stop yelling about how much you're going to kill him and just do it?"

"I wasn't talking to him, you stupid git," Spike said, enunciating every word with flagging patience.

Xander blinked, his tone only mildly acidic as he replied. "Sorry. Is it my fault all you vamps dress in such a stunning array of black? How am I supposed to tell you apart?"

Spike snorted and rolled his eyes, obviously not amused. "Oh right, cause all vamps have white-blond hair and wear black-leather trench coats year round."

"I said I was sorry," Xander repeated with just a touch of annoyance. "In the middle of all those flying stakes and gnashing teeth, the rule is pretty much 'stab at anything dressed in black'."

"Sorry?" Spike didn't speak the word so much as he laughed it derisively. "Two inches lower and I'd be the one taking the tour of your lungs right now. Lucky for me, your aim sucks as bad as your—"

"Remind me again why I apologized for almost killing you?" Xander interrupted, furrowing his brow as he feigned confusion.

"Because I've saved your pansy arse more times than you can count?" Spike countered, sneering.

Xander sank down to sit on a headstone in the graveyard, holding his face in his hands, eyes never leaving Spike.

"Right, then." Spike nodded. "Emotional stress."

"Nights like this, I almost miss Cordelia," Xander sighed.

Spike had barely opened his mouth to make a snide reply when dark form barreled into Xander from behind and flipped him over the headstone, landing atop his prone form. The vampire snarled once at Spike as if making its claim on Xander clear, then grabbed Xander by the hair, twisting his head to one side as it bared its fangs, ready to strike.

Spike surveyed the scene, then folded his arms over his chest and cupped one hand over his ear. "What's that, nancy-boy? I can't hear you so well, what with all the thrashing around." The vamp stopped, staring as if Spike's words had stumped its meager intelligence, and Xander took the opportunity to spit dirt from his mouth, managing to make a few recognizable sounds. Spike cupped his hand closer around his ear, leaning forward as he listened to the muffled shouts, then nodded. "Oh! So you want to get back together, then, do you?"

Xander made a few more muffled noises, managing to pull one arm free and flail it about uselessly.

"Oh, sure, you say it'll be different this time," Spike scoffed. "But I've heard that before."

Xander's arm thrashed more violently, distracting the mesmerized vamp from Spike's scorned lover routine. Seeming to grow bored with their confusing lover's quarrel, and deciding that Spike didn't seem concerned enough to actually do anything, the vampire twisted Xander's head deeper into the dirt and bared its teeth in anticipation.

"You know what they say about a vampire scorned, after all," Spike continued, his voice growing more caustic as he made his point. He shook his head in disgust then, and drew back his arm that still held the stake, lining up the wooden shaft with vampire's left armpit—

"Aufero!" cried a female voice, and the vampire atop Xander was lifted and thrown violently away from him by an unseen force. A split second later, the stake Spike had loosed hit the gravestone and clattered to the ground.

Xander scrambled up from the ground and backpedaled away from the vamp, stopping to glare at Spike after he had gotten a safe distance away.

"What? Don't you love me anymore?" Spike asked him with a smirk. And then he was in motion; intercepting the vampire as it was just getting to its feet beyond the gravestone, knocking it back on the ground with hard punch to its head.

"You all right?" Willow asked breathlessly as she came up beside Xander, her eyes wide with concern.

"Yeah," Xander answered sulkily, spitting dirt. As he turned his head, he saw Tara and gave her a broad, fake smile. "Oh, hi Tara!" he said brightly, then looked back at Willow, fake smile fading to a grimace. "Next time, why don't you just bring the Sunnydale News crew with you so that everyone can witness my public humiliation live?"

Willow gave Xander a commiserating look, and then turned her attention back to Spike's battle with the vamp.

It wasn't much of a fight. A split second after Spike sucker-punched it, the vamp launched itself at Spike like a missile. Spike caught it, locked his arms around the creature and let its momentum carry them backward until they made a full turn of head-over-heel. As Spike tumbled into the top position, he dug his feet into the soft earth to stop their movement, pushing himself forward off the balls of his feet, forearm pinning the younger vampire to the ground with all his weight behind it.

"Stake," Spike demanded through clenched teeth, his unoccupied hand reaching out expectantly.

"Oh, gee, I don't know," came Xander's sarcastic voice. "I've been hurt before."

Willow glanced at him, bemused, and then nodded at the stake, speaking aloud. "Obviam ire," she intoned, and the stake rose obediently from the ground, placing itself into Spike's waiting hand.

The vampire on the ground hissed once in defiance before Spike planted the stake between its ribs, and then it exploded in a shower of ash and dust.

Spike bounced to his feet and brushed his leather trench coat off, looking very pleased with himself.

"Let's see. That makes a grand total of…" Spike looked up thoughtfully, pretending to count his fingers, "…five for me," then leveled Xander with a knowing look as he feigned curiosity, "…and how many for you?"

"Yeah, the vamps have been pretty active lately, huh?" Willow asked anxiously, cutting in before another argument could begin.

Perhaps grateful for the intervention, Xander sighed and leaned back against a nearby crypt. "Yeah… active like my parent's basement when I used to turn the light on in the middle of the night. I wonder if they have 'Vamp Motels'?"

