A/N: Thanks to Sass, to Emma, and to Ali for the encouragement. Tiny reference to a fic by Nos called Leashing the Beast (go read it if you haven't, it's wonderful). This fic assumes that Tara did not spill the beans about Buffy and Spike during Seeing Red. Everything else is cannon up to Villains, where it branches off into my own little world.
*****
She was floating on her back. The lake water was warm, the sun was bright. With nothing between her body and the wide, blue sky, she felt happy and utterly relaxed. Then, in the time it took her to blink, the sky filled with dark storm clouds and a cold, sputtering rain began to fall.
"Buffy, come out," a voice called from the shore. Willow's voice. "Buffy, I need you. I've been waiting here for you."
Buffy sank underwater. She opened her eyes and watched the surface from beneath. Raindrops struck hard, making a pattern that hypnotized her until the need for air began to burn her lungs. Exhaling, bubbles coming from her nose, she closed her eyes on the depths and kicked her way upwards.
And found herself dry and clothed, sitting on her mother's living room couch. She blinked in confusion, then laughed. "Oh, I get it. This is a dream. Another Slayer dream for the collection of 'reasons my life sucks number eight billion'. At least I'm at home. Could be worse." She frowned suspiciously. "It's usually worse. Something must be wrong here." Standing, she rushed into the kitchen. "Mom?"
Willow sat at the counter, eating a plate of scrambled eggs. "Buffy. Listen, I need to talk to you."
"No." Whirling around, she ran into the entry way and up the stairs. "Mom?"
Willow came up behind her. "Buffy, stop. Can't we just talk?"
Buffy turned on the stairs and looked down at Willow. "I don't talk to murderers."
"You talk
to Spike. You talked to Angel. To Giles. To yourself."
"Spike didn't kill Xander. Giles didn't try to kill Dawn. Or me. Or Anya. Or Spike." Something large seemed to throb in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled it out- it was a gun. "Sorry, Will," she said, cocking the weapon and aiming it at the witch. "I'm the Slayer. Chosen to protect the innocent. This is the job I have to do."
"But Buffy, I'm already dead!"
The shot rang so loudly, nothing else mattered.
Except the blood. It covered Buffy face. She wiped at it, trying to clear it from her eyes, trying to see, but it stuck to her skin, solidifying into a thick and gummy mask. Frantic, she screamed, tugging at the blood as it grew to cover her mouth, her nose. She couldn't breathe.
"Buffy, this is only a dream." She heard the words Willow spoke and felt the warmth of her friend's hand splayed wide over the choking mask. "Here, see? I'll help you. And then you'll help me."
The heat from Willow's hand melted the blood enough for Buffy to get her fingers under the edges. Finally pulling it off, she hurled it away and looked around…
And found
herself on the bluff, watching herself, Willow and Xander stand before the
Satanic temple. Xander approached Willow with slow steps, his arms held out
wide. Though she could not hear him, she remembered well the words he spoke and
whispered them. "If you wanna kill the world, well then start with me. I've
earned that." She shook her head. "Be careful what you wish for, Xander."
Willow threw her hands towards him, sending him back in a flash of magic. "You think I won't?"
"It doesn't matter," Buffy said for Xander, watching with detachment as he picked himself up off the ground and gave Willow a shaky smile. "I'll still love you."
At his words, Willow shrieked. She rushed towards him, but her magic preceded her. It hit Xander in the chest, a glowing ball of power that sent him cart-wheeling through the air. Just before he hit the side of the temple, Buffy closed her eyes, trying to block out the crunching sound. She kept them closed, hoping that when she opened them again, she'd be somewhere better. "Willow. I don't want to have this dream anymore. Can we just stop now?"
"But there's so much more to see. The night's young and all that. Don't you remember?"
"I know what comes next. You pick up Xander's body and fly away. I run back to the Magic Box to get Giles, Anya and Dawn. I talk them into leaving town, but then Giles has second thoughts and turns back to help me. He sends Anya ahead, and she teleports over to Spike, to warn him that I'll need help. And then.."
