"Uh, hello? Buffy?" Giles said into the phone. "I hadn't, that is to say, I
didn't think of the time when I called."
"Giles?" Buffy sounded exhausted. "No it's okay, really. I just got in from patrolling. You didn't wake me or anything. I'm just kind of."
"Tired?" Giles supplied.
"I was going to say stinky."
"Oh, well yes. There is that of course," Giles acknowledged. "I was calling to, uh, say hello to you naturally. And because there has been a problem with Willow."
"The spell didn't work?" Buffy asked, suddenly frightened and awake.
"No the spell is fine. She's having some trouble dealing, obviously, with what she has done. I'm afraid she cut her wrists today. She's fine. She's in the hospital. Sp. someone found her in time. We will be keeping a much closer watch on her."
"Oh my god," Buffy's voice became small. "Willow tried to kill herself? That's not. she wouldn't." Slowly Buffy slid down onto the kitchen floor. And then she was crying, which was happening too much lately. Way to make with the tears, Slayer, she berated herself. Buffy bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to stop. Weeping wasn't going to solve anything.
"What can I do?" she asked in a calmer voice.
"If you could send on her clothes, perhaps any personal items you think she might need. That would be quite helpful. I didn't think to take anything when I returned with her to the coven."
"Should I come out?"
"No. No I don't think that would be wise. She, er, she reacted rather badly the only time I've seen her. I can't imagine you would fare any better. We just need to give her time, Buffy."
Time, Buffy thought, sitting on the floor with her back against the kitchen wall, an old old Slayer. She hadn't realized until she saw Kendra's body that was how it was supposed to go. Come into your powers fighting and die quickly. How much time have I got left, she wondered. But these were old thoughts. Now she was talking to Giles. They had to help Willow.
"Who's looking after Willow now? The coven?"
Giles paused. He was silent so long she thought they had lost their connection.
"Hello? Giles?"
"Yes, well," Giles fumbled.
He could not lie to his Slayer, but did she need to know the truth? Would it hurt her? Perhaps, perhaps he had made the wrong decision with regard to Spike. Even with the chip, even with the possibility of the soul, would it not have been better to drive him far away from Buffy and her circle? He could have ensured she would never have heard from him again, yet he had invited him in. Why? Giles knew his forgiveness could only be stretched so far, but why had it stretched at all?
"Ah, I think I may have, that is, er, given you reason to doubt my judgment. I rather doubt my judgment, actually."
Buffy rolled her eyes. Her Watcher was always such a drama queen. "Spit it out Giles."
"I have asked Spike to look after Willow. With the chip still active he can't hurt her and there may be other. fail safes."
Buffy's stomach clenched. She was euphorically happy that she was already seated when Giles broke the news. How could he let her near Willow? But hadn't she been willing to let him watch Dawn when Willow went all Manic Panic Uber-Witch on them? She didn't want to think about this. She had been so very good at not thinking about this.
"What other fail safes?" she asked, grasping onto his words like a life raft. Please utter something that leads me away from these thoughts, she begged.
"There is the possibility that Spike may have regained his soul. He claims it was restored in Africa."
"It was just lying around on the sand?" Buffy demanded. "And how can you not know?"
"We knew Angel was evil when he began tormenting and killing us. With Spike, well the chip eliminates that option. He has been good with Willow. He saved her life. If he hadn't taken her to the hospital she would have bled to death."
"Maybe he was trying to talk her into a snack?" Buffy suggested tartly.
"No. He was with me when Willow was attempting to.to." "End it all?" Buffy supplied and winced. Slayer wit was grossly out of place in this conversation.
"I don't believe he is any danger to her. No one is expecting you to forgive him. I certainly do not intend to. But, currently, he is useful."
"That's Spike, always one for the usefulness," Buffy agreed.
She had certainly found him useful, and if it wasn't for that vignette in the bathroom she might have felt bad for the way she used him. But not now.
"It's fine. Really. If Spike can help Willow in any way it's all for the good," she paused. "But keep him the hell out of Sunnydale."
______________________________________________________________________
Willow wasn't inclined to get out of bed so Spike brought her food. That meant pizza and chicken wings and fish and chips wrapped in yesterday's Guardian.
"There's still scales under the batter," Willow objected, wrinkling her nose.
"Welcome to British cuisine, love," Spike said heartlessly.
