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Amy opened her tightly clenched eyes. She was back in the library, lying on her back inside the circle they chalked onto the floor. Giles and Oz sat on opposite sides watching her with matching expressions of concern and apprehension.
“What happened?” Giles asked.
Her head was spinning, adrenaline pumping through her veins. In all her spellcasting, Amy had never experienced anything like that. She lifted herself onto her elbows, but stopped when her head began to pound. “I found her…explained the prophecy.” She closed her eyes and laid back down, her arm over her eyes. “Oh, wow,” she said painfully.
“What is it?”
“My head,” moaned the blond. Then she opened her eyes and grinned at the two. “You’ve got to try it sometime, it’s such an adrenaline rush.”
Oz smiled slightly. “Do you need help getting up?”
As painful as it was for her, Amy shook her head. “No, I think I’m just going to lay here on the floor for a while. Wait until my brain starts functioning again. It might take a couple of years, but if you throw a rug over me, no one will notice.”
Another smile, then the werewolf asked, “So what do we do now?”
Amy glanced at Giles before saying; “We wait. They’re safe now, that I know for sure. All they have to do now is get back home.”
“You make that sound as if it were an easy feat.”
The witch shrugged. “Well, they got there, didn’t they?” Then she glanced around the room. “Hey, where’s Drusilla?”
Oz shrugged. Giles answered, “She disappeared right after you. I assume she assisted in the fight, then passed on when the prophecy was fulfilled.”
As soon as Ariak’s knees hit the ground, the Slayer burst through the door and broke into a run across the castle’s lawn. The rest of the crowd followed, with the exception of Cordelia. She stood in the castle’s foyer, watching the scene before her in a mild state of shock.
As Cordelia watched Buffy help the King to his feet, a million thoughts raced through her head. The sadness and compassion she felt at that moment were another example of just how much she had changed in the past few years. She considered that for a moment, and let the relatively new feelings digest. The Slayerette considered her life to be anything but sheltered, especially after she got caught up in ‘the misadventures of Buffy and friends’. Even after those small instances of world-saving, she never encountered anything like the past few days. From outsmarting trolls to girl talk with Willow to watching two brothers fight to the death, her recent experiences ranked pretty high on the ‘bizarro-meter’. It was finally taking its toll.
“Hey, are you okay?” the softly spoken words revived Cordelia from her silent state of shock.
She turned around to face Xander. As she tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, she said irritably, “Of course I’m fine. I’m peachy! I have absolutely no reason to be upset…Well, you know, unless you include anything that happened in the past 48 hours.”
He studied her for a moment, trying to gauge her emotional state. Xander had a tendency to be pretty dense when it came to girl stuff, but he always managed to be there when it really counted. It was good to know, but she really hated making a scene. Cordelia stared back at him coldly, silently urging him to leave her alone. Xander stubbornly remained, his expression softening as he reached out and took her hand. Cordelia flinched in response, which was enough to send the tears spilling over her cheeks rebelliously.
Silently, Xander pulled her into his arms. His actions were more touching than anything he could have said to comfort her, but they didn’t have the desired effect of calming her down. Instead, he managed to break through the wall she put up, releasing the flood of emotions held within. To his surprise, the Slayerette broke down into sobs.
They stood like that for a while; Cordy crying and Xander trying desperately to calm her down. The poor boy had no idea how to comfort her. He just stood helplessly and held on. It was enough for her, and eventually she did. But she didn’t move until he softly told her, “They’re coming in now.”
Immediately, she pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes, the only real evidence of her crying. Conveniently, Cordelia’s eyes didn’t get red or puffy like other people. She said pleadingly to Xander, “Don’t tell them I cried, okay?” Then she began straightening her clothes, a nervous habit she acquired from a childhood of primping.
Xander watched her, then nodded in understanding. “I won’t say a word,” he promised. He gave her a small smile and wiped away a tear she had missed. “But just because they don’t either, doesn’t mean they don’t know.”
Her eyes jumped from her rumpled clothing to meet his. Xander was the stereotypical boy, all hormones and smart-aleck comments, but he managed to continuously surprise her with insightful comments like that.
They sat in a half-circle around the warm fire, afraid to leave the comfort of light and the warmth of the flames. Buffy stood in the doorway, away from it all as she silently observed her friends. Xander, Cordelia, Spike, and Angel were all lost in the dancing fire and their own screaming thoughts. It was Angel who first entered the library, desperate to escape the painful company of others and searching for a place to brood in solitude. The rest of the group eventually joined him for their own reasons. Buffy returned from her visit with Ariak and Willow to found them like that.
She understood. They had all seen terrible things in their time, but the past twenty-four hours played like a bad dream. No one was unaffected by the horrors they experienced. Buffy just knew how to deal with it. She got some really good denial genes from her mother.
The Slayer examined the room in which they took refuge. It was nothing like the one they had at Sunnydale High School. For one, the absence of Giles left an obvious emptiness. This library was much older, too. The walls were covered with stone and bookshelves, and the only furnishings were a couple of ancient leather couches. Still, a musty smell of mold and ancient pages permeated the room, and if Buffy closed her eyes she could almost pretend she was home.
“Are they going to be okay?” The Slayer opened her eyes slowly and gazed thoughtfully at the brunette standing before her. Buffy must have spent more time thinking than she thought; the group’s silent reverie had been broken, and all members of the group were gone from the room. “Are they?” Cordelia repeated. Buffy raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the Slayerette’s concern.
