SUMMARY: Spike gets a new toy he wasn't expecting, and Willow finds out that life--and Gods--can sometimes throw humans for a loop.
TITLE: Order Now (11/?)
AUTHOR: sinecure
RATED: R
DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own BtVS, I don't, and the way these past seasons are going, I'm glad I don't.
DEDICATED: To Claudia, because, not only is she the best beta ever, but she's also quite the friend. She kicks ass on grammar--just call her the Hyphen Queen, I do--spelling, characterization, plot. She makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier... even when she's killing my poor little defenseless plot-babies. ;) Yay for betas getting back from vacation.
PART 11
In a cemetery on the edge of Sunnydale, in a place where the dead were long gone and no longer taking new arrivals, a creature known as a Wickaninnish looked at the girl screaming and crying.
He was impressed with her ability to produce so many tears in so little time. She sobbed and cried, pleading and begging. Her short blonde hair, tucked behind one ear, was a cute little perky hairstyle, reminding him of a pixie. Her voice though, that was getting on his nerves. She was loud, no doubt about it. Pretty too, but he didn't think he could take much more of her fearful sobbing.
"Doll," he said softly, "please give my ears a break, hmm?" He raised a purple eyebrow at her, seeing her eyes move to his pointy purple ears. "Yes, see, they're very sensitive, and the blubbering is all well and good for projecting your emotions, I mean, I'm all empathetic towards your pain, but..." he leaned forward, shaking his head a tiny bit, like it was something that just wasn't done in polite circles.
She sucked in a huge breath, her chest working overtime to keep in her sobs. Tears poured from her eyes, big fat wet ones, sliding down each cheek as she tried to get a handle on her emotions. "P-- p-- please," she begged softly, her mouth turning down into sobs again, her lower lip trembling in the cutest way. "Don't k-- kill--"
"I'm sorry, doll," he told her, shrugging his large, oversized shoulders. His wings, currently encased in his leather bomber jacket, shifted with the movement. "I have to. I can't take the magick without killing the body. It just doesn't work that way, you understand."
She shook her head frantically, sending her hair flying about her face like Dorothy Hamill in her early days. Ah, so cute. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, earning a frown from him.
"Hey, now, no need for all that. Just relax and I'll be done in a jiffy." He looked down at the body struggling underneath him, and removed his hand from the mouth.
"You son of a bitch! Let me go, fight me like a-- whatever you are," he ground out, the fear in his eyes hidden from his girlfriend, who was kneeling a few yards away. The boy, a jock by the looks of him, was acting tough and brave, but Ralph could feel him trembling beneath his body.
Ralph rolled his eyes in irritation, he hated repeating himself. "Didn't you just hear me explain it to your girl there? I have to kill you in order to get your powers." He raised his hand above the boy's forehead, ignoring the renewed struggle the boy was putting up. "Hold still, it'll go rather quickly."
"I don't have any power," the kid yelled, finally showing his fear. Tears slid from his eyes and he was sweating in the most offensive way. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"
The fact that Ralph wasn't sitting on the boy's hips rather than lower on his legs, was something he was very grateful for because by now, he'd be wet and stinking of urine if he'd been just a little higher. "You're a witch, don't deny it." He tapped his purple nose, inhaling deeply. "I can smell your power. It's sort of my 'thing'."
The kid looked even more fearful now, shrinking back away from him with a look of disgust. "Dude, you better keep your 'thing' far away from me, got it?" He tried to pull his arms free, resulting in being held even tighter by Ralph's knees against his sides.
Big tough words from someone about to die, Ralph thought. "I meant it was my thing as in, it's what I do." He closed his eyes, nodding respectfully. "I'm a witch hunter."
The girl laughed hysterically, stifling her laughter when Ralph looked at her oddly. "Sorry," she mumbled, shrinking away again.
"Hey," the boy said, offended of all things, "you got the wrong gender there, buddy. I ain't no witch, and I ain't got no power except my wicked throwing arm."
Ralph rolled his eyes in an uncharacteristic show of annoyance. "Both men and women can be witches. Contrary to popular belief, male witches are not warlocks, they're witches. Evil witches are warlocks." Why did he have to explain this time and time again?
The boy fell silent, glancing at his girlfriend, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he took in her fearful state. "Why don't you let her go?" he said quietly, turning his attention back to Ralph.
"Oh," Ralph said, waving a hand toward the girl, "she's free to go. She hasn't got enough power for me to bother." He sighed, looking up at the moon, noting its downward arc had moved little in the time since he'd attacked the couple as they made out. "Everyone has a small amount of power," he confided with a shrug, "but not everyone uses it enough to make it grow. You have."
The boy frowned, shaking his head. "Straight up, man, I don't have any powers. I'm not a witch." His big brown eyes, so full of sincerity, raised to meet Ralph's again, his brown hair falling over his face making him look much younger than his seventeen years.
"I'm afraid you do, and I need them," Ralph told him regretfully. He sighed, shaking his head in puzzlement. "How can a boy as young as you, with as much power as you have, not realize it?" He grabbed the boy's face lightly, turning his head this way and that as he examined him. "Could it be-- no. Two witches in one town who have family powers? What are the odds?"
"Does this-- does this mean you'll let him go?" the girl asked hopefully, her wet eyes shining in the moonlight.
Ralph wished she was the witch; her eyes were so much nicer, their hazel color so varied that he couldn't pinpoint one from the multitude. "I'm afraid not," Ralph answered, holding his hand on the boy's forehead. He pushed the power through himself, into his hand, readying himself for retrieval. His hand began to burn, turning into a flame of white hot heat.
The girl screamed shrilly, scooting back frantically on the dirt and leaf-covered ground, dirtying her nice clothes.
The boy screamed as well, his eyes widening for one brief moment before the flame entered his head. The scream was cut off as the flame cooked his brain and scorched its way past his vocal cords. It followed the path of his body, absorbing every bit of magick as it went, filling itself up and growing wide enough that it was able to be seen as it traveled to his feet.
As quick as that, the flame left the body and entered into Ralph, filling him up with the delicious taste of magick. He leaned back, throwing his arms into the air as he inhaled all the magick, absorbing it into his every pore. When it faded away, simmering beneath the surface, Ralph turned to the girl.
"You might want to leave now, dear, I've found this part to be rather distasteful to humans." He pulled his small silver spoon from his jacket pocket and leaned down, prying open the boy's eyelid.
"Oh my God," the girl whispered, scrambling away, making a great deal of noise. Probably drawing every creature nearby. She got to her feet when she was a safe distance away, keeping her eyes on him until she reached the edge of the clearing. Then she turned and ran, screaming at the top of her lungs as she went.
Ralph sighed in relief as the silence of the night descended on him once again. Just him and his eyes. He held open the boy's right eyelid and pressed the spoon against the outside of the eye, pushing down with gentle pressure.
The eye-removal wasn't a part of the magick retrieval; it was more of a personal thing. He liked human eyes. He had the largest collection in the western United States, and was hoping to gain the Midwest as well.
He scooped out the eye and held it up to the moonlight, examining it for flaws. "Ah," he said triumphantly, "perfect." Pulling out his hand-carved wooden box, made by three virgin men in China and blessed by the rare Premjun demons, he carefully placed the eye inside. The wax paper lining the box crinkled softly as the eye rolled to the other side of the box, coming to rest against the side, iris-side up.
Just as he placed the second eye inside and snapped the lid back into place, a noise sounded behind him, drawing his attention. He slipped the box into the inside pocket of his jacket and wiped the blood off of his spoon with the grass. Sliding the silver spoon into the pocket with his box, he stood up and turned around.
"Hey," a girl yelled, running toward him.
Whoever the small blonde was, she had some tremendous power radiating off of her, but it wasn't magick. This was something completely different. Its scent was thicker, harsher. Magick smelled like... strawberries and oranges. Vanilla and almonds. It had a flavor, every person who carried magick inside of them--which was nearly the entire human population and numerous demon species--had their own flavor, their own scent. This girl had no such flavor.
