"And here's the bathroom, and um, over there is the living room . . . and
OH! Over there? That four square feet of space?" Willow grinned impishly
with zealous enthusiasm as she gave Buffy the grand tour of her new
apartment. "I call that my 'den'. C-can you imagine? Me, owning a 'den'!
It's so old English and Giles-y somehow, a den . . . oh, and you gotta see
this." She dragged Buffy to the nearby window in excitement. "You know what
that is?"
Buffy smiled amusedly and looked at the small window box of African violets. "A small window box of African violets?" she said, her voice flat compared to her best friend's animation.
"A garden!" Willow corrected triumphantly.
Buffy broke into a wide grin now, caught with Willow's infectious perkiness. It had been so long since she witnessed it and to see it now meant more to Buffy than she could easily express by faking awe over a box of flowers. "It's great Will, everything is. You've done a great job with the place." She turned around and surveyed the little apartment carefully. Willow had been working day and night for the past four days to make it perfect and it showed. The whole space was just so . . . Willow-y. Brightly colored lamps, drapes, arty pillows, throws, pictures all set the room on fire, as if a rainbow had stumbled across the room and made its home there. Tinkling Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting warm glow across the whole area. Light seemed to overtake the apartment; it was everywhere, even dancing in the kitchen where Willow had hung multicolored Christmas lights over the refrigerator.
"I like it like that," she murmured softly, gazing at the ribbons of color streaking across the fridge.
"Like it like what?"
"That. Light. I love light. I wanted this whole place to be full of it. I wanted it to burst with it until it couldn't take anymore. I didn't want one ounce of darkness. I figured I had enough of that last year." Her face lost its alacrity for a second as she reflected softly. "I don't ever want to be in the dark again."
Buffy, somber now too, went over and placed a sympathetic hand on Willow's shoulder. "You won't be," she whispered reassuringly. Willow glanced over at her and for a moment, she was searching Buffy's eyes to affirm if that was really true. She looked away quickly.
"Yeah. Yeah I guess." Hurrying to switch the mood to its previous lightness, she stepped back and threw her hands out. "So you like my little bachelorette pad? Okay, so not Mack-Central, not really Anything-Central, but I like it. Not much, but . . . it's . . . mine you know? Just a little something made for me and Miss Kitty the Second." She reached down and picked up the purring feline dancing about her ankles and began cooing to her softly. "The current heir to Queen Kitty Throne after Miss Kitty the First went missing."
"It's great Will, I love it. But from the looks of it, you still have a long ways to go
in the unpacking department." Both gazed at the towers of boxers, still stacked up nearly ceiling high and stuffed in the corner.
Willow groaned. "If I have to unpack one more box, I'm gonna . . . do something emphatically. I don't know what it is, but you better believe it'll be with lots of self-righteous rage."
Buffy laughed. "Well you better start doing something, emphat-o-gal, because these boxes aren't gonna unpack themselves."
"It didn't use to be like that," Willow said absently, still gazing at the boxes. Suddenly she caught herself, realizing belatedly what she was thinking and shook her head at Buffy anxiously. "N-not that I was thinking about doing . . . that . . . b-because I w-wouldn't do . . . that and . . . oh god, Willow, don't think those thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts."
Buffy once again brought her hand to Willow's shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay if you get tempted Willow. I know you would never act on it. But you're allowed to get tempted." She suddenly broke off, turning her mind to forbidden thoughts of her own involving one blonde undead gift-giver. Trust her to over-identify with Willow's post-addiction anxiety. Some things never changed. She tried breaking out of her own thoughts but turning her attentions back to Willow. "So . . . I guess it's still hard?" she said gingerly, touching upon a subject that they all tried to cautiously avoid.
Willow shrugged, trying to look more careless than she felt. But it gave way when she sighed. "Kinda . . . kinda very. Giles prepared me a lot for this . . . and what's to come but . . . I have to admit it's hard trying to take it day by day."
Buffy gave Willow a small smile, her head tilted slightly. "But you do take it day by day. You're dealing with it great."
"I know, it's just . . . sometimes I feel like . . . . oh god I shouldn't even be talking about this," Willow sighed, reaching flippantly for a moving box to avoid the subject. Buffy caught her hand and squeezed it, shaking her head.
"You can talk to me Willow."
