"What happened?"
Giles turned towards Buffy, reading the traces of worry in her voice and smiled thinly, wishing that he didn't have to tell her why Travers had called.
"Giles," she pressed, taking a step towards her Watcher, "what happened?"
The muscles in his jaw clenched in protest, trying to hold back the words.
"Faith," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Buffy's, "she's dead."
Buffy's jaw dropped open, her eyes filling with tears as the implications of his words hit her. "Oh God," she whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head as her body pitched forward.
"Another Slayer's already been called," Giles continued but the words didn't penetrate the fog surrounding Buffy's mind.
She was falling, catapulting down through the inky blackness of oblivion like a leaf caught in a furious gush of wind. Everything was fading away, a steady cloud of darkness blanketing her world. The Magic Box looked like someone had turned out all the lights, all the shadowy colors were blending together into a mess of distorted shadows. Closing her eyes, Buffy surrendered to the blackness, too tired to fight the overwhelming crush of emotions. The voices around her softened until they were just whispers, leaving nothing between her and the welcoming solace of unconsciousness.
She crumpled towards the floor, a blur of red and blonde falling down to the linoleum floor. Before she could smash her head, Spike's arms were around her waist, holding Buffy a few inches off the ground. He lifted the tiny Slayer into his arms, laying her on the wooden bench beside the research table.
Almost the instant Buffy's body made contact with the hard wood, her eyelids fluttered open and she tried to push herself into a sitting position. The only thing preventing her from sitting up and probably falling off the bench was Spike's hand resting on her shoulder.
His concerned face hovering inches from hers, Spike's blue eyes flickered back and forth from Buffy's pale complexion and the worried faces of the Scoobies.
"You alright, pet," he asked, his voice low enough to send shivers through Buffy's already weak body. She nodded quickly, pushing away his hand angrily.
"I'm fine," she snapped.
Spike didn't move away immediately, he stayed crouched down beside the bench, staring intently into Buffy's green eyes. He didn't believe for a minute that she was "fine"; Spike had seen Buffy when she was fine and that didn't involve pasty white skin and tiny beads of sweat dotting her hairline.
"Look, I said I was fine," she spat, pushing Spike out of her way as she sat up, "would you stop with the hovering?"
Clenching his hands in tight fists, Spike nodded curtly, standing up and taking several steps back in a fluid movement. He bowed at the waist, swinging his arm out towards the open room.
"Of course," he said, a sardonic grin on his face that made Buffy's stomach flip flop.
I'm such a bitch, Buffy thought to herself, watching the veins in Spike's hand bulge as he squeezed the fist tighter. Ignoring the pangs of guilt stabbing at her, Buffy twisted her mouth in a thin line.
"What are you still doing here," she asked Spike, her voice dripping with venom, trying to sound as annoyed as possible. She had to keep up her defenses; she couldn't let Spike see how much she cared.
"Forgive me for caring if you smashed your bloody head open," Spike retorted, a faint glimmer of gold sparkling in his eyes.
Buffy shrugged, pursing her lips in her best expression of indifference.
"Thanks," she said, the words sounding more like a death sentence then an expression of gratitude.
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it," Spike pressed, trying his best to maintain the suggestive edge that always marked their verbal banter. Standing up, Buffy drew herself up to full height, which unfortunately was several inches smaller then Spike. She advanced slowly towards Spike, ignoring the humming in her ears and the bright spots swimming in front of her eyes.
"Get out Spike," she said, her voice low and measured.
"I don't need you here."
Narrowing her eyes, Buffy turned away from Spike, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"I never need you."
Even as the words fell from her lips, Buffy knew that she was lying. She needed Spike, more then she would ever admit. But this wasn't the right time, not in the Magic Box, not in front of her friends. That's why she couldn't look him the eye, because Spike would know that she was lying.
Buffy pretended to be fascinated by the pattern of scratches on the tabletop, ignoring the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could feel her friends staring at her and Spike, pretending that they weren't hanging onto every word, acting like this little spat wasn't the most interesting thing they had seen in weeks.