Willow knew he didn't care. Well, cared a little maybe. Cared enough not to let her slit her wrists or starve to death, but he wasn't exactly hugs and puppies. Willow envied Spike's apathy. There he was, her own little serial killer, calmly turning the pages of that huge book, scribbling out a translation on a yellow legal pad with a cheap ballpoint pen. He might as well be carved out of stone with his heart lying black and useless in his chest. Tara's heart was silent and stony too. Willow let the greasy fish fall to the floor beside the bed.
Her clothes had come, but she still wore the borrowed black tee shirt. Getting dressed would take more energy than she had. Everything was harder without Tara, without the magic. She willed the fish to rise off the floor. One simple levitation spell, couldn't the coven have left her that?
"Give it up, Red," Spike said from the kitchen table.
"Give what up?" Willow demanded. It wasn't like she had been obvious about it or anything.
"You've been trying to cast spells for weeks now. Give it up. It's not going to work. The mojo is all gone." She hadn't bathed in weeks either. Not since he brought her back from the hospital, now that he thought about it. Her pretty red hair was lank and greasy, her skin oily and pungent. To his predator's nose she was rank.
"I have not," Willow lied.
"So you have been staring at that fish for the past twenty minutes because you think it's pretty? Should we hang it on the wall? The place could use with a bit of art now you mention it," Spike said sarcastically.
Willow propped herself up on the bed. "Right. Because you are so very good at giving things up," Willow mocked. "Oh Buffy! I love you!"
Spike looked up from the book then, and placed his pen carefully on the table. His look was so cold that, chip or no chip, she thought he was going to rip out her throat. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, which she thought should have made his expression less violent, but it did not.
"Feel better now, do we?" he asked icily.
"I don't want to feel better," Willow growled.
Which was obvious. He wouldn't let her die, and he wouldn't let he join the living dead, but Willow was determined to let go of life as much as possible. It was her punishment, to feel like this. Slowly she slipped back onto the bed, which reeked from two weeks of sweat. She had come to associate the smell with her own self-loathing. Willow ran her hands through her greasy hair. Everything about her was disgusting inside and out. She killed Warren, and she had loved it. The terror in his eyes when she pealed away his flesh.the memory made Willow clench her teeth and fight back the desire to choke up what little she had eaten that day. No more barffing. Spike had made it clear he wasn't going to clean up after her anymore.
Easy for him, she supposed, to not give a shit about any of the disgusting things he had done. With a century of killing, torture and feasting behind him Spike lived his un-life indifferent to the pain he had caused others. At least I'm not a monster, Willow told herself. She embraced the misery because it proved she was nothing like him.
At the table Spike was still watching her with dispassionate blue eyes. He should have let her die. They all should have, she thought. Xander would be angry, but Xander was an ocean away. He had tried calling and writing but she wouldn't talk to him, or to any of her friends. Their affection shamed her.
Well, Spike thought leaning back in his chair and dropping his big black boots on the table, look at the little Nihilist. Perhaps he should have taken a drink when he had the chance? It might have been better to have the Slayer hunting him down than to put up with this crap. Willow, he decided, was worse than Drusilla in her most petulant, childish state. She was like- well she was like Angel, wasn't she? Mopping over all of his past wrongs as though his sorrow could do anything to change them. I'm a murderer. Pity me! Well he didn't, he didn't give a toss about either of them.
Spike gnawed the end of his pen and considered his options. Throw her out on the street and let her sink or swim. That was one idea. Give her kicking and screaming back to Giles- who shouldn't have let him near her in the first place. What had the Watcher been thinking? He couldn't bite her, but he could still gag her and stick her in a closet until she starved to death. Huh. That was an idea.
Only really it wasn't. Spike slammed his hand against the table and the glass cracked. It wasn't any fun coming up with plans he knew he wasn't going to follow through on. He was not going to hurt Willow in the same way he was not going to chase tequila shots with holy water. It just wasn't an option and it pissed him off.
Willow's head popped up at the noise. Spike stood next to the table now. His hands were on his hips and he glared at nothing in particular. Everything was fine then. Miserable human: check. Grumpy vampire: check. All accounted for, Willow thought, falling back into the blankets.
