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The night was cold as Willow stood on the balcony and stared into the darkness that surrounded her. The moon and stars hung high sky, but a layer of fog that covered the sky dimmed their light. Brightly lit cottages dotted the mountainside, but were slowly snuffed out as the locals went to sleep. Soon, all the lights were gone and Willow found herself staring into blackness.
Not that she minded. The redhead was so lost in thoughts that she could barely see the view, anyway. She was supposed to be inside with the others discussing their departure. But it was so uncomfortable in there. Everyone kept sneaking glances at her, like they wanted to say something but didn’t want to make a scene. Willow was glad, in a way. She didn’t think she could take one more person’s opinion or pity at that moment.
And from the looks on everyone’s faces, she could tell that they knew. Somehow, they knew what was going on between her and Spike. Willow suspected it was Cordelia who told. Not that there was anything to tell. Yes, there was a moment, a sliver in time where she looked into those cold blue eyes and saw them soften just for her. She honestly thought she could fall for him, and believed he was doing the same.
But, as if it were a dream, the redhead awoke to find the situation the same as always. He was watching her sleep, standing over her as he had promised, but he was talking to someone. She looked into his eyes and saw the tears that had somehow formed while she slept peacefully. Glanced around the room and found it be otherwise empty. She searched for an explanation even asked for it, but as soon as she did, the light faded from his eyes. Spike left the room abruptly and avoided her since then.
It surprised her how much that hurt.
But Spike didn’t seem to notice. Or care. In fact, all of her friends seemed to be keeping their distance. She supposed that she should be glad--her being sane and all--but their disinterest in her well being had Willow feeling sort of unappreciated. Even Buffy hadn’t approached her since that afternoon.
Not that she blamed her. The Slayer was pretty caught up in the drama that is Buffy and Angel. Willow allowed herself a small sigh of relief. As messed up and confusing as her love life continued to be, it was never as much as Buffy’s. Angel’s humanity was a dream come true for the Slayer, but soon they would have to return to the real world and their old problems. They had a poetic love, filled with passion and trauma, but it was doomed to failure. No matter which world they found themselves in, the truth remained. Angel was a vampire and Buffy was not. It could never work.
Which brought Willow full circle back to her own problem: Spike. Who somehow materialized out of thin air and was standing behind her, silhouetted in the doorway, watching her with those mesmerizing blue eyes. Willow kept her back to him, trying not to acknowledge his presence. They stood there in awkward silence, him watching her as she tried to ignore him and all the feelings that his presence provoked. Eventually, he walked towards her until she could see his breath breezing past her in a small cloud of steam in the cold air. Spike’s voice broke the awkward silence. “How are you doing, love?”
Quietly, she answered, “I’m fine as long as I don’t think.”
More silence, then, “It’s cold out here, love.”
Willow’s eyes were still glued forward. She nodded and said, “Yeah, well, it’s cold in there, too.”
He seemed to notice the goose bumps that formed on her arms, for he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. Then he rested his chin on her shoulder and tried to follow her gaze. “The view sucks,” he added.
Willow nodded, although she didn’t feel the chill run up her spine until that moment. “I’m aware of that.”
She couldn’t see the questioning in his eyes, but could hear it in his voice as he asked, “Then what are you doing out here alone, love?”
“Being alone,” she muttered. “And my name is Willow.”
“I know that. It’s an expression, pet.”
Willow tried to sound angry, or at least mildly frustrated as she said, “Well, I’m not your pet, or love, or whatever. I’m not yours, I’m Oz’s. I love Oz.”
“Then what is this you have with me?” he asked as he gently nuzzled her neck. Willow abruptly stepped forward and then whirled to face him.
This time she sounded angry for real, “This is…Well, I don’t know what this is. But it’s bad, very bad, and it’s gonna stop right now!”
Spike stood before her, unimpressed with her outburst. He considered the statement. “It is a bit off, you know; you and me. But there’s something...” Spike’s voice trailed off as he reached forward and gently touched her hair, tangling his hand in the copper strands. Willow closed her eyes and leaned a little closer to him, allowing herself to enjoy the gesture. “Stop it later,” he commanded quietly.
Willow’s eyes popped open. “No! Oz! Don’t you understand, I can’t do this to him again!”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Well, me and Xander had some smoochies. He just got over that.” Shame colored her cheeks.
