CRADLE
Disclaimer, etc as on first chapter.
A/N: This chapter doesn't really go anywhere, but I just thought Anya needed some more to do, so this is the start of her reintegration. Some one on one conversation with Willow (and Buffy, to some degree). I still have no idea whether this'll end up A/G or A/X, because it depends entirely on how strongly it ends up being W/X… so we'll see how it goes. (Besides which, before I was a B/S-er, I was a B/G-er…) Anyway, you'll be glad to know I now have the basis of something resembling a plot (yes! A plot!) in my head, including what the 'big bad' is going to be. (Several hints have already been dropped throughout, actually.) For now, at least, enjoy this incredibly pointless chapter.
(PS: Spot the obligatory "Sunset Boulevard" reference, although for those that know the film/musical, it's really not that difficult… Just another of my obsessions. I'm trying to fit it into every non-Sunset fic I do just to see if it's possible…)
Cradle
Chapter Twelve
Buffy returned home just as it was getting light, having spent the entire rest of her night sitting on the same headstone, just plucking up enough courage to get up and not go back to Spike's crypt. She was too close as it was, and she knew that he knew she was out there. Eventually, as the sun began to rise, and she was certain he wouldn't venture out to follow her (at least, that's what she told herself), she headed home.
She got back just before five, and closed the door quietly so as not to wake everyone, before tiptoeing up the stairs. She was stopped in her tracks by Anya's frantic whisper.
"Buffy!"
The Slayer gestured for Anya to come closer so they wouldn't wake Giles. "What is it, Anya?"
The justice demon leaned closer, and, looking around conspiratorially in case they were being listened to, said, "Spike's… uh… got a soul. Hasn't he?"
Buffy's eyes widened. "How did you…?" Then she realised that Anya, being of the demonic ilk, was bound to have noticed just by looking at him. She nodded. "Yeah, he has."
"Well, I know it's not my place to say this – and I'll understand if you decide to ignore my advice – but I think he's going to need you to help him through it."
Buffy blinked at her. Anya, of all people, was being insightful, and she was also right. "He seemed to think so, too," she said, thoughtfully. Snapping out of it, she nodded again. "Thanks, Anya."
With that, she headed up the stairs. Anya watched her go, briefly considered sleep until she heard Giles snoring from the armchair, then realised it would most likely be impossible. She made her way upstairs to the bathroom, intending to get a headstart on being up and about, since she was now awake and fairly alert. She could surprise them all by making breakfast.
Upon emerging from the bathroom, she noticed, in the dim, early-morning light, that Willow's bedroom door was open. Ordinarily, Anya would have thought nothing of it and ignored it, but then she heard the quiet, anguished moan emanating from inside. Curiosity piqued, she approached and peered inside.
It was dark, but still light enough that she could see. Willow was evidently having some kind of nightmare, as she was writing under the covers and talking in her sleep, and her face was set in an expression of utter despair. Next to her, dead to the world, Xander had crashed out, practically unconscious, his legs hanging over the end of the bed. He'd obviously been sitting watching over her before exhaustion had set in and caused him to keel over where he sat.
He couldn't hear Willow's cries, and therefore couldn't comfort her. Rather nervously, Anya entered the room completely and headed over to perch on Willow's side of the bed (which, in fact, had used to be Tara's side.) The red head calmed momentarily, sensing the presence in her sleep even though she had no idea who it was, and Anya relaxed. She hadn't been entirely sure how to calm her down. Just as she was about to leave, something compelled her not to. Instead, she remained where she was, and watched Xander sleeping.
He looked troubled, as they all did lately (Giles had gone to sleep with a frown on his face), and yet oddly peaceful, too. Anya had always enjoyed watching him sleep; sometimes, his facial muscles would twitch involuntarily, or he'd smile or frown at something in his dreams. She noted, only half-aware, that it still happened. At times like this, she felt like trying again with him, to 'forgive-and-forget', as so many people seemed to say. Then, he'd open his mouth and the spell would be broken again, and she'd remember the frightened child who couldn't handle marrying her. She was a centuries-old vengeance demon, and, although in the body of a twenty-year old girl who seemed outwardly naïve about the world, had seen more and done more than Xander probably ever would in his remaining mortal years. Reflecting, she wondered how they'd ever managed to make it work, with such a ridiculously large age difference.