Pacing back and forth Spike missed his duster for the first time. He wanted its weight, its smell, the snap of the leather as he moved. Forget the coat. It's just a thing, he told himself, it's not important. He paused and tried to come up with a list of things that were important to him at that moment. It wasn't very long. In fact it was remarkably vacant. Good, he thought with satisfaction, something familiar at last.
Which still left him with the problem of Willow and her enormous stench. He could just haul her bodily into the shower, but the thought of women and bathrooms still left him a bit queasy. You're turning into a right soft bastard he berated himself. With an idle hand he flipped through the pages of scribbling on the legal pad. Nice to know his penmanship was as poncy as ever. Him mum would be happy to know sending him to public school was money well spent.
"Hey, Red?" he called, not looking up from his notes.
"What?" Came the muffled reply from under piles of blankets.
"Be a dove and bloody well sit up when I'm talking to you," he said. The paternal note in his voice aggravated him to no end. To his surprise she hauled herself upright, glaring at him beneath her mop of unkempt hair.
"You're the big brain, right?"
"Why? Do you need some help moving more evil eggs?" If he wasn't going to kill her or bring her decent food, couldn't Spike just leave her alone?
"Very snide. That's cute," Spike smirked. Willow looked slightly deflated. She had been aiming for hurtful, not amusing. Spike picked up the legal pad and walked over to the bed.
"Do you know anything about translating demon languages?"
"No. Magic, remember? That's my thing." Her lower lip trembled.
If she started crying he was going to bash her head in, Spike decided. He just could not take it anymore. With calculated disdain he sat on the bed, happy he didn't need to breath.
"Well, the magic is gone, pet. It's time to pick up another skill set. Don't worry. The book," he gestured behind him towards the table, "it's not for me. Giles asked me to take a look at it. Remember Giles? Daddy figure? The one you tried to kill?"
Willow began to sniffle. She decided Spike was much better at the whole throwing of insults game. Spike rolled his eyes. He didn't bother trying not to look exasperated.
"Look," he said, "you tortured your friends and now you feel really bad about it. That's. keen."
Willow looked annoyed. That was fine, he was annoying himself here. He gave an aggravated sigh and tried again.
"You can either help me help Giles, or you can- well no, that's the only option. You're driving me out of my bleedin' skull. I've had as much of this moping, whining shit as I can take. This translation's giving me a fucking headache, and you're a quick study so there it is. Decision made." Willow opened her mouth. "Don't argue with me, Red," he warned.
She fixed him with a hollow, glassy stare, but nodded.
"And take a shower already. The stench is killing me," he said turning and walking away. That went well enough, he supposed.
"Spike?" Willow's voice was small behind him.
"Yeah?" he asked, turning again to look at her.
"Why are you doing this, looking after me?"
Oh bloody hell. He shrugged, hoping he looked nonchalant. "Well, somebody has to."
______________________________________________________________________
"Willow's with him?" Xander demanded. He ducked out of the reach of the attacking vampire and still managed to maintain his outraged expression.
Buffy tried tried tried not to look annoyed. Times like this she was angry at Spike for proving to her friends how stupid she had been. Nice wild doggie, good doggie, he won't rip out my throat. Look! He's housetrained!
"I am not talking about this now: read ever."
Her roundhouse kick went wild because she tried to maintain eye contact with Xander as she spoke. The vampire grabbed her leg and threw her to the ground. Another crushing blow to my ego, Buffy thought. She popped back to her feet before it could attack again.
"Giles says she's safe." Buffy punched, the vamp blocked. "His word is, ouch, good enough for me."
The vamp punched, Buffy rolled with it, dropping her to the ground and staking her. Poof. Buffy coughed in the familiar dust.
"At least you guys didn't bury me in something as bad as that," she joked. Xander was having none of it.
"I don't trust him with her. No, no, whole words of no to this plan," Xander complained, helping her to her feet.
"Hello? It's not my plan. This is all Giles."
"Yeah, but you have influence with him. You're the Slayer," he dropped his voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, "You know you're his favorite." Buffy rolled her eyes, hoping this signaled a return to jokey Xander.
They had begun patrolling together since Willow left for England. Not that Xander was much help. He was better at alternately screaming or cheerleading, but it was good to have the company. Every so often he got to punch something and if it was something that looked like Spike, well so much the better. He and Anya were still doing the big frosty dance of silence and slaying helped Xander work out the frustration. Or watching me slay, Buffy thought. Maybe vicarious revenge works for him. Still, company good. She was firmly seated on The More the Merrier bandwagon.
