CRADLE

Disclaimer, etc. as on first chapter.

RATING: I've upped this chapter to PG-13 because there's a big ol' fight scene. Can never be too careful.

A/N: As a thank you for Darryl for reassuring me that my 'rebirth' theme is still, in fact, working (yes, there was meant to be a theme. What, you think I called this thing "Cradle" for nothing?) there'll be some Xander/Spike conflict this chapter. Haven't decided whether that'll be funny or serious yet, though. It's quite tempting to have them having a hair-pulling bitch fight, but it's probably not that conducive to the flow of the angst ;) Whatever, I hope you enjoy it =) (And yes, I realise I may have probably watched "Bewitched" too much as a kid…)

Oh, incidentally, I realised that I probably should have made Giles more wounded than he is. So just pretend he has a limp and a lot of bruises that I just never mentioned ;) And the X/A conversation in this chapter was really frelling difficult to write, so be lenient…

Cradle

Chapter Fifteen

Buffy awoke late the next morning after everyone was already up, and realised, with bizarre clarity, that she knew exactly what to do. She dressed quickly and ate a fast breakfast, before storming out of the front door. She briefly explained that she was going to find out how close the Magic was to town so she'd know how much time they'd have, and then she was gone, leaving a very confused household in her wake.

It reached the early evening. Eventually, everyone wandered off to do their own thing, since Buffy showed no signs of reappearing. Giles had moved his research upstairs so he could take his turn keeping Willow company, and so they could help each other on the magical side of things, using his ideas and her knowledge of practice. Dawn had escaped to her bedroom with her music, having gotten bored of helping him.

The two remaining Scoobies, Xander and Anya, were sitting in the lounge. Anya, sitting on the couch with her legs curled under her, was perusing one of the smaller books – entitled "Magics And Their Realms" in ornate gold lettering on the leather spine – and Xander was absently watching television with the sound down low, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He wasn't particularly paying attention to it, however. The air was decidedly awkward between them still, and Xander got the distinct impression it would be him who'd have to break the silence. He just wasn't exactly sure how to do it, or whether the time was right.

The opportunity then arose, as Anya hurled the book at the floor in frustration and folder her arms irritably. Xander smiled, amused. "Problem, An?"

She huffed. "Yes. All of the useful books are under the rubble of the Magic Box, and Giles' are so old… well, I think the First Slayer may have used them," she explained, sceptically.

"Come on, you know he keeps all the good ones for himself. He's got them all upstairs with Will…"

She nodded. "I wonder how they're doing?"

"Let's see," he said, thoughtfully. "The Brain of Britain and the Brain of Sunnydale in one room? I'd say they're doing fine."

Anya cast a glance to the staircase. "I just hope they find a way to harness that thing. It's all very well knowing how to get rid of it, but Magic doesn't tend to be the most… cooperative of things to work with."

Xander agreed, silently, similarly casting his gaze to the stairs. After a few seconds, they both looked away again. Just as absently as before, Xander returned his attention to the television, and Anya began picking at her fingernails. Neither of them spoke, and the previous discomfort soon descended on them again.

After a few minutes, it was Anya who broke the silence. "Do you think Willow will be all right?"

Xander tore his gaze from the television – he'd been paying enough attention to realise it was an old rerun of Bewitched (with the second actor as Darrin) and Anya's comment had seemed to come at an apt time. "Here's hoping," he said. "So long as she doesn't do any of the ol' nose-twitching." He indicated the television to back up his comment. The half-witch, half-mortal daughter, Tabitha, was manifesting herself a pet bunny out of thin air. Luckily, Anya wasn't paying attention or she would have gotten decidedly nervous.

"She seems to have improved, though, don't you think?" asked Anya, having been witness to Willow's sudden burst of energy the day before.

"She has… but… I don't know…" he admitted, remembering their conversation in the bathroom. "I'm scared she's losing her mind."

Anya's expression mirrored her shock; she hadn't thought it would be that bad. Yes, she'd witnessed the Darkness inside Willow that morning, and she knew about the plaguing nightmares, but she'd never suspected Willow might have been losing her mind. "What makes you say that?"