But then again, she'd heard that relationships with an age gap could work. Maybe, with some patience on both their parts, they could start over, although Anya doubted that either of them would want to try 'the marriage thing' again. "Well," she muttered to herself, sighing, "it worked for Norma Desmond. Of course, she did end up shooting-"
Her verbal thought process was cut off by Willow again, as one of her moans turned into something more identifiable. "No… no… Tara!" Anya winced. This was the one thing she'd hoped she wouldn't have to deal with. Willow's head began to shake from side to side. "No, you can't die. You can't leave me, baby…"
Her arms were now starting to flail about, so Anya intervened before she ended up getting hit. Somehow managing to grasp both of Willow's wrists in one hand, more by luck than judgement, she placed her other palm tentatively on her hair, attempting to calm her.
To her surprise, Willow shot up to a sitting position, her back ram-rod straight, and looked about herself wildly. She focussed her attention on Anya only briefly before looking away again, still caught up in her half-nightmare. Anya gasped when she saw her eyes. They were dark, nearly black, and not simply because of the low lighting; Anya could see the Dark Magic within her, still lurking and trying to take hold, while Willow fought it with all her might.
When the ex-Wiccan looked back, her eyes were almost normal again. Anya grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly. "Willow," she hissed. "Wake up!"
She blinked. When she opened her eyes, she seemed to be aware of her surroundings again. "A-Anya?"
"Yes. You were having a bad dream."
Willow nodded, then, not entirely aware of what she was saying, added, "My whole life is a bad dream without her…" Tears threatened to fall, until she realised who she was talking to. Only Xander was allowed to see her cry; that was the rules. "Sorry…" she muttered, blinking them back, and attempting to become 'I'm-okay-honest Willow'.
"It's fine," said Anya. An uncomfortable silence hung between the girls. "I… I woke you up. In case you hurt yourself."
"Th-thanks." Willow frowned. "But… why are you in here? Thought you were all, y'know, cozy with Giles in the lounge."
"Hardly cozy," she admitted, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Xander, although he seemed to be completely out of it. "Buffy's back. She woke me up and I decided sleep was futile and I should get up. I heard noises, so…"
"Oh. Me?"
"Yes. Bad dream?"
Willow nodded. "You have no idea…" She looked across at her sleeping friend. "Gee, poor Xander. I think I kept him up late again." Then, just in case Anya suspected any bad intention, she clarified: "That is, what with the whole crying thing…"
Anya wasn't concerned, not now she'd witnessed some of Willow's true condition first hand. They both watched him a while. "He looks different like that," she noted. "I almost…"
She let it linger, but Willow seemed to understand. "You know he still loves you. I mean, he doesn't say so, but I can tell he does. And he misses you."
"I know. The apartment is empty without him, too." She sighed. "I think it'll take a lot of time for the two of us to regain trust."
"I guess…" That sounded familiar to her brief break-up with Tara, and tears stung her eyes again. Before she could think about it any further, though, Anya interrupted her thoughts, whether she'd realised or not.
"Xander loves you, too, you know. He always has."
"Yeah. Things coulda been different if-" Then, seeing that Anya's expression was dropping, she backpedalled. "Hey, don't worry. I love him in a friend-only way. Still very much of the gay." Her supportive smile soon fell. "Well, actually, pretty much of the not-feeling-anything right now…
Anya had been watching Xander for some time, only really half-listening to Willow. When she tore her gaze from him, and noticed Willow looking sad again, she seemed to snap out of her own moping and adopted a chipper expression, one that she hoped didn't look too false. "Oh, come on," she urged. "Buck up!"
Willow proffered a weak smile, which seemed to satisfy. Then, she remembered something she'd mentioned earlier. "Oh! Did you say Buffy was back?"
"Yes. About an hour ago."
"I didn't know she was gone. Where was she?"
"Spike's."
"Is she-"
"She's fine."
"Good…" Remembering the incident in the hall, she asked, "Th-there's something wrong with Spike, isn't there?"
Anya nodded, surprised that she'd noticed it, too. "He's got a soul. Somehow."
"A soul? Like, the broody kind?"
"I don't know, but Buffy's confirmed that he has one. We'd better wait until she tells everyone, though, because I don't want to jump to any conclusions."
"Sure…" Suddenly, they both realised it was a lot lighter, turning to face the window. "Wow. Guess I'd better get up."
