Coming Back 3/?
DISCLAIMER: I've said it before, and I'll say it again. None of this is mine. Well, Spike's blue navy P-Coat's mine, but everything else belongs to Joss.
A/N: Once again I must bow down to Keswindhover. She is a beta goddess. Lots of love to the gang at Band of Buggered, they are too good to me.
Miss Murchison, this update's for you.
~~~~
She had followed the light.
That's what you were supposed to do when you died, wasn't it? Follow the light. Go to heaven. Be at peace until your next incarnation was set to begin? Buffy had pretty much given Tara all the proof she needed to believe that some kind of heavenly dimension existed.
She almost chuckled at how clichéd it had all seemed; the light, the tunnel. It had been like she was floating. No, not floating, it had been more like the people mover at LAX. She'd only closed her eyes for a moment, just a second when the light had dimmed and then flashed like a sun going supernova. When she had opened them again the light was gone and she was shrouded in darkness; gone was the peaceful serenity she had felt just seconds before. In its place was pain; intense anguished pain and strangling despair. And she had known right then that she wasn't in heaven.
She'd heard him before she had seen him. Sitting in the sand for what felt like an eternity, her knees drawn tightly to her chest, she'd listened to his deep ragged breathing; had heard the choking sobs that escaped his throat as he woke up
Tara wondered how she had known what to say, what to do to calm him. Wondered how she had known the lyrics to the lullaby his mother used to sing when he'd curl himself into a tight ball during thunderstorms; a song so old, she figured not even her grandmother had ever heard it. As the softly sung words spilled forth, she'd crawled to him, eager to sooth him, offer some comfort.
"Sweet, sweet William," she had sighed as his mother always had, lifting her hand to brush a stray lock of hair off his bruised and battered forehead. But her hand simply passed through him.
He'd sat up slowly, and Tara heard the sound of steel striking flint just before the eerie glow of his lighter filled the cavern. Blue eyes met blue eyes for the first time confirming what she had somehow already known.
Upon seeing his face, she wondered how she had ever been afraid of him. He looked so impossibly young and innocent. He'd held the lighter up like a torch lighting his way as he leaned into her, intent on touching her, proving or disproving her existence. When his hand passed right through her as hers had him, he jerked back, dropping the impromptu torch, once again shrouding them in darkness.
"What are you?" Spike asked her softly, his voice raw from crying. Tara had no answer for him. "Why are you here?"
How long had they stayed in that cavern? Days? Weeks? Tara had no idea; without the sun to separate the days from the nights she had no concept of time. What she had known was that he needed to feed, his heart may have been beating, but he was still very much a vampire, still very much in need of blood. He hadn't even been aware of the heartbeat, he was so out of touch with reality; he had thought it was a phantom of his past kills, taunting him, turning him into some undead version of the Tell Tale Heart.
When the hunger had become too much for him to handle, Spike finally climbed to his feet and leaning against the cold stone walls for support he stumbled out into the dark African night. When the villagers began to flock to him, amazed that he had survived the trials, it became obvious to Tara that no one but Spike could see her, no one but Spike could hear her. She trailed the mob as they ushered him into the hut of the village shaman. She listened as the frail looking crone had barked orders that the vampire warrior be cleaned and that livestock be slaughtered so that he might be fed.
On the third day he'd turned to her, "It was quick?"
"Yeah." she hung her head.
"Good," he finally said after a long silence, exhaling slowly. "Means you didn't suffer. Who did it?"
"Don't know," she said softly.
"They'll get what's theirs."
~~~
The world had gone crazy. It was the only explanation; no one in a sane world would have ever turned Scooby Doo into a full-length feature film.
Thank God Giles is sleeping through this, Willow thought as she turned her eyes from the in flight movie to the sleeping Watcher at her side. As Giles snored lightly beside her, she wished -again- that she had accepted the ladies' offer of a sleeping potion for the trip home, but she had honestly thought she could get through the flight without it. She'd been wrong. Now she was stuck with her mind going a mile a minute watching a Freddie Prinze jr. film with no sound because she just couldn't bring herself to listen as well as watch, and it didn't look like there would be beverage service anytime soon.