Willow hesitated and pondered this as she gazed at her best friend. She used to be able to tell her everything. In high school they shared everything: every secret, every tidbit of crushage, every giggle, every pain. But now it was different. Or so it seemed. She had gotten used to not telling Buffy things in the last year and vice-versa. Buffy had no idea about Willow's descent into the dark underbelly of the black magicks, Willow had no idea Buffy was sleeping with a vampire. She felt they had cut off from one another, gradually and slowly. And she never wanted that. She sighed and began articulating herself awkwardly and painfully. "It's just . . . I feel like what Giles said was true. That after . . . what I did, I would never be the same again. I mean, I can't comprehend what I did and was going to do." Her voice was rising in agitation now, her eyes beginning to shine with early tears. "When I think about it, I just get sick inside a- and empty. And I'm so afraid that Giles is right, Buffy---"
"It's not true," Buffy interrupted calmly. "You are the same Willow. I know things seem tough now, but it can only get better. You'll heal day by day, and you'll forget all the ugliness of the past and you'll move on with your life. You'll be better than ever."
Willow nodded, but a part of her still doubted. It was typically best friend thing to say, but she felt little comfort. She hated those three little words, 'better than ever'. What exactly did that mean? What did 'ever' refer to? To the years before witchcraft, when she was just a shy wallflower with little self-confidence who followed around Buffy as her computer caddie? If not, then it must have meant the years when her Wiccan powers had been growing and burgeoning. For it was largely witchcraft that was attributed for Willow's growing self-esteem. It identified her, made her unique with a purpose. She was no longer just some stepped-on hacker nerd that many of her classmates made fun of. She was a stylish, alternative-living Wiccan who was empowered by the vitality and strength of her craft. And those days were gone. If that was 'ever', she could never be 'better than ever' again. And what was she left with? Was she to return to her bumbling Slayerette ways, crawling to a computer every time Buffy and the rest ordered her to? The empty feeling was returning, but she had to cover it up quick before Buffy became increasingly concerned.
"You're right," she said lamely.
Just then, Xander burst in, his face puffy and red as he stumbled through the room, bearing more boxes. "Make way for me and my manly masculinity," he exclaimed, teetering on his legs as he tried balancing under the heavy weight. "Yes, me with the lumberjack-type burliness, the Brawny paper towel guy strength, the----" he squeaked girlishly as his arms began to give way. "Save me!"
Buffy sighed and grinned, swiping the box away from him easily and putting it off towards the side. Xander stepped back, exhausted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Well that should be the last of it," he announced, taking deep breaths from the exertion.
"I can't thank you enough for helping me move in Xander," Willow said appreciatively, giving Xander a ginger hug, careful to mind his aching back. "A-and the desk! I can't believe you made it, it's so beautiful!"
Xander straightened, pride overcoming pain. "Oh it was nothing, Will. I just moseyed on down the local lumber yard, realized they didn't carry specialty wood like willow, had to go to the more expensive ritzy lumber yard. Then I had to specially order the wood, find a craft shop that carried designer-made iron brands, then nearly burned off a finger trying to imprint the cat. All in all, really a breeze to do."
Willow grinned. "Well I can't thank you enough, I really appreciate it. In fact, thank you both for helping me out with this place. If it weren't for you guys and Giles, I wouldn't have any furniture to fill up casa Rosenburg."
Buffy shrugged. "It's all right Willow, we understood you were a little hard-pressed for money. I mean, it's just helping out a friend in need."
"I know, it's just with you guys helping me with the furniture, and Giles paying for the rent, I can't help but feel guilty. That's why I'm taking the job with Anya.you know, when we eventually rebuild the Magic Box."
Buffy turned somber and sage-like. "Well let me give you some friendly advice for the time in between now and employment and tell you that the fast-food job market is not the way to go, even if you do feel the urgings for the cash. Sure, it might look glamorous what with the chicken hats and striped pantsuits and name tags, but you'll spend your nights forever trying to do battle with the grease that's seemed to have made a permanent home in your hair and face."
Willow and Buffy exchanged hearty smiles before Willow turned and looked at Xander with eyes full of hope. " You and your.um.construction team are gonna help rebuild, right? In terms of rebuilding the very much destroyed Magic Box? For a fraction of the cost, if at all possible. Like...you know.a family discount?" " Oh, yes. Because the tradition of family discounts has been long standing mostly on part of ex-boyfriends doing large favors for ex-girlfriends." Willow looked at him impishly. " Well, I was thinking more brotherly-like friend does large favor for sisterly-like friend who is in desperate need of a job and just happens to work for friend's ex-girlfriend." " Oh," Xander said. " Well, that's different." Xander and Willow grinned widely at each other, for all the world looking like too big siblings just loving each other completely. " Will do then. I'll get the guys on it soon."