"Yesterday, she…" He shook his head, debating against telling her, then realised he had to tell someone, and Giles or Buffy would only be even more concerned. Anya wasn't as close to Willow as the others. "She was in the bathroom and she asked me if I could see Tara… in the mirror… And at first I thought, y'know, Hellmouth, mirror people is normal… but there was nothing there, Anya." He sighed. "I know, I'm probably overreacting. I'm sure the Buffster and Dawn saw their mom a lot after she died. Sure I read that somewhere, actually; part of the grieving process or something…" Anya nodded. "But… I've seen Will when the Magic takes hold and it's like she's not even there any more…"

His ex-fiancée looked thoughtful, then said. "If it's any consolation, standard mirror-universe manifestations are usually only visible to one person. It is entirely possible that Willow could have seen Tara in the mirror even if you couldn't…"

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Mm-hm."

He breathed out. "That's a relief…"

"In fact," she added, "it's likely that Tara may have given her a message… on how to get rid of the Magic, most probably, or perhaps she convinced her to get better."

"That makes a lot of sense, now you come to mention it." He felt quite silly for suspecting Willow was going insane. In all likelihood, it was him who was going insane. "Thanks." Another silence fell as the credits rolled for Bewitched. The announcer cheerily stated that the next show would be I Dream of Jeannie, which was almost as bad in its naïve misrepresentation. Xander turned off the set in irritation. "I just wish," he said, "that it'd been someone else who'd pulled her out of it…"

"Like who?"

"Giles. Buffy. Someone who can handle this."

"Didn't they try?" asked Anya, curiously; she seemed to be leading up to something. Off his 'beg-pardon?' expression, she continued. "Buffy and Giles… didn't they try to bring her out of it and fail? I mean, I was there at the Magic Box. She nearly killed them both. Doesn't the fact that you were the only one who got through to her imply something?"

Xander thought about it. "Like?"

"Like… I don't know… like… maybe you were the only one, out of all of us, who not only loved her enough, but trusted her enough to go that close to her and try… Perhaps whatever part of Willow that was still good noticed that…" Xander listened as everything fell into place in Anya's brain. "It makes sense. I tried to battle her with magic – all those silly protection spells around Giles and Buffy – which didn't work because she was too powerful. Giles tried outsmarting her and that made it worse. And Buffy tried to fight it out of her; honestly, I think that just pissed her off. But nobody ever stopped to try and love her, not like you did."

"Wow, An…" he said, amazed. "I think you're right." He smiled, then cast his gaze to the stairs, waiting for a promising shout of 'Eureka!' to filter down. Nothing came. "Still," he added, "I'm glad G-man finally managed to make her open up to him. I was starting to feel trapped, you know? And I was terrified of… of damaging her."

Anya didn't reply, understanding how it might have been for him. "Well, for what it's worth", she said, smiling warmly, "I think you were incredibly brave to stand up to her."

He smiled back. "Thank you." After a pause, he suddenly broke in with. "Do you think we have a chance, Anya?"

She looked surprised. "You and Willow?"

"No… you and me…" He then added, "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head…"

"Oh…" She looked serious. "I don't know, Xander. And I'm not just saying that as a scapegoat, either, I honestly mean that I don't know." She sighed. "We're both hurting. We're both to blame for things… and trust has to be rebuilt."

"I know…" He took a deep breath. The conversation had suddenly gotten a lot more difficult. "I want you to know… I… I forgive you for… y'know, the whole Evil Undead thing."

"Really?" She was surprised. They both knew she was as much to blame as Spike was; Xander was perhaps trying to justify his hatred of the vampire by laying no blame on anyone else. Buffy would take longer to forgive, he knew, but he was still certain it had been mainly Spike's fault. "Well… I can't say that I forgive you completely, not yet. It still hurts too much, but… I think I understand about why you couldn't marry me…"

"I guess that's a start…" Casually, to cover the fact that he was terrified, he added, "You know I still love you, right?"