"If you called Giles and told him it makes you uncomfortable that your attempted rapist is hanging with your friend we both know he would be gone."
Buffy sucked in her cheeks, angry and scowling. They had this conversation about the attempted rape countless times in one form or another since Willow had left. It always led to the same place. Wasn't there a new destination out there waiting for them? But Xander never understood her point of view when his opinion veered off from hers. Buffy tried to think of a new way to say the same thing.
"I'm not the victim here, Xander. I won. He failed. That's a good thing, right? And no, I don't forgive him. Yes, I am angry and betrayed. But you don't get to throw around my anger. He can't hurt Willow and I don't think he would."
"Did you think he would hurt you?"
Buffy winced. "No. But I can see how it happened."
"I can't see how any of this happened," Xander said, looking lost. Then he hardened. "And I don't want him anywhere near Willow. I don't even want him looking at her."
"I know you have become the protector of all things Willow, but it doesn't sound like she wants him to leave. Giles says he's helping." How had she gotten roped into defending Spike? Buffy wondered angrily.
"Oh sure, she doesn't want Mr. Great Cheekbones to leave- not that it would matter to her, but you know some people are swayed by these things," Xander drifted off and Buffy gave him time to regroup.
Not for the first time Buffy wondered what had happened that day on the bluff when the world didn't end. Everything had happened so quickly. Xander and Willow had shown up at her house limping and clinging to one another. Giles, back from the emergency room with his broken ribs poking him with every step, had taken Willow's arm in an iron grip and teleported her back to Devin. Xander never said anything about what passed between them. Every time Buffy had hinted at talking about it he grew hard and tight-lipped. He talked about missing Willow, complained about not knowing how she was doing, but refused to discuss that day.
Xander snapped his fingers loudly. His argument had come to him at last. "Buffy, does she even know what Spike did? Tried to do? If Willow's with him doesn't she have a right to know?"
Buffy's walk slowed down and Xander felt a flush of joy. He had won. Yay him! It wasn't every day one got to win an argument with the Slayer.
______________________________________________________________________
TBC
"Giles?" Buffy sounded exhausted. "No it's okay, really. I just got in from patrolling. You didn't wake me or anything. I'm just kind of."
"Tired?" Giles supplied.
"I was going to say stinky."
"Oh, well yes. There is that of course," Giles acknowledged. "I was calling to, uh, say hello to you naturally. And because there has been a problem with Willow."
"The spell didn't work?" Buffy asked, suddenly frightened and awake.
"No the spell is fine. She's having some trouble dealing, obviously, with what she has done. I'm afraid she cut her wrists today. She's fine. She's in the hospital. Sp. someone found her in time. We will be keeping a much closer watch on her."
"Oh my god," Buffy's voice became small. "Willow tried to kill herself? That's not. she wouldn't." Slowly Buffy slid down onto the kitchen floor. And then she was crying, which was happening too much lately. Way to make with the tears, Slayer, she berated herself. Buffy bit the inside of her cheek and forced herself to stop. Weeping wasn't going to solve anything.
"What can I do?" she asked in a calmer voice.
"If you could send on her clothes, perhaps any personal items you think she might need. That would be quite helpful. I didn't think to take anything when I returned with her to the coven."
"Should I come out?"
"No. No I don't think that would be wise. She, er, she reacted rather badly the only time I've seen her. I can't imagine you would fare any better. We just need to give her time, Buffy."
Time, Buffy thought, sitting on the floor with her back against the kitchen wall, an old old Slayer. She hadn't realized until she saw Kendra's body that was how it was supposed to go. Come into your powers fighting and die quickly. How much time have I got left, she wondered. But these were old thoughts. Now she was talking to Giles. They had to help Willow.
"Who's looking after Willow now? The coven?"
Giles paused. He was silent so long she thought they had lost their connection.
"Hello? Giles?"
"Yes, well," Giles fumbled.
He could not lie to his Slayer, but did she need to know the truth? Would it hurt her? Perhaps, perhaps he had made the wrong decision with regard to Spike. Even with the chip, even with the possibility of the soul, would it not have been better to drive him far away from Buffy and her circle? He could have ensured she would never have heard from him again, yet he had invited him in. Why? Giles knew his forgiveness could only be stretched so far, but why had it stretched at all?
