Author's note: This story and its contents are the property of Rebecca
Graves, and may not be reproduced or published without the written consent
of the author. (please! if you want to post this fic somewhere, email me at
dayetriper@sbcglobal.net and ask my permission first)
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, yadda yadda yadda... I only borrow, I promise I'll give them back when I'm done! :-)
Spoilers: See story description; through Season Six. Doesn't spoil Season 7, but may spoil A:tS Season 4 in chapters 6 and after, so be warned... on to the story!!!!!!
Author's Note: HEY BUFFY FANS!!! Help our voices be heard regarding Buffy! Fill out the Buffy survey at the link in my author profile, and let the world know how your love of all things Buffy has affected your life! Do it today!
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"So, how was today, Willow? Not too trying, I hope," Giles spoke into the phone.
The warmth and caring she heard touched her heart, and for a moment or two, eased the dull ache within it. He had been the person she'd felt closest to since... since Tara's death. Having lost his love Jenny to the hands of Angelus, she knew that he was the person most qualified to listen to her, and try to help her. But still, she didn't feel she could confide everything in him; she was sure there was no way he could understand how hollow and empty she felt, how alone... But she was happy to let him try, and his enduring companionship and love for her made her life better, as much as it could.
"It was all right, Giles," she replied, "Lonely... but then, it always is. But talking to you helps..." She smiled into the phone, sure he could hear it.
He could tell she was smiling into the receiver, and he answered, "Yes, I know it's lonely, but we're always here to help you, you know."
"I know..." Her voice trailed off.
"What about the magicks? No problems?"
"Well..." She hesitated. "When I went in to take a shower, it was clear and cool outside. But when I came out, it was raining. There wasn't a forecast of rain tonight, was there?"
He'd noticed the short shower of raindrops earlier, but had paid it no mind, until now. The strength of her powers never ceased to amaze him. Surely, he was very adept at the magickal arts, and she had been as well, when she'd first started to practice them. But when she'd joined her strength with Tara, her latent magickal abilities had awakened. Since that time, she'd become the most powerful natural witch he'd ever known.
He held the phone receiver against one shoulder, removing his glasses and polishing them with a nearby handkerchief, knowing she could sense him doing it and that it amused her. "Well, Willow, as you know, with one as strong magickally as yourself, it can be hard to hold such power in check, and it's only natural that it should slip from time to time. And strong emotions do bring about strong magickal repercussions, sometimes even unconsciously..." He paused, slipping the glasses back into place. "Were you upset at all? Crying?"
He waited a moment, then heard her softly answer, "Yes..."
"I see..." He paused. "Why don't you come 'round tomorrow afternoon, and we can talk over a cup of tea? You should get out of the house for a while anyway." Out of the bedroom where your lover was senselessly murdered, he added in his mind. "All right?"
"That sounds good, I think I will." She stifled a small yawn. "I think I'm going to go to bed now, I'll see you tomorrow, Giles... Good night."
"Good night, Willow," he answered softly, and replaced the phone receiver on its cradle, rubbing his forehead with one hand, memories of his own lost love flashing through his mind. Granted, he knew that he couldn't completely sympathize with her situation - after all, when Angelus had killed Jenny, he hadn't torn the flesh from the vampire's body, or tried to destroy the entire world in his grief - but he still felt as if he could be there for her, to talk to, and be with, just for comfort's sake.
He stood up from the desk and stretched his arms above his head. He was glad that when he'd moved back to London, Anya had convinced him to keep a bank account open here in Sunnydale, and that she'd continued to make the rental payments on his flat. It wouldn't have been right to go back to England just yet, not after all that had happened.
Of course, The Slayer and her sister were fighting side by side now, and he was glad of it. And Anya and Xander were gently easing back into a tentative relationship... all in all, the group seemed to be managing rather well, and didn't really need him, he supposed. But Willow still needed him, and so he'd stayed on, watching over her and protecting her, listening to her when she needed a sympathetic ear.