"Yes. I was going to make breakfast."
"You… you want some help?"
Anya beamed, feeling very accepted by Willow's simple request. "That would be lovely."
"O-okay. Down in a minute."
With a nod of gratitude, Anya headed downstairs again, and left Willow to get dressed. The red head got up carefully, trying not to disturb Xander – he'd managed to sleep through the entire conversation, somehow – then covered him with her half of the duvet so he'd be more comfortable. She made sure he was nicely 'tucked in' before leaving the room.
They spent a good two hours in Buffy's kitchen trying to make enough pancakes for the entire household, occasionally nibbling on any that were too 'funny-shaped', but otherwise being silent. They were currently preparing the last batch, when Willow decided to strike up conversation again.
"Anya?"
"Mm?" she replied, through a mouthful of pancake.
"Uh… thanks… for being there this morning."
Anya swallowed the pancake. "No problem."
"Don't tell anyone I was… y'know. I don't want them to worry."
"I won't."
"And I, um, wanted to apologise for… for destroying the Magic Box. And for… trying to kill you."
"Apology accepted. I… hope you're better soon."
The two shared a smile of mutual acceptance. Anya couldn't believe she'd almost dismissed Willow's friendship over something that seemed so trivial. The Magic Box, after all, could be rebuilt in time. It would take far longer to reconstruct a broken friendship.
At that moment, everyone started waking up and filing down into the kitchen somewhat sporadically. First was Dawn, who ambled in and immediately sat heavily at the island, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She only vaguely noticed that breakfast was ready.
"Mornin', guys…" she said, yawning. Anya placed a plate in front of her and a glass of orange juice, while Willow brought over a large dish piled high with ready-prepared pancakes. In keeping with tradition, she asked:
"Funny shapes or rounds?"
Now slightly more alert as the delicious smell of the pancakes assaulted her nose, Dawn sat up straight. "Do I really get a choice?"
Willow laughed slightly. "Funny shapes it is…" she said, dishing them out, just as Giles wandered in. "Oh. Hey, Giles."
"Good morning, girls." He sat opposite Dawn and the serving process started again, Anya laying the plate and Willow providing pancakes. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"No particular reason, really," said Anya. "We were both up and decided to do something productive." Willow shot her a thankful glance for not mentioning that morning. As Anya reached over to put a bottle of syrup in the middle of the island, she started sniggering. Dawn looked up and joined in.
"What?" asked Giles, suddenly self-conscious.
Anya ruffled his hair vigorously. "You got a visit from the hair monster." Giles caught his reflection in one of the cupboard doors and saw what she was talking about – his hair was sticking up in every direction. "I hear they're rampant this time of year." He batted Anya's hand away to stop her making it worse and set about trying to calm it down.
Xander chose that moment to emerge, still groggy from his heavy sleeping as he stumbled through the door. He smelt the syrup Dawn was liberally pouring over her breakfast and his eyes widened. "Pancakes. Pancakes good." With that, he sat next to the teenager and banged his plate on the island like a caveman. "Me want pancakes."
Willow rolled her eyes and put three on his plate. Xander looked up at her. "Come on, Will. I'm starving. I'm also a man; we need more than you puny females."
"Fine," she muttered, "you get one more and that's it, or there'll be none left for Buffy."
"That's okay," said the accused from the doorway. "I'm really not that hungry anyway." She seemed to have perfected a knack of entering a room unnoticed by its occupants.
"A-are you sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the offer, though." She took a place at the island with the others, and the two impromptu chefs sat at either end, digging into their own breakfasts. Everybody ate in silence while Buffy sipped half-heartedly at a glass of orange juice, staring off into space. Anya didn't want to bring up their early morning conversation, and Willow didn't want to let on that she knew Buffy had left the house to see Spike.
Eventually, it was Giles who broke through the silence. "Buffy, did you sleep well?"
"Wha-?" she asked, snapping out of it. "Oh… yeah. I mean, considering Spike's sudden reappearance."
Xander suddenly put down his fork and applauded with just a hint of sarcasm. "Well done. Let's see, you managed to go an entire…" – he checked the wall clock – "five minutes without mentioning him."
Buffy wasn't in the mood. "Xander, don't even think about arguing with me."
"Let me get this straight. I couldn't complain about Spike when he wasn't here. Now he's back, and I'm not even allowed the satisfaction of complaining about him behind his back?" He scoffed. "What does that leave, hm? Complaining about Spike to his face?"
