Brave New World
Chapter Ten
Spike had gotton to know the group over the last year and a half. He got along with them. He rubbed along well enough with the Slayer, secretly adored the Slayer's little sister. And he had found good friends in Doyle and Anya. He enjoyed their company, liked the boozy lads talk with Doyle and Anya's frank attitude. He even liked his conversations with Wesley. Liked teasing the guy because it was just so easy.
And, well, it was common knowledge that Willow was his favourite.
And he understood them, knew how to deal with them. He could deal with Willow's screaming rage, could deal with Doyle's silent fury. He was even ok with Dawn's hard-edged Buffy-style comments and Wes's disapproval that weighed heavy as a ton of bricks.
But out of all of them, it was the quiet blonde witch that he really didn't get. He frowned at her, but the steadily impassive face didn't crack. She leaned back in the chair, absently smoothing the white gypsy blouse she wore, avoiding looking at him. She tightened the hair band that held up her gently curling blonde hair.
"Aren't you going to sit down?" she asked after a moment's silence, noting that he wouldn't start this conversation, so she would have to.
His frown still in place, he sank into the seat opposite her, leaned back and waited for her to speak.
"You probably know what I'm going to say."
"Something about Willow, I expect," he replied casually, though he eyed her warily, none too sure of her. Wondering whether she'd yell, threaten, or just kill him with a few words in Latin.
"Yes," her voice was soft, her eyes flickering briefly away from his, a slight blush colouring her cheeks. That was his glimpse of understanding, something stirred inside him telling him the real reason she wanted to talk about this, but he ignored it and pinned her with his gaze, waiting for her to continue. She met his eyes again as she went on. "You've hurt her."
"I know," he answered quietly. He should fight her, really. Like he fought Dawn and Wesley. He should fight her. But something told him not to. He thought it might be because of the way she tackled this, so quiet and gentle that he couldn't bear to be surly or nasty.
"Why?"
It was a simple question and it stumped him so completely that his mouth gaped for a moment, trying to voice an answer that he didn't have.
"You'll have to be a little more specific, love," he said instead. "When do you mean? Don't get me wrong, I know I hurt her. But I'm not sure if that's when I kissed or… after."
"After," she filled in. "When you ended it. Why did you do that?"
"Because…" he tailed off. There were so many reasons. He couldn't quite remember them all. Something about Dru. Something about it having consequences, not wanting to get close before a war that could see her killed. But at that moment, he created a new reason. And that reason was Tara. But he didn't say that. Instead, he said. "Because it was stupid. A stupid thing to do. I care about her after the way she looked after me before. But in case you hadn't noticed, pet, there's a war coming."
There was something almost challenging in her eyes. A look that hardened her expression and pleasantly surprised him, there was more to this one than met the eye.
She could drop it now. Nod, say she understood and walk away. Maybe she would still have a chance with Willow.
But in the in all the time Tara had been living here in Sunnydale, she had seen a lot. She wasn't the same stuttering, painfully shy witch that had arrived. She had good friends here and it was mainly because of them that she had changed.
She had learnt to fight and with that, she had grown more confident. She was no longer Tara Maclay who had been bullied by her father and brother. She was probably the quietest of the group, but she no longer took things lying down.
She didn't want to do this, more than anything she wanted to close her eyes until it went away. But that wouldn't help anyone. She sobbed and cried and it hadn't made it stop hurting.
And she wanted to help Willow. More than anything in the world she wanted Willow to be happy. No, more than anything in the world, she wanted Willow to be happy with her. She looked up at Spike. That wasn't going to happen. She had to accept that. However much it hurt.
"So?" she asked. "What's the war got to do with you and Willow?"
"It's not wise to get close to someone when there's a war coming. A war, a battle, a fight, call it what you will, it all boils down to death. Distance is the wisdom of war, Tara."
"She won't die."
He raised an eyebrow at her tone. There was something in it that niggled at him again.
"You don't know that," he replied evenly.
"I do," she stated. "She's strong. And she's a fighter. She won't give up for anyone, especially not the Mayor."
"You've not heard her," he said.
"What?"
"I said you've not heard her. She talks about vengeance."
"We all talk about vengeance. And can you blame her? Because of this, because of the Mayor, the man she loved was killed."
"I'm aware of the story, love."
"But are you, Spike?"
"What?"
"Beyond you, Willow has never looked at anyone else. She certainly hasn't kissed anyone else. And there's plenty of choice. Wesley, Doyle, now Andrew."
"Not forgetting you."
She jumped, flinching at his words. Her mouth opened slightly and she blushed crimson.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered.
"Don't get all coy on me, pet," he said. "I've seen the way you look at her. The way you smile when she looks at you or takes your hand. And if you're honest, that's why you're talking to me now."
He suddenly saw everything so clearly and he was astonished that she was here, seeming to urge him to approach Willow again. He didn't know one single person who would do that. He didn't know anyone who would even consider it. Maybe he could understand if he was the decent, honourable kind of guy. As it was, he was struggling with it.
