Brave New World
Chapter Six

Doyle and Spike had been discussing the up-and-coming war at the top of the stairs. Not that they really had any kind of in depth discussion, they kind of skirted around the edges. But the effort was made, which they supposed counted.

Then Tara ran along, her eyes alighting on Spike long enough to make him realise what had happened. He figured bollocks neatly summed up the situation.

Everyone but Willow, Tara, Spike, Doyle and Buffy had gone out to see the remaining Sunnydale residents. Willow and Tara stayed to do the spell, Spike and Doyle stayed to keep and eye on them and the mansion. Buffy was sleeping, Dawn said to leave her be.

Doyle jumped up; he had been protective of the shy witch ever since he had met her on the way to Sunnydale with Anya.

"You go check on her, mate," Spike said, gesturing after Tara. "I'll see if Red's all right."

Doyle didn't answer, having bolted down the hall after Tara. Well, this was all they needed and for the hundredth time, Spike questioned the sanity of his decision to kiss Willow. He thrust that to one side, he was evil. That was just the kind of thing he did.

He sighed. Maybe with other women, but not with Willow. The girl had nursed him through his time spent in the wheelchair and somehow he had actually started to like her. God knows why. He opened the door to the room Willow and Tara worked in.

She was curled against the wall, white faced and shocked. She looked up at him, blinked and returned her gaze to her knees. He sat down beside her, one leg stretched before him, the other pulled up. He fixed his gaze on the opposite wall.

"What happened b'tween you and Tara then?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"She knows," Willow said flatly.

"Knows?" he shot her a glance, raising an eyebrow.

"About what happened between you and me."

Spike didn't answer, having been all too aware of how close Willow and Tara were. He really didn't fancy getting between two witches; he did have some feelings of self-preservation. And it really wasn't like he was in love with Red or anything. He fancied her, but then, who wouldn't? She was gorgeous and she was a sweetheart.

But there was something to be said for backing out gracefully, however much you didn't want to. See, Spike knew all about pain. Dru had left him twice. And he was quite aware that he was a bit of a sap when it came to women, these days it was mostly Dawn and Willow that got to him. So he supposed getting close to someone when there was a war coming was probably top of his list of stupid things to do and he had done some bloody stupid times in his time.

Coming back to Sunnydale was way up there.

Coming to Sunnydale in the first place was top.

So this weird thing he had with Red was going to end here and now. It was just one kiss. No big.

"It wasn't anything earth shattering," Spike shrugged after a moment's silence.

"What?" she asked, shooting him a glance that was horror-struck.

"You and me," Spike said, staring at the opposite wall, unable to meet those green eyes. "We're not exactly love young's dream, are we? Don't know why she had to get so upset."

"I don't believe you!" she screamed. "You bastard!"

"What?" he asked, staring at her as she stood up and started to leave.

"You - you -" she stuttered in fury. "I hate you!"

She left then and he wondered why her hating him still hurt so much.

Doyle was running his hand over her shoulder, silently handing her tissues as she cried. He knew what this was all about. The one thing that could upset Tara this much was Willow. Though he doubted Willow had upset her intentionally.

"It's all right, darlin'," he soothed. "What happened, eh? What's got you so upset?"

Tara struggled upright, leaning against the wall and drawing her knees up to her chest. Doyle shifted, turning so that he could face her properly.

"Willow and Spike," she said.

"What?" Doyle almost laughed, but the brokenhearted expression on Tara's face stopped him. "God, you're serious."

"Yeah," she sniffed.

"But - but, this is Spike!" Doyle protested. "He wouldn't… I thought he still loved that crazy Dru woman. And Willow! What does she see in him?"

But Doyle already knew the answer. He had noticed that they were close. They shared jokes, sarcastic comments, and just lately, lingering looks and blushes - on Willow's part at least.

"I don't know," Tara shrugged. "But she really likes him."

"No, I don't."

Doyle looked toward the door where Willow stood. She crossed her arms, pulling the baggy purple sweater she wore closer, making her look absurdly thin. But they all did. She sniffed and approached the bed; Doyle stood, backing away.

"I'll let you two…" he tailed off as he levelled up with Willow. "Make it all right," he hissed in her ear and she turned watery green eyes on him and nodded.

He left quickly and strode down the hall to ask Spike what the hell was going on.

"Tara, I…" Willow hesitated by the side of the bed before sitting down. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to see that."

"It's ok," Tara replied.

"No, it's not ok," Willow took Tara's hand, seeming not to her Tara's breath hitch as she did so. "You're upset. I'm sorry, you shouldn't have seen it."

"It's not that…"

"Then what is it? You're my friend, Tara, I don't want anything to change that."

Tara looked up from where she had been staring at their hands and opened her mouth. Willow smiled at her, one of a dozen tiny smiles. Tara was willing to bet Spike didn't know Willow smiles as well as she did. She heard what she wanted to say run through her head and she wondered if Willow could hear it.

I love you, Willow. I love you so much and I tried not to, really I did. I was happy to be your friend. But I can't bear this. I can't bear that you'd choose Spike over me. And I know that's dumb because you don't even know how much I love you. But it hurts; Willow, and only you can make it stop.

"I know," Tara said instead, smiling warmly, squeezing Willow's hands. "It was just a shock, is all. I'm all right. I hope you're happy with him."

"I won't be," Willow lowered her head and for the first time, Tara registered the sadness, the anger.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, lifting Willow's chin up and feeling her heart jolt as she saw tears streaming down Willow's face. "Sweetie…?"

"He said it didn't matter," Willow burst out, her voice raspy through the tears. "He said it was just a kiss. No big. It wasn't earth shattering. He doesn't get it. He was the only one since Oz that I even thought about, let alone kissed! He was the only one and now he's saying that it doesn't matter. You're the only one that understands."