"Xander, please…" That was Willow. "We finally got everyone back together again. Don't ruin it."
Buffy nodded gratefully at her friend and shared a look with Anya. The justice demon smiled supportively to indicate that she should tell everyone, and that she was there to back her up if needed. "Okay, guys," she said, taking a deep breath. "I guess I oughta 'fess up, right?"
"'Fess, um, confess to what, exactly?" asked Giles.
"I went to see Spike last night." Noting that Xander was struggling to keep himself calm, she carried on. "And before you all… yell at me, or say it was the wrong thing to do, let me explain…" When she was certain everyone was going to listen and comprehend, she told how Spike had fallen through her ceiling, how she'd made him leave, and that she'd known she had to talk things through with him before she lost her nerve. "I knew he wouldn't come to me, not this time. Not after what he… didn't do."
"So did you manage to talk everything through?" asked Dawn.
"Well-"
"Do we know why he left? Why was he in Africa? Why is he back? What-"
"Calm down, Dawn…" said Buffy, softly. "We talked about that. Basically, he went to get the chip out and didn't succeed after all."
"And it took him this long?" she asked, bitterly.
"Trials," she said, simply. "That and the shaman thingy made him wait before he sent him back." Dawn seemed to accept this. Xander was still dubious but kept his tone non-sarcastic for the time being.
"I'm not going to ask why he went to get the chip out; I don't think I want to delve that deeply into Spike's mind. But if he's still got it, what did he want to talk to you about?"
Buffy looked to Anya for support, who nodded. "Turns out he came back with more than a non-removed chip…" She surveyed her friends' curious expressions before continuing, knowing there was now no backing out. "The shaman gave him a… a soul…"
The room fell into stunned silence, save for Anya and Willow. The former saved Buffy. "It's true," she clarified. "I could tell when I saw him last night in the hall."
"I knew there was something different in his eyes," added Willow.
"Yeah… same here," admitted Buffy for the first time. "When he spoke, it was more… I don't know… genuine, maybe. And I could really tell he was hurting, the same way Angel was."
Giles had listened very carefully throughout and chose this particular moment to intervene. "In all fairness, I don't think you can really compare them."
"No, I know, but… as far as I can tell, a soul comes with bad memories when its given back, whether it's a curse or a gift."
"So… what now?" asked Dawn. "Is he ever going to come back here?"
"I… I don't know, Dawn. Probably not for a while, but before you ask, yes, you can see him. He wants to explain everything to you."
"I have to go to him, right?" Buffy nodded. Dawn looked briefly thoughtful. "C'n I go today?"
Buffy was about to say no, then reconsidered, not wanting to cope with another bout of Dawn's tears. "Okay," she said, slowly, "but not until tonight. I imagine he's probably sleeping off whatever he went through to get back here."
Dawn accepted this without arguments, and returned to finishing her pancakes. After a brief silence, Willow spoke up again, quietly. "B-Buffy?"
"Yeah?"
"What are you gonna do now? I mean, the Spike thing…"
She sighed. "I really don't know, Will."
Cautiously, Willow continued. "H-he still loves you, doesn't he? Even after…" – she looked at Anya, then Giles, ascertaining there'd be no angry reaction from either of them – "…everything…"
"He says so."
"And he has a soul now. That makes him… good… doesn't it?"
"I… guess so," she said, wondering where Willow was going with this.
"Well, c-could there be any chance of you-"
"No," she cut her off. "That's not even something I wanna think about at this stage…" Willow nodded understandingly and adopted an apologetic expression to imply she was sorry for even bringing it up.
The Scoobies continued their breakfast in silence, each lost to their thoughts and their own opinions on Buffy's situation, their own problems momentarily forgotten. Peace never lasted in Sunnydale, and chaos seemed to follow most of them in their wakes; this was twice as true for Spike. Everybody wanted to help – or, in Xander's case, merely wipe Spike off the face of the planet – but they all knew that Buffy needed to sort this particular problem out on her own. They knew nothing about her situation with the vampire. She'd gotten herself into this alone, and she'd have to get herself out of it the same way…
To be continued…
Okay, sorry about the wait. I frelling hate filler chapters. Anyhoo, thirteen should, I hope, be the beginning of the plot… Keep reviewing!
