"Spike?" Willow's voice echoed through the dungeon. The lights were out, except for the flickering blue glow of the television. The sour stench of whiskey and unshowered vampire filled the room.
"Gettin' ready to watch Passions, Red. Go away."
"It's a tape. Could you maybe wait a few minutes?"
"Why?"
She stepped into the room, taking in the pathetic sight. The vampire lay on his bed, shirtless over his black jeans. He had the remote control in hand and a mug of blood and whiskey on the nightstand. The clock on the wall read 8 a.m.
"Well … because I'm here, and I'm a guest, and it's rude to ignore your guests in favor of television," she said primly.
"Didn't invite you. S'not my fault you came during telly time."
"When else could I talk to you? I've seen you, what, once since you got back from L.A.? And that was to save your life from an irate vampire slayer, I might add. I think I'm entitled to a conversation."
"Go 'way."
Willow mentally snatched a bottle of whiskey from the floor next to the bed. It rose of its own accord, plucked like a puppet by her power, and drifted above Spike. He watched it carefully, catching a double eyeful of alcohol when she dumped the contents on him.
"BUGGER! What're ya doin', you crazy bint?" The alcohol slurred his speech and dulled his senses, but he couldn't miss the ball of fire whirling above her hand once he rubbed the whiskey out of his eyes. "Whu-whuzzat?"
"Are you going to listen now? Or is it time for Chef Willow and her famous Spike flambe?"
"Listenin'," he grumbled.
"What's going on with you? You've disappeared from campus for weeks. Grey's covering for you, patrolling every night, but you're keeping him out of my bed and he's dead tired, and I just don't like that. Plus, I'm … I'm worried about you. What happened when Buffy was here?"
"She didn't tell you, pet?"
Willow knew what was wrong with Buffy, could feel how much she loved Spike and how conflicted it made her, but the Slayer had refused to discuss it.
"She told me she wasn't ready to. She gets like that sometimes. Xander doesn't know either, and we're worried." The fireball winked out, and Willow approached Spike tentatively. "I thought we were … y'know, friends?"
The vampire barked a laugh.
"Friends, Red? Not bloody likely. Wouldn'ta been 'round at'all, 'cept you and Darth Luke up there always need the Big Bad lookin' out fer you."
Undeterred, Willow pressed on.
"I don't believe that. I think you're scared that I might be able to help you, so you're being a big meany."
"Don't reckon I've ever been called that before, pet. Big meany. Heh."
They watched each other for a few silent minutes.
"She told you she loved you, didn't she?" Willow said tenderly. Even if she hadn't seen at Christmas how close Buffy was to falling in love with Spike, she would have known what her friend's appearance meant.
Hearing it aloud from someone other than himself pushed Spike over the brink; he collapsed into manic sobbing. Willow flashed back to the night in the factory. Bottle in face not a problem this time, she thought ruefully.
"Said she couldn't, 'less she knew I wasn't a killer," Spike finally squeaked out between sobs. "But … that … she … could … if I …"
Tentatively, Willow moved up next to him and laid a hand on the back of his cold neck. It had always worked with Xander. To her surprise, the drunk vampire leaned into her and let his tears soak her black robe.
"If you what?"
"Proved … muhself …" Reflex forced him to try for unneeded air in big gulps. Finally his sobs peaked and slowed to simple crying.
"What're you gonna do?"
He looked up at her, tears staining his face and clouding his eyes.
"Don't you get it, Red? Nothin' more I can do. She said it can't be about her, but no matter how good I try and be, I'd only be doing it for her. So there's no way I can prove it. It'll always be about her."
"That's not true," Willow said sharply.
"Yeah, it is, Willow. I'm sorry if I don't fit into your Hero Spike mold anymore, but it is. I'm doin' it the way I am so I don't lose her. All of it."
Willow didn't respond, knowing it was false but unsure how to convince Spike. She understood her friend's wariness, but also knew that it came more from Buffy's fear of falling in love again than with Spike actually needing to do anything.
He had been helping them too long for it to be an act.
"I don't think so, but maybe you need to find that out on your own. Are you gonna try?"
He wiped the tears from his face. Somewhere in his drunken stupor, the decision had been made, and he needed to announce it to himself. To make it somehow real.
"I am." He swung his piercing blue eyes onto her emerald green ones. "When the year is over, I'm leavin'. I'm not coming back until … until I've changed things."
Willow knew what that meant. A soul. Of course.
She nodded. "If you … if you need magical help, y-you can come to me and Tara. Maybe there's a spell or something. We could look, if you want. And Angel's curse … no, that would be no good, 'cause of the no sex. But maybe there's something else." She had spent endless hours researching a cure for Angel's condition, though, and knew that any solution would be near-impossible to find.
"Maybe, pet," he replied, his tears slowing and his voice resigned. He shook off her hand. "Maybe. I'm thinkin' it won't be enough for her, though, no matter how much mojo you use. I need to find it on my own."
"Don't give up, Spike," Willow said, knowing he needed reassurance. For a moment, it occurred to her how odd this was – her consoling Spike and assuring him that yes, her friend that he had repeatedly tried to slaughter really did love him. Bizarre would not have covered it, except for two things: one, Willow had gotten to know Spike by now, and she had finally come around to Dawn's way of thinking about him, and two, that she didn't want Buffy to be alone when someone she cared for obviously treasured her so dearly.
"She really does love you, I think. I wasn't sure until she came here the second time. She was really … hurt by what she thought you did. More hurt by that than by anything Angel said."
"You mean that?"
The redhead nodded vigorously.
"I do."
"So there's hope for me yet, eh?" A weak smile intruded on his features. He thought of what the Don had said about help. Buffy in love with him … no price would stop him from making that a reality.
"Definitely."
He took her hand and held it in his own, touched by her concern for him.
"Red … thanks."
She smiled sweetly.
"You're welcome, Spike." Her smile morphed into a glare. "Now get your ass out of bed, sober up, and start doing your damn job so that my boyfriend can do his. And me," she added, her blush blunting the effect of her sly grin.
"Vixen," he said with a shake of his head.
"Hell yeah, I am."
Dumbledore lounged in the hallway outside of the dungeon, waiting for her to emerge.
"So you've spoken with William, have you?"
Hearing Spike's given name made her smile.
"Yep."
"Good. I trust a visit from me will not be required to have him resume his duties?"
"No. He'll be back. Hopefully after a few days in the shower." She wrinkled her nose at the smell. "You knew, didn't you? About him and Buffy?"
Dumbledore smiled, his eyes glimmering in the firelight.
"Of course, my dear. Mr. Giles was kind enough to fill me in on William's recent activities when you three first arrived. Unlike your Miss Summers, however, I have great faith that William has overcome his obstacles."
"You're a big Spike fan, huh, Professor?"
"Yes, quite. He's not a normal vampire, Miss Rosenberg. He never has been. I am not surprised that, once properly motivated, he came over to our side. He's always had a bit of a protective streak in him, you know."
"I totally do," she affirmed, thinking of Dawn. "Professor, he …"
Dumbledore raised a hairy white eyebrow.
"Do you know of some way to … restorehissoul?"
"No, Willow, I don't. I understand, though, that you are far more knowledgeable in that area than I am."
"The only way I know won't allow him to love."
"That would be problematic," Dumbledore agreed, "and rather pointless. Perhaps … perhaps he will be able to figure it out on his own."
"I hope so."