Buffy had all the while been silently thinking on Willow's entire decision to work with Anya, and the whole thing was making little sense. "Willow . . . is that really the best idea? Working at a magic shop, I mean. Isn't that kind of . . . tempting fate?"
Willow sighed, but maintained her awkward composure. "Look I know the implications, okay? I've thought it all out. Recovering Wiccan going through majicks-withdrawal working in a magic shop doesn't sound like the most stable working situation. But I just think that this'll be good for me. In fact, it'll just show how far I've come and how well I've learned to handle myself. And besides, who better to work in a magic shop than a seasoned pro?" Off Buffy and Xander's looks, she hastily added, " . . .Who's now officially retired."
"I'm sorry, Willow," Buffy sighed. "I should be more supportive. I'm just trying to be cautious you know. Wouldn't want a repeat of the chaos from last year."
Willow nodded thoughtfully, if not a little somberly. She knew Buffy was mostly referring to her. Though she understood that they just wanted what was best for her, part of her couldn't help but feel angry at how they were treating like she was a glass doll; a child who couldn't take care of herself and would throw an out-of-control temper tantrum if not properly supervised. She shook her red hair out, trying swiftly to change the subject. "Speaking of past follies, I heard you and Xander saw Spike and Anya last night." She suddenly paused, knowing that had come off as a little less tactful then she thought it would be. "I mean," she cleared her throat. "That you had dinner with them."
Xander made a slightly pained face. "No you were right the first time Willow. It was a bad scene."
Willow frowned sympathetically as she looked from Xander to Buffy. "Well it couldn't have been that bad . . . obviously there wasn't major carnage; you guys are alive. And from talking on the phone with Anya this morning, I take it that she and Spike are too."
Buffy's face went grim. "Yeah, but just barely. My stake hand was seriously itchy by the end of the night." She sank down into the couch with a sigh. "Xander's right, it was a bad idea. I thought . . . I just thought that maybe talking it through last night would let everyone be able to let go and to heal. But it wasn't like that at all. Everyone just ended up making excuses and trying to justify their actions----and they tried to even win us back with gifts! Gifts! As if that could possibly solve the root of our problems and make it all go away!" She shook her head in disbelief, feeling the necklace rub her skin.
"Yeah, about that . . ." Xander shuffled nervously. "I kind of feel bad about taking them. The gifts, I mean. I don't think that was the best idea. We just ditch them and take their gifts?"
Buffy's mouth twitched, and her hand automatically went to her neck. She had been wearing the necklace since last night and had forgotten that she had put on a turtleneck with the special purpose of disguising it. She breathed a sigh of relief. "It's not like we realized we had taken them until we got home. We just kind of stormed off with the gifts in our hands without even thinking," she explained to Willow.
"You could give them back, just a suggestion." Willow suggested.
Buffy and Xander both looked a lot more hesitant than they should have been. "It's such a beautiful hammer though," Xander murmured wistfully. Buffy was still absently rubbing the neck of her sweater.
"You guys! You can't just take their gifts and be mad at them at the same time! 'Oh, I don't want to speak with you, but I will take your gifts'? That isn't fair!"
The two hapless gift-receivers peered at their best friend in surprise. "Fair? Willow, what are you doing, playing devils' advocate?" Xander asked, mostly out of his reluctance to return his hammer.
She shrugged. "Maybe. They obviously were trying to do something last night, trying to seek forgiveness. Okay, so maybe they didn't go about it the best way, but when have Anya and Spike ever been adept in these social situations?"
"Okay Willow, Anya I get. It wasn't even mostly her fault anyway; the only mistake she made was buddying-up with that cadaverous blonde Casanova. But Spike? He nearly did something awful to Buffy." Buffy's face colored slightly and she sullenly sunk back into the couch. "How does fair ever come into the same context with Spike?"
"He did something awful, horrible. But guess what----I did too. And you guys have forgiven me."
