Disclaimer: Buffy is not mine, none of the Scoobies are mine, Sunnydale is not mine. Joss, you are a genius.
Into the Light
Giles glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece as he buttered another slice of toast. 8 am was far too early to call Sunnydale. Last night, Willow had spoken to him twice in her sleep and he was starting to worry that things may be more serious than he had first anticipated.
"Morning, Giles," Willow came into the room and sat down opposite him, reaching out for the coffeepot. As she poured it, she made a face.
"I still say you Brits can't make coffee like we do in America."
"Try some tea, then; it's a lot better for the system," Giles replied, liberally spreading marmalade on his toast.
"Tea's a bit too civilised for a Yank like me," Willow smiled. It was good to see. Since Tara had died, Giles hadn't seen her smile too often and it hurt him. Ever since Xander brought her back from the edge, Willow had seemed uncomfortable around Giles, desperately trying to make up for what she had done to him. The gentle teasing that had started to creep back into their conversations was reassuring; the old Willow was back and holding on. According to the druids, she still had a long way to go, but they were sure she would be able to return home in a few days. There had been no question of her using magic again; she seemed to have spent it all, but there was the possibility of her wanting to seek that kind of power again, so Giles had brought her to this retreat. The druids specialised in teaching oneness with the world. Acceptance of the fluctuations of fate and her place within them was the first thing they had begun to teach Willow and she was accepting their instruction well, meditating regularly. There was a new kind of peace about her that Giles hadn't seen before. He returned her smile.
"Giles, have I been … moving about at night? Y'know, er, sleepwalking?"
Giles looked up at her quickly.
"How do you know?"
"I'm not stupid. You've been worried about something and you insist on being in your study when I go to bed," she smiled again, a little sheepishly, "And my t-shirt has a rip in it. I found some of the material caught on the edge of that little chair by the door of your study."
Giles reached out and took her hand.
"Have some breakfast, go and get dressed, then meet me in the courtyard and I'll tell you all about it."
Willow nodded, accepting. There was that strange peace again; she could have demanded an answer, but it was okay to wait. Giles was proud of her; the progress she had made in such a short time was a credit to her determination to make things right. He leaned back in his chair and watched her eat, hoping that her faith in him was justified.
Buffy woke up suddenly. She looked over at the clock. It was only 1 am, no time to be awake when she had work the next day. Thank God it was just a morning shift; she'd be out at noon. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to calm her mind, pushing any thoughts of Spike from her head. It was odd, no matter how hard she tried, she just wasn't as mad at him as she should be. And she was trying very hard. Turning onto her side, she decided if she couldn't get to sleep in an hour, she'd call Giles.
An hour later, Buffy was sitting in the kitchen, dialling the number for the retreat. She listened to the strange ringing on the other end of the line. It was a good thing Giles had persuaded the Council to pay her bills, she thought to herself; on Doublemeat Palace wages she'd never be able to afford this call. A man with an odd accent answered the phone.
"Hi, can I speak to Rupert Giles, please? It's Buffy Summers speaking."
The voice said something Buffy couldn't make out, then she heard the phone being put down. After a couple of minutes, she could make out a door being closed and Giles picked up the phone.
"Buffy?" he sounded worried.
"I'm okay, Giles. I just wanted to have a chat. How is it over there in sunny England?" She smiled slightly as she heard him sigh.
"Firstly, we're in Wales and secondly, it's hardly ever sunny here. It must be the middle of the night over there. Why are you really calling, Buffy?"
Buffy thought about it; why was she calling him?
"Spike's back."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.
"And?" Giles sounded wary; he obviously wasn't sure how she felt about Spike. He knew about what had happened that night; Xander had made sure everybody knew.
"And he's human. Kind of. He left here and went to Africa and got his soul back and now he's back here and he's sort of human and sort of still a little bit vampire, but he has a heartbeat and he can go out in the sun and he doesn't want me to go near him because he thinks he may try something again and he says I should never forgive him for what he tried to do to me, but Dawn says I should and am I making any sense here?" She couldn't stop the words once they'd started. She heard Giles sigh again.