"Ah, I think I may have, that is, er, given you reason to doubt my judgment. I rather doubt my judgment, actually."
Buffy rolled her eyes. Her Watcher was always such a drama queen. "Spit it out Giles."
"I have asked Spike to look after Willow. With the chip still active he can't hurt her and there may be other. fail safes."
Buffy's stomach clenched. She was euphorically happy that she was already seated when Giles broke the news. How could he let her near Willow? But hadn't she been willing to let him watch Dawn when Willow went all Manic Panic Uber-Witch on them? She didn't want to think about this. She had been so very good at not thinking about this.
"What other fail safes?" she asked, grasping onto his words like a life raft. Please utter something that leads me away from these thoughts, she begged.
"There is the possibility that Spike may have regained his soul. He claims it was restored in Africa."
"It was just lying around on the sand?" Buffy demanded. "And how can you not know?"
"We knew Angel was evil when he began tormenting and killing us. With Spike, well the chip eliminates that option. He has been good with Willow. He saved her life. If he hadn't taken her to the hospital she would have bled to death."
"Maybe he was trying to talk her into a snack?" Buffy suggested tartly.
"No. He was with me when Willow was attempting to.to." "End it all?" Buffy supplied and winced. Slayer wit was grossly out of place in this conversation.
"I don't believe he is any danger to her. No one is expecting you to forgive him. I certainly do not intend to. But, currently, he is useful."
"That's Spike, always one for the usefulness," Buffy agreed.
She had certainly found him useful, and if it wasn't for that vignette in the bathroom she might have felt bad for the way she used him. But not now.
"It's fine. Really. If Spike can help Willow in any way it's all for the good," she paused. "But keep him the hell out of Sunnydale."
______________________________________________________________________
Willow wasn't inclined to get out of bed so Spike brought her food. That meant pizza and chicken wings and fish and chips wrapped in yesterday's Guardian.
"There's still scales under the batter," Willow objected, wrinkling her nose.
"Welcome to British cuisine, love," Spike said heartlessly.
Willow knew he didn't care. Well, cared a little maybe. Cared enough not to let her slit her wrists or starve to death, but he wasn't exactly hugs and puppies. Willow envied Spike's apathy. There he was, her own little serial killer, calmly turning the pages of that huge book, scribbling out a translation on a yellow legal pad with a cheap ballpoint pen. He might as well be carved out of stone with his heart lying black and useless in his chest. Tara's heart was silent and stony too. Willow let the greasy fish fall to the floor beside the bed.
Her clothes had come, but she still wore the borrowed black tee shirt. Getting dressed would take more energy than she had. Everything was harder without Tara, without the magic. She willed the fish to rise off the floor. One simple levitation spell, couldn't the coven have left her that?
"Give it up, Red," Spike said from the kitchen table.
"Give what up?" Willow demanded. It wasn't like she had been obvious about it or anything.
"You've been trying to cast spells for weeks now. Give it up. It's not going to work. The mojo is all gone." She hadn't bathed in weeks either. Not since he brought her back from the hospital, now that he thought about it. Her pretty red hair was lank and greasy, her skin oily and pungent. To his predator's nose she was rank.
"I have not," Willow lied.
"So you have been staring at that fish for the past twenty minutes because you think it's pretty? Should we hang it on the wall? The place could use with a bit of art now you mention it," Spike said sarcastically.
Willow propped herself up on the bed. "Right. Because you are so very good at giving things up," Willow mocked. "Oh Buffy! I love you!"
Spike looked up from the book then, and placed his pen carefully on the table. His look was so cold that, chip or no chip, she thought he was going to rip out her throat. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, which she thought should have made his expression less violent, but it did not.
"Feel better now, do we?" he asked icily.
"I don't want to feel better," Willow growled.
Which was obvious. He wouldn't let her die, and he wouldn't let he join the living dead, but Willow was determined to let go of life as much as possible. It was her punishment, to feel like this. Slowly she slipped back onto the bed, which reeked from two weeks of sweat. She had come to associate the smell with her own self-loathing. Willow ran her hands through her greasy hair. Everything about her was disgusting inside and out. She killed Warren, and she had loved it. The terror in his eyes when she pealed away his flesh.the memory made Willow clench her teeth and fight back the desire to choke up what little she had eaten that day. No more barffing. Spike had made it clear he wasn't going to clean up after her anymore.