With a look at Giles' watch – which had already been set to LA time, good old reliable Giles – Willow quickly calculated how long until they landed. The pilot had announced that it they should be landing on schedule just before the movie had began somewhere over Cleveland. She'd never tell Giles this, but secretly she had wished there would be a problem when they had stopped for their lay over in New York. She wasn't quite ready to go back, didn't know how to face her friends after what she had done, but both Giles and the ladies of the coven had thought it would be best that she finished her studies at home, with her friends to help her. Would her friends want to help her though? She'd nearly killed them in an attempt at ending her own pain.
Funny that, how every time she tried to use magic to end her pain she ended up putting her friends in danger. Some friend she was.
Giles and the ladies had been wonderful, although skittish around her, but could she really blame them? She was the most powerful human on earth, and boy, wasn't a scary thought?
Giles stirred beside her, "How are you holding up?"
"Thinking I might need a drink," Willow confessed and after a moment of hesitation, adding. "I'm a little nervous, Giles."
"That's to be expected."
"I can't begin to imagine what they all think of me," she swallowed. "Okay, that's a lie. I can imagine what they think of me, and that's the problem."
"Willow." His voice came softly, and although she knew it was meant to calm her, it only stood to make her more hysterical.
"Giles, how can you be so calm around me? I murdered people," she whispered, aware that there were other people around, but needing to talk about this none the less. "I tried to end the world, which would have killed the friends who are supposed to help me. You know, that's got to make them cranky."
"Willow, I understand…"
"No… You don't understand, you can't understand," Willow cried out softly. "Giles I tortured and killed a man, and it felt good."
"And I understand that," he replied soothingly, taking her hand in his. "One of the reasons the coven and I feel that it is important for you to continue your lessons in Sunnydale is because you will have the support of friends who have been in your shoes and understand." Seeing that Willow was once again about to protest. "You'll see Willow, everything will work out for the best," Giles said before drifting back to sleep.
Easy for you to say, She thought before flagging down a flight attendant and asking for a vodka martini. Why couldn't there be a twelve-step program for this kind of thing? A kind of Apocalyptaholics Anonymous? Nah, cause then she'd have to find a sponsor and while her friends knew plenty about apocalypses, none of them had ever tried to bring one about themselves – not even Spike.
Maybe my friends will forgive me, Willow thought as the flight attendant returned with her drink. But would Tara forgive me?
~~~
If he crossed his eyes, and looked at his nose, he could see that it was starting to swell; the bridge was throbbing, and he knew it was broken, but the bleeding had stopped and it would be healed in a day or two so he wasn't all that concerned.
Damn Bit has a pretty mean right hook, he thought, pride swelling as he watched Dawn helping her friend up to her front door.
Spike pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and fumbled with his book of matches to light it as he watched Janice fumble through her purse, looking for something, producing a set of key triumphantly before opening the door. Dawn turned and motioned that she was going to follow Janice in and would be out in a second, and then she disappeared, leaving Anya and Spike patiently waiting on the sidewalk. Neither one of them spoke. He let out a slight cough, and then he realized he had no idea what to say to her.
Next to him Anya sniffed pointedly.
"Not catching cold, I hope," he said softly.
"Oh," she exclaimed, as she took another sniff, wrinkling her nose. "No. No colds here."
He eyed her curiously.
"You need a shower," she offered.
Just then, Dawn came bounding out of Janice's house and joined them at the sidewalk.
"She said she has no idea how she ended up in the cemetery where you found her. She was out on a date with Mike Bradford at the Bronze, and the last thing she remembers was him coming back from the bar with a couple drinks."
"Probably drugged," Anya offered.
"Yeah, Mike's got quite a reputation for getting whatever he wants, anyway he can."
"We better get you home," Anya said. "Buffy will run me through with a sword when she gets back from LA if we're not home when she calls."
Dawn scoffed, "Not like it would kill you."
"But it would hurt," Anya reminded her.
Spike looked inquisitively at the closeness between Dawn and Anya and shot a look at Tara, who simply shrugged.
"Come on back to the house?" Dawn asked him. "I'll get you some ice for your nose."
It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse the invitation, but instead he found himself nodding in agreement as he followed them down the street to the Summers' house.