“I think so,” she answered after a while. “Willow’s…a work in progress. And Ariak is well on the road to recovery. I guess, in a way, his brother was already gone for him. This was sort of like closure.”
The May Queen smiled at the Slayer’s psychological analysis. “Okay, Dr. Buffy,” she teased gently.
Buffy smiled back at her, relieved to have a little normalcy in her otherwise chaotic day. “I can have layers, too, you know.”
Xander stepped up behind Cordelia and took her hand. “You think I can go visit Will, now?”
Buffy nodded, then hesitated. “Um, I don’t know. She’s got that whole, ‘I don’t want to be alone but please get away from me’ thing going on. Very un-Willow like. I figured I could just leave her alone for a while, then go check on her in a little bit. You can go instead, if you want to.”
Xander nodded, worry etched in his face. “I do,” he replied.
The bathtub was filled with hot, almost scalding water, but Willow could barely feel it. She shivered despite the heat around her, then closed her eyes. After a moment she opened them and stared at the swirling steam that surrounded her. Buffy had drawn the bath, filled it with bubbles, and insisted that relaxing in it would make her feel better. Willow concurred after a while.
As soon as she stepped into the tub, however, she got lost in her thoughts. They swirled around her in a palpable mixture of steam and despair. She tried to ignore them, but every thought rang loud and clear in the silence around her. Then she heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Willow called out weakly, assuming the person on the other side would be Buffy. It wasn’t. Willow did a quick check to make sure she was covered, then turned her weary gaze to the man standing before her.
Spike stood there, for the first time looking uncomfortable in his surroundings. “Uh, how are you doing, pet?” he asked after a moment.
Willow blinked. She wasn’t expecting concern. “I…I’m okay, I guess,” she fumbled. “I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. It’s all so…” Willow stopped, suddenly aware that she didn’t have his full attention. His attention was, instead, focused on the bubbles in which she sat. “Spike,” she said, annoyed.
“Yeah,” he answered, his gaze unmoving.
She sharpened her voice, responding, “I’m up here.”
Spike’s cold blue eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Of course, love,” he said easily. They stared at each other a moment, unsure of what to say. It was the ex-vampire that broke the silence. His eyes were glued to hers. “Maybe we should talk some other time.”
Willow nodded in agreement, finally realizing how much clothing she wasn’t wearing. A faint blush crawled up her cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Someplace that’s…else.”
“Or, if you need some help…” a grin slowly spread across his face.
“Out. Now.” Willow said pointedly. Spike threw her a quick wink, then turned and walked out of the room. After he was gone, she smiled to herself. His visit, if nothing else, was a nice distraction from her troubles. Plus, it made her feel better to know that underneath his cold bravado was someone with actual feelings. Willow climbed out of the tub and changed.
Willow stepped into the hallway, her feet slapping on the cold stone floor. Briefly, she wondered how Ariak could stand to live in such a cold, dark castle. She glanced over to the bedroom in which the King slept. It was then that her wall of denial began to crumble.
< I killed his brother. He’ll never see him again, and it’s entirely my fault. > Willow stared at the door, tears gathering in her eyes. Then she made her way to the bedroom, fully prepared for chocolate and a sob-fest. She paused, however, when she reached the doorway.
Spike was standing next to the bed, looking smug and relaxed until he caught Willow’s expression and the tears in her eyes. His face revealed concern, but he said nothing. Willow stood in the doorway, silently begging him to say nothing because any words he said would break her. Then she slowly made her way over to the bed and sat on the edge. He still said nothing, only watched her watching him. Willow closed her eyes, trying to stop her hands from shaking and the tears that began to fall.
“Tell me,” he said so softly it was barely audible.
She stared at him, trembling, breaking down from the inside as her cocoon of denial crumbled. Still, she couldn’t say anything. It hurt too much to even think about it. Putting her feelings into words would be like accepting it was real. And she couldn’t. Not yet.
Spike nodded slowly. “I understand, love,” he said. He walked over to her and gently kissed her forehead. Then he turned and strode towards the door.
Willow lay down on the bed, then called out quietly, “Spike?” He stopped in the doorway and turned back to face her. Her gaze was focused on the ceiling above the bed. “Um, do you think maybe you could--I mean, if you don’t mind--would you stay here…Just until I fall asleep? It’s…I…” Willow finally turned her attention to him, embarrassed by the surprised expression he wore and not caring at the same time. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she tearfully explained, “I’m so afraid…”
After a brief hesitation, the ex-vampire walked over to a chair next to the bed and sat down. Then he took her hand in his and said to her, “Don’t be.”
No sooner were the words spoken did Willow’s eyes close. Knowing that he would be there, watching over her, gave the hacker a protected feeling that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Briefly, she mused over the fact that it was Spike, her not-so-mortal enemy that she felt the safest around. Then all her thoughts of Spike and everything else faded as she drifted to sleep.
Spike watched her for a long time. He patiently waited for her slow, even breathing before quietly finishing his sentence, “…’cause if anyone hurts you again, I’ll make sure they regret it for the rest of their short, painful bloody life.” Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Willow was unconscious, so she didn’t observe any of the disturbingly sweet moment.
But Xander did.