He made his way into the kitchen and poured a small glass of bourbon, carrying it back with him to the living room. It helped if he didn't dwell on thoughts of lovers past, else it would be too painful for him to be here, in this flat, where he'd found her, cold and stiff, lying upon his bed... He quickly swallowed the mouthful of bourbon, feeling its warmth course down his throat.
There was something on the horizon for Willow, he could sense it. Soon, she would be ready to live again... and he could be away from here, and rejoin his life as well. Shutting off the lamp beside him, he stood and made his way slowly up the stairs to the bedroom, muttering a prayer under his breath for his lost love...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Dear Lord God, be gracious unto me, and sanctify my soul, for am I yet not prepared to die?"
She lay nearly asleep, her head resting on his chest, his left arm wrapped around her. Her left hand lay on his stomach, rubbing back and forth slowly against his black tee shirt in a comforting rhythm. Just as she'd drifted off, she felt his right hand come up and cup her chin, lifting her head to his. Her eyes still closed, she heard him very softly singing:
I saw...
Kissing you...
Rising to bloom like the flower in June
I saw...
Kissing you...
Like the moon in the sky up above...
As he finished the last line, he very gently pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Willow could still feel the warmth of his hand on her cheek, the press of his lips against hers. She smiled, and opened her eyes... then sat up in her bed, eyes wide. There was no one here. But it had felt so real. She pressed one hand to her lips, puzzled. Who could she have possibly dreamt about? She felt sad that she'd awakened; in the dream, she'd felt so safe... so loved... Sighing, she lay back down and hugged her pillow, trying in vain to return to sleep and the comforting dream...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Spike merely sat silently as Clem recounted the events of the last two months, as much as he knew of them at least. The only source of information he'd had was the young girl, the Slayer's sister, who'd stopped by every other week or so, hoping that the vampire had returned. Every time she came, and found that he hadn't, she'd felt obliged to spend some time with Clem and keep him company for a while.
When he'd finished telling of Warren's attack, leaving Buffy wounded and Tara dead, and of Willow's dark magickal transformation and vengeance upon him, Spike took another sip of the bottle of blood he was clutching tightly, then asked huskily, "So you're telling me that Willow... meek, quiet, shy bookish type... nearly destroyed the world? And I missed it?! Bloody hell!"
Clem smiled. "Yeah, it was touch and go there for a while, but as usual, the Slayer and her friends came through and saved the day. Haven't seen much of the witch since then, come to think of it. From what I gathered from Dawn, she's been pretty withdrawn. Guess almost obliterating the planet takes a lot out of you, eh?"
Spike let out a low laugh, his thoughts racing. That would explain why she'd been in such pain, why he'd been able to feel it a mile off... The poor girl had been through hell, literally. And now she was completely alone. Hell, he knew what that was like, right enough. His heart ached for her, poor thing.
Suddenly, he started. He'd heard Drusilla's teasing laughter coming from the dark shadows opposite him. Glaring, he exploded out of the chair, his eyes blazing, frantically searching the crypt, screaming, "Let me alone, you harpy! Just leave me in peace, damn you!"
Clem drew back in fear of the vampire's rage. What on earth was going on with him? "Uh, Spike? There's nobody hear but us two, buddy.... you all right?"
Spike stopped, turning to the demon. "Not exactly, mate... I've been through a change in the last few weeks. You see, I sought out a powerful demon, and fought long and hard, trying to become my old self again, trying," he growled, "to get this damn chip out of my head, so I could give the Slayer what was coming to her. But it seems I got a bit more than I bargained for... Just for laughs, the bastard decided to restore my soul instead... is that a cosmic joke or what? And now, I think I'm losing what little sanity I have left, so if you could kindly get out......... GET OUT!!!!!!!!" he roared, causing Clem to shrink back toward the door.
"OK, Spike, I can see that you're a bit upset, so --" He cut off as an empty bottle whizzed by his head, exploding on the wall behind him. "I'll just come around in a few days and check on you, all right pal?" He turned and ran out the door, slamming it behind him as another bottle hit it, exploding in a spray of red on the stone face.
Ripping open the door of the small fridge, he pulled out all the bottles he could manage to hold, and began to pour them all down his throat one after the other. "There, how's that? Will that shut you up, damn bitch?!" he cried between swallows, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "How do you like that?! I'll drown you, you evil wench!!!"