As they mounted the steps to 1630 Revello drive, Spike felt his pulse quicken; he certainly hadn't expected to be coming back here so soon after returning from Africa. When he noticed he was passing the house on his way to Janice's, he was thankful that the lights were out, and that he couldn't sense anyone at home, he just wasn't ready to see either of his girls. But here he was, standing on the porch, waiting patiently behind Dawn as she fumbled with the key in the lock, finally throwing the door open and stepping over the threshold. He made no move to follow her, simply stood and watched her as she flipped the light switch in the entryway and started up the stairs.
"What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?" Anya asked as she came up behind. "Nobody disinvited you."
He'd fully expected Buffy would have had Willow cast the disinvite spell, was in fact surprised that she hadn't. He stood at the door, eyeing the door jam suspiciously. It wasn't right that she hadn't revoked his invitation into the house.
Behind him he heard Tara's soft voice, "Spike?"
"I can't," he said softly, so softly he was sure Anya couldn't have heard him. He cleared his throat and lifted the cigarette in his hand. "I'll stay out here."
"Suit yourself," Anya shrugged, sniffing again before she went into the house, leaving the front door open a crack behind her.
Spike sat on the front step and took a drag.
"What's that about?" he asked as Tara sat down beside him.
Tara responded with a shrug, "I've never understood why Anya does what she does. Just kind of accepted it."
Behind him he heard Dawn call for him as she bounded down the stairs.
"Where is he?" He heard fear in her voice.
"Front porch. Smoking. I thought you missed him?" he heard Anya ask accusingly.
"I did," Dawn mumbled.
"Well color me confused, Dawn," Anya sighed, "Because you reek of vengeance."
"It's just.." Dawn started. "It's just, I DID miss him this summer, and I wished he was back…"
"I told you that wasn't me," Anya protested.
"I know. It's just a coincidence or something, but he… suddenly he's here and he's all 'Lo, Bit', 'Missed you, Bit' and all of a sudden I just got so mad…"
Silence fell and he heard them walking into the kitchen. With his vampiric sense of hearing, he heard the freezer door open, followed by the sound of an ice tray being cracked and ice cubes being dropped onto the counter.
"Well, I think you may have broken his nose, if that helps at all," Anya said as the phone rang. "That'd be Buffy."
The phone rang two more times, and he heard Anya answering it as the door opened slowly. He turned and looked over his shoulder at the teenager standing behind him. She'd grown over the summer, stood nearly as tall as him now, and from his viewpoint she towered over him.
"I brought you an ice pack," she said softly, holding it out.
"It'll heal," he mumbled as he took the pack from her. "But thanks." He snuffed his cigarette and dropped the butt.
"Thanks for saving Janice."
"I really did miss you."
"Yeah, I could tell by all the post cards you sent me."
Spike winced, "I deserve that."
"You left me." Dawn murmured.
"Nibblet..."
"Don't call me that," she hissed. "You don't get to call me that; you don't get to waltz back into town, saving my friends, acting as if nothing has changed. You hurt Buffy, and you broke your promise. You promised to protect me, Buffy told me."
I'm counting on you, Spike. To help protect her.
'Til the end of the world
He'd made the promise to Buffy, because he loved her, and he'd known that losing the Bit would tear her to pieces, and he couldn't abide by that. He'd sat watch over Dawn after Buffy's death to quench the guilt he felt for not protecting either of them enough. Buffy's death was his fault, he'd vowed to protect the little sister and he'd failed. The problem was sometime during the course of that endless summer, he'd grown to love Dawn as he had loved his own sister so many lifetimes before. They'd been thick as thieves while Buffy was gone, yet he'd neglected Dawn during his six month romp with Buffy, he'd caused her pain by proving that Buffy couldn't trust him; he'd broken the promise Dawn had obviously held onto as if he's made it to her directly, and that caused him nearly as much pain deep in his soul as what he'd done to Buffy.
"'Til the end of the world," he said softly.
"Well the world nearly ended while you were gone, Spike. I nearly died." her voice broke and Spike heard her sob. "I nearly died and Buffy nearly died, and Tara did die, and you weren't here to protect any of us and I should hate you." She sank to her knees. "But I don't."