He didn't want to stick around and figure out what she was though, because she was strong. And, judging by the way she was jumping at him, she was unafraid.
As he turned to run, she soared across the distance between them, using a broken headstone as a jumping off point, and landed on him, taking them both to the ground.
"You're the Wickaninnish," she said angrily, glancing over at the dead, eyeless boy. His singed face had trails of blood running from the side of his eyes like bloody tears. "You're a monster." She drew her fist back and planted it on his jaw, then drew it back again and punched him in the eye.
Instead of answering, he closed his eyes and focused his new magick powers on the slight girl, placing his hands, palms out, on her shoulders, he pushed with just his fingertips, sending her flying across the cemetery. She dropped to the leaf-covered ground and was up again immediately.
Ralph wasted no time in climbing to his feet and running toward the tree line a few hundred yards away. "Hide," he whispered, glancing behind him as he hit the tree line.
The girl stopped for a split second when he disappeared, but then she continued after him, following his trail almost eerily. She had some kind of innate sensibilities to her, that was for sure. She kept on him for a few minutes, unerringly turning when he did.
He needed to get rid of her, because he now knew she was the Vampire Slayer. They were bad news, no matter what the creature. Didn't like anything that wasn't human. Stopping in his tracks, he watched her come to a halt and look around. She held herself still and closed her eyes.
Beautiful eyes. Definitely worth taking.
"Up," he whispered.
He watched her frown, and she even looked up in his direction as he rose to the top of a tree and perched on it, looking down at her. But she couldn't follow. Her magick wasn't strong enough. Her physical powers were all that she had and she didn't use those to their full extent either, so climbing a tree this high in the dark was beyond her.
A few minutes later, she sighed and gave up, leaving the way she'd come. Ralph watched her go, waiting until she was too far away to sense him before floating back down to the ground. He fell to his knees, dropping to all fours as he stared after the Slayer.
Climbing to his feet, he dusted himself off, brushing dirt and leaves from his hands and knees. His magick was depleted for the moment since he'd had to use so much of it at once, but it was still there, recharging and feeding his own.
"Well, now I'm irked," he muttered, sighing as he started off in the opposite direction as the Slayer. "She made me waste some of that young boy's magick."
______________________________________________________
Willow looked up as the door was pushed open, admitting Buffy. Dawn jumped to her feet, and ran to her sister when she saw the limping way she walked.
"What happened?" she asked, brushing Buffy's hair from her face to better see the bruised and scraped flesh of her right temple. "Are you--"
"I'm fine," Buffy said dismissively, wincing when Dawn's fingers tenderly probed the fresh marks. She looked past her sister, focusing on Willow who was still sitting on the couch, but was sitting forward intently. "I finally saw the damn thing." She winced again and brushed Dawn's hand away from her head. "Hey, Slayer stuff here," she told Dawn irritably, "not really needing the Nightingale routine."
"Too bad," Dawn huffed, striding past Buffy and into the kitchen.
Willow chuckled at the rolled eyes the sisters shared and hid a smile when Dawn stuck her tongue out at Buffy. She often felt like being that childish at times too, but she usually refrained. Clearing her throat, she sat up a little straighter. "You saw the Wickaninnish?" Finally, something she could do. Something she could help with. She hated feeling like a lumpen thing, lying around, watching TV, kissing Spike-- okay, not so lumpen then. "Did you stop it? Did you-- did you kill it?"
Standing up was a chore, but it was one Willow was willing to put up with in order to reach her laptop from the side table.
"What happened?" She plugged the cord into the laptop and handed Buffy the other end to plug into the wall.
Buffy bent over with a groan and plugged it in behind the couch, turning back to Willow while it booted up.
"This," Buffy said, pointing to her face. "And a few other things." She sat beside Willow, stretching her neck back and forth. "And then it went poof."
Well, that could mean anything, Willow thought, frowning as she considered what Buffy meant. "Poof as in smoke? Like Dracula? Or poof as in blowing up?"
Buffy shook her head, holding her arm in front of her face and reaching behind her back, pressing against the elbow to stretch her muscles. "The disappearing kind." She did the other arm and then flopped back against the couch with a sigh. "I tracked him for a bit, in the woods outside the old Mine Cemetery, but he-- well, I think he went up." She pointed to the ceiling, dropping her hand to her thigh tiredly. "I felt him, but I couldn't see him, or hear him. Saw a few branches shaking though." Pushing herself forward with another sigh, she peered at the laptop.
Flying. Neat-o. And a little scary with the from-above-attack. "What'd it look like?" She clicked her ISP icon, connecting her modem to the phone line, turning the volume down while it squealed to connect.
"Purple, if you can believe it." She chuckled at Willow's skeptical gaze.
"Like Barney?" Willow asked, shuddering at the thought of a giant purple dinosaur prancing around town, singing to the children and smothering people with hugs. Ugh, it was enough to give a person nightmares.
Buffy burst out laughing, her eyes going wide as she considered it. "Scary," she muttered, staring straight ahead for a few seconds before shuddering. "No, this guy was-- he had, um, pointy ears and-- oh, hey, he was quite the snappy dresser. Nice suit, a bit fussy-looking... I didn't get a real long look at him as I hopped on his back and tried to tackle him." She stood up with a groan, dropping her head back with a sigh. "He used magick, though. I do remember that. My *muscles* remember that." She pointed to the upstairs and headed in that direction. "Just stopped by for a bathroom break and to give you the info, then I'm on patrol again."
"'Kay," Willow mumbled absently, looking up only briefly as Buffy left. A minute later, Dawn rounded the corner from the dining room, armed with a first aid kit.
"Where...?" she began, stopping when she heard footsteps upstairs. "Never mind. Guess I'll wait." She set the kit down on the chair and sat beside Willow, glancing at the screen. "So what's the new?"
"Not much so far," Willow answered, typing 'purple demon' in the search box. She set her pinky on the enter button and was about to press it when she decided to add 'flying' at the last second. Her eyes met Dawn's as the page loaded. "It disappeared, and it was purple. Also, there was a flying thing."
"A thing? What kind of a thing?" Dawn asked, on the verge of disgust. "I have issues with 'things' flying. I mean, was the thing the Wickaninnish's... uh, thing?" She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she fought giggles. "Not that kind of a thing," she mumbled in embarrassment, and then a second later, "so, um... was it?"
Willow grinned, shaking her head. "The Wickaninnish flew: He was the thing. Not a separate... thing." She happily clicked on a new link that she hadn't been to, grateful for the distraction. She skimmed the page, not seeing anything of immediate interest. Still, there was another link that looked interesting.
As she waited for the page to load, she thought about Spike, wondered if maybe he was right. Should she bring him up to Buffy? Mention to someone that she was... was what? Attracted to him? Wanted him. Craved his touch. Had to feel his hands on her at least once a day or she'd go insane?
Okay, that last one would probably not be the best thing to mention. Ever.
But what about her feelings for him? He deserved that much, didn't he? He had feelings, and... well, she didn't want to hurt them. Or him. At all. God, she was in for it but good this time.
Only a week or two, and already she was in deeper than her heart could recover from. Hopeless romantic with a side of foolishness.
Turning to Dawn, whose intent face was fixed on the screen of the laptop, she exhaled. "About Spike," she began, flicking her eyes up to the ceiling, hoping Buffy didn't come bounding down the stairs just then. "I think, you know, for now at least, I'm going to keep it sort of... uh, not public."
"But, Willow," Dawn whispered, also darting a quick look upstairs, "he was really mad. I-- I think you hurt him." She glanced back at the laptop, fidgeting with her fingers, turning them round and round. "Why can't you just tell Buffy?"