"You do remember. Yay for you. We don't have to go back through that part then. But Buffy, I still need your help."
"I don't want to help you. Leave me alone. Let me wake up."
"Oh, poor Buffy. You're tired, aren't you. It's been a long couple of days, huh? Dragging Spike through the woods to grandmother's house. Go ahead. Wake up."
Buffy smiled, relieved. "Thanks Will," she said, opening her eyes. Her smile froze as she found herself in the cemetery. Willow stood before her, just as she had the year before, her black, evil eyes glaring, and her hands crackling with energy. "Don't mention it. What are friends for?"
"You're gonna make me go through it all, aren't you? Willow, haven't we done this before?"
"Play it." The demand was undeniable, laced with the threat of violence..
"Fine. But then I get to wake up." Coughing, she changed her tone, adding layers of fear and anger. She knew this dream. Soon it would take over and she would not be pretending. It always happened this way. But for the first few moments, she had to play her part deliberately. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared for the act. She looked over at the circle of lit candles Willow had placed on the ground. Inside, Xander and Tara lay side-by-side, she days dead, he only hours. "Willow, leave them alone. You have to stop this. You don't want to do this."
"You can't stop me," she said in a normal voice, as though she spoke of something trivial rather than raising her dead friends as zombies.
"I already did." Buffy pointed to the figure who stood by the crypt, pale gray shadows against the black stone. Spike stood alone, which was weird because she remembered being there beside him, touching him. It had been the first time she'd seen him with his soul, a moment far too short for her to understand the change in him, and seeing him there by himself threw her off, made her want to go to him. But this was only a dream, after all, though far too close to reality for her liking even with such discrepancies. "You'll see. It's about to end. Watch."
As Spike reached Willow, Buffy took her place at his side, blocking the circle with her body. "Willow," she said, "What you bring back… it won't be them. Xander and Tara are gone."
Until Buffy heard the laugh that Willow made just then, she'd never understood the term 'cackle like a witch'. It sent a cold rush through her body. Willow drew close to Spike and leered up into his face. "Not like you've ever minded, Buffy. Sleeping with a corpse. Angel was cold to the touch. How did it feel to press up against him? To feel all that dead flesh against yours?"
Buffy floundered for a moment, but rebounded. "It doesn't matter what I've done. What matters is what you're about to do. Will, this is wrong. You've already done so much… hurt so many… Can't you stop now? Can't it be enough?"
"You're asking me when it's enough? When it's all your fault?"
"Mine?"
"You came here and started all this, didn't you? Before you, there were no vampires. No Hellmouth. No demons that needed killing so desperately, even a powerless human like Xander had to risk his life in the fight. No lovers who got shot by pissed-off geeks on power trips."
Spike spoke for the first time, his voice soft. "Buffy saved all your lives, time and again. She doesn't deserve this. I- I'm sorry about Tara, Red. And the whelp. But blaming Buffy isn't the way. Why don't we go and…"
Willow cut him off with a sound that was half a chuckle, half a gasp of pain. She pushed Spike once with a firm hand on his chest. "What a gentleman you've turned into, Spike. Being all protective and chivalrous. And isn't that always the way. Beautiful Buffy surrounded by her circle of doting men. What's it like, Buffy, to have all these guys hanging on your every word? Xander, Angel, Riley, Spike, even Giles… and don't think I don't know that Tara confided in you. Everyone loves Buffy. Everyone gives and gives to you- their time, their love, hell, even their lives fighting your fight, oh Chosen One. And what do they get in return. The brush-off. The 'I'm busy now, gotta go patrol, so sorry 'bout your troubles but I'm busy now, too busy for you'. The empty touch. And now, look. Xander loved you. And you've given him a grave."
Buffy shook her head, stricken. "No. No, I…"
Spike got up from the ground and stood straight at her side. "Buffy's caused her share of hurt. But she didn't kill Xander, witch. That was all you."
"Spike. Look at you. All brave now, with your soul."
Spike shot a look at Buffy, who stared at him, paling with shock. "You didn't tell me."