Buffy cocked her head in dismay. "Willow, you can't possibly compare yourself with Spike . . . he's a soulless demon, you were in pain, the circumstances were totally different-----"
"But he was in pain too, wasn't he? After being rejected that many times, and especially by you----the one thing on this green earth that actually meant something to him-----he must have been in incredible pain too." Seeing Xander's face go nearly scarlet with protest, she tried redeeming her standpoint. "Okay look. So I know Spike and I aren't exactly one in the same. But for a moment we actually were. I was just . . . this monster, trying to control this dark power inside me. Nothing of humanity could touch me, I was absorbing all this anger and pain and manifesting it in the most horrible way. And it all just started when the one thing that made life living for was taken away." She was gazing down at her hands, her voice becoming increasingly strangled, tears glistening in her eyes. She looked back at Xander and Buffy quickly and tried wiping the tears away. "Kinda like Spike. Kinda exactly." Buffy stared at her best friend, speechless. Not only was it heart- wrenching to see Willow dwell on such previous pain to such a point that she actually felt like a kindred spirit to Spike, but Buffy realized a seed of truth in her words. Spike had said something of the same effect last night.
Buffy had kicked Spike around like a hapless dog last year. She could go from screaming at him and smashing her fists to his face, to crooking her little finger at him and have him come a-running after her. She came to him, nearly every night, seeking something that she knew was probably the happiest moments in his unlife, and promptly tore down his castles in the air the next morning by telling him he was a monster; an ugly, disgusting thing not worthy of her attentions. She had never counted on that day when he would come to actually believe that and show her just how ugly he could be. But being Buffy, she wasn't very well going to agree with Willow. That would mean forfeiting her throne as Queen of Denial. So she resumed rubbing her neck nervously instead.
"That is ridiculous!" Xander exploded as Buffy sat silently on the sofa. "I don't care what you did, Willow, nothing can compare to what that demon---- that thing nearly did to Buffy."
"So me torturing and tearing off the flesh of a guy then turning around and attempting to kill my family and friends, not to mention destroy the world, isn't comparable to what Spike did? At least what he did was an act of passion. Mine was just pure, cold-blooded, premeditated hatred."
Xander was at a loss for words, but as usual, that didn't stop him. "Willow- ---why are you defending him?" he asked helplessly.
"I don't know. Maybe before, when I was shiny, happy Yellow Crayon Willow, I could pretend that I was morally upright enough to call Spike a monster, but . . . I can't very well now can I? Besides, who can truly know what's in Spike's heart?"
"Nothing," Xander spat through clenched teeth. "It's heart isn't even beating."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Spike hadn't been evil for a long time---"
"You don't just stop being evil."
"Okay," Willow conceded. "You don't. But I don't think that just because Spike was evil, we can still say he is now. I mean, he stayed with us that summer, helping us with the Hellmouth. He would have never done that if he was completely evil."
"Willow! There aren't any percentages with evil! You aren't like . . .78 % evil! You either are or you aren't!"
Willow looked at Xander through slit eyes. "Xander, when are you going to start seeing the whole picture? Okay, so maybe Spike is evil. Or maybe not. The point is how are we to know? We can't look inside Spike and figure what's going on inside his head. And I know actions speak louder than words, but . . . if you guys can't really look down somewhere in your hearts and try to at least give a little understanding of what Spike did . . . then how am I supposed to figure you can give me that as well?"
Buffy and Xander remained silent and Willow sighed and plodded on. "Anyway, all I'm saying is that . . . just wait and see. Maybe Spike has it in him to redeem himself somehow. And I'm not saying we have to do anything about it, I'm just saying . . . don't make it impossible for him to make it better, you know?"
Buffy cocked her head in amazement and a little awe for her best friend. "How'd you get so compassionate?" she asked wonderingly, shaking her head.
Willow smiled softly. "Tara. She used to tell me things like that all the time. She had the best heart of anyone I've ever known. And she liked Spike. So I'm trying to, for her sake."
Buffy nodded, her hand still fluttering near her neck.
Later that night, Buffy stood in front of her mirror once more. Buffy seemed to make a permanent home in front of the long mirror in her bedroom. Anyone observing her would have thought that the length of time she spent in front of it would imply vanity, but the fact of the matter was, she wasn't even staring at her own reflection past the one glittering rope of jewels lying across her collarbone. She gingerly touched it, marveling its beauty. The cold touch it brought to her skin reminded her of the gift's giver. Suddenly she sighed; guilty again to be thinking of him, so she quickly brought her hands back to the clasp at the back of her neck. Her fingers struggled with the clasp, but it wasn't coming off. She frowned, and tried turning around the necklace so that she could eye the clasp in the mirror and view it as she struggled with it. But it didn't budge. It was as if the necklace was branded to her skin so that no one motion could ever get it to move. Frantic now, she tried lifting the necklace from her neck, but it remained steadfast and cold on her skin. It wasn't coming off.