"Oh, yes," she clarified, and replied, just as casually, "I still love you, too. But I'm not-"

"-ready. That's fine. I get it." There was a comfortable pause of mutual understanding, and then Anya decided she had to clear something up. It had been bugging her ever since she'd ended up living at the Summers' house by accident.

"Xander, you know what happened between me and Spike was as much my fault as his, don't you?"

He scowled. He knew that, all right. He just didn't want to admit it, because blaming it all on his sworn enemy was far easier. He knew that wasn't what Anya wanted to hear, though. "Yes…"

"So why are you still being so hard on him?"

"Because no matter what Buffy says, he's evil. He's the very epitome of everything she's supposed to be against."

"So was Angel," countered Anya, logically. She didn't know the exact history of Buffy and Angel, but she did know enough to make this particular point.

"Angel was good. And I didn't like him much to begin with either. But Spike's different…"

Anya looked thoughtful. "Angel was good because he had a soul, yes?" Xander could tell where she was going with this. He nodded slowly. "Well… Spike also has a soul…"

"It makes no difference… We both know he only went to get that soul in some pathetic attempt to make Buffy love him." To further back up his point, he added, "Angel's soul was a curse, hence the tall-dark-and-broody. Spike wanted one… and I hope it drives him insane."

Anya was feeling particularly diplomatic today; she was also being incredibly insightful, suddenly realising the truth of everything. She'd had a lot of time alone to think, mainly about herself and Xander, but also about her friends. She'd also been around for a fair few centuries, and had dealt with her share of relationships, human and demon alike. Which is why she managed to make her next argument with a certain level of confidence. "If Spike does go insane, it won't be because of the soul, you know…" Xander gave her a questioning look. "It'll be because of Buffy."

"Even better," he muttered. "She can drive him insane and then stake him, like she should have done a long time ago."

She sighed. "You're missing the point…"

"Which is?"

"Spike knows how Buffy feels about him – he told me so himself." Seeing a brief rage flash in Xander's eyes, albeit involuntarily, she quickly changed tactics. "Buffy's in love with him-"

Xander scoffed. "No, she's not…"

"Yes. She is," said Anya, adamantly. "She just hasn't realised it yet, or won't admit it… and that's what'll drive Spike crazy. And now he's got this soul, he'll probably willingly let it, too."

Xander stared at her a long time, thinking about it. It was beginning to make rather too much sense – Buffy hadn't let him kill Spike after the incident at the Magic Box, even though she must have been hurting just as much. She hadn't killed him herself after what happened in the bathroom. He didn't like to think about it, but it was entirely possible. "Okay. Let's say you're right. Let's say she is in love with him. It's not going to change my opinion of Spike. It's not going to change the fact that he's killed, and that he cheats, and steals, and hurts people, and soul or no soul, he's always going to be bad…" Then, he realised something. "You… don't know why he left, do you?"

"To get the soul." The 'duh' was implied.

"No, An… he tried to rape Buffy."

She froze at the abruptness of the statement, thus proving that she really didn't know. "When…?" Xander worked it out, and told her. To his credit, he did grudgingly clarify that nothing had, in fact, happened, that Buffy had managed to stop him. Anya considered this new information. "Well, the fact that Spike is not a pile of dust should convince you how she feels about him. She's spoken to him since he came back; she may have even forgiven him, Xander… you can only ever forgive those who hurt you if you love them enough to do it…" As she made this last point, she stared at him meaningfully, and he remembered his words to her previously – he'd forgiven her for sleeping with Spike that night, even though it had cut him to his very core.

Reluctantly, he had to admit she was right. He sighed heavily, wanting to be right for once, and knowing that this time, he definitely wasn't. He wasn't going to pretend to like the vampire, however; not unless said vampire did something profoundly amazing to change his opinion of him, which he doubted was going to happen. "All right, Anya… for Buffy's sake, I guess I can lay off the Spike-jibes for a while…"

"Good." She nodded, satisfied at a job well done. Casually, semi-joking, she added, "Willow likes him, too-"

"Whoa, okay… not goin' there…" They both laughed slightly, the atmosphere clearing between them briefly. Their thoughts returned to the situation in hand, that of the rampant Magic and how to catch it.

