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Chapter Three


“This isn’t good is it?” Kennedy questioned Faith once she had filled her in on the soap opera drama she had missed by her early exit.

“Honestly?” Faith asked as she sat sprawled out on her cot. Kennedy nodded and she shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I mean for B? Possibly. With Xand? I’m thinking something’s gotta give with that boy. He’s wound a little too tight these days, he’s just gonna snap if he doesn’t loosen up. For Spike? I might’ve at least filled him in on things if I were Willow before he hopped a 747.”

“But she didn’t know he was gonna just show up.” Kennedy insisted, loyalty for her girlfriend running through her veins. All it had taken was a little implication, that if the girls were still so awake that she could work in a little more practice, to get the SIT’s to scurry off to their makeshift rooms. The warehouse was humming quietly with low whispers in the dark giving Kennedy a chance to let Faith in on a few details she had skipped out on, not to mention share some of her own fears. She could never question Willow about any of this, she was too close, too embedded heart and soul but Faith? Faith was in the thick of it, no doubt about that, but she didn’t seem to take any personal stance about Spike’s return to the fold.

“I guess you’re right.” She stretched her long limbs over her head in a move that was half stripper, half cat and all Faith. “I guess it doesn’t matter when he hears it,” She sighed, laying her head back on her folded arm. “He still isn’t going to like it.”


*****


“So then after we found out about the call of Detatarius we had a way to locate the new slayers. I mean it’s not an easy spell, we had to go see the coven and Xander had pretty much insulted them by going ‘What’s up wicked witches in the monkey monk robes,’ that took some time to sooth over but once they meet Buffy it was like ‘Hello Elvis has just entered the building’.”

“Red? Is this gonna stumble across a point anytime soon?” Willow blushed, her cheeks flaming red to match her hair.

The two of them were sitting in the living area, or more accurately Willow was sitting, Spike was pacing. She looked tiny sitting on the sofa by herself; her body seemed to curl inward, making her appear far younger than her years. And as Spike watched her he could hardly equate her with the girl that had magicked him into a wall less than an hour ago. She didn’t look in charge; she didn’t look like the most powerful person in the building. She looked like a child waiting to be led, lost in the darkness.

And in a way she was. She was fumbling along with no light to guide her, no books to inform her, no Buffy to give her courage, not even Giles to work along side of her. She was on her own, set apart from the others who looked up to her. Everywhere she turned there were faces and hands reaching out, asking her to lead them. Food had to be bought, the girls had to be watched, volumes had to be looked in to find the source of the newest evil, bills had to be paid, clothes washed, new slayers located and brought into train, everywhere she turned there were faces expecting so much of her, wanting a leader when she was nothing more than the girl who had stood silently in the back row all her life and was content to do so. Now she was thrusted into the spotlight and all along they silently pleaded for Buffy, they wanted her back, they wanted her better, they wanted her as their leader. They looked to Willow to make her well, make her whole, to take care of them, to lead them, and the strain was beginning to show.

When she had asked Spike where he wanted her to start his answer had been at the beginning. Of course that might not have been the case if he had realized she was gonna explain every misadventure the group had been on since he had left the fold. And he had the distinct feeling the witch was trying to talk around the point, lose him in a circle of mindless details and inconsequential knowledge.

The actual reason was not nearly so malicious. The plain and simple truth of it was Willow didn’t know what to leave in and what to leave out. Some of it she was sure Angel had filled him in on but maybe she was overlooking something-anything that could help Buffy. She, more than anyone, had begun to doubt her ability to lead, and even the most meaningless and simple tasks left her feeling hollow with failure, because on the horizon lurked another and another. Never ending armies of chores that must be done zapping her energy. She had the feeling that the answer to Buffy’s sudden down turn was staring at her if only she could sit and think, really concentrate, but there was no time for that, there was too much that had to be done. So she laid it all out in front of Spike, hoping against hope that his keen eyes would detect a pattern hers had missed.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Spike beat her too it. “Look, I know you mean well but maybe we can skip all the good for you fairytale crap and get right down to it.” He knelt in front of the witch, blue eyes probing her green ones, silently insisting on an answer. “What’s wrong with her?”

She shivered slightly as if a draft of cold air had just blown through the deadly still room, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She worried her lip between her teeth, turning her head from his gaze to the upstairs room where a soft light was filtering from beneath the door, then finally meeting his eyes. “She’s insane.” There was no tremble in her voice, much to her surprise, the words were forbidden and there was a childish fear that some catastrophe would befall if they were spoken aloud.

But the sky did not fall, nor the earth fail to turn. Spike’s eyes merely darkened, but his face remained placid, his voice cool. “Gone off her nutter, has she?”

“Spike…” Whatever reaction Willow had braced herself for this was not it. He seemed unfazed, as if it were nothing more than a joke.

“Sorry, luv.” He smiled lightly. “Just this isn’t exactly the first time she’s gone to the dark side, is it? So come on, what did Goldilocks do this time that has your panties in such a bunch?”

But Willow couldn’t speak. She just stared at him in a horrified sort of manner, as if he had killed someone in front of her. And to her he might as well have. This was Buffy they were talking about and he was taking it all so… lightly. Didn’t he see how tense things were; feel the electricity and unease crackling in the air? Didn't he care?

“What?” He looked about him as if searching for his blunder, but finding none or at least none he could detect he pressed on. “So what is it this time? Another big stick by some demon and thinks we’re all figments of that overactive imagination of hers? Or is it just the usual craziness? Ya know the one where she thinks the world is out to get her and God forbid you disturb that chip on her shoulder?”