"Buffy, personally, I would kill Spike for what he tried if I thought it would do any good, but I think – and I'm only telling you this for your own good – I think you need him."
Buffy's brain shut down for a moment.
"Buffy?"
She shook herself.
"Giles! What the hell are you talking about? How can you say that after this last year? After what he tried? I … I can't … I mean …"
"Calm down, for God's sake. Just listen. Spike has been a constant presence in your life for six years, even when he was trying to kill you. Of all the challenges you've faced, defeating him time and again was what you enjoyed the most. More recently, you've relied on him to protect your friends and family when you couldn't. You've fought together – he's become a part of your life. And he needs you. He always came back to Sunnydale, even before the chip. And he's back again. I think you need to go and talk to him again. He's human now; he's as different to what he was a couple of months ago as William was to Spike."
"He doesn't seem to think so," Buffy knew Giles was right, but she couldn't bring herself to give in. She had to put up a fight, just for old times sake.
"Buffy, whatever you decide to do, I'll be behind you. Go back to bed now and get some rest. Try not to think about it."
"Okay. Goodnight, Giles," Buffy held the phone as close as she could to her ear, as if it would somehow bring her closer to him.
"Goodnight Buffy. Sleep well." Buffy knew he was still too British to say it, but she could hear the tone of his voice. He loved her; really cared about her as if she were his own daughter and the advice he had given her had been from the heart. She smiled and hung up.
Giles looked at the phone for a moment. Had he said the right thing? Would Buffy be able to put aside her stubbornness just long enough to give Spike one last chance? And had he been right not to tell her what was happening with Willow? Well, he would know in a few days time. Closing the door to the little room behind him, he went back out to the courtyard, where Willow was waiting for him. Despite what he had said to Buffy, the sun was shining and Willow sat in a pool of sunlight in the centre of the yard, her face turned upwards towards the warmth and her eyes closed in meditation. Giles spoke her name gently from a few yards away and her eyes opened slowly, blinking slightly. She smiled lazily at him.
"Hi. What did Buffy want?"
"She just needed to talk. I'll tell you about it later. First of all, we need to have a chat about this." He opened up the log he had been keeping. "This is a diary of all the nights you have been walking in your sleep recently. I have also recorded anything you said to me."
Willow took the book from him and turned back to the earliest entry. She read every entry carefully, then turned back and re-read some of the details again. Closing the book carefully, she looked up at Giles.
"This log starts on the first night I started dreaming about Tara. Really vivid dreams; she comes to me and tells me that we're all in danger, that I have to go back to Sunnydale to help. And I tell her that I can't, that I have to stay here and get better. She looks so beautiful," Willow's voice caught in her throat, "Then she tells me to go to you and tell you to check the dates. That's when she usually goes away. Again." She looked up at Giles, tears falling softly down her cheeks. Giles put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. For a while they sat there, Giles offering the little comfort he could to the young woman at his side. She was too young to have to deal with so much grief. Willow pulled away from him, wiping her eyes. Giles watched her pulling herself together, pushing memories of her pain away and gathering her thoughts.
"If this is upsetting you, we can …"
"No; this is important. Tara is trying to tell me something and we have to find out what it is. I think you need to get back to Sunnydale and warn Buffy that something's coming and I can stay here and do some research with the druids."
Giles shook his head; "I'm not going to leave you here. I've spoken to the druids and they say that with proper supervision, you can go home. I think you should come with me."
Willow sighed. She stood up and walked towards the flowerbeds on the other side of the courtyard, taking one of the blooms gently in her hand and examining it closely. She turned back to Giles.
"I can't go back there; not after what I did."
Giles went to her and once again took her gently in his arms.
"Willow, you were always the best of us. You have always been at the heart of the group. We all understand what happened to you and we forgave you; now you have to forgive yourself. We all love you, Willow, and we want you back," he held her away from him and looked into her eyes, "I'm not saying this isn't going to be the hardest thing you have ever done, but you must keep in mind that you are wanted and needed in Sunnydale."