When the last bottle was emptied, he stopped and listened, his arms shaking in fury and exhaustion. He heard nothing but the stillness of the crypt around him, the slow drip of blood droplets falling from the neck of an overturned bottle onto the stone floor. Sighing, he stumbled down into his rooms below and collapsed on his bed, not bothering to remove the blood drenched black shirt or jeans he wore, stopping only for a second to kick off his worn boots before throwing the silk sheet over himself and falling into a dead slumber...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
She lay nearly asleep, her head resting on his chest, his left arm wrapped around her. Her left hand lay on his stomach, rubbing back and forth slowly against his black tee shirt in a comforting rhythm. Just as she'd drifted off, he reached down with his right hand and cupped her chin, lifting her head to his. Her eyes still closed, he sang softly:
I saw...
Kissing you...
Rising to bloom like the flower in June
I saw...
Kissing you...
Like the moon in the sky up above...
As he finished the last line, he very gently pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.
"Dear Lord God, be gracious unto me, and sanctify my soul, for am I yet not prepared to die?"
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Dear Lord God, be gracious unto me, and sanctify my soul, for am I yet not prepared to die?!" he cried out, sitting straight up in bed. He looked around and saw no one. What the bloody hell was that? He was at a loss to explain the words he'd screamed, and the rest of the dream seemed to evaporate from his memory as he tried to think of it. Shivering at the cold chill of the air in his bedroom, he hugged his pillow and tried in vain to return to the welcome silent death of sleep...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
TBC - Please review and let me know what you think, suggestions are welcome! Thanks for reading!
Author's note: Yeah, I know the whole dream thing is super-bizarre (at least, it might seem that way to anyone else reading this who's not me) but I dreamt it this morning just before waking, and it had such a profound effect on me that I wrote it down immediately. So that's where the song and the voice-over/Spike's cry came from, word for word, swear to Joss.. :-) So if it seems confusing, I apologize, and if it works and you like it, let me know! :-) As for the next chapter, well, I guess we'll see what I dream about tonight! *g* Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, yadda yadda yadda... I only borrow, I promise I'll give them back when I'm done! :-)
Spoilers: See story description; through Season Six. Doesn't spoil Season 7, but may spoil A:tS Season 4 in chapters 6 and after, so be warned... on to the story!!!!!!
Author's Note: HEY BUFFY FANS!!! Help our voices be heard regarding Buffy! Fill out the Buffy survey at the link in my author profile, and let the world know how your love of all things Buffy has affected your life! Do it today!
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"So, how was today, Willow? Not too trying, I hope," Giles spoke into the phone.
The warmth and caring she heard touched her heart, and for a moment or two, eased the dull ache within it. He had been the person she'd felt closest to since... since Tara's death. Having lost his love Jenny to the hands of Angelus, she knew that he was the person most qualified to listen to her, and try to help her. But still, she didn't feel she could confide everything in him; she was sure there was no way he could understand how hollow and empty she felt, how alone... But she was happy to let him try, and his enduring companionship and love for her made her life better, as much as it could.
"It was all right, Giles," she replied, "Lonely... but then, it always is. But talking to you helps..." She smiled into the phone, sure he could hear it.
He could tell she was smiling into the receiver, and he answered, "Yes, I know it's lonely, but we're always here to help you, you know."
"I know..." Her voice trailed off.
"What about the magicks? No problems?"
"Well..." She hesitated. "When I went in to take a shower, it was clear and cool outside. But when I came out, it was raining. There wasn't a forecast of rain tonight, was there?"
He'd noticed the short shower of raindrops earlier, but had paid it no mind, until now. The strength of her powers never ceased to amaze him. Surely, he was very adept at the magickal arts, and she had been as well, when she'd first started to practice them. But when she'd joined her strength with Tara, her latent magickal abilities had awakened. Since that time, she'd become the most powerful natural witch he'd ever known.