“Doesn’t that say something to you, lov-- er, Willow? Do you honestly think you love that wanker?”
Willow ignored the insult. “Didn’t I just say that?”
He looked bored. “Do you mean it?” Spike clarified.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I want to be with Oz.”
“And what do you expect me to do? Just give up?”
“Well…” Willow looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah,” she said finally.
“You’re living in a dream world,” he told her. She glared at him. In response, the ex-vampire added, “Don’t worry, it’s one of the things I love best about you.” He reached up and brushed his hand along the bone in her jaw.
Willow’s face fell. “Don’t be sweet, you’re making this harder.”
“Good,” he said with a smile.
“Good? Why is that good? What are you planning?”
Spike appeared to catch the worry on her face, for he smiled faintly. Then he looked over the balcony into the night. After a few minutes and what looked to be an internal debate, he turned back to her. Willow waited, unsure that she wanted to know what he was about to say.
She looked into his eyes, observing the numerous flashes of emotions that passed through. First there was sincerity. “I never really thought about it much, you know, ‘cause I really didn’t care. But this ‘I’m human and soul having’ thing is making me act a bit like Angelus.” A flash of contempt, then sadness, “I’m damned to Hell. I know that. I’ve even accepted it. Then you come waltzing into my unlife and turn it upside down. And now, you’re the only bright spot I can see in my whole bloody future.” Another emotion, one she couldn’t place, then he continued, “You could save me, love. You could make me forget where I’m headed just by looking at me like you are right now. We could be happy.”
Suddenly, as if he realized they were having a moment, his face became bored and expressionless. “I don’t really feature losing all that just because you don’t want to hurt the wolf’s feelings. I’m gonna fight, ‘cause that’s what I do best. Then I’m gonna win.”
Willow wasn’t sure if she should be touched or scared. She chose the latter. “Um, what if you don’t win?”
Spike reached up and gently cupped her face in his hands again. His eyes twinkled with mischief and determination. “Don’t fret, love. I don’t lose.” Then, before she could say anything, he crushed her lips with his own and kissed her as if he put every bottled emotion into it. She felt the weight of each one as soon as their lips met, and the passion was heart stopping. It took her breath away, and left her dumbfounded even when he roughly pulled away and took a step back. She almost fell over from the abruptness, clutching the railing behind her for support. He gave her a quick wink, then turned and strolled back into the castle without so much as a glance in her direction.
Willow stared into the doorway, incredulous. “Oh, boy.”
A thick layer of fog was building over the lush green forests, a foreboding sign. Angel sat on a bench just outside the castle and quietly stared into the trees. He inhaled the damp air, too miserable to enjoy the feel of it in his lungs. Then he sighed. It was something he hadn’t been able to do in a long time. Something he sorely missed, like the world in sunlight or his reflection in a mirror. It was the type of thing normal people took for granted, but not vampires turned human who were running out of time.
Soon, he would have to return to his nightmare. Life would be filled with stars and moons and demons that couldn’t be explained. He would have to make his trip back to Los Angeles with Cordelia and say goodbye to Buffy, bringing back the complication and sadness that he fought so hard the first time. And he’d have to face his demon once again, feel it rush through him, capturing the dark part of his mind and circulating in his blood; feel his soul fighting it within and the rush of painful memories that came with it’s victory.
Angel sighed again. At least he had that.
From the corner of his eye, he caught movement. A shadow was behind him, watching without announcing its presence. Then it proceeded to approach him slowly, pausing next to the bench and then sitting down beside him. He turned to look into the hazel eyes before him and felt the softness of skin as she took his hand into her own.
“Stop brooding,” she commanded. < Typical Buffy. > Angel smiled sadly and squeezed her hand. He was constantly amazed by how fragile, yet strong she was all at once. She smiled back at him, a mask of cheerfulness that faded away to reveal her mostly hidden angst. “I wish I knew what to say to make you happy. I wish I could make you forget, even for a moment, what’s gonna happen when we get back. But I can’t. I’m Buffy. Eloquent words of comfort are more Willow’s department.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he told her. She nodded and looked into his eyes. Suddenly, she leaned forward and kissed him softly, then pulled away to look into his eyes once more. “Buffy…” he began, but she put a finger over his lips to stop him.
“I understand, Angel. You don’t have to tell me. I just wanted to know what it was like, with you human. Sounds crazy, huh?” she asked with a sad little grin. He smiled again and reached up to brush her hair out of her face.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly.