"Fine," Spike said, his voice dangerously calm, "guess some things never change."
Stalking over to the doorway, he paused long enough to throw a murderous scowl at the petite blonde. Buffy refused to even look at him, turning her head to the bookshelf closest to her. She swallowed hard over the lump in her throat, trying to maintain her stoic composure and not break down in front of Spike.
"Bugger this," he snapped, swinging open the door, the black leather billowing behind him in the light breeze as he stepped onto the sidewalk. He stalked angrily down the street, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly. Ripping a package of cigarettes out of his duster, Spike struggled with the cellophane for a moment before tearing the plastic savagely.
Pale strands of moonlight illuminated the black-clad figure as he stormed down the street, cursing his un-beating heart.
"And here I thought we were getting somewhere," he ranted to himself, "bloody fool I was."
Kicking open the door to his crypt, Spike walked straight for the refrigerator. He pulled out three glass bottles, smiling grimly as he watched the liquor slosh back and forth. Flopping down in his favorite armchair, the one that Buffy had been sleeping on for days, Spike threw the top off one of the bottles. He took a long swallow, relishing the burning path that the alcohol tore down his throat.
"Where to start," he mused darkly, finally grabbing the vodka and ripping the cap off, throwing it into the shadowy corners of the room. Collapsing into the worn brown armchair, Spike took a long swallow of the liquor, relishing the burning sensation it created in his throat.
"Can't believe I actually thought that she had feelings for me," he complained. Taking another swallow, Spike looked at the label of the bottle, not seeing the words printed there.
"Bitch," he said simply, hating how she could tear him apart with a single look. With another long swallow, he finished the bottle. Tossing it aside, Spike vaguely registered the sound of shattering glass as he reached for the second bottle.
He needed something, anything, to obliterate the images of Buffy that continued to taunt him.
Back at the Magic Box, the Scoobies looked at each other in stunned silence. Buffy muttered something unintelligible under her breath, pushing past Giles as she hurried into the training room.
Willow exchanged glances with the Watcher, "I'll take care of it," she suggested, "you guys finish closing up." Before anyone could argue, Willow was already closing the back door behind her.
Buffy was leaning against the pommel horse, her back to the door, hands spread across the width of the leather surface. Sighing deeply, Willow tried to figure out if this situation required tough love or empathy. Opting for the former, she walked across the room towards the Slayer until she was right behind Buffy's left shoulder.
"You're an idiot."
Buffy's head snapped up, her green eyes narrowed to tiny slits as she turned to stare at her best friend in shock.
"What," she asked, her anger thickening her voice to a growl, daring the redhead to continue.
Willow stared back at Buffy, her mouth set in determined line.
Walking over to stand beside Buffy, Willow rested her back against the pommel horse.
"He loves you," she said simply, bringing her hand back to the pendant hanging around her neck, twisting the stone between her fingers, as if that explained everything. Buffy sighed, dropping her shoulders in defeat.
"I know," she said, her voice just above a whisper.
Now it was Willow's turn to look up in surprise, she hadn't expected Buffy to acknowledge Spike's feelings towards her, much less within the first few minutes of their conversation. Even though the two were close, they always seemed to dance around the issue of Spike; Willow had always attributed Buffy's reluctance to the bad memories left over from the botched 'will be done' spell, but in the last few weeks she had started to wonder if there wasn't some other reason why Buffy always avoided talking about the blonde vampire.
"Really," she said, dragging out the word for emphasis, trying to see if Buffy was going to say anything else. Willow couldn't imagine the petite Slayer deliberately being so cruel to Spike, especially since she apparently knew that he was head over heels in love with her.
"He told me a while ago," Buffy said, talking more to herself then to Willow.
She shivered, remembering the chains and Spike's repeated declarations of love. Reluctantly Buffy had to admit that even though it was one of the most bizarre things she had ever seen in her life, Spike's unbeating heart was in the right place. Even if that right place was in a world where offering to stake his former lover counted as proving that he was really in love.