He held the phone receiver against one shoulder, removing his glasses and polishing them with a nearby handkerchief, knowing she could sense him doing it and that it amused her. "Well, Willow, as you know, with one as strong magickally as yourself, it can be hard to hold such power in check, and it's only natural that it should slip from time to time. And strong emotions do bring about strong magickal repercussions, sometimes even unconsciously..." He paused, slipping the glasses back into place. "Were you upset at all? Crying?"
He waited a moment, then heard her softly answer, "Yes..."
"I see..." He paused. "Why don't you come 'round tomorrow afternoon, and we can talk over a cup of tea? You should get out of the house for a while anyway." Out of the bedroom where your lover was senselessly murdered, he added in his mind. "All right?"
"That sounds good, I think I will." She stifled a small yawn. "I think I'm going to go to bed now, I'll see you tomorrow, Giles... Good night."
"Good night, Willow," he answered softly, and replaced the phone receiver on its cradle, rubbing his forehead with one hand, memories of his own lost love flashing through his mind. Granted, he knew that he couldn't completely sympathize with her situation - after all, when Angelus had killed Jenny, he hadn't torn the flesh from the vampire's body, or tried to destroy the entire world in his grief - but he still felt as if he could be there for her, to talk to, and be with, just for comfort's sake.
He stood up from the desk and stretched his arms above his head. He was glad that when he'd moved back to London, Anya had convinced him to keep a bank account open here in Sunnydale, and that she'd continued to make the rental payments on his flat. It wouldn't have been right to go back to England just yet, not after all that had happened.
Of course, The Slayer and her sister were fighting side by side now, and he was glad of it. And Anya and Xander were gently easing back into a tentative relationship... all in all, the group seemed to be managing rather well, and didn't really need him, he supposed. But Willow still needed him, and so he'd stayed on, watching over her and protecting her, listening to her when she needed a sympathetic ear.
He made his way into the kitchen and poured a small glass of bourbon, carrying it back with him to the living room. It helped if he didn't dwell on thoughts of lovers past, else it would be too painful for him to be here, in this flat, where he'd found her, cold and stiff, lying upon his bed... He quickly swallowed the mouthful of bourbon, feeling its warmth course down his throat.
There was something on the horizon for Willow, he could sense it. Soon, she would be ready to live again... and he could be away from here, and rejoin his life as well. Shutting off the lamp beside him, he stood and made his way slowly up the stairs to the bedroom, muttering a prayer under his breath for his lost love...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Dear Lord God, be gracious unto me, and sanctify my soul, for am I yet not prepared to die?"
She lay nearly asleep, her head resting on his chest, his left arm wrapped around her. Her left hand lay on his stomach, rubbing back and forth slowly against his black tee shirt in a comforting rhythm. Just as she'd drifted off, she felt his right hand come up and cup her chin, lifting her head to his. Her eyes still closed, she heard him very softly singing:
I saw...
Kissing you...
Rising to bloom like the flower in June
I saw...
Kissing you...
Like the moon in the sky up above...
As he finished the last line, he very gently pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Willow could still feel the warmth of his hand on her cheek, the press of his lips against hers. She smiled, and opened her eyes... then sat up in her bed, eyes wide. There was no one here. But it had felt so real. She pressed one hand to her lips, puzzled. Who could she have possibly dreamt about? She felt sad that she'd awakened; in the dream, she'd felt so safe... so loved... Sighing, she lay back down and hugged her pillow, trying in vain to return to sleep and the comforting dream...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Spike merely sat silently as Clem recounted the events of the last two months, as much as he knew of them at least. The only source of information he'd had was the young girl, the Slayer's sister, who'd stopped by every other week or so, hoping that the vampire had returned. Every time she came, and found that he hadn't, she'd felt obliged to spend some time with Clem and keep him company for a while.
When he'd finished telling of Warren's attack, leaving Buffy wounded and Tara dead, and of Willow's dark magickal transformation and vengeance upon him, Spike took another sip of the bottle of blood he was clutching tightly, then asked huskily, "So you're telling me that Willow... meek, quiet, shy bookish type... nearly destroyed the world? And I missed it?! Bloody hell!"