The Slayer shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. If I could handle it the first time--saying goodbye--then I could do it again. I know we can never have a normal relationship or even any relationship at all, but I can’t help the way I feel. I love you, Angel. I always will. But I understand the way it has to be. And if all I can be is your friend, well, then I’ll deal with everything else. But not having you there, I…I don’t think I can live like that.”
He saw the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over as she spoke, but fade away when she stopped. For once, her strength was overcome by her misery. Buffy’s shoulders slumped in defeat as she looked away and stared into the mist that surrounded them. After a while, she asked, “Can I brood with you?”
Angel chuckled slightly at her change of motives. She was supposed to be lifting him up, not going down with him. “I missed you too, Buffy.” He wrapped his arm around the Slayer and pulled her close to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and she closed her eyes. He watched her, trying to enjoy the feel of her in his arms one last time. Soon, their moment together would come to an end. They would have to return and go their separate ways. It was painful but inevitable.
But for that moment, they could ignore the future and just be together.
He sighed for the hundredth time that night and gently kissed her forehead. A smile of contentment slowly spread across Buffy’s face. Eventually, Angel smiled with her.
At least he had that.
“You honestly don’t expect me to touch that, do you Xander?” Cordelia said, making a disgusted face.
The boy rolled his eyes, “Just grab it, Cordy. It’s really not that bad.” Whatever it was, it wasn’t pretty. He was glad it wasn’t his job. Xander glanced over to the brunette and threw her an annoyed glance.
“Xander, it’s slimy. I’m not touching it,” she stated. “Hey, I know. Why don’t we trade?” she suggested brightly, as if that were the best idea she had for months.
Xander’s eyes turned towards the ceiling, displaying his obvious exasperation, and sighed. Then he put the box he had been holding on table and moved to stand next to her. He looked down into the stone bowl that Ariak had been mixing, then back up at his girlfriend. He still couldn’t identify the small mass of goo, but had already established that it was pretty high on the list of things he didn’t want to mess with. It was a bright bluish-greenish-pinkish glob and a putrid odor somewhat like garbage emanated from the bowl.
“What do you think it is?” asked Cordelia, her nose wrinkled.
Xander searched his memory, trying to think of anything relative. “Remember our Chemistry midterm last year? We had to put all those chemicals in the big pot and boil them until they somehow turned into blue goo?” Cordelia stared at him with confusion, trying to recall the assignment until she suddenly got a flashback.
Cordy bit her lip to keep from laughing at him, an expression Xander saw pretty often. “Um, Xand, that was cooking class freshman year. The ‘blue goo’ was Jell-O.”
Xander stared at her a moment, feeling only a little like a moron, then slowly nodded. “Then my guess is that it’s the complete opposite of that.”
Cordelia gave the bowl one curt nod, then walked away to pick up the box Xander had set down. “Well, pick it up and let’s go. Ariak’s waiting on us,” she ordered.
He glanced up at her in surprise, then down at the goo. “I’ve been duped,” he told it, then picked up the bowl and followed Queen C.
The overwhelming scent of roses and lilacs was the first thing to hit Xander as he made his way to the small clearing in the garden. The second thing was Ariak, sitting on a small patch of grass, surrounded by flowers and a circle of candles. A medium sized cauldron was in front of him, filled with different petals and herbs, and releasing a small cloud of yellow smoke. The King’s eyes were closed and his hands were raised into the air. His lips moved to say something unintelligible to Xander. He didn’t want to disturb the scene, so he and Cordy just watched, mesmerized.
Magic wasn’t a completely unfamiliar thing in their world of witches and vampires, but it was still relatively new. Willow’s occasional spellcasting was their only exposure to the wonderful world of magic, so this new spell that Ariak was weaving interested them.
“Whatcha doing?” The voice came from behind the couple, quiet enough to keep from disturbing the King, but loud enough to make Xander jump and shriek like a woman. He almost dropped the bowl. Trying a defensive stance he saw Buffy do once, Xander spun around to see Spike standing behind them, arms crossed.
“Don’t DO that,” hissed the ‘zeppo’, glaring. Cordelia smirked, a gesture that Spike immediately mirrored. Xander continued, “Hey, I could have easily thought you were a monster and staked you.” He paused, considered his own words, and corrected, “Oh, wait, that would’ve been a GOOD thing.”