Tara took hold of Willow's shoulders and pulled her close, letting Willow cry over her shoulder.

Willow didn't notice Tara's silent tears and Tara decided that she would have to have words with the damned vampire later.

For now though - she dropped a kiss on to Willow's hair - her Willow needed her.

Buffy had fallen into an exhausted sleep the moment she slumped onto her bed after her speech. She hadn't slept in so long, not properly.

"You aren't taking care of yourself."

She turned, the surroundings raced past as she found herself standing in one of Sunnydale's many graveyards. The night was clear, the air crisp but not cold. It was a beautiful night. The marble angels shone ghostly white in the moonlight and the air smelt like pine, fresh and soothing.

And Angel was leaning against a tombstone, smiling at her.

"You're not real," she stated.

He approached and stopped a few paces in front of her. She folded her arms, looking up at him. His eyes twinkled at her, just like always. She could smell the leather of his jacket, feel the faint puffs of air as he breathed needlessly. God, she remembered the strength of those arms.

"No," he answered. "Not real in the way I used to be. But I am here. I'm always here."

She turned her head away. She didn't want to hear this. But cool fingers slipped under her chin, drawing it back to him.

"This isn't real," she said, looking around at the cemetery. There was a flash and for a second, she saw the cemetery as it was now, but then it reverted to the peaceful place it used to be. "It's not like this anymore."

"I know," he whispered.

"The vampires," she went on. "They ruined it. The grass isn't cut, the flowers are dead. The headstones are broken and there's graffiti on the tombs and crypts. It's not like this."

"It used to be," he reminded her. "Remember?"

"I do. You used to be here. But you're not," she told him. "You're not here now. You can't be. You're dead. I saw you turn to dust. I tasted it in my mouth."

"You saw my body turn to dust," he whispered. "The rest of me is always here. I can't just leave you, y'know. Not when you've got this big battle."

She pulled away from him, turning and walking away. But he followed her, the stubborn asshole, and grabbed her hand, pulling her to a halt.

"I don't want this," she said, looking back at him. "I don't want to see you."

"Why not?" she closed her eyes against that flash of hurt on his face. She couldn't bear it.

"Because it hurts," she whispered. "This is all just a dream," she pulled her hand out of his. "I've only just got to the point where I can get through the day without thinking every minute about losing you. I don't want to wake up after having you touch me. It'll be like losing you all over again."

He smiled. The kind of smile that made her heart melt and break, her eyes blur with tears. Gently, oh, God, so gently, he took her shoulders and pulled her close. She let him. It had been two years since he held her and she still hadn't forgotten the way she felt safe, warm, despite his cool temperature. She remembered the way his arms fitted around her and the way his lips tickled her hair as he spoke.

"You'll never lose me," he whispered. "I'll always be here. I'd never leave you."

"You were going to," she reminded him. "You said you were going to leave."

"I know. But do you honestly think that I could stay away forever? I couldn't, not from you."

He kissed her head and a tear ran down her cheek as she sighed. She shouldn't do this; it would hurt too much when he wasn't there again when she woke up.

"Why are you here?" she asked, tilting her head back to look at him.

He wiped her tear away.

"I came to tell you something. Faith's back, Buffy."

"I know."

"But do you understand?" he frowned, searching for words to explain. "This doesn't just mean that now you have to fight. It means more."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean, you have to make a choice. Faith is a Slayer, Buffy. She's still a Slayer, no matter what she's using that power for. Part of her is still good."

"How can you say that?" she asked, pulling away from him. "Remember what she did to you? To me?"

"I remember. I haven't forgotten. But I also have forgotten that underneath it all, she's still just a girl. She's looking for something."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded. "And she found it with the Mayor. He'll give her what she wanted. Power, control, that's all she's ever wanted."

"Maybe," Angel shrugged. "But he also accepted her. Took her just as she is. Be careful, Buffy. Faith has always needed someone, somewhere to fit in, some place to belong. Human weakness remember?"

She frowned at him, took a step forward, back into his embrace.

"I don't understand," she said. "That's what Faith said when I was unconscious before Graduation. What do you mean?"

"I can't say anymore," he said, glancing furtively over his shoulder. The world around them lurched sickeningly into the world as she knew it now.

"Angel, what…?"

"I'm not supposed to be here," he explained. "But I had to tell you. I had to make sure you knew, so that you would be ok."

"But I don't get it! Angel, please! I don't understand."

"I have to go," he said. "You will understand, Buffy. But I have to go."

He started to turn away from her when she grabbed hold of him, spinning him back into her arms. She pulled him down into a kiss. Just the way she remembered it. Soft, searching lips, arms tight around her waist. His hair was still soft but prickly beneath her fingers and she sighed into the kiss.

He pulled away and she looked around as they world darkened, shifting and alternating between the peace of the cemetery two years ago and the cemetery as it now was.

"Angel," she pleaded, gripping his hand. "Don't go. Please. You haven't been here long enough. Stay, just a little while longer. Please, just for a while. Don't go, not yet."

"I have to," there were tears in his eyes and he pulled her close, one last kiss before he let her go.

He smiled at her.

"Angel," she cried out. "I love you!"

"I love you too," he answered, his voice echoing as the tombs and crypts shook and crumbled. "Forever."

He took one more step away from her and she watched, frozen in place as he was swallowed by the darkness.

She awoke with a gasp, tearful and empty, the morning sunlight streaming into her room.

"Be careful, Buffy. Faith has always needed someone, somewhere to fit in, some place to belong. Human weakness remember?"