Clem smiled. "Yeah, it was touch and go there for a while, but as usual, the Slayer and her friends came through and saved the day. Haven't seen much of the witch since then, come to think of it. From what I gathered from Dawn, she's been pretty withdrawn. Guess almost obliterating the planet takes a lot out of you, eh?"
Spike let out a low laugh, his thoughts racing. That would explain why she'd been in such pain, why he'd been able to feel it a mile off... The poor girl had been through hell, literally. And now she was completely alone. Hell, he knew what that was like, right enough. His heart ached for her, poor thing.
Suddenly, he started. He'd heard Drusilla's teasing laughter coming from the dark shadows opposite him. Glaring, he exploded out of the chair, his eyes blazing, frantically searching the crypt, screaming, "Let me alone, you harpy! Just leave me in peace, damn you!"
Clem drew back in fear of the vampire's rage. What on earth was going on with him? "Uh, Spike? There's nobody hear but us two, buddy.... you all right?"
Spike stopped, turning to the demon. "Not exactly, mate... I've been through a change in the last few weeks. You see, I sought out a powerful demon, and fought long and hard, trying to become my old self again, trying," he growled, "to get this damn chip out of my head, so I could give the Slayer what was coming to her. But it seems I got a bit more than I bargained for... Just for laughs, the bastard decided to restore my soul instead... is that a cosmic joke or what? And now, I think I'm losing what little sanity I have left, so if you could kindly get out......... GET OUT!!!!!!!!" he roared, causing Clem to shrink back toward the door.
"OK, Spike, I can see that you're a bit upset, so --" He cut off as an empty bottle whizzed by his head, exploding on the wall behind him. "I'll just come around in a few days and check on you, all right pal?" He turned and ran out the door, slamming it behind him as another bottle hit it, exploding in a spray of red on the stone face.
Ripping open the door of the small fridge, he pulled out all the bottles he could manage to hold, and began to pour them all down his throat one after the other. "There, how's that? Will that shut you up, damn bitch?!" he cried between swallows, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "How do you like that?! I'll drown you, you evil wench!!!"
When the last bottle was emptied, he stopped and listened, his arms shaking in fury and exhaustion. He heard nothing but the stillness of the crypt around him, the slow drip of blood droplets falling from the neck of an overturned bottle onto the stone floor. Sighing, he stumbled down into his rooms below and collapsed on his bed, not bothering to remove the blood drenched black shirt or jeans he wore, stopping only for a second to kick off his worn boots before throwing the silk sheet over himself and falling into a dead slumber...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
She lay nearly asleep, her head resting on his chest, his left arm wrapped around her. Her left hand lay on his stomach, rubbing back and forth slowly against his black tee shirt in a comforting rhythm. Just as she'd drifted off, he reached down with his right hand and cupped her chin, lifting her head to his. Her eyes still closed, he sang softly:
I saw...
Kissing you...
Rising to bloom like the flower in June
I saw...
Kissing you...
Like the moon in the sky up above...
As he finished the last line, he very gently pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss.
"Dear Lord God, be gracious unto me, and sanctify my soul, for am I yet not prepared to die?"
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Dear Lord God, be gracious unto me, and sanctify my soul, for am I yet not prepared to die?!" he cried out, sitting straight up in bed. He looked around and saw no one. What the bloody hell was that? He was at a loss to explain the words he'd screamed, and the rest of the dream seemed to evaporate from his memory as he tried to think of it. Shivering at the cold chill of the air in his bedroom, he hugged his pillow and tried in vain to return to the welcome silent death of sleep...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
TBC - Please review and let me know what you think, suggestions are welcome! Thanks for reading!
Author's note: Yeah, I know the whole dream thing is super-bizarre (at least, it might seem that way to anyone else reading this who's not me) but I dreamt it this morning just before waking, and it had such a profound effect on me that I wrote it down immediately. So that's where the song and the voice-over/Spike's cry came from, word for word, swear to Joss.. :-) So if it seems confusing, I apologize, and if it works and you like it, let me know! :-) As for the next chapter, well, I guess we'll see what I dream about tonight! *g* Thanks for reading!