Buffy smiled amusedly and looked at the small window box of African violets. "A small window box of African violets?" she said, her voice flat compared to her best friend's animation.
"A garden!" Willow corrected triumphantly.
Buffy broke into a wide grin now, caught with Willow's infectious perkiness. It had been so long since she witnessed it and to see it now meant more to Buffy than she could easily express by faking awe over a box of flowers. "It's great Will, everything is. You've done a great job with the place." She turned around and surveyed the little apartment carefully. Willow had been working day and night for the past four days to make it perfect and it showed. The whole space was just so . . . Willow-y. Brightly colored lamps, drapes, arty pillows, throws, pictures all set the room on fire, as if a rainbow had stumbled across the room and made its home there. Tinkling Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting warm glow across the whole area. Light seemed to overtake the apartment; it was everywhere, even dancing in the kitchen where Willow had hung multicolored Christmas lights over the refrigerator.
"I like it like that," she murmured softly, gazing at the ribbons of color streaking across the fridge.
"Like it like what?"
"That. Light. I love light. I wanted this whole place to be full of it. I wanted it to burst with it until it couldn't take anymore. I didn't want one ounce of darkness. I figured I had enough of that last year." Her face lost its alacrity for a second as she reflected softly. "I don't ever want to be in the dark again."
Buffy, somber now too, went over and placed a sympathetic hand on Willow's shoulder. "You won't be," she whispered reassuringly. Willow glanced over at her and for a moment, she was searching Buffy's eyes to affirm if that was really true. She looked away quickly.
"Yeah. Yeah I guess." Hurrying to switch the mood to its previous lightness, she stepped back and threw her hands out. "So you like my little bachelorette pad? Okay, so not Mack-Central, not really Anything-Central, but I like it. Not much, but . . . it's . . . mine you know? Just a little something made for me and Miss Kitty the Second." She reached down and picked up the purring feline dancing about her ankles and began cooing to her softly. "The current heir to Queen Kitty Throne after Miss Kitty the First went missing."
"It's great Will, I love it. But from the looks of it, you still have a long ways to go
in the unpacking department." Both gazed at the towers of boxers, still stacked up nearly ceiling high and stuffed in the corner.
Willow groaned. "If I have to unpack one more box, I'm gonna . . . do something emphatically. I don't know what it is, but you better believe it'll be with lots of self-righteous rage."
Buffy laughed. "Well you better start doing something, emphat-o-gal, because these boxes aren't gonna unpack themselves."
"It didn't use to be like that," Willow said absently, still gazing at the boxes. Suddenly she caught herself, realizing belatedly what she was thinking and shook her head at Buffy anxiously. "N-not that I was thinking about doing . . . that . . . b-because I w-wouldn't do . . . that and . . . oh god, Willow, don't think those thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts."
Buffy once again brought her hand to Willow's shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay if you get tempted Willow. I know you would never act on it. But you're allowed to get tempted." She suddenly broke off, turning her mind to forbidden thoughts of her own involving one blonde undead gift-giver. Trust her to over-identify with Willow's post-addiction anxiety. Some things never changed. She tried breaking out of her own thoughts but turning her attentions back to Willow. "So . . . I guess it's still hard?" she said gingerly, touching upon a subject that they all tried to cautiously avoid.
Willow shrugged, trying to look more careless than she felt. But it gave way when she sighed. "Kinda . . . kinda very. Giles prepared me a lot for this . . . and what's to come but . . . I have to admit it's hard trying to take it day by day."
Buffy gave Willow a small smile, her head tilted slightly. "But you do take it day by day. You're dealing with it great."
"I know, it's just . . . sometimes I feel like . . . . oh god I shouldn't even be talking about this," Willow sighed, reaching flippantly for a moving box to avoid the subject. Buffy caught her hand and squeezed it, shaking her head.
"You can talk to me Willow."