Willow was tempted, so very tempted. Spike was right; she was an adult. Someone who could make her own decisions. But, she'd also been privy to Buffy's conversation with Joyce about Spike's feelings for her. "You have actually *met* Buffy, haven't you?" she asked sarcastically. It was sometimes hard being the best friend of someone so... well, suffice it to say, Buffy often wore blinders. She saw things as good and evil, black and white. With a couple of exceptions, there were no gray areas.
"No, I've never met her, why?" Dawn asked with an equally sarcastic tone. Her eyes dropped to her lap for a second, then raised to Willow's face in determination. "Look, Willow, advice from a fifteen-year-old is never highly regarded, especially when the recipient is older, but," she held her hand up, halting the protest Willow hadn't intended to make, "I think you should tell Buffy. The sooner she knows, the quicker she'll warm up to the idea."
"I doubt she'll ever warm up to the idea," Willow laughed, glancing at the computer again. She wasn't avoiding telling Buffy anything, she just... had some things to deal with and she'd do them on her own. In her own way. And time, don't forget time, you putter-offer, you. "Do you think she will?" she asked hopefully.
Dawn shrugged, her face showing the lack of a clue there. "Probably. Eventually... right?" She looked unsure now, frowning when Willow turned to look at her. "Well, I'm not her, you know."
"I know. I do, but, I was sort of hoping you'd lie to me and tell me it wouldn't be as bad as I think it will be." She clicked a third link, this one having to do with magickal beasts. As soon as she got there, she knew it was another dead end. "Dungeons and Dragons. Of course," she said sarcastically. "What else would it be but that?"
They heard Buffy bound down the stairs, and grew silent on the subject of Spike. She'd changed into looser fitting clothes for better movement, and put her hair up in a ponytail. Her face was also scrubbed clean.
"A shower would be great for my poor, achy muscles," she pouted, dropping into the chair with a sigh, "but, no, a Slayer's work is never done it seems. Ho hum."
Dawn stood and retrieved the first aid kit from the chair, sending Buffy a not-so-sympathetic look. "Poor, baby." She set the kit on the arm of the chair and rooted through it. "Like it or not, I'm disinfecting you."
Buffy rolled her eyes, looking past Dawn's shoulder so she could see Willow. "Find anything?"
"Not yet," Willow sighed, scooting gently back into a more comfortable position. "I don't get it; there's, like, no information on these guys whatsoever. How'd you know what it was in the first place?"
Buffy hissed and drew back when Dawn dabbed a piece of cotton dipped into rubbing alcohol to the scrape on her face. "Ow," she said pointedly, glaring at Dawn. "I already washed it, you know."
"Big Slayer-baby," Dawn told her, purposely dabbing harder. "Want a sucker when I'm through?"
Buffy glared at Dawn for a few more seconds before turning her attention back to Willow. "Giles. He found something about them in..." she frowned, biting her lip in thought, "um, a book." She snorted at herself, rolling her eyes in self-deprecation. "God, that sounded so blonde, didn't it?"
Willow and Dawn both nodded in agreement.
Buffy sighed, looking tired as she slumped back against the chair cushions. "I'm lacking in the sleep department, so I'm entitled to a few blonde moments. Anyway, there was just a name--Wickaninnish--and what they do. That's it, nothing detail-y." She sat up, sighing as she stared at the silent TV. "It was all rather lacking in that department actually."
"All we know is that they Jones after witches," Dawn said, glancing at Willow over her shoulder before turning back to Buffy. She opened a Band-Aid, peeling the small plastic tabs off and started to put it on Buffy's temple.
"Neon orange? I don't think so." Buffy stayed Dawn's hand, shaking her head with a doubting look for her sister's sanity. "Some of us," she said with a grin, "have actually made it past the first grade." She slapped her arms on the chair arms and pushed herself to her feet, joining Willow on the couch.
Willow clicked to the next page of search results, seeing the possibilities dwindle even further. "How does it kill? Do we know that at least?"
Buffy half-nodded and half-shrugged. "Sort of. I mean, tonight was the first time I ran into it, and the kid was already dead when I got there." She frowned, staring at the far wall. "They're burned from the inside out. Singed all the way through."
"Oh," Willow said faintly, trying to be clinical and research-oriented, but... the thought of being roasted alive, inside out, was a bit of a downer. She really hoped they got this guy before anyone else was killed. "Okay, I'll add that to my search." She typed in the appropriate words and hit enter, being faced with a whole new realm of possibilities. "Why does it do that?"
"That we don't know," Buffy answered, swatting at Dawn when she stuck the Band-Aid on her as she passed by. "Thanks, now the vampires will be sure to see me tonight." She peeled it off, folding it up and tossing it on the coffee table. "Ugh, speaking of vampires--"
Willow's head darted up, and she was afraid she knew exactly what vampire Buffy had seen and what he might've said to her in that time. Had he told Buffy about the kissing and the making out and the groping sessions they'd been participating in lately?
Well, maybe it was best if she took the bull by the horns and told Buffy before Buffy could chastise her for not being honest with her. Or, clear her conscience, or... something noble like that. It wasn't because she was a big chicken or anything.
"Vampires... neat. Um, Buffy? Can-- can I talk to you? You know, about something?" She glanced over at Dawn who was sitting in the chair with a bottle of water, pretending not to suddenly be interested in their conversation.
In the process of standing up, Buffy dropped back down to the couch. "Nope. You can never talk to me at all, Willow. You know that." She looked from one to the other, a curious glint in her eyes. "Hmm, something Dawn already knows about, and you're being all secretive about. Patrolling can wait a few more minutes." She leaned forward, grabbing Dawn's water bottle. "Dish," she ordered Willow, taking a drink from the water and handing it back to Dawn.
Willow wanted to do just that. Wanted to tell Buffy the truth about Spike and her feelings for him, but Dawn was watching nervously, and Buffy was sitting forward eagerly, waiting for secrets. Secrets that Willow could guarantee her she wouldn't like.
She lost her nerve.
"Never mind, it's not important--" as soon as she said the words, she regained her nerve because it was important, very important.
Spike was important. She really and truly had strong feelings for him and she wanted Buffy to know.
"On second thought," she mumbled, "you'd better sit down. Oh, look at that, you are. Uh," she set her laptop on the coffee table and exhaled slowly. "There's this..." Okay, how to go about this exactly? She couldn't just blurt out that she had the hots for Spike.
"Will?" Buffy said worriedly, "is everything okay? You look a little green. Are you going to throw up? Um, trash can..." She started to get up, but Willow stopped her with a hand on her knee, shaking her head.
"No. No, I'm good." She thought about that for a second, felt the throbbing in her head, and changed that. "Well, actually, I could use some aspirin for my headache, but I'll get them."
Dawn jumped up, spilling water as she did so. She recapped the bottle and plopped it down on the coffee table, setting it to sloshing wildly. "I'll get them." She tossed Willow an encouraging smile as she ascended the stairs, and even gave her a thumbs up.
Buffy watched Dawn go with a confused gaze before turning back to Willow, sitting sideways to better face her. "So, what's the what?"
Her look of anticipation made Willow swallow hard as she fought to keep her courage wrapped around her like a cloak.
"Okay, so... there's this guy," she began, turning to face Buffy a little more slowly. "And this guy--"
"There's a guy?" Buffy asked, grinning, practically wiggling in her seat in anticipation. "Oo, Willow's got a guy." But then she stopped and furrowed her brow in confusion. "Wait a minute, there's a guy? I thought you were, um, 'gay now'?"
Willow nodded, clearing her throat nervously. Okay, so, here it goes. "Um, yeah, sort of. I-- I mean, not this time. Bi-sexual," she said desperately. "That... that's what I am. Guys and gals... I'm greedy, I guess." She tossed a smile to Buffy, hoping she interpreted it as joking and not sickly, like it felt at the moment. "So, now, there's a guy."
Buffy nodded in consideration. "Okay, works for me. Now," she said excitedly, acting like the teenager she hadn't been for a while now. "Who's this guy that made you switch teams again?"