"There wasn't time. And after what's happened, I didn't think it would make much difference to you."
Looking down, she took in a deep breath. "It might have."
"No." Ignoring Willow for a moment, he grabbed Buffy's arm. "It was never the soul that stopped you from loving me. If you ever would have, it would've been when we were together. I sought it out, went all the way to Africa, and I won it so that I could be a man. One who wouldn't hurt you. What you deserve. But I never lied to myself. Just because I'm what you deserve doesn't mean you want me."
Willow followed their exchange with interest, finally understanding. "Oooh, Buffy. Look who's been keeping secrets. You and Spike. Huh." She peered over Buffy's shoulder to look at the corpses. "I think I hear Xander turning over."
"Will… no. It wasn't like that. He was just… I just needed something. After I came back. You don't understand. It wasn't… it was just a thing, just… nothing."
Spike flinched, his jaw clenching rigidly. Willow caught his look of hurt and smiled, sauntering to stand toe-to-toe with him. He didn't back down, and her smile grew. "Oh, no. I think I do understand. You saw that he loved you, saw he'd do anything for you, and you took from him. You sucked him dry, just like you suck everyone dry." She touched Spike, splayed her fingers over his cheek. "I remember that. The way you feel when your love is taken and eaten up but not returned. She ate and ate and just threw you the bones, didn't she, Spike?"
He could not disagree. The truth was alive on his face, in the slumped set of his shoulders.
Willow continued. "You know what I think? I think it's Spike's turn to eat. To eat and eat and eat from you, Buffy, till there's nothing left." She rose onto her toes and whispered something into Spike's ear.
"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, hearing only that she spoke in Latin. She started to move forward, but found herself mystically stuck in place. "Let me go and get away from him!" She gasped as Spike's eyes flashed black, the same black as Willow's.
Willow waved her hand and he moved towards Buffy, every muscle of his body tense with panic. His face was frozen, he could not speak. Willow laughed. "I'm inside his head now. I can feel him, hear his thoughts. He wants to tell you to run. But it won't help. It's like having a puppet, you know? Only more fun. I can make him kill you. He'll hate it. He's screaming inside his mind, but no one will hear but me. Poor Spike. It's really only you, Buffy, who deserves to hurt. I'll have to make it up to him, later. But first…"
Buffy tried to back away, but Willow's spell kept her in place. "Uh-uh, I saw that. Where are you trying to go? Your lover's hungry. Stay and feed him."
"Stop this, Willow. You're using him. He doesn't want to do this. What about his chip?"
Willow shook her head. "I hold the chip between my fingers. I smash it. Tiny bits of jetsam, and no more leashed beast."
Spike took Buffy's arms in his hands and squeezed. She tried to shake him off, but
couldn't. Willow's magic strengthened him, and Buffy felt weak under his grasp, breakable. He did not hesitate, but bared her neck with a quick jerk and lunged, sinking his fangs into her jugular.
She moaned, torn between the pain, the fear, and the need to make him understand that she did not blame him. "It's okay, it's okay," she repeated, over and over, trying to comfort them both. "It's all her. I know it is."
Her legs shook as she weakened and she sagged against him. "It's okay," she whispered, stroking his back. "I'm going to kill her." But not if I'm dead. She felt her eyelids sink closed.
"You won't die. And it won't be you who kills me."
She snapped her eyes open at the words and found herself sitting next to Willow on a park bench. The sun overhead was unnaturally bright, washing out the world like a badly-treated negative. "What's next? You gonna keep putting me through the paces?"
"No paces." Willow pulled a pencil from behind her ear and dropped it over her lap. She levitated it with ease, making it wag from side-to-side. "But we have to talk. I need your help."
"I told you already, I don't want to help you. We're done. You're dead."
"I'm dead, but we're not done. And you will help me. You help me, and I'll help you. That's what friends are for."
"If you were my friend, you'd let me wake up now."
Willow patted her on the knee. "Go on. He's calling you. But I'll see you soon. We've got to talk. I need your help."