Spike threw his head back and laughed. “You? Stake me? That would’ve been good for a laugh.”
Xander lifted his chin a bit, trying to look tough. “You don’t think so?”
Still smiling, the blond replied, “I may be human, but I can still rip out your heart and eat it for dinner.” Danger flashed across his eyes then gave way to amusement. Spike stepped to the side, and Xander could see Buffy standing there, a stake poised for attack, aiming at the place Spike’s back formerly occupied. It was Xander’s turn to smirk.
“Play nice,” she threatened, “or else.”
Spike didn’t look very scared, which disappointed Xander. He stated, “Or else what? You can’t stake me, I’m not a vampire.”
A familiar smile slowly crept across the Slayer’s face, part mischievous, part gleeful. “I haven’t staked a vamp for a while now, Spike. It’s getting to the point that evil vampires turned human who are gonna be vamps again are sounding like good targets for Mr. Pointy. Just try me, see how it works out.”
“Getting a little worked up over words, are we Slayer?”
Buffy just stared, not lowering her weapon. “Oh, it’s way more than that.”
“Then what is it?”
The Slayer’s eyes narrowed a bit, “One word: Willow.”
Spike shrugged, looking indifferent. “What about her?” The fact that he was so nonchalant about it made Xander want to punch him in the face. Still, in fear for his life, he held back.
“Don’t play dumb.”
For good measure, Xander threw in, “Not that you’re playing.”
Buffy threw Xander a glare before continuing, “We know what’s going on between you two.”
There was no change in Spike’s demeanor, nothing to indicate his real feelings toward the matter. “That’s not your business.”
Buffy looked meaningfully at her stake, then back to Spike. “I made it my business,” she growled. “And if you ask me...” Then she trailed off, staring into a place behind them all. Everyone turned to see Willow, arms crossed before her, looking angry. Xander frowned. It wasn’t very often that his childhood friend would show her anger. Usually, she kept it inside to avoid conflict. Somehow, he doubted they would be able to avoid this.
“Well, I didn’t ask you,” Willow said. “Any of you.”
“Will, I...” Xander began, feeling guilty.
“No!” she cut in suddenly, making them all jump in surprise. “My love life is none of your business. You’re my friends, but that doesn’t give you the right to spy on me or...or threaten to kill my boyfriends.”
Spike furrowed his brows, “Boyfriends?”
Willow glared at him, “Shut up, you know what I mean! I can’t think of anything else to call you right now so that’s just going to have to work.” Then she turned her fiery green gaze back to the Slayer and Xander and continued as if uninterrupted, “That’s not your job, and I never asked you to make it your job. I don’t know what’s going to happen once we get home, but whatever does is my decision and mine ALONE!” Then she glanced at Spike a bit sheepishly but still angrily and added, “Well, maybe not mine, alone. But definitely not any of yours.”
“Will, I’m sorry, I--” Xander began, but was once again cut off by Willow.
This time she appeared to have calmed down a little. “It’s okay, Xand. I understand you were just trying to look out for me. Just...stop it, okay? I appreciate it, but I don’t need it.” Then she glanced over to the Slayer meaningfully. “Same for you.”
From the corner of his eye, Xander could see Spike’s small nod of approval. Then he said, “Well, that was impressive. What now?”
Willow turned towards Cordelia and the newly arrived Angel, who stood silently to watch the display. She almost smiled, relieved that they had nothing to add. Cordelia was all for her and Spike getting together, and she knew Angel had years of wisdom. He knew when his opinion was needed and when it wasn’t. Then Willow glanced over at Ariak, who had just finished his chanting, and said, “Now we go home.”
As Giles flicked the switch that darkened the library, he noted the emptiness that surrounded him. He was alone in the semi-darkness, and for once had the time to reflect upon it. Oz and Amy left for the night, relieved to have no more research. Buffy and the ‘Slayerettes’ had yet to make their way back home, so the only voices that echoed throughout the room were from the music emanating from within the ancient radio that crackled from the office. A faint click signaled that the coffee maker was done boiling water, and Giles walked over to turn it off.
Then he set about making himself a cup of tea, hoping the normalcy of the act would ease his discomfort. The absence of both Buffy and Willow had him feeling slightly out of place in the cavernous room, as if he didn’t belong in the one place that he came to spend a majority of his time in. He even missed Xander, something he never thought would happen.