"Switch teams," Willow chuckled, focusing on that part of the question for no particular reason except as a method of avoidance. "I like that analogy, I don't know why. But--" Seeing Buffy about to interrupt, she hurried to get back to the point. "Uh, not the point. He's a guy I've known for, um... years, a long time. And, it just sort of happened. All of a sudden."
"Really," Buffy said, looking like she was being faced with a sudden mystery. "Hmm, it's not Xander again, is it?"
"No. No, not Xander." She laughed at that, imagining Xander and Anya's reaction to her declaration of love. "Anya's love is safe, she can keep her man." Taking a deep breath, she began her explanation, skirting around the issue of who it was in order to explain why it was. "I only just realized it. Like, all of a sudden, poof, here was this guy that I'd known for a while and he was attractive. Well, he'd always been attractive, but I only just--"
"Realized it," Buffy interrupted, nodding dismissively. "Is it-- oh God," she muttered, looking sick, "please, please tell me it's not Giles." She shuddered, a disgusted frown turning down her lips. "Ew."
Willow stared at her for a second, unable to believe Buffy could even think she'd have a thing for Giles. "Ew," she echoed, sticking her tongue out in disgust equal to that of Buffy's. "No. That's just--" She shook her finger at Buffy. "You're yuck."
Buffy closed her eyes with a relieved sigh. "Horror of horrors." A small smile followed her relief. "So... not Xander and not Giles, who--" her eyes darted to Willow's, her smile fading. "Oh, Willow, it's not--"
Willow nodded, swallowing again. She could really use some water about now to combat this dry mouth and nervousness. "It is." Buffy's face fell, and Willow could understand that. She was obviously concerned for Willow, afraid she'd get hurt, and Willow was right there with her. She, too, was afraid Spike would hurt her. But, what else could she do but try? She didn't want to run from her feelings, that was just not an alternative for her. "But, don't worry..." she wanted to tell her not to worry about her getting hurt, or being used or whatever, but she couldn't.
She didn't know herself what was going to happen, so she couldn't promise Buffy that everything would be all right.
Buffy stood up, pacing away from her. "How, um, how long have you... felt this way?" she asked quietly, her voice near breaking.
Willow frowned at Buffy, wondering at the sadness she'd seen in her eyes briefly before Buffy paced away. "I-- I don't know, exactly. Um, I only just realized it this past week."
"Is that why you and Tara broke up?" Buffy asked, turning back around to face Willow. "Because she knew?"
Willow shook her head, standing up slowly to look Buffy in the eye, to make sure she knew this wasn't a decision she'd come by lightly. "No, Tara was a whole other thing. Separate completely. She doesn't even know about--"
"Angel," Buffy finished for her, shaking her head. "I had no idea--"
"Spike," Willow corrected, her eyes widening when she realized what Buffy had said. "Oh jeez, Buffy, you thought I meant Angel?" She darted forward, taking Buffy's hands with a smile of reassurance. "No. No way, I don't... ever, with Angel. I'm so sorry, I thought you knew I meant Spike." Seeing Buffy's eyes narrow and her frown deepen, she grew nervous again.
Uh-oh, cat, empty bag... and guess who'd done the lettin' out?
"Um," she dropped Buffy's hands, stepping back a foot or two, well out of striking distance, not that Buffy would strike her. Right? "Say something. Please?" she begged.
Buffy's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally shook her head in disbelief. "Spike? You're in love with-- oh," she moaned loudly, "it's not love, is it?" She spun around, striding quickly into the foyer before turning around and facing her again. "Willow, how could you like--" She shook her head again, refusing to believe the truth of Willow's words, or the truth on her face and in her eyes. "No, I-- I can't believe it. It's..." she searched desperately for a reason for Willow to lie to her, but came up empty, "it's not true. You're-- you're the smart one. The one who doesn't get swayed by evil blood-sucking fiends," she finished with a pouted whisper.
Willow stepped forward, not wanting to, not wanting to be near Buffy when she finally went off. This calm would pass, Willow knew, and when it did, all hell was going to break loose. "It is true, Buffy. I..." she sighed, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, "I'm starting to fall for Spike."
Buffy shook her head for a third time, but stopped suddenly, smiling halfway through her denial. It was a smile that made Willow nervous. "Of course! Duh, I'm an idiot."
"What?" Willow was at a loss as to what Buffy was talking about. "You're...? No, you're not. Why are you?" She rolled her eyes at herself, and headed into the foyer with Buffy. "What are you talking about?"
Had Buffy gone completely round the bend?
Buffy waved her hand in dismissal as she sighed and laughed a little, looking way more relieved that Willow thought was necessary. "I'm an idiot for not realizing it right away." She moved forward, taking Willow's arms gently, her face softening. "You don't love--or even like--Spike, Willow." She pulled Willow into a hug, startling the other girl. "It's the magick. The stuff that made you go scary on us."
Willow frowned, pushing away from Buffy. "That's not what it is, Buffy. This isn't magick-induced." She shook her head and headed back into the front room, sitting on the couch a little harder than needed, hurting her back in the process. "I'm attracted to Spike," she told Buffy, her back straightening at the confession. She felt like a weight was being lifted from her shoulders. "I have feelings for him," she said loudly, nodding in agreement with her own words, realizing just then how deep those feelings already were.
Lost? Bah, she was more than lost. It was possible there was a little love swirling around inside her, gently poking at her heart like a kid with pin and a water balloon.
Buffy followed her into the front room, but stayed standing. "Willow, think about it. It just started this week? That's not a coincidence." She paced by, standing in front of the coffee table. "You don't even like Spike. You've never liked him. Now suddenly you have the hots for him?"
"It's not the magick," Willow repeated, her anger flaring up. Where was this coming from? "Oh please," she scoffed, "like the only reason I could ever be attracted to someone not a goody-two-shoes is under the effects of a spell?"
Buffy actually looked even more convinced. She nodded, as if the answer was obvious. "You've had a taste of the darkness, Willow. It's enticing, very provocative, and Spike embodies that darkness in a nice, neat little package."
Willow rolled her eyes at Buffy and her nice, neat little answer. "That's not it. I have feelings for him, Buffy. And he--" she took a deep breath, preparing for the next bombshell. "He--"
"Is in love with me," Buffy finished softly, her eyes showing her regret. "As much as I'd prefer he wasn't, Willow--and believe me, I hate that he is--he..." she sighed, shrugging, "well, he is. Or at least he claims to be." She moved around the coffee table, sitting beside Willow to take her hands. "I don't want you getting hurt. And vampires hurt people, Willow. It's-- it's their thing, it's what they do."
Willow nodded, completely agreeing with Buffy. She knew this, she understood this. "I know. I've been right there beside you for the past five years, remember? But," she sighed, hating this. Hating having to explain things. "He doesn't love you, he never did." Seeing Buffy's skeptical look compounded by hope, she rushed to finish. "He thought he did. It's my fault, really. That engagement thing made him obsess over you. He said it made him feel something, something that'd been missing since Drusilla left him. It was strong, and real, but not love."
Buffy looked so hopeful, it was obvious she wanted to believe Willow's words, but she wasn't quite able to do so. "Or he's using you. He's lying because he wants you to believe him."
"Using me?" Willow asked incredulously, the words echoing her own thoughts. "Why would he be using me? What could he possibly accomplish?" She shook her head, not allowing herself to believe it. "Is he using me to get to you, Buffy? Is that what you think?"
"No. That's not what I meant, Willow, at all. If he's doing this for any reason, it's because he's a sick demon who gets his jollies from hurting others."
Willow felt a little guilty for accusing Buffy of being that self-involved. It wasn't true, it never had been. Buffy was one of the most selfless people she knew, it was just sometimes easy to forget that. "I'm sorry, I didn't really mean it. I'm just... this is all so confusing and new and I'm scared."
"He feels the same way? Or so he's said?" Buffy asked, not looking too convinced of that. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her mouth thinning into a tight line. "Do you believe him?"