"Buffy!" Someone was shaking her by the shoulder, gripping it hard enough to hurt her. "Come on, wake up."
Thrusting herself out of his grasp, she pulled her arms up close to her chest. "I'm awake, already," she muttered, groggily opening her eyes and giving Spike a glare. "What's your problem?"
He pointed at the steering wheel. "Your use of the horn as an extremely loud, extremely annoying alarm clock, for one."
"I…huh?"
"You fell asleep there, with your head on the wheel. Woke up pushing the horn with your forehead." He collected himself and leaned into passenger side door, as far away from her as he could get. Looking straight ahead through the blackness of the windshield, he rested his head against the window. She watched him pull away from her, body and spirit, and winced. If he noticed, he did not care. Speaking through half-open lips, he said, "Are we going or what?"
"We're here. I would've woke you, but…" Shrugging, she flipped on the headlights, illuminating the side of a house several feet in front of them. "Not much to see. Yet, at least. We've got work to do. I thought you could use your rest."
He closed his eyes in response, but Buffy pressed on, holding fast to her fragile optimism. He spoke, and he is coherent. And he didn't call me a bitch. That's something. "You're probably wondering why I brought you here."
"Kidnapping crossed my mind." He mumbled the words without moving.
"No! No kidnapping. You can… well, okay, you can't leave. I'll stop you if you try. And then there were the handcuffs, but…" She turned to him, the seat creaking under her movement. "Look. If I'd known all it would take to get you to speak to me was a little honking of the horn, I would've done it days ago. We're going to be here for a long time, and it's going to be just the two of us. Can't we… well, even pretend things are semi-normal?"
His arm moved towards her so fast, he was gripping her by the back of her neck before she'd even realized he'd moved. She winced as he jerked her face near his own. It twisted with anger, which startled her but she did not try to free herself. His eyes flashed gold and he bared his teeth, flat though they were. "Normal can't even come close to us now, Buffy. We've moved dimensions past normal. You get that? You hear me? Eons past it."
"But Spike…" Her words were quiet and calm. "I forgave you."
"But I didn't forgive you! Oh, yeah, for the beatings, sure. I moved past that long before I came back from Africa with my soul. Oddly enough, it wasn't much of a problem for me. I loved you. I could have forgiven you anything."
"Anything except for breaking down the Sanctuary."
He dropped his hand from her neck and threw himself back, moving violently away from her. With his face pressed against the dark glass of the window, he spoke with grinding, unnatural patience. "Buffy. Yes. Anything but that. And look, you shouldn't be so quick to forgive. What I did to you…"
Something wet dripped against the roof of the car. Beyond the trees, a dog barked. She could hear it all, every night noise, and took a second to breathe- breathe, Buffy- before replying. ""You were in a wheelchair once. You know what it's like to be broken"
He snorted incredulously. "And you're broken? Now, after everything, you decide it's time to break?"
"No. It's not like I woke up one morning and found myself all in pieces. It was… well, mom died, then I did, and then…"
"Me. What I put you through." He thumped his forehead against the glass, his voice souring. "I put you through ."
"Some of it
was you, but… Not all of the stuff with you was bad. Some of it was… but some
of it helped. You loved me. That helped. I might've been okay. Maybe.
Especially when Giles told me you were back. And when I found out about your
soul, and for a split second, I was… well, there was hope. For you. For us. But
then everything went all crazy. Everyone… they all… died. And I had no one. Not
really."
"Your Watcher lived. And Dawn."
"But I couldn't get close to them. Nothing felt real. It was like that right after I came back, you know? I couldn't feel anything. But this time, I couldn't even feel myself. It was like I was invisible, even to… even to me." She interlaced her fingers and stared at them, remembering. "And then, there was you. You were trapped in that crypt, all alone, for eternity. Whatever you'd done, you didn't deserve that. I knew you weren't going to hurt anyone. Not again. And I couldn't stand to think of you rotting in that crypt, knowing you were only there because… because you saved my life." Opening her hands, she put them flat on the steering wheel, her skin pale against the dark leather. "You were suffering because you loved me."
