Author's Note: Feedback/reviews/happy-Kella-making stuff. ;)
Chapter 8It was growing darker outside, and closer to the time that Buffy would be departing the house to go after Anya. Spike shook his head slowly and went downstairs for a cup of blood. This was hard on everyone, but especially on Buffy. So many of her friends had died or …hurt her. And now she had to go and dispatch one of the Scoobies herself. He didn't have any idea how to help her…
"You can't."
Turning, Spike almost fell backwards as he saw himself. And he was smiling in a most perverse fashion. "Wh-what?"
Casually, pseudo-Spike picked up a fork from the kitchen counter and toyed it idly between his fingers. "You're not supposed to help her. You know it's not part of the plan…" He fashioned an imitation of Spike's trademark smirk for a moment, then it grew impossibly wide and his face inverted, swallowing the rest of the apparition into thin air.
His knees shaking, Spike just stood there for a moment. Finally, he managed, "O-okay… definitely a Hellmouth we're sitting on…" He did his best to divert his full attention to the warming mug of blood in the microwave.
As he pulled it out a few minutes later and began to sip it gingerly, he heard Xander stomp through the house from talking to Willow in the back room.
"Xander, wait!" the witch called after him, but he was already gone. The door hung open in his wake, and Willow slowly walked up to close it. Her shoulders shook for a moment as he watched her give in to the tears she'd obviously been fighting all afternoon. Quickly, however, she straightened and walked determinedly into the kitchen, joining him. "So," she started the conversation with faux cheer, "dinner time, rare-style?"
He tilted a corner of his mouth up at her, hoping it didn't waver as he still battled the memory of his encounter with "himself", and said, "Bloody rare, Red. Got that right."
"Oh." Eyebrows raised, Willow-style, she took a seat at the counter island in the kitchen. Idly, she traced patterns in the tile of the countertop.
Resting a hand on the counter opposite her, he smiled. "Want me to make you something to eat?"
"I-I think you and I are on separate diets, there, Spike…" Willow joked. "My hemoglobin's up to specs, but thanks for asking and all."
He chuckled softly and shook his head. "C'mon, Red. I do occasionally partake of human cuisine." He flashed her a grin and a wink. "And I'm a hell of a cook."
She casually waved a hand, calling up her "Cordelia 'tude" memories. "Oh, sure. Why not? Anything kosher will do, Chef."
Spike raised an eyebrow at her as he headed to the fridge. "You know, Red, you are the oddest bird… 'as a bloke ever told you that?"
She snorted lightly to stifle a very un-adult-like giggle. "You, more than a few times." She straightened in mock seriousness. "But, I can be a Jewish Witch… Or a Wiccan Jew… or…" Her brow knit in confusion.
He shook his head as he rifled through the crisper. "Don't think. You'll hurt yourself."
She stuck her tongue out at his back before a wicked smile crept onto her face. "You know, you have a soul now. So, doesn't that mean that if you say something that hurts my feelings, you have to feel guilty about it?"
He looked at her askance. "You're confusing me with the King of Brooding, again."
"Oh. My bad." She watched him pull tomatoes, a block of Swiss cheese, lettuce, and the pan of whole chicken that Dawn had cooked the night before. Buffy hadn't felt like cooking, and Dawn turned out not to be too bad a cook. No one died of food poisoning, at least, and Willow considered that a plus.
As he laid the food out across the counter and pulled a loaf of bread out of the cabinet, Spike casually flicked a glance at her. "So, wanna talk about what's been botherin' you?"
"Bothering me? You mean aside from the whole 'Anya slaughtered a dozen preppie guys with a giant spider demon and now Buffy has to go kill her, and I have to watch Xander's heart break all over again?" She sighed. "I mean, not that I particularly like Anya, I mean, she is a pain in the ass…But, still. She's a member of the Scoobies, just like you and me."
Nodding, Spike pulled a knife out of the drawer behind him and started to slice the tomato on the counter in front of him. "And you wish there was a way to stop it without Demon-girl dying."
"Well, yeah."
Without looking up, he asked, "Mayonnaise or mustard?"
"Huh?"
He smiled and met her confused gaze. "On your sandwich, pet."
"Oh… Well, would I be breaching the kosher laws if I said mayo and mustard?" Willow asked, slightly worried about the technicalities.