Willow sighed, leaning back against the couch. "I don't know," she said truthfully.
TITLE: Order Now (11/?)
AUTHOR: sinecure
RATED: R
DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own BtVS, I don't, and the way these past seasons are going, I'm glad I don't.
DEDICATED: To Claudia, because, not only is she the best beta ever, but she's also quite the friend. She kicks ass on grammar--just call her the Hyphen Queen, I do--spelling, characterization, plot. She makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier... even when she's killing my poor little defenseless plot-babies. ;) Yay for betas getting back from vacation.
PART 11
In a cemetery on the edge of Sunnydale, in a place where the dead were long gone and no longer taking new arrivals, a creature known as a Wickaninnish looked at the girl screaming and crying.
He was impressed with her ability to produce so many tears in so little time. She sobbed and cried, pleading and begging. Her short blonde hair, tucked behind one ear, was a cute little perky hairstyle, reminding him of a pixie. Her voice though, that was getting on his nerves. She was loud, no doubt about it. Pretty too, but he didn't think he could take much more of her fearful sobbing.
"Doll," he said softly, "please give my ears a break, hmm?" He raised a purple eyebrow at her, seeing her eyes move to his pointy purple ears. "Yes, see, they're very sensitive, and the blubbering is all well and good for projecting your emotions, I mean, I'm all empathetic towards your pain, but..." he leaned forward, shaking his head a tiny bit, like it was something that just wasn't done in polite circles.
She sucked in a huge breath, her chest working overtime to keep in her sobs. Tears poured from her eyes, big fat wet ones, sliding down each cheek as she tried to get a handle on her emotions. "P-- p-- please," she begged softly, her mouth turning down into sobs again, her lower lip trembling in the cutest way. "Don't k-- kill--"
"I'm sorry, doll," he told her, shrugging his large, oversized shoulders. His wings, currently encased in his leather bomber jacket, shifted with the movement. "I have to. I can't take the magick without killing the body. It just doesn't work that way, you understand."
She shook her head frantically, sending her hair flying about her face like Dorothy Hamill in her early days. Ah, so cute. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, earning a frown from him.
"Hey, now, no need for all that. Just relax and I'll be done in a jiffy." He looked down at the body struggling underneath him, and removed his hand from the mouth.
"You son of a bitch! Let me go, fight me like a-- whatever you are," he ground out, the fear in his eyes hidden from his girlfriend, who was kneeling a few yards away. The boy, a jock by the looks of him, was acting tough and brave, but Ralph could feel him trembling beneath his body.
Ralph rolled his eyes in irritation, he hated repeating himself. "Didn't you just hear me explain it to your girl there? I have to kill you in order to get your powers." He raised his hand above the boy's forehead, ignoring the renewed struggle the boy was putting up. "Hold still, it'll go rather quickly."
"I don't have any power," the kid yelled, finally showing his fear. Tears slid from his eyes and he was sweating in the most offensive way. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"
The fact that Ralph wasn't sitting on the boy's hips rather than lower on his legs, was something he was very grateful for because by now, he'd be wet and stinking of urine if he'd been just a little higher. "You're a witch, don't deny it." He tapped his purple nose, inhaling deeply. "I can smell your power. It's sort of my 'thing'."
The kid looked even more fearful now, shrinking back away from him with a look of disgust. "Dude, you better keep your 'thing' far away from me, got it?" He tried to pull his arms free, resulting in being held even tighter by Ralph's knees against his sides.
Big tough words from someone about to die, Ralph thought. "I meant it was my thing as in, it's what I do." He closed his eyes, nodding respectfully. "I'm a witch hunter."
The girl laughed hysterically, stifling her laughter when Ralph looked at her oddly. "Sorry," she mumbled, shrinking away again.
"Hey," the boy said, offended of all things, "you got the wrong gender there, buddy. I ain't no witch, and I ain't got no power except my wicked throwing arm."
Ralph rolled his eyes in an uncharacteristic show of annoyance. "Both men and women can be witches. Contrary to popular belief, male witches are not warlocks, they're witches. Evil witches are warlocks." Why did he have to explain this time and time again?
The boy fell silent, glancing at his girlfriend, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he took in her fearful state. "Why don't you let her go?" he said quietly, turning his attention back to Ralph.
"Oh," Ralph said, waving a hand toward the girl, "she's free to go. She hasn't got enough power for me to bother." He sighed, looking up at the moon, noting its downward arc had moved little in the time since he'd attacked the couple as they made out. "Everyone has a small amount of power," he confided with a shrug, "but not everyone uses it enough to make it grow. You have."
The boy frowned, shaking his head. "Straight up, man, I don't have any powers. I'm not a witch." His big brown eyes, so full of sincerity, raised to meet Ralph's again, his brown hair falling over his face making him look much younger than his seventeen years.
"I'm afraid you do, and I need them," Ralph told him regretfully. He sighed, shaking his head in puzzlement. "How can a boy as young as you, with as much power as you have, not realize it?" He grabbed the boy's face lightly, turning his head this way and that as he examined him. "Could it be-- no. Two witches in one town who have family powers? What are the odds?"
"Does this-- does this mean you'll let him go?" the girl asked hopefully, her wet eyes shining in the moonlight.
Ralph wished she was the witch; her eyes were so much nicer, their hazel color so varied that he couldn't pinpoint one from the multitude. "I'm afraid not," Ralph answered, holding his hand on the boy's forehead. He pushed the power through himself, into his hand, readying himself for retrieval. His hand began to burn, turning into a flame of white hot heat.
The girl screamed shrilly, scooting back frantically on the dirt and leaf-covered ground, dirtying her nice clothes.
The boy screamed as well, his eyes widening for one brief moment before the flame entered his head. The scream was cut off as the flame cooked his brain and scorched its way past his vocal cords. It followed the path of his body, absorbing every bit of magick as it went, filling itself up and growing wide enough that it was able to be seen as it traveled to his feet.
As quick as that, the flame left the body and entered into Ralph, filling him up with the delicious taste of magick. He leaned back, throwing his arms into the air as he inhaled all the magick, absorbing it into his every pore. When it faded away, simmering beneath the surface, Ralph turned to the girl.
"You might want to leave now, dear, I've found this part to be rather distasteful to humans." He pulled his small silver spoon from his jacket pocket and leaned down, prying open the boy's eyelid.
"Oh my God," the girl whispered, scrambling away, making a great deal of noise. Probably drawing every creature nearby. She got to her feet when she was a safe distance away, keeping her eyes on him until she reached the edge of the clearing. Then she turned and ran, screaming at the top of her lungs as she went.
Ralph sighed in relief as the silence of the night descended on him once again. Just him and his eyes. He held open the boy's right eyelid and pressed the spoon against the outside of the eye, pushing down with gentle pressure.
The eye-removal wasn't a part of the magick retrieval; it was more of a personal thing. He liked human eyes. He had the largest collection in the western United States, and was hoping to gain the Midwest as well.
He scooped out the eye and held it up to the moonlight, examining it for flaws. "Ah," he said triumphantly, "perfect." Pulling out his hand-carved wooden box, made by three virgin men in China and blessed by the rare Premjun demons, he carefully placed the eye inside. The wax paper lining the box crinkled softly as the eye rolled to the other side of the box, coming to rest against the side, iris-side up.
Just as he placed the second eye inside and snapped the lid back into place, a noise sounded behind him, drawing his attention. He slipped the box into the inside pocket of his jacket and wiped the blood off of his spoon with the grass. Sliding the silver spoon into the pocket with his box, he stood up and turned around.
"Hey," a girl yelled, running toward him.
Whoever the small blonde was, she had some tremendous power radiating off of her, but it wasn't magick. This was something completely different. Its scent was thicker, harsher. Magick smelled like... strawberries and oranges. Vanilla and almonds. It had a flavor, every person who carried magick inside of them--which was nearly the entire human population and numerous demon species--had their own flavor, their own scent. This girl had no such flavor.