"You forget, Slayer, and like always, it's what you don't want to know that you have forgotten. There were two purposes to the Sanctuary. It wasn't just to keep others safe from me. It was to keep me safe from them. Willow was crazy as a loon that night, but she got the one part right. I'm full up of death and blood and hurtful words… mistrust, misuse… I'm full to overflowing of it all. Can't take anymore. But you pulled me out of my Sanctuary anyway, not caring a bit that I was protected there. Alone, starved… but safe."
Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she tried to speak around the pain in her chest. "Giles told me that. He told me, but I…"
"Do you know what rats sound like when its been months and months of darkness and their claws against the cement by your face are the only sounds you hear? They sound like monsters, that's what. Huge and lurking, ready to eat you whole if you don't stay so still, so quiet…" Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around his chest, shivering as though suddenly cold. "Do you know what it's like not to eat for a year? Or bathe, or speak, or… And still, Buffy, still I preferred that to being free. To being here with you."
She flinched, making a small sound of alarm. "I'm that bad, huh?"
"I didn't think you were. No, I never… never did. Never could. To me, you were… sunlight. Burning and killing, dangerous. Beautiful and bright. But look at you. Dragging a demon out, playing rescue-girl to a creature of evil. This is wrong, Buffy. Even you must realize that."
"It's not wrong. You're different now. You have a soul. And I'm asking again, am I that bad?"
"No. It's not just you. Everything is… harsh. Painful. The sound of the radio hurts my ears. The lights of the streetlamps hurts my eyes, but I have to look. I have to be near a window. I just can't stand feeling closed in. And yet, being in the open seems so wrong."
She started to respond but something sharp poked into the bottom of her thigh, piercing through her jeans. Lifting up her leg, she pulled a pencil from beneath her. She was about to toss it aside when she noticed the name engraved onto the side. Willow. But… how could this have gotten here? It's impossible. She was never in this car. And she hasn't messed with pencils for years.
Flipping on the dome light, she held up the pencil, examining it. "Speaking of wrong… look. It's Willow's, or it was, a long time ago. She had personalized pencils when she was learning to levitate them magically."
He tilted his head, surprised. "You
bring it along for a reason?"
"I didn't bring it along at all. But… weird. It was in my dream tonight. She levitated it and made it spin." Passing the pencil to Spike to inspect, she bit her lip, remembering the dream. "It was the same nightmare I've had ever since that night. A replay of what happened. First Xander's death, then the cemetery… every night before tonight, it was the same. Three hundred and seventy nights of an exact replay. The only different parts were…" She rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to remember.
He handed the pencil back to her. "It's a pencil. Nothing evil about it. You're sure it's the same one?"
"Of course it is. What, you think I pack them around? No. In the dream, she kept saying she needed something from me. That was strange. The dream is always the same. Why would it be different tonight?" Tapping the pencil on the steering wheel, she said, "And what's with the evil ghost pencil from the beyond?"
"I said, not evil." He turned back to the window, appearing to lose interest, but Buffy could see the fine tremble of his frame. He'd overtaxed himself, spoken too much, too soon. I shouldn't have gotten into it with him… all that emotional stuff, it's so incredibly difficult. I should let him rest… but I need him. This is Willow's pencil. I know it is. It's gotta be a sign. And evil or not, something's up.
She shuddered, rubbing her fingertip over the raised words on the pencil. "Yeah, well, it didn't stick you in the leg. And besides, I would've noticed if I'd been sitting on it a while. It couldn't have been there long. Why would it just appear?"
"Hard to figure those evil ghost pencils. Wacky little buggers." His head perked up. "There's someone coming."
Buffy looked out Spike's window and for a second, her nervousness lifted. She grinned. "We'll deal with the pencil in a minute. Right now, come out and meet Old Dan."
He raised an eyebrow at her, looking so much like her Spike that she couldn't help but touch his hand. "He goes by Old Dan?"