Willow hugged him hard, silently thanking him for his support. Her voice had failed her, but she could feel that Giles understood. She looked up at him again.
"Let's go pack."
Buffy shoved her Doublemeat Palace uniform into her bag, taking a bit of pleasure in pummelling it slightly more than necessary. She still resented the fact that the Watcher's Council had only agreed to pay her utility bills, but at least it was something. They had said that in order to maintain the secrecy surrounding the Slayer, she had to appear to the ordinary world to have a job and a normal income. They had been a little bit lost as to how to proceed with the situation before Giles had suggested the plan because no Slayer had survived past twenty before.
Buffy turned and pushed open the back door. She made her way along the little alley and past the side of the building and stepped out into the sunlight. Closing her eyes and turning her face up towards it, Buffy savoured the warm feeling on her skin, enjoying the feeling of temporary freedom for as long as it lasted. Opening her eyes and turning towards home, her gaze was caught by a small crowd of people gathering around the entrance to another alley across the street. The police were putting up a lot of that yellow tape across the opening and some others were making sure the crowd didn't get too close. Great, thought Buffy, so much for my half-day off. She was making her way across the road towards the gathering when she saw a familiar figure standing slightly to the side, watching the proceedings and smoking a cigarette. It was strange to see that blonde hair and pale skin in daylight; she'd only seen Spike in the sun once before when he had been wearing the ring of Amarra. The bright light made him look ill. Yeah, she told herself, well, he has been dead for over a century. She sidled over to him.
"Spike."
He jumped slightly; he hadn't seen her come over. Immediately, his stance changed from the usual casual confidence to one of wary defence. He started to move away.
"Hello, Buffy," he turned.
"Spike, wait!"
Stopping in mid-stride he turned back to her, some of his self-confidence back.
"What?"
Buffy moved towards him a little and noticed that he stepped back, unconsciously trying to keep a certain distance between them. She stopped.
"Any idea what's going on here?" She was trying to keep her voice level and business-like. Spike picked up her cue and dropped his cigarette to the ground.
"Looks like a vampire killing. A girl, maybe early twenties, bite mark on her neck, body drained. They left her in the alley last night. I'd say died about midnight. Funny thing is, there was some sort of symbol under her body, drawn in her blood. I copied it the best I could before too many cops turned up. Here," he put his hand in his pocket and brought out a scrap of paper. Holding it out to Buffy, he made sure his fingers didn't touch hers and that he didn't have to get too close.
"Thanks," she pocketed the paper, "Um, I was on my way home. You wanna come back and we can do a bit of research? Maybe get a pizza?"
Spike tried not to smile; he knew what she was doing. For some reason, since last night, she had decided to offer an olive branch, to try and get things back to normal. Maybe she was even making an effort to forgive him.
"No thanks. I'm sure you can manage." He turned away and walked determinedly in the opposite direction to Buffy's house.
Buffy strode forward and grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her. He pulled away, almost staggering backwards in his desire to break the contact.
"Stop trying to be a martyr, Spike. I need your help and you're gonna have to start acting like a grown-up," Buffy's voice was deliberately low, so as not to attract attention, but it was hard and determined, "Now turn round and move your arse back to my place." She swung around, almost hitting Spike with her bag as she did so and strode off towards home. Spike sighed and started after her slowly. With his eyes on the ground, he didn't notice her stopping again and almost walked into her.
"And you're paying for the pizza," she said, her face still serious. Spike opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it and started to follow her again.
Buffy glanced at her watch; it was 4 pm. They'd been sitting here in relative silence studying the books for over three hours. Spike had hardly said a word since he got here, avoiding her eyes and staying out of her way as much as he could. Now he was sitting on the floor, a book open on the coffee table in front of him, apparently studying the text intently. They hadn't had much luck so far, but there were plenty of books left to go through. Giles had made sure that all the literature from the Magic Box had been transferred to Buffy's house before he left for Britain with Willow. They had been concentrating their research on vampire cults.