He didn't want to stick around and figure out what she was though, because she was strong. And, judging by the way she was jumping at him, she was unafraid.
As he turned to run, she soared across the distance between them, using a broken headstone as a jumping off point, and landed on him, taking them both to the ground.
"You're the Wickaninnish," she said angrily, glancing over at the dead, eyeless boy. His singed face had trails of blood running from the side of his eyes like bloody tears. "You're a monster." She drew her fist back and planted it on his jaw, then drew it back again and punched him in the eye.
Instead of answering, he closed his eyes and focused his new magick powers on the slight girl, placing his hands, palms out, on her shoulders, he pushed with just his fingertips, sending her flying across the cemetery. She dropped to the leaf-covered ground and was up again immediately.
Ralph wasted no time in climbing to his feet and running toward the tree line a few hundred yards away. "Hide," he whispered, glancing behind him as he hit the tree line.
The girl stopped for a split second when he disappeared, but then she continued after him, following his trail almost eerily. She had some kind of innate sensibilities to her, that was for sure. She kept on him for a few minutes, unerringly turning when he did.
He needed to get rid of her, because he now knew she was the Vampire Slayer. They were bad news, no matter what the creature. Didn't like anything that wasn't human. Stopping in his tracks, he watched her come to a halt and look around. She held herself still and closed her eyes.
Beautiful eyes. Definitely worth taking.
"Up," he whispered.
He watched her frown, and she even looked up in his direction as he rose to the top of a tree and perched on it, looking down at her. But she couldn't follow. Her magick wasn't strong enough. Her physical powers were all that she had and she didn't use those to their full extent either, so climbing a tree this high in the dark was beyond her.
A few minutes later, she sighed and gave up, leaving the way she'd come. Ralph watched her go, waiting until she was too far away to sense him before floating back down to the ground. He fell to his knees, dropping to all fours as he stared after the Slayer.
Climbing to his feet, he dusted himself off, brushing dirt and leaves from his hands and knees. His magick was depleted for the moment since he'd had to use so much of it at once, but it was still there, recharging and feeding his own.
"Well, now I'm irked," he muttered, sighing as he started off in the opposite direction as the Slayer. "She made me waste some of that young boy's magick."
______________________________________________________
Willow looked up as the door was pushed open, admitting Buffy. Dawn jumped to her feet, and ran to her sister when she saw the limping way she walked.
"What happened?" she asked, brushing Buffy's hair from her face to better see the bruised and scraped flesh of her right temple. "Are you--"
"I'm fine," Buffy said dismissively, wincing when Dawn's fingers tenderly probed the fresh marks. She looked past her sister, focusing on Willow who was still sitting on the couch, but was sitting forward intently. "I finally saw the damn thing." She winced again and brushed Dawn's hand away from her head. "Hey, Slayer stuff here," she told Dawn irritably, "not really needing the Nightingale routine."
"Too bad," Dawn huffed, striding past Buffy and into the kitchen.
Willow chuckled at the rolled eyes the sisters shared and hid a smile when Dawn stuck her tongue out at Buffy. She often felt like being that childish at times too, but she usually refrained. Clearing her throat, she sat up a little straighter. "You saw the Wickaninnish?" Finally, something she could do. Something she could help with. She hated feeling like a lumpen thing, lying around, watching TV, kissing Spike-- okay, not so lumpen then. "Did you stop it? Did you-- did you kill it?"
Standing up was a chore, but it was one Willow was willing to put up with in order to reach her laptop from the side table.
"What happened?" She plugged the cord into the laptop and handed Buffy the other end to plug into the wall.
Buffy bent over with a groan and plugged it in behind the couch, turning back to Willow while it booted up.
"This," Buffy said, pointing to her face. "And a few other things." She sat beside Willow, stretching her neck back and forth. "And then it went poof."
Well, that could mean anything, Willow thought, frowning as she considered what Buffy meant. "Poof as in smoke? Like Dracula? Or poof as in blowing up?"
Buffy shook her head, holding her arm in front of her face and reaching behind her back, pressing against the elbow to stretch her muscles. "The disappearing kind." She did the other arm and then flopped back against the couch with a sigh. "I tracked him for a bit, in the woods outside the old Mine Cemetery, but he-- well, I think he went up." She pointed to the ceiling, dropping her hand to her thigh tiredly. "I felt him, but I couldn't see him, or hear him. Saw a few branches shaking though." Pushing herself forward with another sigh, she peered at the laptop.
Flying. Neat-o. And a little scary with the from-above-attack. "What'd it look like?" She clicked her ISP icon, connecting her modem to the phone line, turning the volume down while it squealed to connect.
"Purple, if you can believe it." She chuckled at Willow's skeptical gaze.
"Like Barney?" Willow asked, shuddering at the thought of a giant purple dinosaur prancing around town, singing to the children and smothering people with hugs. Ugh, it was enough to give a person nightmares.
Buffy burst out laughing, her eyes going wide as she considered it. "Scary," she muttered, staring straight ahead for a few seconds before shuddering. "No, this guy was-- he had, um, pointy ears and-- oh, hey, he was quite the snappy dresser. Nice suit, a bit fussy-looking... I didn't get a real long look at him as I hopped on his back and tried to tackle him." She stood up with a groan, dropping her head back with a sigh. "He used magick, though. I do remember that. My *muscles* remember that." She pointed to the upstairs and headed in that direction. "Just stopped by for a bathroom break and to give you the info, then I'm on patrol again."
"'Kay," Willow mumbled absently, looking up only briefly as Buffy left. A minute later, Dawn rounded the corner from the dining room, armed with a first aid kit.
"Where...?" she began, stopping when she heard footsteps upstairs. "Never mind. Guess I'll wait." She set the kit down on the chair and sat beside Willow, glancing at the screen. "So what's the new?"
"Not much so far," Willow answered, typing 'purple demon' in the search box. She set her pinky on the enter button and was about to press it when she decided to add 'flying' at the last second. Her eyes met Dawn's as the page loaded. "It disappeared, and it was purple. Also, there was a flying thing."
"A thing? What kind of a thing?" Dawn asked, on the verge of disgust. "I have issues with 'things' flying. I mean, was the thing the Wickaninnish's... uh, thing?" She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she fought giggles. "Not that kind of a thing," she mumbled in embarrassment, and then a second later, "so, um... was it?"
Willow grinned, shaking her head. "The Wickaninnish flew: He was the thing. Not a separate... thing." She happily clicked on a new link that she hadn't been to, grateful for the distraction. She skimmed the page, not seeing anything of immediate interest. Still, there was another link that looked interesting.
As she waited for the page to load, she thought about Spike, wondered if maybe he was right. Should she bring him up to Buffy? Mention to someone that she was... was what? Attracted to him? Wanted him. Craved his touch. Had to feel his hands on her at least once a day or she'd go insane?
Okay, that last one would probably not be the best thing to mention. Ever.
But what about her feelings for him? He deserved that much, didn't he? He had feelings, and... well, she didn't want to hurt them. Or him. At all. God, she was in for it but good this time.
Only a week or two, and already she was in deeper than her heart could recover from. Hopeless romantic with a side of foolishness.
Turning to Dawn, whose intent face was fixed on the screen of the laptop, she exhaled. "About Spike," she began, flicking her eyes up to the ceiling, hoping Buffy didn't come bounding down the stairs just then. "I think, you know, for now at least, I'm going to keep it sort of... uh, not public."
"But, Willow," Dawn whispered, also darting a quick look upstairs, "he was really mad. I-- I think you hurt him." She glanced back at the laptop, fidgeting with her fingers, turning them round and round. "Why can't you just tell Buffy?"
Willow was tempted, so very tempted. Spike was right; she was an adult. Someone who could make her own decisions. But, she'd also been privy to Buffy's conversation with Joyce about Spike's feelings for her. "You have actually *met* Buffy, haven't you?" she asked sarcastically. It was sometimes hard being the best friend of someone so... well, suffice it to say, Buffy often wore blinders. She saw things as good and evil, black and white. With a couple of exceptions, there were no gray areas.