He smiled. "Well, I think mayo was questionable, but you made up for it by dilutin' it with th' mustard." He reached over, grabbed a plate, and put down two slices of bread. "So, what do you suggest? We can't very well stop Buffy from doing her job. You know that as well as I." He followed this by reaching into the fridge again, putting the tomatoes back and retrieving the mustard and mayo. Spreading the two sauces on the slices of bread, he waited for her to respond.
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. She was silent for a few minutes, saying nothing as she thought.
In the silence, Spike finished making her sandwich, adding the lettuce and freshly sliced chicken before placing the other slice of bread over the creation and sliding the plate across the counter to her. She broke from her reverie and looked up at him. "I know! If…if Anya could just take back what she did then maybe Buffy wouldn't have to kill her!"
Spike shook his head as he turned to the sink and washed off the knife. Putting the ingredients to the sandwich back in the fridge, he looked over at her. "'s not that easy, Red. Vengeance demons, as a rule, don't purposefully reverse their wishes. If I recall, Anya got her arse suspended over reversing that sluggoth demon, remember?"
Willow nodded slowly. "Yeah…She told me about that. They suspended her teleporting privileges. She had to file flight plans and everything. It was yucky."
"Would be easier on her if she had some higher-up's permission to do the reversal, though…" Spike mused, purposefully leading Willow's train of thought.
Her eyes lit up as she smiled at him. "Of course! D'Hoffryn gave me a charm to summon him if I ever needed him." At Spike's confused look, she waved her hand dismissively. "He tried to recruit me into the whole vengeance-y thing a couple of years ago. Said I had 'potential'." She formed quotation marks with her fingers on the last word. "But, I could summon him and tell him what's going to happen if Anya doesn't reverse the wish. He likes me. I think he'll listen."
Spike snorted. "Bloke's a bleedin' poof, but whatever you say, if you think it'll work, ducks." He tilted his head. "I think you've come up with a brilliant plan. Now try your sandwich." He went and warmed up some more blood in the microwave, leaning with his elbows on the countertop as he watched her for a reaction.
She took a small bite, chewing slowly. As she swallowed, her eyes widened and she took a larger bite. After swallowing that bite, she grinned at him. "Wow. Great sandwich."
Spike smirked at her and winked. "Mazeltov."
Slowly, Buffy made her way down the stairs. Her eyes were slightly red from worrying and a few tears. She caught Spike's eye from the kitchen and he excused himself from Willow's company to go to her. She breathed in and out a few times. As he neared her, she motioned for him to follow her to the living room, which he did.
"You leaving now?" he asked softly.
She nodded silently. Taking a deep breath, she stared into his eyes, finding a hidden reserve of strength that he'd always kept there just for her. "Dawn's spending the night at her friend Kit's. She'll be back after school tomorrow."
Spike returned the nod, reaching out to hesitantly graze her shoulder with his fingertips. He mistook the tensing of her body to mean that she had disliked the contact and withdrew his hand hastily. He didn't realize that the tension was her trying to keep focused on her task, avoiding crushing her lips to his in response to his touch.
He gestured to the sword she held in her hand. "You sure you're ready to do this?"
"Spike, I have to…"
"Shh… I know, Buffy. I know it's your duty. But I mean you, are you ready to kill Anya?" He looked into her eyes with tenderness. "Red's got an idea that might help you not have to. Have Demon-girl reverse the wish and repent of her vengeance ways, and all that…"
Buffy sighed and steeled herself, not breaking her gaze with Spike. "If it works, more power to Willow. But I'm not about to take the chance that it doesn't work and Anya grants another wish that winds up making Sunnydale a crater."
He nodded. "Do you want me to help you? Go with?"
She smiled softly and shook her head. "No. Thank you, but no. This I need to do myself."
He said nothing else. Just looked into her eyes, and she could practically feel the words in her head, with that British accent of his. Good luck, luv. Come home safely…
She nodded somberly, gave his shoulder a light squeeze that passed as a hug, and walked out the door, closing it softly behind her.
He stood there for a few moments, staring at the way she'd gone, still reliving her touch. Then, he turned and purposefully strode into the kitchen. Willow looked up at him and he gestured upstairs. "All right, Sabrina, let's get with th' summoning."
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"Beautiful. Just beautiful! It looks like somebody slaughtered an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue…"
-- D'Hoffryn, "Selfless"
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TBC