Willow hesitated and pondered this as she gazed at her best friend. She used to be able to tell her everything. In high school they shared everything: every secret, every tidbit of crushage, every giggle, every pain. But now it was different. Or so it seemed. She had gotten used to not telling Buffy things in the last year and vice-versa. Buffy had no idea about Willow's descent into the dark underbelly of the black magicks, Willow had no idea Buffy was sleeping with a vampire. She felt they had cut off from one another, gradually and slowly. And she never wanted that. She sighed and began articulating herself awkwardly and painfully. "It's just . . . I feel like what Giles said was true. That after . . . what I did, I would never be the same again. I mean, I can't comprehend what I did and was going to do." Her voice was rising in agitation now, her eyes beginning to shine with early tears. "When I think about it, I just get sick inside a- and empty. And I'm so afraid that Giles is right, Buffy---"
"It's not true," Buffy interrupted calmly. "You are the same Willow. I know things seem tough now, but it can only get better. You'll heal day by day, and you'll forget all the ugliness of the past and you'll move on with your life. You'll be better than ever."
Willow nodded, but a part of her still doubted. It was typically best friend thing to say, but she felt little comfort. She hated those three little words, 'better than ever'. What exactly did that mean? What did 'ever' refer to? To the years before witchcraft, when she was just a shy wallflower with little self-confidence who followed around Buffy as her computer caddie? If not, then it must have meant the years when her Wiccan powers had been growing and burgeoning. For it was largely witchcraft that was attributed for Willow's growing self-esteem. It identified her, made her unique with a purpose. She was no longer just some stepped-on hacker nerd that many of her classmates made fun of. She was a stylish, alternative-living Wiccan who was empowered by the vitality and strength of her craft. And those days were gone. If that was 'ever', she could never be 'better than ever' again. And what was she left with? Was she to return to her bumbling Slayerette ways, crawling to a computer every time Buffy and the rest ordered her to? The empty feeling was returning, but she had to cover it up quick before Buffy became increasingly concerned.
"You're right," she said lamely.
Just then, Xander burst in, his face puffy and red as he stumbled through the room, bearing more boxes. "Make way for me and my manly masculinity," he exclaimed, teetering on his legs as he tried balancing under the heavy weight. "Yes, me with the lumberjack-type burliness, the Brawny paper towel guy strength, the----" he squeaked girlishly as his arms began to give way. "Save me!"
Buffy sighed and grinned, swiping the box away from him easily and putting it off towards the side. Xander stepped back, exhausted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Well that should be the last of it," he announced, taking deep breaths from the exertion.
"I can't thank you enough for helping me move in Xander," Willow said appreciatively, giving Xander a ginger hug, careful to mind his aching back. "A-and the desk! I can't believe you made it, it's so beautiful!"
Xander straightened, pride overcoming pain. "Oh it was nothing, Will. I just moseyed on down the local lumber yard, realized they didn't carry specialty wood like willow, had to go to the more expensive ritzy lumber yard. Then I had to specially order the wood, find a craft shop that carried designer-made iron brands, then nearly burned off a finger trying to imprint the cat. All in all, really a breeze to do."
Willow grinned. "Well I can't thank you enough, I really appreciate it. In fact, thank you both for helping me out with this place. If it weren't for you guys and Giles, I wouldn't have any furniture to fill up casa Rosenburg."
Buffy shrugged. "It's all right Willow, we understood you were a little hard-pressed for money. I mean, it's just helping out a friend in need."
"I know, it's just with you guys helping me with the furniture, and Giles paying for the rent, I can't help but feel guilty. That's why I'm taking the job with Anya.you know, when we eventually rebuild the Magic Box."
Buffy turned somber and sage-like. "Well let me give you some friendly advice for the time in between now and employment and tell you that the fast-food job market is not the way to go, even if you do feel the urgings for the cash. Sure, it might look glamorous what with the chicken hats and striped pantsuits and name tags, but you'll spend your nights forever trying to do battle with the grease that's seemed to have made a permanent home in your hair and face."
Willow and Buffy exchanged hearty smiles before Willow turned and looked at Xander with eyes full of hope. " You and your.um.construction team are gonna help rebuild, right? In terms of rebuilding the very much destroyed Magic Box? For a fraction of the cost, if at all possible. Like...you know.a family discount?" " Oh, yes. Because the tradition of family discounts has been long standing mostly on part of ex-boyfriends doing large favors for ex-girlfriends." Willow looked at him impishly. " Well, I was thinking more brotherly-like friend does large favor for sisterly-like friend who is in desperate need of a job and just happens to work for friend's ex-girlfriend." " Oh," Xander said. " Well, that's different." Xander and Willow grinned widely at each other, for all the world looking like too big siblings just loving each other completely. " Will do then. I'll get the guys on it soon."