"No, I've never met her, why?" Dawn asked with an equally sarcastic tone. Her eyes dropped to her lap for a second, then raised to Willow's face in determination. "Look, Willow, advice from a fifteen-year-old is never highly regarded, especially when the recipient is older, but," she held her hand up, halting the protest Willow hadn't intended to make, "I think you should tell Buffy. The sooner she knows, the quicker she'll warm up to the idea."
"I doubt she'll ever warm up to the idea," Willow laughed, glancing at the computer again. She wasn't avoiding telling Buffy anything, she just... had some things to deal with and she'd do them on her own. In her own way. And time, don't forget time, you putter-offer, you. "Do you think she will?" she asked hopefully.
Dawn shrugged, her face showing the lack of a clue there. "Probably. Eventually... right?" She looked unsure now, frowning when Willow turned to look at her. "Well, I'm not her, you know."
"I know. I do, but, I was sort of hoping you'd lie to me and tell me it wouldn't be as bad as I think it will be." She clicked a third link, this one having to do with magickal beasts. As soon as she got there, she knew it was another dead end. "Dungeons and Dragons. Of course," she said sarcastically. "What else would it be but that?"
They heard Buffy bound down the stairs, and grew silent on the subject of Spike. She'd changed into looser fitting clothes for better movement, and put her hair up in a ponytail. Her face was also scrubbed clean.
"A shower would be great for my poor, achy muscles," she pouted, dropping into the chair with a sigh, "but, no, a Slayer's work is never done it seems. Ho hum."
Dawn stood and retrieved the first aid kit from the chair, sending Buffy a not-so-sympathetic look. "Poor, baby." She set the kit on the arm of the chair and rooted through it. "Like it or not, I'm disinfecting you."
Buffy rolled her eyes, looking past Dawn's shoulder so she could see Willow. "Find anything?"
"Not yet," Willow sighed, scooting gently back into a more comfortable position. "I don't get it; there's, like, no information on these guys whatsoever. How'd you know what it was in the first place?"
Buffy hissed and drew back when Dawn dabbed a piece of cotton dipped into rubbing alcohol to the scrape on her face. "Ow," she said pointedly, glaring at Dawn. "I already washed it, you know."
"Big Slayer-baby," Dawn told her, purposely dabbing harder. "Want a sucker when I'm through?"
Buffy glared at Dawn for a few more seconds before turning her attention back to Willow. "Giles. He found something about them in..." she frowned, biting her lip in thought, "um, a book." She snorted at herself, rolling her eyes in self-deprecation. "God, that sounded so blonde, didn't it?"
Willow and Dawn both nodded in agreement.
Buffy sighed, looking tired as she slumped back against the chair cushions. "I'm lacking in the sleep department, so I'm entitled to a few blonde moments. Anyway, there was just a name--Wickaninnish--and what they do. That's it, nothing detail-y." She sat up, sighing as she stared at the silent TV. "It was all rather lacking in that department actually."
"All we know is that they Jones after witches," Dawn said, glancing at Willow over her shoulder before turning back to Buffy. She opened a Band-Aid, peeling the small plastic tabs off and started to put it on Buffy's temple.
"Neon orange? I don't think so." Buffy stayed Dawn's hand, shaking her head with a doubting look for her sister's sanity. "Some of us," she said with a grin, "have actually made it past the first grade." She slapped her arms on the chair arms and pushed herself to her feet, joining Willow on the couch.
Willow clicked to the next page of search results, seeing the possibilities dwindle even further. "How does it kill? Do we know that at least?"
Buffy half-nodded and half-shrugged. "Sort of. I mean, tonight was the first time I ran into it, and the kid was already dead when I got there." She frowned, staring at the far wall. "They're burned from the inside out. Singed all the way through."
"Oh," Willow said faintly, trying to be clinical and research-oriented, but... the thought of being roasted alive, inside out, was a bit of a downer. She really hoped they got this guy before anyone else was killed. "Okay, I'll add that to my search." She typed in the appropriate words and hit enter, being faced with a whole new realm of possibilities. "Why does it do that?"
"That we don't know," Buffy answered, swatting at Dawn when she stuck the Band-Aid on her as she passed by. "Thanks, now the vampires will be sure to see me tonight." She peeled it off, folding it up and tossing it on the coffee table. "Ugh, speaking of vampires--"
Willow's head darted up, and she was afraid she knew exactly what vampire Buffy had seen and what he might've said to her in that time. Had he told Buffy about the kissing and the making out and the groping sessions they'd been participating in lately?
Well, maybe it was best if she took the bull by the horns and told Buffy before Buffy could chastise her for not being honest with her. Or, clear her conscience, or... something noble like that. It wasn't because she was a big chicken or anything.
"Vampires... neat. Um, Buffy? Can-- can I talk to you? You know, about something?" She glanced over at Dawn who was sitting in the chair with a bottle of water, pretending not to suddenly be interested in their conversation.
In the process of standing up, Buffy dropped back down to the couch. "Nope. You can never talk to me at all, Willow. You know that." She looked from one to the other, a curious glint in her eyes. "Hmm, something Dawn already knows about, and you're being all secretive about. Patrolling can wait a few more minutes." She leaned forward, grabbing Dawn's water bottle. "Dish," she ordered Willow, taking a drink from the water and handing it back to Dawn.
Willow wanted to do just that. Wanted to tell Buffy the truth about Spike and her feelings for him, but Dawn was watching nervously, and Buffy was sitting forward eagerly, waiting for secrets. Secrets that Willow could guarantee her she wouldn't like.
She lost her nerve.
"Never mind, it's not important--" as soon as she said the words, she regained her nerve because it was important, very important.
Spike was important. She really and truly had strong feelings for him and she wanted Buffy to know.
"On second thought," she mumbled, "you'd better sit down. Oh, look at that, you are. Uh," she set her laptop on the coffee table and exhaled slowly. "There's this..." Okay, how to go about this exactly? She couldn't just blurt out that she had the hots for Spike.
"Will?" Buffy said worriedly, "is everything okay? You look a little green. Are you going to throw up? Um, trash can..." She started to get up, but Willow stopped her with a hand on her knee, shaking her head.
"No. No, I'm good." She thought about that for a second, felt the throbbing in her head, and changed that. "Well, actually, I could use some aspirin for my headache, but I'll get them."
Dawn jumped up, spilling water as she did so. She recapped the bottle and plopped it down on the coffee table, setting it to sloshing wildly. "I'll get them." She tossed Willow an encouraging smile as she ascended the stairs, and even gave her a thumbs up.
Buffy watched Dawn go with a confused gaze before turning back to Willow, sitting sideways to better face her. "So, what's the what?"
Her look of anticipation made Willow swallow hard as she fought to keep her courage wrapped around her like a cloak.
"Okay, so... there's this guy," she began, turning to face Buffy a little more slowly. "And this guy--"
"There's a guy?" Buffy asked, grinning, practically wiggling in her seat in anticipation. "Oo, Willow's got a guy." But then she stopped and furrowed her brow in confusion. "Wait a minute, there's a guy? I thought you were, um, 'gay now'?"
Willow nodded, clearing her throat nervously. Okay, so, here it goes. "Um, yeah, sort of. I-- I mean, not this time. Bi-sexual," she said desperately. "That... that's what I am. Guys and gals... I'm greedy, I guess." She tossed a smile to Buffy, hoping she interpreted it as joking and not sickly, like it felt at the moment. "So, now, there's a guy."
Buffy nodded in consideration. "Okay, works for me. Now," she said excitedly, acting like the teenager she hadn't been for a while now. "Who's this guy that made you switch teams again?"