"I think we're going to need Spike for this, anyway. The more people, the better. You're going to have to play nice."

"I think I can manage that for now…"

She smiled, and they nodded in mutual agreement. She reached for her discarded book and found where she'd got to, settling back down on the sofa to finish reading it, while Xander flicked the television back on.

Another hour passed in amicable half-silence, the only sounds the quiet noises from the set, and Anya's occasional page turning. The muffled sound of Dawn's music filtered down from her room, and once – only once – Willow's laughter was heard, which was a good sign towards both her recovery and obtaining an answer to their puzzle. Dawn's music stopped after a while and she emerged from her bedroom, and headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. There was brief rummaging in there, and then she reappeared looking perturbed.

Xander looked up at her from his position on the floor. "What's up, Dawnster?"

She pouted. "We're out of food again…" That being said, she stood at the bottom of the staircase and yelled for Giles to come down.

The rather harassed looking older man came out of Willow's room and rubbed his eyes tiredly – they'd been researching and discussing possible solutions for two hours with very little to show for it. "Yes, what is it, Dawn?"

She indicated the kitchen. "No food. Dawn hungry."

"None at all?" he asked, heading down the stairs to investigate for himself. As he passed the couple in the lounge, he said, "Could one of you sit with Willow? We're nearly on to something," he explained, "but if I read even one more word I think my head's going to explode…" Dawn giggled and followed him towards the kitchen.

Anya nodded and got up. "I'll go. I'm at one with the thinking right now…" Xander smiled gratefully at her and took up the book she was reading, making an effort to help instead of rotting his brain with the television show that was on.

Giles opened a cupboard and saw that Dawn was right. "Oh, dear. Well," he said, checking his watch, "the supermarket'll be closed by now, so I suppose it'll have to be-"

"Pizza!" she interrupted. "Please, please, please?"

"All right, pizza…"

"We'll have to go get it, though. They opened this new place and they never get it here on time; it's not worth calling them…"

Giles sighed. Nothing ever seemed to be simple these days. He gestured for Dawn to go ahead of him and they made their way to the front door. "Dawn has requested pizza," he said to Xander. "What are you having?"

He thought. "Hmm… pepperoni, ham, heavy on the cheese…"

"And the others?"

"Willow likes a little of everything; Anya'll only eat margherita. And Buffy usually has either… ham and pineapple or one of those really spicy deals."

Giles looked vaguely horrified at the prospect, and Dawn clarified, "Yeah, she likes her pizza to bite back, or something…"

"I'd go with the H-and-P if I were you," said Xander. "We can keep it for when she's back…"

The ex-Watcher nodded, making a mental note of the orders, before ushering Dawn out to the car. The house fell relatively silent again as his car pulled off the drive and drove away. Xander, who had moved to the couch, was beginning to find Magics And Their Realms quite interesting, if completely useless to their cause, when there was a knock at the door. He put the book down on the couch. Getting up to answer the door, he muttered to himself, "That was quick…"

Upstairs, Anya had found Willow asleep, tired out from all the researching and brainstorming, but she supposed this was probably a good thing – she needed to conserve as much energy as possible if she was going to purge the Magic from her system. Anya settled herself down with one of the larger books – Xander had been right, Giles had kept all the decent books to himself – and kept one eye on Willow while she read it.

She heard the front door open but thought nothing of it; as an afterthought, she closed the bedroom door over so Willow wouldn't wake up.

Xander opened the door, expecting to find that Giles had perhaps forgotten an order, or even his keys, or Dawn needed the bathroom, or something similarly mundane. Instead, he was greeted by the one thing he'd hoped wouldn't appear on the doorstep.

"Spike…" The blond vampire, hands jammed firmly into the pockets of his duster and head down, stood there with none of his usual cool confidence. He seemed nervous, in fact. He didn't force his way in, either. Xander eyed him suspiciously. "Can we help you?"