Buffy put the large tome she had been flicking through onto the couch next to her, stood up and stretched. Spike watched the action out of the corner of his eyes. He had been trying not to feel too comfortable in this house, in her company, but it was difficult. This place felt more like home than his crypt.
"Are you thirsty?" Buffy asked him, breaking his train of thought.
"Yeah, a bit."
She moved past him, her leg brushing his arm as she went to the kitchen. He flinched a little, but Buffy didn't seem to notice. Pushing that kind of thought out of his mind, he rose and followed her to the kitchen.
"Okay, we got coffee, tea, sodas, water. What d'you want?"
"Cup of tea would be good," Spike answered. Buffy moved over to the sink to fill the kettle. He shifted awkwardly as he leaned against the doorframe. "Is it okay if I use your bathroom?"
"Yeah, sure. You know where it is."
Spike made his way up the stairs slowly. He didn't need to use the bathroom, but he had to get out of the kitchen. She looked so perfect. She was just making tea and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He stepped into the bathroom and stopped dead. God, he'd almost allowed himself to forget. This room, that night. The mirror had been replaced and the shower curtain was new, but it was the same room. He felt like he was being smothered, his vision was swimming. He could see her lying next to the bath, looking at him with those eyes full of hurt and anger and fear, pulling her robe around her. His soul accused him with visions of that night. How he had pushed her over the bath, pinned her to the floor, her pleas for him to stop, his desperate desire. Spike fell to his knees, a quiet moan escaping his throat. He sank to the floor.
The door slammed open. Buffy flew in, defences up, a stake in her hand. She stopped short when she saw him. Spike was curled up on the floor, his arms over his head as if trying to protect himself. She crouched down next to him and touched his shoulder gently. Spike moved as if stung, throwing his arm back and knocking her away. He pushed himself across the floor, stopping with his back against the far wall. His eyes were wild and empty, his breathing shallow and his skin was paler than Buffy had ever seen it. She reached out to touch him and he shied away, trying to back further along the wall. She could see she wasn't getting through to him. Slowly, Buffy backed away.
"Stay there, Spike," she kept her voice low and even, "I'll be back in a second. Just try and relax." The eyes watching her didn't register anything. She carried on making her way out of the bathroom.
As soon as she was out of the room, she went back down to the kitchen and finished making the tea. Going back upstairs, she took a blanket off her bed and went to the bathroom. It was empty. Buffy stood for a moment, puzzled. Then she heard it; a barely audible sobbing coming from Willow's old room. She went to the door and nudged it open with her elbow. Spike was huddled on the bed with his hands over his face, tears leaking through his fingers. She put the two mugs of tea down on the dressing table and took the blanket off her shoulder, gently draping it over the shaking figure on the bed. Then she drew back and sat on a chair, sipping her tea. Buffy had never seen Spike like this before; it was quite disturbing. After a couple of minutes, the quiet sobbing stopped.
"I brought your tea up for you," Buffy told him. She saw his shoulders tense up again under the blanket.
"Thanks," he mumbled.
"You were shouting. In the bathroom," she explained. No reply. "I thought something was attacking you."
Spike sat up slowly, wiping the last tears from his eyes, "Something was."
Buffy stood up and handed him his mug of tea, lifting her eyebrows questioningly. Spike's gaze dropped to his drink and he took a sip.
"My soul."
Buffy nodded. She'd had over two months to think over the events of that night and try to put it behind her. Hell, earlier on in the day, she'd been ready to try and start forgiving him, but Spike had spent two months accusing himself, of re-living the pain he had caused to so many. Going back into that room and re-living the most recent pain must have been almost too much for him. She took another sip of her tea. In front of her was a human in pain and it was her job to protect humans from hurt and death. Spike was on the point of giving up, of letting the agony overtake him and drag him down. As a vampire, he had walked in the dark, but right now he was in an even darker place; he was in his own private hell and she was the only one who could bring him back.
"Giles was right," she murmured.
"What?"
Buffy looked up at him.