"Is it so wrong to want happiness for the person you love?"
"No. But it's stupid. If I were you, I'd be taking advantage of my stupidity and fight for her. You'd be far better for her than I would."
"I know that, you know that. Maybe, if Willow has any idea how I feel, she knows that. But that doesn't change the fact that she wants you. I don't know why and I don't think she does. But I guess love is blind."
And Goddess, she wished it wasn't.
She wished that Willow would look at her and see her. Not just as a friend.
It had been Willow that helped her change. She wanted to be as strong as Willow and it was Willow's friendship and the magick they shared that opened up that inner strength.
Tara wished she could use that strength to face Willow, tell her how she felt. But though she could do anything - spar with Doyle, tease Anya, face Spike - the one thing she couldn't do was tell Willow the truth. And nothing was going to change that. Just like nothing would change the fact that it was Spike Willow wanted, however much she denied that fact.
"She's not in love with me," Spike pointed out after a moment.
"And you're not in love with her," she answered.
"No."
"But that doesn't change the fact that you have strong feelings for each other. You want her, she wants you," Tara sighed, lowering her gaze, her voice falling to a wistful whisper. "You could make her happy. And as much as I wish it were me, I have to let her go," Spike watched in amazement as a tear fell down her cheek. He stood for a second, before reaching over and giving her shoulder an awkward squeeze. She sniffed and went on, her voice stronger. "And as long as she's happy, I think I can live with it. She'll still be my friend and while that's…" she sniffed, but looked up, grimly determined. "That's not what I long for, it is enough."
He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair and dropped his eyes.
"I dunno, Tara…"
"Well, I do," her voice rose again. "Go and talk to her, Spike. We go to war the day after tomorrow and I know neither of you will forgive yourselves if something happens."
"You just said nothing will."
"What?" she was tired of this conversation. There was only so far she could go before she broke down and begged him not to take Willow away from her. "I'm not allowed to be economical with the truth? Why? Because you filled that quota?" he was surprised by her sudden sarcasm, but then she shrugged, wiped her eyes and carried on in a resigned tone. "The truth is, we all might die. I just refuse to believe she will. Call me an idiot or an optimist, but that's what I believe."
"Realist."
"What?"
"I wouldn't call you an idiot or an optimist. I think you're a realist. Will survived Graduation, two years of being trapped and hunted and losing the guy she loves. She might not look it, but she's tough. She's got stones. So I don't think you're being optimistic when you say she won't die. She's got what it takes."
"Yeah."
"She's also kinda scary," Spike added with a smile.
"I think you kinda deserve it," she returned the smile with a slight grimace at her words.
"Probably."
He stood up, hesitating before going to the door to leave and look for Willow.
"Tara?"
"Yeah?"
He hesitated. There had to be something to say. But what? What do you say to the woman who is giving up the person she loves? Giving up the person she loves to a guy like him? What do you say?
Somehow, Spike didn't think "Thanks," was enough. She faced him, eyes glittering with tears, lower lip trembling. He gulped hard.
"If she chose you, Tara," he said in a low voice. "If I go to her and she chooses you, I think it might hurt less. You're a decent person; you deserve her more than I do. I think it might just be an honour to lose her to you."
She turned to him. Her mouth quirked in a soft smile even though her eyes were unashamedly brimming with tears that spilled easily as she handed him the one thing she wanted in the entire world.
Willow.
"Same here," she whispered.
"I'm not sharing with him!"
"Deal with it, Andrew," Buffy snapped. "All the other rooms are falling to pieces. If you want to sleep in one of those and wake up dead, be my guest."
"I wouldn't wake up if I was dead," Andrew mumbled.
"Even better," she answered, turning away from him to rearrange Anya's hands around the sword she held.
Anya frowned at her put her hands back the way they were when Buffy shot another glance at a petulant Andrew.
"He could share with us," Dawn shrugged. "Or we could bring some beds to one of the downstairs rooms and I'd share with him."
"No, you will not," Wesley said, letting go of the brandy bottle he grappled over with Doyle to frown at her. "Strictly same sex sharing unless there's a couple who are above the age of consent. You know the rules."
"I wouldn't sleep with Andrew," Dawn protested. "No way! He's so not my type. He's a nerd for a start!"
Andrew punched her in the arm, but she punched back harder and he winced, grabbing his arm and doubling over.
"Drama Queen," Dawn muttered to him.
"You're not sleeping downstairs," Buffy cut in. "It's too dangerous. If anyone came in, you wouldn't hear them. The stairs, death trap that they are, are the only alarm system we have," not that it had worked so well with Faith, who had climbed in through a window. But she wasn't going to say that, no point scaring them. She set her face and put her hands on her hips. "So no sleeping down here."
"Where am I supposed to go then?" Andrew whined, straightening up. "He yelled and threw stuff at Dawn! She told me so! And he likes Dawn!"
