Chapter One Hundred and Forty Five

Genie

San Francisco, the world without shrimp - Buffy's 26th birthday 2007

Buffy was standing in front of the counter, punch in a solo cup behind her, the phone tucked to her ear with her shoulder. "Yeah Dawnie, I'm having a great time," she said. Dawn hadn't been able to make back from Ireland for the party and had rung in the middle of all the chaos. Buffy didn't mind, it was a welcome distraction from watching Anya pretend she couldn't sit down properly because she was three months pregnant. That and watching Willow and Xander fight over the Twister. "Willow's just about to win Twister and Anya's setting pregnancy boundaries." She smiled her trademark freshman smile as Dawn laughed on the other end of the line.

In truth, Buffy was glad her apartment was busy, everything had been so quiet since Christmas. She even missed Leo in a big sister sort of way. She missed the authority, telling them to keep the bedroom door open and hugging him overenthusiastically the way her mom would've done. "Just save some of the cake, that way you can have it for breakfast tomorrow," Dawn said excitedly.

"Yeah I don't think we have to worry about that, Xander brought over a sheet cake the size of well, me." Buffy laughed, picking up her cup and taking a very red sip.

"You're not really that big."

"Hey! That is- well, that is... just super mean." Buffy replied, "I'm hanging up on you now."

"Bye-" Dawn started, but Buffy cut her off to intercept Xander from injuring himself too much. She rushed over to grab him before he completely crushed Willow. But then she lost her footing, and the two of them went tumbling into a heap on the floor. Tara chuckled as she watched Willow pick herself up from the floor. She extended her hand and let Tara yank her onto the couch.

"Fine you win." Xander conceded walking over to the kitchen for another cup of punch. "But only because I was about to squash you, you win by default." Willow cheered in victory and then started on the bowl of chips in front of her, determined that she was suddenly starving and in need of sustenance.

Buffy picked herself up and looked around the room for Spike, he was here earlier but he must've snuck off for a smoke break. "Guys, I'm just gonna-" she pointed towards the door, met with a resounding, "okay Buff," from Xander and a "but we were just about to have cake" pout from Willow. She excused herself, telling them to just cut the cake and that she'd be back in a minute. Tara saw a flicker of blue lies in her aura. Her brow creased, there was an underlying fear there too. And for a moment she wished she could read Buffy's mind.

The slayer slipped out the door quietly and down the hall. She took the stairs rather than the lift, hoping to put off talking to Spike for as long as possible. Plus it gave her time to think. Spike had started to scare her more than he ever had when he was evil. Back then he was just a demon to be killed. But they'd gone way past that, they were too connected, she owed him her life now, he'd destroyed the town to save them, to save the world. Spike was technically a hero. And he had a soul, so he was a grey area. A walking contradiction. He was messy, and he scared her. The way he looked at her out of the slits of his eyes, his piercing gaze turning her to dust.

She finished the last of the stairs, wrapping her jacket tighter around her. It was the dead of night, in January, it was cold. She spotted Spike round the corner, lurking like he used to, when they first arrived in the city. She trotted out after him and he ducked his head when he saw her. "Happy birthday," he said without much care. "I should go out patrolling for you, I suppose." He continued, his voice a sad drawl because what was supposed to be a kindness sounded like a chore to him now. He used to be obsessed with her, in love totally, that jealous, all consuming love that she found occasionally intoxicating. Wasn't she supposed to be ignoring him? Or was that time passing? Now he just stared at her like she made him sick and refused to spend the night. She knew now he had a way to remember the nightmares, he wasn't the same person he was. They were doing that to him.

He went out searching for Drusilla for weeks but he couldn't find her. That only made him more angry, the kind of anger he took out on Buffy because he had nowhere else to direct it. Willow had had words with him a few times, but there was just nothing they could do to stop him feeling like that. It'd been months, and the changes were starting to seem more permanent now. Buffy supposed it might be time to consider leaving him. But how could she?

"You don't have to." She replied lightly, stroking his shoulder and trying his best to avoid his smokey outbreaths. "You could just come upstairs and snuggle?" She was trying to be positive, trying to bring out the best in him. But his face was blank. No emotion.

"Yeah, whatever. I mean I'll probably just see everyone home and then go back to my crypt. You know how it is." Buffy shook her head and sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. She didn't want to spend what was left of her birthday arguing with him.

"Fine- look you know what? No! I'm not just gonna stand here and let you be all nonchalant and non-caring. It's grief station with you lately. I can't deal with it, I've just been standing her and taking it for months. But why do I bother? You don't care about me. I might as well just leave you to the dust and the smoke." She was purposely trying to make him angry, at least that would be something.

"Buffy," Spike said interrupting, dropping what was left of his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out.

"What?" She spat.

"Buffy, I love you. Is that not enough? Am I not enough for you?" He looked sad, out of place. Like this had nothing to do with his dreams. Buffy thought she was tied up in it all but Spike kept his feelings in different boxes. Separate as well as unfeeling.