Buffy had all the while been silently thinking on Willow's entire decision to work with Anya, and the whole thing was making little sense. "Willow . . . is that really the best idea? Working at a magic shop, I mean. Isn't that kind of . . . tempting fate?"
Willow sighed, but maintained her awkward composure. "Look I know the implications, okay? I've thought it all out. Recovering Wiccan going through majicks-withdrawal working in a magic shop doesn't sound like the most stable working situation. But I just think that this'll be good for me. In fact, it'll just show how far I've come and how well I've learned to handle myself. And besides, who better to work in a magic shop than a seasoned pro?" Off Buffy and Xander's looks, she hastily added, " . . .Who's now officially retired."
"I'm sorry, Willow," Buffy sighed. "I should be more supportive. I'm just trying to be cautious you know. Wouldn't want a repeat of the chaos from last year."
Willow nodded thoughtfully, if not a little somberly. She knew Buffy was mostly referring to her. Though she understood that they just wanted what was best for her, part of her couldn't help but feel angry at how they were treating like she was a glass doll; a child who couldn't take care of herself and would throw an out-of-control temper tantrum if not properly supervised. She shook her red hair out, trying swiftly to change the subject. "Speaking of past follies, I heard you and Xander saw Spike and Anya last night." She suddenly paused, knowing that had come off as a little less tactful then she thought it would be. "I mean," she cleared her throat. "That you had dinner with them."
Xander made a slightly pained face. "No you were right the first time Willow. It was a bad scene."
Willow frowned sympathetically as she looked from Xander to Buffy. "Well it couldn't have been that bad . . . obviously there wasn't major carnage; you guys are alive. And from talking on the phone with Anya this morning, I take it that she and Spike are too."
Buffy's face went grim. "Yeah, but just barely. My stake hand was seriously itchy by the end of the night." She sank down into the couch with a sigh. "Xander's right, it was a bad idea. I thought . . . I just thought that maybe talking it through last night would let everyone be able to let go and to heal. But it wasn't like that at all. Everyone just ended up making excuses and trying to justify their actions----and they tried to even win us back with gifts! Gifts! As if that could possibly solve the root of our problems and make it all go away!" She shook her head in disbelief, feeling the necklace rub her skin.
"Yeah, about that . . ." Xander shuffled nervously. "I kind of feel bad about taking them. The gifts, I mean. I don't think that was the best idea. We just ditch them and take their gifts?"
Buffy's mouth twitched, and her hand automatically went to her neck. She had been wearing the necklace since last night and had forgotten that she had put on a turtleneck with the special purpose of disguising it. She breathed a sigh of relief. "It's not like we realized we had taken them until we got home. We just kind of stormed off with the gifts in our hands without even thinking," she explained to Willow.
"You could give them back, just a suggestion." Willow suggested.
Buffy and Xander both looked a lot more hesitant than they should have been. "It's such a beautiful hammer though," Xander murmured wistfully. Buffy was still absently rubbing the neck of her sweater.
"You guys! You can't just take their gifts and be mad at them at the same time! 'Oh, I don't want to speak with you, but I will take your gifts'? That isn't fair!"
The two hapless gift-receivers peered at their best friend in surprise. "Fair? Willow, what are you doing, playing devils' advocate?" Xander asked, mostly out of his reluctance to return his hammer.
She shrugged. "Maybe. They obviously were trying to do something last night, trying to seek forgiveness. Okay, so maybe they didn't go about it the best way, but when have Anya and Spike ever been adept in these social situations?"
"Okay Willow, Anya I get. It wasn't even mostly her fault anyway; the only mistake she made was buddying-up with that cadaverous blonde Casanova. But Spike? He nearly did something awful to Buffy." Buffy's face colored slightly and she sullenly sunk back into the couch. "How does fair ever come into the same context with Spike?"
"He did something awful, horrible. But guess what----I did too. And you guys have forgiven me."