"Switch teams," Willow chuckled, focusing on that part of the question for no particular reason except as a method of avoidance. "I like that analogy, I don't know why. But--" Seeing Buffy about to interrupt, she hurried to get back to the point. "Uh, not the point. He's a guy I've known for, um... years, a long time. And, it just sort of happened. All of a sudden."
"Really," Buffy said, looking like she was being faced with a sudden mystery. "Hmm, it's not Xander again, is it?"
"No. No, not Xander." She laughed at that, imagining Xander and Anya's reaction to her declaration of love. "Anya's love is safe, she can keep her man." Taking a deep breath, she began her explanation, skirting around the issue of who it was in order to explain why it was. "I only just realized it. Like, all of a sudden, poof, here was this guy that I'd known for a while and he was attractive. Well, he'd always been attractive, but I only just--"
"Realized it," Buffy interrupted, nodding dismissively. "Is it-- oh God," she muttered, looking sick, "please, please tell me it's not Giles." She shuddered, a disgusted frown turning down her lips. "Ew."
Willow stared at her for a second, unable to believe Buffy could even think she'd have a thing for Giles. "Ew," she echoed, sticking her tongue out in disgust equal to that of Buffy's. "No. That's just--" She shook her finger at Buffy. "You're yuck."
Buffy closed her eyes with a relieved sigh. "Horror of horrors." A small smile followed her relief. "So... not Xander and not Giles, who--" her eyes darted to Willow's, her smile fading. "Oh, Willow, it's not--"
Willow nodded, swallowing again. She could really use some water about now to combat this dry mouth and nervousness. "It is." Buffy's face fell, and Willow could understand that. She was obviously concerned for Willow, afraid she'd get hurt, and Willow was right there with her. She, too, was afraid Spike would hurt her. But, what else could she do but try? She didn't want to run from her feelings, that was just not an alternative for her. "But, don't worry..." she wanted to tell her not to worry about her getting hurt, or being used or whatever, but she couldn't.
She didn't know herself what was going to happen, so she couldn't promise Buffy that everything would be all right.
Buffy stood up, pacing away from her. "How, um, how long have you... felt this way?" she asked quietly, her voice near breaking.
Willow frowned at Buffy, wondering at the sadness she'd seen in her eyes briefly before Buffy paced away. "I-- I don't know, exactly. Um, I only just realized it this past week."
"Is that why you and Tara broke up?" Buffy asked, turning back around to face Willow. "Because she knew?"
Willow shook her head, standing up slowly to look Buffy in the eye, to make sure she knew this wasn't a decision she'd come by lightly. "No, Tara was a whole other thing. Separate completely. She doesn't even know about--"
"Angel," Buffy finished for her, shaking her head. "I had no idea--"
"Spike," Willow corrected, her eyes widening when she realized what Buffy had said. "Oh jeez, Buffy, you thought I meant Angel?" She darted forward, taking Buffy's hands with a smile of reassurance. "No. No way, I don't... ever, with Angel. I'm so sorry, I thought you knew I meant Spike." Seeing Buffy's eyes narrow and her frown deepen, she grew nervous again.
Uh-oh, cat, empty bag... and guess who'd done the lettin' out?
"Um," she dropped Buffy's hands, stepping back a foot or two, well out of striking distance, not that Buffy would strike her. Right? "Say something. Please?" she begged.
Buffy's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she finally shook her head in disbelief. "Spike? You're in love with-- oh," she moaned loudly, "it's not love, is it?" She spun around, striding quickly into the foyer before turning around and facing her again. "Willow, how could you like--" She shook her head again, refusing to believe the truth of Willow's words, or the truth on her face and in her eyes. "No, I-- I can't believe it. It's..." she searched desperately for a reason for Willow to lie to her, but came up empty, "it's not true. You're-- you're the smart one. The one who doesn't get swayed by evil blood-sucking fiends," she finished with a pouted whisper.
Willow stepped forward, not wanting to, not wanting to be near Buffy when she finally went off. This calm would pass, Willow knew, and when it did, all hell was going to break loose. "It is true, Buffy. I..." she sighed, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, "I'm starting to fall for Spike."
Buffy shook her head for a third time, but stopped suddenly, smiling halfway through her denial. It was a smile that made Willow nervous. "Of course! Duh, I'm an idiot."
"What?" Willow was at a loss as to what Buffy was talking about. "You're...? No, you're not. Why are you?" She rolled her eyes at herself, and headed into the foyer with Buffy. "What are you talking about?"
Had Buffy gone completely round the bend?
Buffy waved her hand in dismissal as she sighed and laughed a little, looking way more relieved that Willow thought was necessary. "I'm an idiot for not realizing it right away." She moved forward, taking Willow's arms gently, her face softening. "You don't love--or even like--Spike, Willow." She pulled Willow into a hug, startling the other girl. "It's the magick. The stuff that made you go scary on us."
Willow frowned, pushing away from Buffy. "That's not what it is, Buffy. This isn't magick-induced." She shook her head and headed back into the front room, sitting on the couch a little harder than needed, hurting her back in the process. "I'm attracted to Spike," she told Buffy, her back straightening at the confession. She felt like a weight was being lifted from her shoulders. "I have feelings for him," she said loudly, nodding in agreement with her own words, realizing just then how deep those feelings already were.
Lost? Bah, she was more than lost. It was possible there was a little love swirling around inside her, gently poking at her heart like a kid with pin and a water balloon.
Buffy followed her into the front room, but stayed standing. "Willow, think about it. It just started this week? That's not a coincidence." She paced by, standing in front of the coffee table. "You don't even like Spike. You've never liked him. Now suddenly you have the hots for him?"
"It's not the magick," Willow repeated, her anger flaring up. Where was this coming from? "Oh please," she scoffed, "like the only reason I could ever be attracted to someone not a goody-two-shoes is under the effects of a spell?"
Buffy actually looked even more convinced. She nodded, as if the answer was obvious. "You've had a taste of the darkness, Willow. It's enticing, very provocative, and Spike embodies that darkness in a nice, neat little package."
Willow rolled her eyes at Buffy and her nice, neat little answer. "That's not it. I have feelings for him, Buffy. And he--" she took a deep breath, preparing for the next bombshell. "He--"
"Is in love with me," Buffy finished softly, her eyes showing her regret. "As much as I'd prefer he wasn't, Willow--and believe me, I hate that he is--he..." she sighed, shrugging, "well, he is. Or at least he claims to be." She moved around the coffee table, sitting beside Willow to take her hands. "I don't want you getting hurt. And vampires hurt people, Willow. It's-- it's their thing, it's what they do."
Willow nodded, completely agreeing with Buffy. She knew this, she understood this. "I know. I've been right there beside you for the past five years, remember? But," she sighed, hating this. Hating having to explain things. "He doesn't love you, he never did." Seeing Buffy's skeptical look compounded by hope, she rushed to finish. "He thought he did. It's my fault, really. That engagement thing made him obsess over you. He said it made him feel something, something that'd been missing since Drusilla left him. It was strong, and real, but not love."
Buffy looked so hopeful, it was obvious she wanted to believe Willow's words, but she wasn't quite able to do so. "Or he's using you. He's lying because he wants you to believe him."
"Using me?" Willow asked incredulously, the words echoing her own thoughts. "Why would he be using me? What could he possibly accomplish?" She shook her head, not allowing herself to believe it. "Is he using me to get to you, Buffy? Is that what you think?"
"No. That's not what I meant, Willow, at all. If he's doing this for any reason, it's because he's a sick demon who gets his jollies from hurting others."
Willow felt a little guilty for accusing Buffy of being that self-involved. It wasn't true, it never had been. Buffy was one of the most selfless people she knew, it was just sometimes easy to forget that. "I'm sorry, I didn't really mean it. I'm just... this is all so confusing and new and I'm scared."
"He feels the same way? Or so he's said?" Buffy asked, not looking too convinced of that. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her mouth thinning into a tight line. "Do you believe him?"
Willow sighed, leaning back against the couch. "I don't know," she said truthfully.