"Then why did you just flip out," Willow asked, gesturing towards the Magic Box. Buffy didn't answer; her eyes were fixed on some spot on the mat. Willow watched her friend intently, waiting for some flicker of emotion, anything. Sighing heavily, she pushed away from the horse, intent on walking out of the back room. Apparently this wasn't the right time for quality bonding with Buffy.
"I'm scared."
Willow froze halfway across the room; she turned back towards Buffy, genuinely interested in her friend's answer.
"Of what?"
Buffy tugged on her lower lip with her front teeth, looking everywhere except at Willow.
"Where do I start," she said, exhaling loudly, letting out a short laugh that sounded more like a bark then a casual giggle.
Realizing that Willow wasn't going to let her walk out the door until she got an answer, Buffy hugged her knees to her chest and tried to make sense of the thoughts swirling through her head.
"I never asked for this," Buffy began, "I never did anything to encourage Spike. I mean I never asked him to fall in love with me! God, what is it about me that just screams 'normal guys need not apply'?"
Willow shrugged and waited for Buffy to continue.
"I'm scared," Buffy said again, lifting her eyes to meet Willow's, tears threatening to spill over. Pulling her upper lip into her mouth, Buffy stared at the ceiling, trying to maintain some kind of composure.
"I feel … something … for him. And I can't deal with that."
Shaking her head, Buffy got off the mat and began to pace the training room.
"He's a vampire, I'm the Slayer. It's sick and twisted! God, it's wrong on so many levels! I can't even begin to explain how screwed up this is - "
"He's not Angel."
Buffy stopped in the center of the room, tipping her head to the side as she looked at Willow.
"I know that," she whispered.
Shaking her head, Willow got up to stand beside Buffy.
"Do you," she asked gently.
Buffy nodded slowly, her face scrunched up with uncertainty.
"I just don't want to get hurt," Buffy whispered, her face crumpling, her shoulders dropping in defeat.
Willow sighed with understanding, wrapping her arms around the trembling blonde. Warm tears soaked through the front of her shirt as Buffy mumbled unintelligible words and muffled apologies to no one in particular.
Sniffling loudly Buffy disentangled herself from Willow's arms.
"Nobody wants to get hurt," the witch explained gently as Buffy tried to wipe away the mess of black mascara pooling in the corners of her eyes.
"But Spike's different."
"What d'ya mean," Buffy asked in confusion.
"It's the way he looks at you," Willow explained, "like nothing else matters, except you. Anybody can see that he cares about you. I mean you probably never noticed, but when he thinks no one's looking he just stares at you. Like he wants to memorize every detail because he's afraid that you're going to slip away."
Buffy swallowed hard over the lump in her throat.
"Is it wrong," she asked nervously, tucking loose pieces of hair behind her ear.
Willow's forehead wrinkled in confusion and she continued.
"That I want to be loved like that?"
Willow smiled, "no. It isn't wrong, everyone wants someone to love them, someone who makes you feel loved."
"But Spike," Buffy broke in, "he's not really the right guy for me."
"And what is right," Willow asked, emphasizing the last word. "No one's saying that you have to marry him. Just talk to him, try to see past the whole vampire thing. I mean, it's not really that big of a deal."
Buffy shrugged, not ready to tell Willow that she did see past the 'whole vampire thing', and that she was more scared of Spike pushing her away then she was of her friends not accepting him.
"Who are you and what have you done with Willow," Buffy teased, trying to get the conversation back on a lighter note.
"Somehow I didn't see you being all 'go Spike go'."
The redhead pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, "I wasn't, before. You know, pre-Glory? But everything's different now. I mean, it wasn't his fight but he still did everything he could to save Dawn."
Buffy nodded slowly, surprised at how observant and understanding Willow was being.
"So what do I do now," she interrupted.
Willow shook her head, "how should I know? I'm at my limit for sage advice today."
The two girls giggled, forgetting the stress of the last hour for a minute.
As their laughter faded away, Giles pushed open the door to the training room.
"Are you alright," he asked Buffy, a worried frown on his face.
She shook her head, "not yet, but I'm getting there."