"Y-you mean like lodgings, registers, stuff like that?" Tara asked in confusion.

"No." Xander gave her an odd look. "I mean like Muhammad Ali. You know." He dropped into a fighting stance and held his hands in front of his face like a boxer. "Kills vamps dead!" he said, doing a fair impression of the boxer's baritone voice.

Spike lit a match, touching it to the cigarette between his lips and squinted curiously at each of them over the resulting cloud of smoke. "It's the rumors," he said, his voice somehow ominous, yet curious at the same time, as if he were surprised they didn't know. "About the… Slayer." He stumbled over the word with only a moment of hesitation, felt his heart begin to swell painfully in his chest, then took a deep drag from his cigarette and plowed on. "Creatures're starting to say something's happened to her."

Willow, Xander and Tara shifted nervously, their eyes riveted on Spike with a thousand silent questions.

"Won't be long before they figure it out," he finished simply, exhaling with a long sigh.

Xander shifted his weight uncomfortably, turning to look at Willow. "Much as it appalls me, Will, I find myself in agreement with vampirus compactus, here." He nodded toward Spike, but his eyes never left Willow's. "How long before Plan B goes online?"

Spike also looked at her, reaching up to pluck the cigarette from his mouth with an index and middle finger, dark brows rising curiously.

"Uh… P-plan B?" she asked uncertainly, shuffling her feet and glancing back and forth between them guiltily, her mind racing. They couldn't know about the spell yet… could they? She hadn't told anyone except Tara.

"Okay, so there was no Plan A, but indulge my little movie fantasies could you?" Xander asked.

"Uh… Oh! Plan B!" Willow said with more certainty, as if she had suddenly just remembered. In truth, she had. She'd been so preoccupied with trying to find a spell to bring Buffy back that she'd forgotten completely about their other plan. "Right." She nodded with an uncomfortable smile. "Plan B, coming right along."

"So this week sometime?" Xander asked, not seeming to notice her discomfort.

"Right. This week. You betcha!" she said with a faint nervous laugh. "In fact," she glanced at her watch, "look! Patrol's over." She nodded. "So we should go. Work on that. Um… Plan B, I mean." She grabbed Tara's hand. "Now."

Willow took off down the street with Tara in tow, leaving Xander and Spike to stare after them in wonder.

"There goes a girl who should really get out more," Xander said with a shake of his head.


*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

The vampire stood silently among the trees at the northern end of the graveyard until he was certain that the human man and the blond vampire had gone. He had no idea why the blond vampire had turned to killing its own kind, much less why such a creature seemed to be working with a human male and two females, or why any of them knew anything about the Slayer's recent disappearance… but he suspected his mistress would be very interested to find out. Very interested, indeed.

With a last cautious glance, he departed the thin cover of the trees and hurried toward an old mausoleum, slipped inside, and was gone.


*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

"Aren't you coming to bed?" Tara asked as she slid between the covers of their bed, watching Willow tug on a pair of sweats instead of pajamas.

"I know it's late." Willow sighed and tugged the laces of the sweats snug around her slim waist. "But I've still got 'Plan B' to work on. The sooner I can get it up and running the more time we'll all have to look for a spell."

"All?" Tara asked, her tone as innocent as she could possibly make it. She had noticed earlier that Willow hadn't been in any hurry to share the idea of finding a spell to bring back Buffy.

"You and me, Xander and Anya."

"But… What about Giles?" Tara asked, stunned. Leaving Dawn out she understood, but she couldn't think of any reason not to tell Giles. Especially since he knew more about spell casting than any of them. He might not have Willow's raw talent, but he had been studying the arts for more years than either of them had been alive.

"Oh… well… you know how uptight he gets, baby," Willow said, her tone of voice pitched to placate. She came over and perched on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch her lover's hand reassuringly. "And… he'd probably try to stop us," she added, recalcitrant.

Tara lowered her eyes but remained silent. She knew Willow was right, and she had already agreed to help her lover find a spell… still, she couldn't help but wonder if Giles' reaction was the one that would serve them best. She considered saying as much, then stopped, chiding herself. She had agreed to help, and she didn't want to upset Willow again; no good could come of pressing the subject.

As much to change the subject as from real curiosity, she asked, "And Spike?"

Willow hesitated, making a face Tara couldn't quite put a name to. "He's—He's just not one of us, you know?"

"Neither was I, once," Tara said softly.

"Oh—I know, baby." Willow squeezed Tara's hand and smiled nervously. "But it's just—he's—well—you know… the whole crush on Buffy thing might cause trouble," she faltered. "Oh! plus! The chip… in his head… I mean sure, he's all good and fluffy now, but what if he loses that chip, right?"

Tara nodded thoughtfully. It did make a certain kind of sense. "You're right." She twined her arms around Willow's neck and pulled herself up close, resting her forehead against her lover's and gazing at her with a mischievous smile. "Plus… you're the boss."

"I am, aren't I?" Willow asked with a crooked smile of her own, eyes twinkling suggestively.

Willow leaned in to kiss her, and all of Tara's doubts fled before the sudden pounding of her heart.