Buffy cocked her head in dismay. "Willow, you can't possibly compare yourself with Spike . . . he's a soulless demon, you were in pain, the circumstances were totally different-----"
"But he was in pain too, wasn't he? After being rejected that many times, and especially by you----the one thing on this green earth that actually meant something to him-----he must have been in incredible pain too." Seeing Xander's face go nearly scarlet with protest, she tried redeeming her standpoint. "Okay look. So I know Spike and I aren't exactly one in the same. But for a moment we actually were. I was just . . . this monster, trying to control this dark power inside me. Nothing of humanity could touch me, I was absorbing all this anger and pain and manifesting it in the most horrible way. And it all just started when the one thing that made life living for was taken away." She was gazing down at her hands, her voice becoming increasingly strangled, tears glistening in her eyes. She looked back at Xander and Buffy quickly and tried wiping the tears away. "Kinda like Spike. Kinda exactly." Buffy stared at her best friend, speechless. Not only was it heart- wrenching to see Willow dwell on such previous pain to such a point that she actually felt like a kindred spirit to Spike, but Buffy realized a seed of truth in her words. Spike had said something of the same effect last night.
Buffy had kicked Spike around like a hapless dog last year. She could go from screaming at him and smashing her fists to his face, to crooking her little finger at him and have him come a-running after her. She came to him, nearly every night, seeking something that she knew was probably the happiest moments in his unlife, and promptly tore down his castles in the air the next morning by telling him he was a monster; an ugly, disgusting thing not worthy of her attentions. She had never counted on that day when he would come to actually believe that and show her just how ugly he could be. But being Buffy, she wasn't very well going to agree with Willow. That would mean forfeiting her throne as Queen of Denial. So she resumed rubbing her neck nervously instead.
"That is ridiculous!" Xander exploded as Buffy sat silently on the sofa. "I don't care what you did, Willow, nothing can compare to what that demon---- that thing nearly did to Buffy."
"So me torturing and tearing off the flesh of a guy then turning around and attempting to kill my family and friends, not to mention destroy the world, isn't comparable to what Spike did? At least what he did was an act of passion. Mine was just pure, cold-blooded, premeditated hatred."
Xander was at a loss for words, but as usual, that didn't stop him. "Willow- ---why are you defending him?" he asked helplessly.
"I don't know. Maybe before, when I was shiny, happy Yellow Crayon Willow, I could pretend that I was morally upright enough to call Spike a monster, but . . . I can't very well now can I? Besides, who can truly know what's in Spike's heart?"
"Nothing," Xander spat through clenched teeth. "It's heart isn't even beating."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Spike hadn't been evil for a long time---"
"You don't just stop being evil."
"Okay," Willow conceded. "You don't. But I don't think that just because Spike was evil, we can still say he is now. I mean, he stayed with us that summer, helping us with the Hellmouth. He would have never done that if he was completely evil."
"Willow! There aren't any percentages with evil! You aren't like . . .78 % evil! You either are or you aren't!"
Willow looked at Xander through slit eyes. "Xander, when are you going to start seeing the whole picture? Okay, so maybe Spike is evil. Or maybe not. The point is how are we to know? We can't look inside Spike and figure what's going on inside his head. And I know actions speak louder than words, but . . . if you guys can't really look down somewhere in your hearts and try to at least give a little understanding of what Spike did . . . then how am I supposed to figure you can give me that as well?"
Buffy and Xander remained silent and Willow sighed and plodded on. "Anyway, all I'm saying is that . . . just wait and see. Maybe Spike has it in him to redeem himself somehow. And I'm not saying we have to do anything about it, I'm just saying . . . don't make it impossible for him to make it better, you know?"
Buffy cocked her head in amazement and a little awe for her best friend. "How'd you get so compassionate?" she asked wonderingly, shaking her head.
Willow smiled softly. "Tara. She used to tell me things like that all the time. She had the best heart of anyone I've ever known. And she liked Spike. So I'm trying to, for her sake."
Buffy nodded, her hand still fluttering near her neck.
Later that night, Buffy stood in front of her mirror once more. Buffy seemed to make a permanent home in front of the long mirror in her bedroom. Anyone observing her would have thought that the length of time she spent in front of it would imply vanity, but the fact of the matter was, she wasn't even staring at her own reflection past the one glittering rope of jewels lying across her collarbone. She gingerly touched it, marveling its beauty. The cold touch it brought to her skin reminded her of the gift's giver. Suddenly she sighed; guilty again to be thinking of him, so she quickly brought her hands back to the clasp at the back of her neck. Her fingers struggled with the clasp, but it wasn't coming off. She frowned, and tried turning around the necklace so that she could eye the clasp in the mirror and view it as she struggled with it. But it didn't budge. It was as if the necklace was branded to her skin so that no one motion could ever get it to move. Frantic now, she tried lifting the necklace from her neck, but it remained steadfast and cold on her skin. It wasn't coming off.