Buffy looked up at him, stunned. His tone had changed completely, there was a desperate longing quality to it that there had always been before she loved him back. That person was still in there. That lover-not-a-fighter guy who wrote bloody awful poetry and loved his mother. "Spike I-I'm sorry." She took a step closer to him, taking his face in her palm, she stare into her eyes. "I didn't mean to, I just meant..." she trailed off because she was making excuses. "I know you love me, I do. It is enough, I'm sorry. I know you're suffering. I just wish I could make it better for you. But I can't, I can't do anything. I can't slay the demons in your head."

A week after New Years Willow found herself alone in the apartment. She was looking around at the empty space and thinking about the girl outside the club. She hadn't called, but Willow figured she was probably too scared to. She looked young and a little scared, the way she'd been back in high school. The difference was she'd been forced into magic, something that was necessary for survival. This girl could have it better. That made her think about the coven, how they'd helped Jenny cope after everything that happened. How they'd helped her and Tara develop their magicks in a place where they could be protected, in a community. Willow wanted to provide that, she thought she was capable now, that it would help her too. Give her a calling. So she picked up the phone and called Devon.

"Ahh Astra hi," she said expecting to get Mrs Harkness or Althenea on the one landline the coven had. But instead a chirpy younger girl had picked up and Willow decided it must be fate. "I was just thinking of you," she said cheerily, "how are you all?"

Astra's lips pulled into a smile, "I saw it in the tea leaves this morning, Willow. You can't get anything past me, not even harmless small talk. Why are you really calling?" This was the trouble with witches, they knew when you wanted something. Astra was always this blunt, always this straight to the point. Diviners tended to be, they already knew what was coming, they didn't want all the frills and niceties of the conversation when they knew where it was heading.

"You're always so on it." Willow said, trying to go around the houses and compliment her, despite knowing her. Astra rolled her eyes playfully. "I was just um wondering- well, I mean lately I've been thinking about starting my own coven - not like officially, just like a group. To do magic with." She bit the edge of her thumb nervously, worried Astra would tell her how bad an idea it was, and how she completely wasn't qualified to lead anything like that.

But she didn't. Instead she smiled and said, "that sounds like a good idea."

It wasn't until after Buffy's birthday that Astra arrived on the California shore, luggage in hand, boots on her feet. Astra portalled into the San Francisco bay behind a boat shed, she wasn't entirely sure how her calculations had been quite so off as to not land in Willow and Tara's apartment but she was an expert. That was her aunt Ida, boy had she been one for accuracy. She'd land right in the bowl of cereal you were eating if you weren't careful and she was mad at you. But nevermind that; Astra pulled herself out of the purple doorway and collected herself. She picked up the large carryon bag that constituted her luggage. She didn't have many possessions, the coven life was one of immaterial. The house was their belongings, and most of that stayed where it was. She brought only the clothes she travelled in (new ones could be bought on this side of the Atlantic), and a bag full of magical materials - her crystal ball, some herbs, apple seeds in a small wooden box, blue thread for protection, lavender for the same, peppermint oil for her hair and an alter cloth.

She wandered around for ten minutes or so, trying to gather herself and find someone to ask directions of. That's when she found him, a young man hauling crates from one side of the dock to the other. He stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat off his brow and that's when their eyes met. He smiled, it wasn't everyday there were young ladies in the dock, especially not women as beautiful as Astra was. Her long brown hair was braided and wrapped around her head like a snake, her purple dress showed off her shape as well as her fashion sense and highlighted the brown hues in her skin, making it seem like she was made of something delicious, like coffee or chocolate. She looked like something out of a dream. As she walked towards him, he called out to her, "excuse ma'am," his voice was thick with a southern accent that took her slightly by surprise. "Can I help you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped until they were standing closer together. "I just need to find my way to this address," she said, holding up a small scrap of paper with Willow's address on it. The man was equally surprised to hear the lilt of her English voice, but to him it was like birdsong. Exotic and exciting.

He took the piece of paper and examined it, he wasn't exactly sure where it was, but he pointed her towards the tourist information centre. "My name is Benjamin, er Ben. People usually just call me Ben." He stumbled over his words, not wanting her to leave his sight.

"Then so shall I, thank you Ben." Astra said, making for the direction he'd pointed her in. But he caught her arm and pulled her back around.

"I didn't get your name. How am I going to find you again?" Ben asked, more confidently than he would usually. But he couldn't help it, he felt simply enchanted by her presence. Like he'd be happy for her to break his heart over and over again, and he'd keep coming back to her.

"Astra." She replied plainly, urging him to let go of her. Which he did willingly, rolling her name around his tongue under his breath. As she went her fingers fell through his, giving him one last touch of a life that would change him. The fates twisting as their conversation had bloomed. Benjamin Mkambo's life would never be the same after meeting her.