Easy for him, she supposed, to not give a shit about any of the disgusting things he had done. With a century of killing, torture and feasting behind him Spike lived his un-life indifferent to the pain he had caused others. At least I'm not a monster, Willow told herself. She embraced the misery because it proved she was nothing like him.
At the table Spike was still watching her with dispassionate blue eyes. He should have let her die. They all should have, she thought. Xander would be angry, but Xander was an ocean away. He had tried calling and writing but she wouldn't talk to him, or to any of her friends. Their affection shamed her.
Well, Spike thought leaning back in his chair and dropping his big black boots on the table, look at the little Nihilist. Perhaps he should have taken a drink when he had the chance? It might have been better to have the Slayer hunting him down than to put up with this crap. Willow, he decided, was worse than Drusilla in her most petulant, childish state. She was like- well she was like Angel, wasn't she? Mopping over all of his past wrongs as though his sorrow could do anything to change them. I'm a murderer. Pity me! Well he didn't, he didn't give a toss about either of them.
Spike gnawed the end of his pen and considered his options. Throw her out on the street and let her sink or swim. That was one idea. Give her kicking and screaming back to Giles- who shouldn't have let him near her in the first place. What had the Watcher been thinking? He couldn't bite her, but he could still gag her and stick her in a closet until she starved to death. Huh. That was an idea.
Only really it wasn't. Spike slammed his hand against the table and the glass cracked. It wasn't any fun coming up with plans he knew he wasn't going to follow through on. He was not going to hurt Willow in the same way he was not going to chase tequila shots with holy water. It just wasn't an option and it pissed him off.
Willow's head popped up at the noise. Spike stood next to the table now. His hands were on his hips and he glared at nothing in particular. Everything was fine then. Miserable human: check. Grumpy vampire: check. All accounted for, Willow thought, falling back into the blankets.
Pacing back and forth Spike missed his duster for the first time. He wanted its weight, its smell, the snap of the leather as he moved. Forget the coat. It's just a thing, he told himself, it's not important. He paused and tried to come up with a list of things that were important to him at that moment. It wasn't very long. In fact it was remarkably vacant. Good, he thought with satisfaction, something familiar at last.
Which still left him with the problem of Willow and her enormous stench. He could just haul her bodily into the shower, but the thought of women and bathrooms still left him a bit queasy. You're turning into a right soft bastard he berated himself. With an idle hand he flipped through the pages of scribbling on the legal pad. Nice to know his penmanship was as poncy as ever. Him mum would be happy to know sending him to public school was money well spent.
"Hey, Red?" he called, not looking up from his notes.
"What?" Came the muffled reply from under piles of blankets.
"Be a dove and bloody well sit up when I'm talking to you," he said. The paternal note in his voice aggravated him to no end. To his surprise she hauled herself upright, glaring at him beneath her mop of unkempt hair.
"You're the big brain, right?"
"Why? Do you need some help moving more evil eggs?" If he wasn't going to kill her or bring her decent food, couldn't Spike just leave her alone?
"Very snide. That's cute," Spike smirked. Willow looked slightly deflated. She had been aiming for hurtful, not amusing. Spike picked up the legal pad and walked over to the bed.
"Do you know anything about translating demon languages?"
"No. Magic, remember? That's my thing." Her lower lip trembled.
If she started crying he was going to bash her head in, Spike decided. He just could not take it anymore. With calculated disdain he sat on the bed, happy he didn't need to breath.
"Well, the magic is gone, pet. It's time to pick up another skill set. Don't worry. The book," he gestured behind him towards the table, "it's not for me. Giles asked me to take a look at it. Remember Giles? Daddy figure? The one you tried to kill?"
Willow began to sniffle. She decided Spike was much better at the whole throwing of insults game. Spike rolled his eyes. He didn't bother trying not to look exasperated.
"Look," he said, "you tortured your friends and now you feel really bad about it. That's. keen."
Willow looked annoyed. That was fine, he was annoying himself here. He gave an aggravated sigh and tried again.