"Yeah, Spike. That a problem for you?" She squeezed his hand, encouraged when he didn't pull away. "C'mon."
She reached for the door handle but
Old Dan got there first. He flung open her door and pulled her out into his
hug. "Dan," she burbled into his shoulder, teary at his affectionate greeting.
"Air. Lungs. Please."
"Sorry, dear," he said, setting her down. He ran his stubby fingers through the hair that ringed his bald head. "I'm just so happy you're here. It's been so long- look how you've grown! It's wonderful that you've come back. Your grandmother would be so thrilled to see you back here. You know that."
"Yeah. I… I
miss her. And I'm so sorry for what happened. Mom never could understand how it
was wrong to throw you out of the house when Granny died." Dropping her gaze,
she rested a hand on the hood of the car. "You know that mom died?"
"I did hear that, yes. Sorry for your loss, Buffy. But you're here now, and looking all grown up. Wouldn't Joycie be proud of you!"
"I'm here. And my- my friend, too." She gestured into the car, and Old Dan waved at Spike, who didn't acknowledge him. "He's had some… health problems. I thought this place would be good for him."
"Your friend Mr. Giles filled me in. I'll do whatever I can to help out you and Spike, but you must see what a wreck the old home is. It'd take a crew of men to fix it up. You're a strong girl, I can see that, but you're on the puny end of things. And from the looks of him, Spike won't be much help anytime soon. Cancer, was it? He's thin as a rail. Looks like death itself."
"N-no. Not
death. Really. A-and not cancer, but… he's pretty sick. He'll get better soon
though. He just needs time. Anyway, I can work. I'm stronger than I look."
Noticing something in Dan's hand, she wrinkled her forehead. "What's that?"
He held out his palm, revealing a pencil. "Oh, just a bit of garbage I found in the hayloft. These teenagers come around, drinking and god-knows-what else. They come to scare themselves with ghost stories, then leave behind all sorts of junk. Beer cans, mostly. I try to collect up the trash. Annie would have a flipping fit if she knew what those kids were up to in her barn." Squinting down at the pencil, he said, "Guess this one belonged to a 'Willow'. Huh. Don't know any Willow. Ah, well. More garbage for the heap."
Snatching the pencil from his hand, Buffy read the monogrammed name for herself. "Spike. Look at this. It's just like…" She ducked her head into the car, but the pencil they'd been discussing wasn't on the dashboard where she'd left it. Shocked, she gaped at him. "Did you move the pencil?"
He only grunted at her, his eyes squeezed shut. On his knees, his fingers drummed in a quick tempo, revealing his distress.
Taking deep, gulping breaths, Buffy forced herself to stay calm. "Spike. Okay. You need to rest. Go on, put the seat back. I'll…" Holding the pencil up to the light, she frowned. It's the same pencil. But how did it get from the dashboard to the barn? "I'll figure this out."
"What's the matter?" Old Dan gave her a quizzical look as she climbed out of the car. "You're pale."
"Did the- the kids leave anything else in the hayloft?" She tried to look casual, not wanting to worry him, but twisted the pencil nervously in her hands. "Anything at all?"
"Well, yes." Dan dug around in his breast pocket. "I put it in here. Darned arthritis. Didn't trust myself not to drop it, and mark my words, some young girl is searching all over for this. Ah, here." He pulled out a long, gold chain and handed it to her. "Pretty, eh?"
"Very," Buffy whispered, rubbing her thumb over the cross that hung from the chain. It was small enough to be hidden under the collar of most shirts, which was why its owner had purchased it. Hello, Jewish. You think my dad would let me wear a cross? It was Willow's cross, the one Buffy had last seen in the sarcophagus, lying on a bed of Willow's remains. She'd brought it along, tucked inside her suitcase along with Dawn's favorite earrings, Xander's ring, and one of Giles' cufflinks. When she'd checked her case the night before, all the keepsakes were together in their pocket, but… Bringing the cross to her lips, she kissed it lightly. The metal felt cold against her lips. "Dan… I think those kids were right. We do have a ghost. A real one."