Spike turned and watched her as she sat on her knees, bathed in light emanating from the house, sobbing. They sat in the silence of Dawn's sobs until Anya came to the door, still talking on the phone.
"She's fine," Anya said with a scowl directed towards Spike. "In the shower. I'll have her call when she gets out… right, at the Hyperion. We have the number on the refrigerator right where you left it." She hung up the phone. "Buffy says to call her when you get out of the shower." She told Dawn. "I lied. Because you're not in the shower."
"I'm okay," Dawn mumbled as she wiped tears from her eyes. She turned and looked at Anya for a moment. "Really. I'm okay. Give me a few, will you?"
"Okay, but I'll be right here. Inside. On the couch. Waiting."
"Thank you Anya, but I don't think I'll be needing you right now." Dawn told her with a sweet sad smile.
Anya nodded and turned to go, stopping and looking directly at Spike, but speaking to Dawn, "Remember, I'm just inside."
Dawn sighed, and crawled to Spike, taking a seat at his side on the steps, "I'm sorry."
"No Pla…Dawn, I'm the one who should be apologizing." He reached up and ran his hand over her hair, grasping her shoulder and pulling her in to him, embracing her. "I'm terribly sorry."
"Its just…Wow, you're here. I mean. Anya and I were just talking about you, and then I wished for you to come back, and you're here. And I know it's not your fault that Buffy and Tara got shot."
"Buffy got shot?"
He felt Dawn nod against his shoulder.
"She's okay though," she said as she pulled back. "Willow saved her."
"Good on her."
Dawn stood up, rubbing at her eyes. "I need to go call Buffy."
"Yeah."
"You… you won't leave without saying goodbye, will you?"
"I'll stay here. If that's what you want, Dawn."
Dawn nodded as she entered the house, pausing as she whispered. "If you want to call me Nibblet, I won't mind."
Something in Spike's chest expanded, and he was warmed from the inside out. He felt tears prickling behind his closed eyelids, fighting to get out.
"She loves you," he heard Tara tell him.
"I don't deserve it."
"Everyone deserves to be loved, Spike." she said softly.
Spike opened his eyes as Anya took a seat on the steps next to him, holding a bottle of beer out to him, drinking deeply off her own.
"Thanks." He muttered, accepting her offering.
"Give me a cigarette," she said.
Spike choked on the beer that he was swallowing. "You don't smoke," he sputtered.
"It's not like it'll kill me so just give me a damn cigarette." She sat impatiently waiting, with her hand extended as he pulled out the crumpled, near empty pack. She grabbed at the pack he extended to her, and sighed as he fumbled with the matches. Finally lit, she inhaled deeply.
"It's very unsatisfying when a call for vengeance goes unanswered. Very much like sex without the orgasm," she said as she exhaled. Spike eyed her curiously. "You have no idea how close you were to evisceration back there a minute ago, mister. Two words, that's all I would have needed. And I would have done it in a New York minute, before she'd even finished her request. Shiny new soul be damned." She took another drag off her cigarette and then handed it to Spike.
"I can smell it, you know."
Spike sat silently. That's what the sniffing had been about.
"Back in the biz, eh?"
"Yup," she said taking another drink. "How'd you do it?"
"Won it."
Anya nodded. "How's it feel?"
"Hurts like a bitch."
Neither said anything more, just sat silently drinking their beer. Spike finished the cigarette Anya had started and snuffed it out on the bottom of his boot. He thought about how he needed a new pair as he looked at the duct tape wearing through on the sole. He needed a lot of things; a shower, a shave, a haircut, Buffy's forgiveness. The first three would be easy. He didn't know if he'd ever get the last one, but he'd die trying.
"Listen, there's something I've been putting off that I really need to take care of," Anya said after finishing her beer. "Would you mind staying with Dawn for a bit? I'll be back before sunrise."
"I spose."
"Thanks." Anya stood, handing him her empty bottle. "It's good you're back. They missed you." And with a wave of her hand, she was gone.
Spike stood slowly and walked towards the door.
"They didn't disinvite you," Tara said. "That's got to say something."
Spike nodded, and swallowed hard as he took a step over the threshold, turning back to Tara he jerked his head toward the house, "Come on Tinkerbell, lets go see if we can find out what happened in this town this summer, see if we can find your witch."