"Giles said that I need you. He said you're a part of my life. And that you need me. He was right. Even when you were trying to kill me, you kept coming back to Sunnydale. And now, you've come back again. That took some nerve, considering everywhere you go in this town must be torture for you with that new soul," she sighed, "Somewhere along the line, and I don't know where, I forgave you. When you came back, I just reacted the way everyone thought I would. I didn't really feel it," Buffy put down her mug and went to sit on the edge of the bed, "I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I'm sorry for hurting you and I'm sorry for using you."
Spike pulled away slightly, "No, you shouldn't be apologising to me. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Okay, let's look at it like this. I think I should be saying sorry and I just have. You think you should be apologising, so do it. Then we can put this all in the past and get on with finding the bad guys."
He took her by the shoulders and looked in the eye. It was the first time he hadn't flinched away from touching her.
"Buffy, I am more sorry than you will ever know for everything I've done to you and your friends. Especially that night," he sighed and dropped his arms, "But that's just words. Doesn't do any real good."
Buffy shrugged, "It's a start. What more d'you want? An epiphany?"
Spike smiled, despite himself, "Where d'you learn a word like that?"
"Hey, I've been to college," Buffy said with mock indignation. She smiled back at him, "That's better. Now come downstairs and finish off that tea."
Dawn walked in the door, hung up her coat and stopped dead at the sight in front of her on the couch. Spike was stretched out on it asleep, a blanket draped over him and an arm resting on an open book by his side. Buffy was sitting in the armchair, quietly flicking through another book and occasionally glancing at a scrap of paper on the table. She looked up as Dawn closed the door and motioned for her to be quiet and go with her to the kitchen.
"What's going on?" Dawn whispered as soon as they were out of the lounge.
"Spike and I have sorted a few things out between us, that's all. He's exhausted, so we'll leave him there until I've made dinner, okay?"
Dawn didn't dare ask for details. By some miracle, it seemed that Buffy had forgiven Spike and she wasn't about to ruin that with too many questions.
"Okay," she replied warily.
"I'll explain everything later, I promise. I just don't want Spike hearing us talking about him and going all weird again," Buffy took her sister's hand and led her over to the sink, "Now wash your hands and start peeling some potatoes." Dawn did as she was told with not so much as a token objection. She must be in shock, Buffy thought to herself, smiling.
Jessica moved swiftly into the shadows behind a tree. She peered into the night, looking for a likely victim. Simon moved in behind her, bumping into her awkwardly and stumbling slightly.
"God, Simon; why do you have to come with me? I'm quite capable of hunting on my own," she snarled at him.
"I realise that, sister, but I have to be with you to arrange the bodies. I very much doubt you could do that efficiently."
Biting back her irritation, Jessica turned back to the task in hand. They hadn't done very well tonight and didn't have any time to waste on any of Simon's games. In the distance, she saw a movement and focussed her attention on it. Only a cat. Scanning the area again, she spotted a likely ambush spot and began to make her way towards it.
"Wait for me," came the strangled whisper behind her. It was a good thing they were only going after humans, Jessica decided; the noise her brother was making would have every demon in Sunnydale aware of their presence. She sidled into the mouth of an alley and glanced quickly around the corner. Yes, there he was; a young man wandering along on his own, unaware of her waiting for him. She tensed, her body ready to rush him. Simon arrived a moment later, sliding around the corner and trying to keep out of the light from the streetlamps. He failed to notice the garbage piled up by his feet and as he backed into the shadows, he knocked a piece of wood onto the ground. Jessica whirled around and hissed at him, her concentration broken. Simon froze. His sister turned back to the hunt and eased her head around the corner to check on her prey. The young man had stopped and was looking around.
Xander froze, scanning the street for any company. The pleasant fog that a few beers with his workmates had caused cleared from his mind instantly. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, feeling the reassuring shape of the stake under his fingers. Everything seemed quiet. He started to walk again, slightly faster this time, his hand still holding the stake and his eyes checking the night for danger. Behind him, a graceful and dark figure detached herself from the shadows and moved across the street towards him.
Okay, so the plot still hasn't made an appearance. Just hang in there – I'll get to it soon. I promise.