"Uh… Slayer came by earlier; said she'd got a plan, or something. Said I should make my way here so she could tell everyone together…" He raised his head and tried to peer around Xander into the house. "She back yet?"

"No." He stood squarely in the doorway, blocking Spike's entry to the house. He may have still been invited, but Xander wasn't prepared to let that stand between him and his new mission of keeping Spike on the other side of the door. He eyed him suspiciously. "Did she really invite you over here?"

"Yes," he said, annoyed. "She told me she'd be back by now."

"Well, she's not."

"I can see that." He was now beginning to see that Xander was determined to rile him up, and had decided not to give him the satisfaction. "I'll just come in and wait for her, then." With that, he forced his way into the house. Xander took a deep breath to calm his rising irritation and then silently closed the door.

Spike looked around as if he was seeing the place for the first time, admiring it. He removed his duster and laid it casually over the banister, then moved to examine some photos he'd never noticed before. The house smelt different, somehow… unless it was his soul messing with his vamp senses, of course. Even if it was, though, there was definitely something different… it still smelt of Buffy, and Dawn, and Willow, as always. And now, of Xander, Anya, and Giles, depending on how long they'd been staying there… so what else was there?

Then, he realised: despite his infrequent visits to the Summers residence, it had, nevertheless, retained some of his own scent. Now, in his absence, and presumably because of an attempt by Buffy to erase all memory of him in a cleaning spree, he was gone… Spike shrugged. Soon rectify that situation… He caught sight of a picture of Joyce with her two daughters and stroked the glass on the front with unconcealed adoration. Maybe he'd ask Buffy nicely if he could have a copy…

Xander watched Spike with fluctuating expressions of calm, disgust, and brief wonder. He watched especially carefully as Spike touched the photograph, preparing to intervene if he stole it, then relaxed again when the vampire dropped his hand to his side once more. Eventually, Xander lost interest in him and cast his gaze up the stairs, wondering if he should tell Anya and Willow that Spike was in the house; Buffy was obviously going to call a Scooby meeting on her return and he'd be saving her time if he did. Before he could decide, however, he caught sight instead of Spike's duster, draped over the banister.

This was familiar; painfully familiar. He'd been standing in this exact same place; Spike's duster had been in the same place on the stair rail, almost arrogant-looking in the way it was slung there; and Buffy had been upstairs… Xander clenched a fist into the leather coat, where his hand was on the banister, and swallowed the growl he could feel forming in his throat. He'd promised Anya he'd 'play nice'. Anya was with Willow, and wouldn't know any better if he didn't… And right now, 'playing nice' was the furthest thing from his mind. Slowly and quietly, he approached the blond vampire, who currently had his back turned.

Spike finished perusing the photographs and decided he'd better at least attempt to make small talk. He turned to face the room again. Immediately, he toppled backwards with the force of Xander's fist making contact with his jaw. He was deceptively strong sometimes; the speed and surprise of the blow had knocked him straight to the floor.

He scrabbled to his knees, rubbing his jaw with one hand. "Bloody 'ell, Whelp!" he shouted. "What was that for?"

Xander shook his hand to get rid of the pain, and muttered under his breath until it subsided. Flexing his fingers to regain strength, he said, "Yeah, like you don't know…"

Spike had a pretty good idea. He was vaguely aware by this point that his lip was bleeding. "All right; I do. Guess I should have asked who that was for…"

"You." Spike rolled his eyes; that wasn't what he'd meant. He was beginning to wonder when Xander had become quite so stupid, when he continued. "For coming back."

"Oh." He got to his feet and stared Xander defiantly in the eyes. If the shaman hadn't messed up, he'd at least have some chance at defending himself without getting a splitting headache. As it was, the chip wouldn't let him fight back, if it got that far, and his new soul-induced conscience was muttering at him about the possible consequences if he did. "Point taken, Harris," he said.

"Spike," said Xander, threateningly. "I don't think you understand. I know you're not going to leave, no matter how beaten down you get. You tried that once; didn't work out. So instead, you come crawling back here." Spike frowned, waiting for him to get to the point. "You really expect me to believe that Buffy asked you here? After what you did to her?"