A feeling of such intense anger flooded Willow that for a moment she fought to surface in the ocean of dark energy trying to wash over her, control her. She was on her feet in an instant, barely missing stepping on Spike as he crouched below her, still looking vacantly at the spot she had occupied mere seconds before. Rigid lines formed, cutting deep into her skin, dissolving away an image of her being a lost child. She was dangerous, exuding anger, her whole body seething with hatred. Hatred at him for not caring, hatred at the others for placing this impossible burden on her small shoulders, and even for a moment at Buffy for not being here to help and guide her like a best friend should. "Get out." It was quiet, but crisp, a sharp order.

Spike finally rose, standing above her now, looking down on her, his feet planted on the floor. He didn't have to tell her 'no', his body language spoke volumes.

"I told you to go." She repeated, her eyes blackening for a heartbeat but he didn't budge. She could blow him to bits for all he cared; he wasn't going anywhere, especially without seeing Buffy.

"I'm not goin' anywhere." He straightened his spine, standing as tall as he could, chin held high, shoulders squared. The ink didn’t return to Willow’s eyes at his defiance, instead they seemed to grow large with imploring. And suddenly Spike realized his mistake. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

Willow’s stance softened, she sighed quietly, eyes ticking up to where Buffy rested. “In a word? Very.”


*****


“Hey lil sis, where do you think you’re going?” Faith’s hand was stretched out over the backdoor out of the warehouse, her body language causal unlike her eyes.

“Out.” Dawn glared, attempting to push her arm out of the way.

Faith ignored the vain attempt the littlest Summers was putting up in order to move her. “Out where? I mean, not that I don’t mind a little teen rebellion and all but somehow I don’t think B would appreciate it if she woke up from Will’s magic coma to find out I let her sister play appetizer for some blood thirsty vamps, ya know what I’m sayin’?”

Dawn begrudgingly backed up a step; she knew she could never physically touch Faith but then again there were other ways to get what you wanted. “Since when do you care what Buffy thinks? I mean she never liked you anyway, not from the very moment she met you.” She saw a lighting strike of hurt flash in Faith’s eyes, quickly illuminating them and disappearing just as quickly. Bingo. “Do really think she gives a damn if you decide to play mother hen for awhile? Do you think she’d appreciate it?”

Faith smiled at that, a Cheshire grin crossing her face. “Ya got me there.” She admitted. “But maybe this isn’t all about B. See I’m thinking saving your little neck just might start making up for all the times I tried to snap it.”

“Balance the scales?”

“Ya know it. So hows about I make you a little deal? You tell Auntie Faith what you’re up to and I won’t go rat you out to the rest of the little Scoobie Gang.”

Dawn grimaced but what option did she have? “I’m going to borrow Willow’s car and go get some blood for Spike. Okay?” She glared at the rogue slayer.

“Borrow?” Faith quirked an eyebrow.

"Fine!” Dawn threw up her hand but quickly remembered to lower her voice. “I’m going to steal it. But just for a little bit. I’ll bring it back. Plus it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“I know you have.” Faith looked on approvingly. “Which is why I also know Willow magicked up a wicked spell on those keys so no one but her can find them.”

“Damnit!” Dawn swore. “I forgot about that.” She sighed heavily, pulling her jacket tighter around her slim body. “I guess I hoof it. I hate Cleveland winters.” She was surprised when Faith stepped aside and let her pass but didn’t question it.

“You could do that…” Faith mused, her voice halting Dawn in her tracks. “Or I could just teach you how to hotwire it?”

Dawn spun around, a disbelieving look ablaze on her young face. “You would do that?”

“About time you learned.” Faith grabbed a nearby denim jacket, one that belonged to Buffy and threw it on. “So ya comin’ or would you rather walk?”

Dawn broke out into a grin and followed Faith; just as they closed the aluminum door behind them a question rose in Dawn’s mind. “Don’t you think we should tell someone where we’re going? Otherwise they might miss us?”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” Faith stopped in front of a creamy Saturn parked about a block down on the street, whipping out a Swiss Army knife she instructed Dawn. “Watch and learn, princess.”


*****


Willow spoke until her voice gave out and tears ran from her eyes like rivers overflowing its banks. She told Spike as much as she could bear, and some that she couldn’t. She used words like self-mutilation, suicide attempts, Cyclothymic disorder, and a host of other phrases, which boiled down to Buffy was in trouble. She was having episodes, some of depression, some of mania, some where she would hurt herself, some where she would sit and have hour long screaming fests at the walls, or her lamp, and then sometimes she was fine. If she remembered these episodes Willow didn’t know and never pressed her, it was so painful to watch she could imagine what it would be like to be living it. When she finally stopped, tears soaking Spike’s shirt, it was hard to tell who was holding who together, both looked lost, shattered sitting there on that old stained sofa.

“It’s okay, pet.” Spike patted Willow’s back as she tried to explain something about Faith and Buffy but her words were so mangled that was about all he got. For how long they sat there Spike didn’t know, but it felt like an eternity, every word seemed to cut deeper into him till he was convince he was just gonna die right there, but he couldn’t. She needed him. And it seemed to him that Buffy wasn’t the only one who needed a hand, Willow looked ready to crack, Xander-well he was always a poof, but the lil bit- she had already been through so much, how much more could they keep piling on before she lost it?

Willow sat up, wiping her eyes, fingers of a blush rising on her neck and cheeks. She had just cried on Spike’s shoulder, the thought was embarrassing to say the least. Even when Buffy had died she would have impaled herself before showing that sort of emotion in front of him. There was part of her that she guessed would never grow out of being timid Willow, the girl at school who everyone ignored, it didn’t seem to matter how many demons she fought or baddies she squished, that Willow was still lurking beneath the surface. She noticed Spike’s eyes rise to the room where Buffy lay. “Do-do you want to go see her?” She asked softly, feeling a bit forward.

She didn’t need to ask twice.



TBC





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