"You can either help me help Giles, or you can- well no, that's the only option. You're driving me out of my bleedin' skull. I've had as much of this moping, whining shit as I can take. This translation's giving me a fucking headache, and you're a quick study so there it is. Decision made." Willow opened her mouth. "Don't argue with me, Red," he warned.
She fixed him with a hollow, glassy stare, but nodded.
"And take a shower already. The stench is killing me," he said turning and walking away. That went well enough, he supposed.
"Spike?" Willow's voice was small behind him.
"Yeah?" he asked, turning again to look at her.
"Why are you doing this, looking after me?"
Oh bloody hell. He shrugged, hoping he looked nonchalant. "Well, somebody has to."
______________________________________________________________________
"Willow's with him?" Xander demanded. He ducked out of the reach of the attacking vampire and still managed to maintain his outraged expression.
Buffy tried tried tried not to look annoyed. Times like this she was angry at Spike for proving to her friends how stupid she had been. Nice wild doggie, good doggie, he won't rip out my throat. Look! He's housetrained!
"I am not talking about this now: read ever."
Her roundhouse kick went wild because she tried to maintain eye contact with Xander as she spoke. The vampire grabbed her leg and threw her to the ground. Another crushing blow to my ego, Buffy thought. She popped back to her feet before it could attack again.
"Giles says she's safe." Buffy punched, the vamp blocked. "His word is, ouch, good enough for me."
The vamp punched, Buffy rolled with it, dropping her to the ground and staking her. Poof. Buffy coughed in the familiar dust.
"At least you guys didn't bury me in something as bad as that," she joked. Xander was having none of it.
"I don't trust him with her. No, no, whole words of no to this plan," Xander complained, helping her to her feet.
"Hello? It's not my plan. This is all Giles."
"Yeah, but you have influence with him. You're the Slayer," he dropped his voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, "You know you're his favorite." Buffy rolled her eyes, hoping this signaled a return to jokey Xander.
They had begun patrolling together since Willow left for England. Not that Xander was much help. He was better at alternately screaming or cheerleading, but it was good to have the company. Every so often he got to punch something and if it was something that looked like Spike, well so much the better. He and Anya were still doing the big frosty dance of silence and slaying helped Xander work out the frustration. Or watching me slay, Buffy thought. Maybe vicarious revenge works for him. Still, company good. She was firmly seated on The More the Merrier bandwagon.
"If you called Giles and told him it makes you uncomfortable that your attempted rapist is hanging with your friend we both know he would be gone."
Buffy sucked in her cheeks, angry and scowling. They had this conversation about the attempted rape countless times in one form or another since Willow had left. It always led to the same place. Wasn't there a new destination out there waiting for them? But Xander never understood her point of view when his opinion veered off from hers. Buffy tried to think of a new way to say the same thing.
"I'm not the victim here, Xander. I won. He failed. That's a good thing, right? And no, I don't forgive him. Yes, I am angry and betrayed. But you don't get to throw around my anger. He can't hurt Willow and I don't think he would."
"Did you think he would hurt you?"
Buffy winced. "No. But I can see how it happened."
"I can't see how any of this happened," Xander said, looking lost. Then he hardened. "And I don't want him anywhere near Willow. I don't even want him looking at her."
"I know you have become the protector of all things Willow, but it doesn't sound like she wants him to leave. Giles says he's helping." How had she gotten roped into defending Spike? Buffy wondered angrily.
"Oh sure, she doesn't want Mr. Great Cheekbones to leave- not that it would matter to her, but you know some people are swayed by these things," Xander drifted off and Buffy gave him time to regroup.
Not for the first time Buffy wondered what had happened that day on the bluff when the world didn't end. Everything had happened so quickly. Xander and Willow had shown up at her house limping and clinging to one another. Giles, back from the emergency room with his broken ribs poking him with every step, had taken Willow's arm in an iron grip and teleported her back to Devin. Xander never said anything about what passed between them. Every time Buffy had hinted at talking about it he grew hard and tight-lipped. He talked about missing Willow, complained about not knowing how she was doing, but refused to discuss that day.
Xander snapped his fingers loudly. His argument had come to him at last. "Buffy, does she even know what Spike did? Tried to do? If Willow's with him doesn't she have a right to know?"
Buffy's walk slowed down and Xander felt a flush of joy. He had won. Yay him! It wasn't every day one got to win an argument with the Slayer.
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TBC