"Hey, nothing happened-"

"How do I know that, hm?" He knew it wasn't true, but the truth wouldn't make his argument particularly sound. "For all I know, you might have come back here tonight to try again."

"Sure, Harris. When you, Red, Anya, Giles and the Bit are all in the house? I may still have that stupid chip in my brain, but it doesn't make me a moron."

Xander gave up on that particular line of taunting, realising Spike did make a valid point. Not that he was going to admit that to his face, of course. "Okay, let's just put this in simple terms, shall we? I don't like you. You don't like me. We both like Buffy. We also, apparently, both like Anya."

Spike sighed irritably at the mention of the vengeance demon. "Look, we both know that was nothing. Just let it go. And as for Buffy-"

"Let it go?" he interrupted. "You slept with my fiancée, Spike!"

"Yeah. And you left her at the altar." That earned him another punch in the jaw, and this time he felt it crack. That was going to smart later. This time, though, he managed to stay on his feet; he'd been expecting that one. "You know," he said, wiping the fresh trickle of blood from his lip, "you should really be taking this out on her, too. It wasn't all me in that magic shop."

There was a horrible pause while Spike waited for some kind of remark in return, but nothing came. Suddenly, Xander launched himself at him with a war-cry, both fists flailing, intent on causing as much damage as possible. Spike went down in seconds, more from being unprepared for the attack than anything, and Xander continued punching him – in the face, in the stomach, wherever he could reach that would cause plenty of pain.

"That's for Anya!" he shouted with one punch, "and that's for Buffy!" with another.

Finally, Spike managed to force Xander off him by giving him a hefty shove; he sailed through the air about a foot and landed heavily against the arm of the couch. An instant later, Spike's chip kicked in and he clutched his head in agony. But at least Xander had stopped hitting him.

When the headache subsided, he looked across to see where Xander was, hoping to offer some kind of truce now he'd let out his anger. There was nobody by the couch. Where the-? A sharp kick to his ribs soon told him Xander's whereabouts. Clearly, he wasn't finished. "Get up!" he demanded. "Get up and fight me!"

Spike rolled over, away from Xander's feet, and forced himself up. "Can't," he said. "You bloody know I can't."

"I want you to fight me, Spike. Won't that override the chip?" He stood with arms wide, indicating he was free to be Spike's punching-bag, if he so chose. Spike wasn't sure if the chip worked like that, if it had any rules at all, but he wasn't about to spend the rest of the night being picked on.

"Why don't we find out?" he said. Xander hadn't anticipated this answer – he'd been expecting Spike to back down or try to talk him round – and, too late, he raised his arms to fend off the incoming blow. Spike hit him square in the nose and sent him flying into the stairs. The chip sent out a ponderous impulse, but nothing strong enough to incapacitate him again. This was a turn up for the books.

Xander struggled to his feet, not put off by the attack. This made it all far more interesting. "That's more like it," he said, wiping under his nose with the back of his hand, inspecting for blood. "A fight's exactly what I need right now, and you're just the vamp for the job."

"I'm honoured…" Now that he was adamant that Xander definitely wanted a fight, the chip wouldn't be a problem. Making a mental note of that particular design flaw for later use, Spike conjured up all the most irritating things Xander had ever done, just to make it more interesting. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

"I thought you'd never ask…"

The two circled each other like two predators, summing up their opponent's weaknesses. Unfortunately, because of the confined space of the lounge, Xander bumped into a piece of furniture. This distracted him just long enough for Spike to attack, and, within minutes, they were tearing each other to pieces, destroying most of the room in their wake. Common sense was no longer an option – each was determined to kill the other, or be killed trying…

To be continued…

Yikes! All right, I wasn't going to end there, but it's going to take me a whole lot longer to finish this section, and I wanted to get it up. So I've split it into two smaller parts. Plus, it's a nice cliffhanger… Review please! Chapter 16 should be arriving fairly soon…