"I suppose he could come in with us," Wes offered reluctantly, shooting a glance at Doyle, who choked on his subtle sip of brandy.
"Are you insane, man?" he cried. "There's barely enough room as it is!"
"I'm small," Andrew said. "And I'll leave my stuff in Spike's room. I just don't want to be asleep in the same room as him, he could kill me."
"Spike has a chip," Wes reminded him. "And standards."
"Look," Buffy huffed. "Grab your stuff and move in with Wes and Doyle. But I don't know why you're bothering, we go to war tomorrow."
"All the more reason for a good night's sleep," Andrew shrugged.
Another empty can was pierced, was still for a moment, before toppling backwards off the banister, landing in the wooden hall with a tinny clatter. Willow carefully reloaded the crossbow and aimed quickly.
She didn't realise anyone was there, but something threw her off and the bolt went whizzing beyond the empty soda can and embedded in the wall. Another one to add to the collection, a testimony to the nights everyone spent practising with a crossbow and cans on the banister. It was the best place, Buffy said. The banister ran along the hall, preventing people falling over the edge into the hall. By lining the cans on the banister, everyone could see what you were doing and be careful, the steady plink of cans falling was also another give-away.
So far, the only thing to suffer was the state of the far wall.
Willow glanced to her side and saw Spike mounting the stairs, glancing back to the kitchen where his heightened hearing detected Tara's quiet sobs. It made his gut wrench and he moved slowly along the hall toward Willow. She shot another bolt and the next soda can wobbled and fell.
"Good shot," he said.
She shrugged, not answering and shot another can, but his steady gaze that she felt boring into her back threw her off and yet another bolt embedded itself in the wall.
"Go away," she said irritably.
"Can't," he answered.
He wasn't going to walk away from this. He had a brand new respect and admiration for Tara and he was not going to let her hurt for no reason. He would make Willow happy. Hopefully, in some way, that would make Tara happy too. Because he did want Tara to be happy, mainly because of what she had just done. He felt he owed her that much.
"Do you know that Andrew's moving out of your room because of what you did to Dawn?" she asked suddenly. "You scared him."
"Not my fault he's a nancy."
"No, of course not. Nothing's ever your fault, is it, Spike?"
"I'll talk to the kid if that makes you happy," he offered.
"Do what you want," she replied. "But then again, that's all you ever do," she turned to face him, resting the crossbow on a rickety table shoved into the hallway to hold various weaponry. She didn't approach him, but continued from where she stood. "You're like Faith, you know that? Want. Take. Have. That's her actual philosophy in case you're wondering, Buffy told me. Is that what it was with me, Spike? You wanted me, so you took me and that's it? You've done it, so now you'll move on?"
"No, that's not how it was at all!" he protested. "I mean, yeah. I wanted you, I kissed you. But it wasn't just because you were there and I could."
"Why was it then?"
"Because…" his shoulders were drawn up tightly and he dropped them suddenly, raising his hands and grasping at thin air. A gesture of defeat, Willow recognised, though she never dreamed she would see it in the middle of an argument. He sighed. "Because I liked you."
She frowned, reached up to fiddle nervously with her hair.
"And then what?" she asked, seeing he wasn't about to add anything else.
"Huh?"
"Why break it off?
"Dru. Oz. War coming, shouldn't get close," he shrugged. "The usual suspects."
"You're an idiot," she snapped, sitting down on the table.
"Guilty as charged," he answered, moving so he was leaning against the banister facing her. "But in my defence, Red, you already knew that."
"What is it you want exactly, Spike?" she sighed. "I don't want to play games."
"Neither do I," he replied. "I'm sick of them. So here's the thing: I'm sorry. Sorry for kissing you, if that upset you and sorry for being an insensitive sod when I ended it. Sorry for ending it," he tilted his head to one side, thinking. "On second thoughts, no. I'm not sorry for kissing you, just the rest."
"Oh," she said softly. "So, um, what do you want to do now?"
"I thought we could…maybe… go back to where we were before. Y'know, I was leaving the ball in your court and you promised to think about it?"
"Well…" she tailed off, then lifted her head to smile at him. "Seeing as you asked so nicely, I'll think about it."
He grinned and approached her cupping her face to draw her into a kiss. But she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back a little bit. He frowned at her. And she tried really hard to be angry with him for doing that when she had said she would think about it. But she failed miserably. Maybe it was the gentle yet firm way he pressed against her.
"I said I'll think about it, Spike," she whispered and he felt her breath move over his lips. "We'll talk later, ok?"
"Right, uh, sure. I'll see you later then."
"Yeah."
She pushed away from the table, inadvertently pressing closer to him and rubbing against him as she moved away. She walked down the hall, shooting him one final glance as she descended the stairs.
He exhaled hard through his nose and turned to lean against the table.
He glanced down at his tightening trousers.
"Bloody hell."