His footsteps echoed loudly as he made his way through the numerous shelves, cup of tea in hand, to the office. Once there, he sat down on the leather chair and stared ahead. There was nothing to do, really, but sit and wait and imagine horrible scenarios. Pictures of the Slayer and her friends-his friends < even Cordelia and Angel > -dying or trapped in a parallel universe kept flashing across his mind. The idea of their deaths was a terrible thought, really, and one he didn’t want to entertain. But he was tired, too tired to fight such images, and paranoia had begun to set in.
I didn’t help that a slight but growing breeze kept blowing past him, even though all the doors and windows were tightly shut. He tried to ignore it, focusing on a new book laid out before him, but the wind grew stronger. When he saw the light begin to flash around him, he turned his attention to his newly chaotic environment. The wind blew the pages of his book around wildly, and he dove to slam it shut before any damage was done. He realized the pointlessness of it as he glanced into the main room and saw an entire bookshelf fall over.
The librarian rose from the confines of his office and stood in the doorway, watching the light grow brighter until it was blinding. He shielded his eyes until the chaos ceased abruptly. He lowered his defenses and focused on the center of the room where two figures stood watching him. He almost thought he imagined them, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around to see Angel and Cordelia standing in his office. He turned his eyes back to the center of the room where Xander and Buffy still stood watching him.
The Slayer raised an eyebrow, “Gee, Giles. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He considered that, then answered, “I’ve seen worse. But from the looks of it, so have you.”
From the office, Angel replied cryptically, “You have no idea.”
Then Buffy added, “Yeah, we killed a Draven.”
Giles furrowed his brow, recalling the Slayer’s penchant for mispronunciation. “You mean a dragon?”
She shook her head in response. “Nope, it was Draven. Evil scary magician guy.” Then she added, “Actually, it was Willow who defeated him.”
Giles nodded, then glanced around the room in search of the redhead. “And where is Willow?”
Everyone shared a glance before Cordelia stepped forward to answer, “With Spike.” He was, perhaps, the only person in the room who didn’t know the many different levels that one statement possessed.
Spike opened his eyes and blinked against the harsh fluorescent light that hung above him. A quick glance around the room told him that he’d been successfully shipped back home and into the cage that previously held Willow. At the same moment he remembered her, he realized that she was still there.
She was standing against the wall, watching him curiously but not daring to speak. He stared at her dumbly, not knowing what to say or how to feel now that they were home. Now that he was a vampire again. He knew she was afraid because he could hear her heartbeat, smell her fear, but he didn’t know what she feared more: Him or the situation.
Spike rose from his position on the floor and stood to face her. She watched him, motionless, and waited for him to make the first move. It was then that he realized he blocked her only exit from the cage. She had no choice but to wait for his move. Many options ran through Spike’s head as he stood there. He could have killed her or kissed her or said something comforting to let her know it was going to work out.
But he didn’t know if it would, and he didn’t want to make her promises that he couldn’t keep. So he said nothing. Only watched her, observing the confusion that crossed her face as she tried to find words of her own, but doing nothing to ease or add to it. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she uttered no words.
Instead, Willow reached out her hand slightly, holding her palm out to him. He stared at her a moment, then realized he had unconsciously begun to do the same. His stopped it right before they made a connection and he pulled away, afraid of what complications might come with such contact. He saw the hurt in her eyes as she kept his gaze.
There was still confusion in those green eyes, and a lot of pain. But mostly there was love and acceptance, something he wasn’t sure he deserved. For as much as he wanted to reach out and hold her in his arms, another part of him wanted to hurt her for making him feel that way. He was torn, caught between the idea of loving her and draining her dry. “What do you want from me?” he demanded.
Willow was silent, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, unfazed by his anger as she stared into his eyes. “I want you to win,” she said softly.
Spike took an involuntary step back, surprised at her answer and unsure of how to reply. More than anything, he wanted the same thing. And that scared him more than he ever dreamed. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a roughed up pack of cigarettes and a lighter, trying to think of something to do. He lit one up and inhaled slowly, enjoying the burning smoke that entered his dead lungs. He hadn’t smoked since before they left.
Spike looked back up at Willow. She remained silent, unnerving him to no end. Then he smiled--cryptic, sad, and ironic all at the same time--and answered, “Happy endings are overrated.” Then he turned towards the exit and walked out of her life.