Chapter 23
Grief
Giles: "She was truly the finest of all of us."
Xander: "Way better than me."
Giles: "Much, much better."
-'Doppelgangland'
Buffy strained against the invisible bonds holding her pinned against Giles' couch. She couldn't move even a fraction of an inch. Everything was paralyzed from the shoulders on down. Only her head was movable, and she thrashed it in frustration.
This is not happening, she thought furiously, I am not going to sit here, trapped, while my best friend goes off and gets herself killed.
She looked over at Giles, still pinned to the wall where he'd been standing.
"Giles, is there any way to break this spell?" she pleaded.
He shook his head. "Not from our current positions, no."
Buffy tried Willow's friend Tara, looking scared and out of place.
"Tara, is there any chance you could do it?"
"S-sorry, no."
"It'll probably break when he kills her," Anya piped up from the other end of the couch, "Most spells tend to break with the death of …"
"Yes, thank you, Anya," Giles interrupted sharply, "We are aware of the situation."
Spike is not going to kill Willow, Buffy thought furiously. She was determined to stop him if it took her last breath. She would not see her best friend turned into a vampire. Buffy concentrated all her efforts, every ounce of Slayer strength, on moving her right pinky finger. Nothing happened. She almost screamed in frustration.
The five of them struggled and strained for a while, until one by one they grew exhausted. An hour or so dragged by, and slowly they began to hope. Maybe Spike wasn't going to kill Willow after all. Maybe something had happened to prevent him from going through with it. Maybe Willow had come to her senses and stopped him.
When it happened, none of them were ready for it. Not even Buffy, who had begun struggling again. She flew forward out of her seat and on to the floor as the spell was finally broken.
Buffy shared a moment of stunned disbelief with them all, before jumping to her feet, grabbing her stake, and running for the door.
She pelted full-speed through the quiet town, running down main thoroughfares, dashing up side streets and alleys. For the first time, she regretted the distance between Spike's crypt and Giles' apartment. They were practically on opposite sides of town.
Buffy cut across several lawns and sprinted through the park. She vaulted the park wall and then put on an extra burst of speed as she finally neared the cemetery.
She hit the crypt door at full force, sending it crashing into the wall. She scanned the big room in front of her. Empty.
Buffy ran across the room and pounded down the staircase to the lower level. The bed lay in the middle of the chamber, its covers rumpled as if recently vacated. Clothing lay strewn across the floor, some of it Willow's. But there was no sign of the vampire or his prey.
She dashed back up the stairs and out of the crypt, heading towards the groundskeeper's shed. Buffy knew that Spike like to park his car there. It was her last hope of cutting off his escape.
Buffy reached the edge of the grass and came to a sudden halt. The DeSoto was nowhere to be seen. Only a small oil stain on the pavement testified to it ever having been there in the first place. Spike was gone, and Willow along with him.
The stake fell from Buffy's nerveless fingers and clattered against the curb. Her knees gave out and she sank slowly to the grass, dumbfounded. The reality of it overwhelmed her, and she began to cry, sobbing brokenly for the loss of her friend.
Eventually, her sobs slowed and she remembered her other friends, waiting for news at Giles' apartment. She struggled to her feet, reclaimed her stake, and slowly made her way back across town.
Buffy opened the apartment door reluctantly, not wanting to be the bearer of bad tidings. She wasn't overly surprised to see that Tara had left at some point. The others were simply waiting, standing in the middle of the living room.
It was Giles who had the bravery to ask the question.
"Willow?"
"Gone. Spike, too. They took his car," Buffy reported briefly.
"Headed out of town, no doubt." Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them. "I fear there's not much we can do at this point."
"But she's still alive, right?" Xander broke in, "I mean, you didn't actually see a body, did you?"
"Xander, I wish I could tell you that Willow's fine, and everything will be alright, but the truth is, she's not fine. She's a vampire, or will be soon," Buffy said with a sob.
"The only way that spell would break accidentally would be through the death of the caster," Giles added, "We have to face the facts."
Xander looked like he was about to cry. He collapsed onto the sofa with his head in his hands. Anya came over to comfort him.
Buffy sat down as well, shaking her head. "It's my fault. I knew there was something off about 'William', but I didn't take the time to look into it myself. I had Spike follow him, and you can guess how well that turned out. I was going to follow up on it, but I never got around to it."
"You couldn't have known," Giles consoled her, "I blame myself, actually. They were working together rather closely several times, and I knew that Spike had an interest in her. But I just thought it was her magic he was after."
"I knew," Anya confessed, in a small voice.
"You what?" came the chorus of responses.
"I knew it was Spike," Anya insisted, her voice strengthening, "That disguise wouldn't fool a child. It's like that guy in the comics who can leap tall buildings. I mean, really, he puts on a pair of glasses and nobody knows it's him? Please!"
"Let's try to get back to the point, Ahn," Xander said testily, shaking off her arm and facing her, "You knew about Spike, and you didn't say anything?"
"Why should I say anything? They were happy together. I didn't know about the chip, after all," she said defensively.
"You knew he was a vampire," Buffy pointed out, "You should have said something, Anya. We could have stopped this whole thing before it even started."
"I doubt it," Anya countered, "I'm pretty sure they were already in love when we met in the Bronze. Besides, they made a cute couple."
"I can't believe it!" Xander exploded suddenly, jumping up, his temper fueled by grief, "My best friend is dead, and you knew about it the whole time, and you never said anything! What kind of girlfriend are you? What kind of human are you?"
"Now, Xander…" Giles began, trying to calm the young man, but Anya interrupted.
"Well, maybe I'm not a perfect girlfriend, goodness knows, I'm not a perfect human, but I do care about Willow, believe it or not. I just wanted her to be happy. And besides, they were already together long before I found out. I doubt there was much you could have done. And I'm sick and tired of your anti-demon prejudice! I'm leaving!" With that, she stormed out of the apartment.
Xander looked a little stunned at her rapid exit, then collapsed back on the couch.
"Perhaps we were a little hard on her," Giles observed, cleaning his glasses once more.
"Maybe," Buffy mused, "And Anya did have a point. By the time we finally met 'William', Spike probably already had his hooks in Willow. We might not have been able to separate them, even if we knew."
"How did Willow end up with Spike anyway?" Xander questioned disbelievingly.
"Well, Spike can be rather charming when he wants to be," Giles said.
"I'll say. You should read his love letters," Buffy added.
The other two looked at her.
"What? Willow showed me one of them!" she explained hastily.
"So that's it? Spike goes all charming on her, and Willow forgets he's an evil killer?" Xander's tone was incredulous.
"I believe the chip lulled all of us into a false sense of complacency," Giles opined, "Plus, Willow herself was in a very vulnerable emotional state, what with Oz's departure. She would have been easy prey for someone like Spike."
"We haven't exactly been there for her, either," Buffy said guiltily, "We've been wrapped up with our own lives."
"And now it's too late," Xander lamented, finally accepting the reality before him, "Now we'll never get her back, will we?"
Buffy shook her head, and the room sank into silence. They sat there like figures in a tableau, a living sculpture of tragedy and grief. No one spoke, no one moved. In fact, it was hours before anyone noticed the note that had been shoved under the door.