Chapter Twenty-Two
“You know where they’re keeping Will?” Liz asked, apprehension and nerves making her voice shake. Apparently once she’d made up her mind to rescue Will, emotion had dug in its claws and she was desperate to see his face again—desperate to see him safe and unharmed. Desperate to find out what this Initiative was and bring it down.
Spike stepped forward, his eyes burning with approval. “You gotta plan, sweetness?”
Liz began to crumble as she looked at the souled vampire. Why was she always so late to connect dots and work out the bigger picture? She shrugged helplessly before absently snagging a stake from her back jeans pocket and began twirling it nervously. Did she have a plan? Other than to beat Willow to a bloodied, red-haired pulp, not so much. But Will had come to Sunnydale to help her, and if that meant she had to bear through a few misplaced kisses and totally bleach her brain of hers and Will’s twins having sex in a crypt then so be it. That kind of thing might be a long time coming—if it ever was going to—and if there was a possibility, she’d rather explore it without all the x-rated imagery she’d already been slapped with.
“Only plan I have is to get him out and destroy whatever is going on in there. Which should be easy, right? You’ve already done this once.” Liz didn’t like the shared look of regret between Buffy and Willow.
“Wasn’t easy for us at all,” sighed Buffy, filled with a sudden sorrow. “In fact, the only way we could take down Adam was for me to combine my life force with Xander and Giles—two people your world is sadly lacking.”
Just as tears of hopelessness threatened, a rapid series of knocks bounced off her front door and Liz snapped to attention. Everyone but Will was here: Oz had been playing friendly in the back with Willow, and Buffy and Spike were just playing. Funny how it seemed slightly less nauseating now that the fear of never seeing Will again had really hit her.
It occurred to all of them in the same instant that they were sitting ducks for the Initiative. They’d protected the house—and themselves while they remained in it—against any of crazy!Willow’s magical attacks, but the Initiative soldiers were human and could walk right in. The front door wouldn’t be much of a deterrent if the witch had managed to convince them they’d find demons in the house.
On guard and geared toward attack, they gathered protectively around Liz. As well as they could be with an instant’s premonition, they prepared for whatever was on the other side of the door as Liz slowly made her way toward it. There was no point checking through the window for who it was—their best chance was to attack without any warning to the enemy on the porch that they understood the deal; with a deep breath, she threw open the door and nearly collapsed in astonishment at the group that greeted her.
“Oh God, Spike!” Totally forgetting the designated names for the other Spike’s duration, Liz threw her arms around Will and carefully dragged him into the house. Everyone watched in shock as she gazed at his waxen pallor fearfully and positioned him on the couch. “You didn’t tell me he’d be like this,” she shrieked accusingly, seemingly not knowing what to do first—berate those with the knowledge they’d held back or hug Will back to undead health. Then she looked back toward the open door and felt her knees tremble. An enclosed bubble of memories she’d locked away so she could survive Willow’s vindictive company without all the hurt to distract her began to pulsate and then it burst, screams of futility and grief overtaking her as she saw them standing before her alive and then as the last time she’d seen them—slaughtered for the cause.
Memory and commonsense came second to the horrors of the past and for one frightened blink, this is what Liz believed Willow had sent to unsettle her. What Willow believed would finally defeat her. That the witch had known that just being able to touch Giles and Xander again would undo her in a way nothing else could. Before she could decide to cry out or collapse, Buffy and the other Willow had rushed forward, squealing, and she recognised herself as a fool.
Flushing hotly in embarrassment, blood slowly calming from an inferno of panic, Liz stepped forward and tried to not look too deeply into the newcomers’ faces. Except for one. The tall teen had something about her that was instantly recognisable to Liz but try as she might, she couldn’t place her. The girl was barely restraining her excitement and then with trembling shock, Liz realised she was caught in the teen’s arms with all her air being squeezed out of her. For several seconds her brain shut down—so unused to being touched as she now was—and she couldn’t decide if this child was sent as an assassin and Liz was about to fall down dead, or if the bands of steel squishing her toward the next life was just a youthful show of affection.
“I’m Dawn.”
The squeal nearly blew her eardrums, so close they were and Liz used her last resources to try and step up the process of identifying the girl. With a lurch, Liz stood away gasping, her arms outstretched from pushing herself out of the octopus-like grasp. Taking the time to reassert her equilibrium and make a closer study of the stranger, Liz finally shrugged, defeated. “Nope. I’ve no clue who you are.”
Dawn just giggled then went and stood beside her sister.
Liz blinked. How did she know that?
“Bit’s got slayer’s blood thundering through her veins,” Will choked from the couch, making Liz jump the proverbial foot in the air. She spun around, tossing a distracted ‘Nice to meet you,’ over her shoulder and proceeded to fuss over Will. She’d work out the mini slayer sister mystery when she was good and not-so-insane.
She couldn’t look him in the eye, not when her last words to him through the talisman were echoing loudly in her brain. She felt ashamed, and not all of it was for being a bitch. Healthy doses came from being so contrary too—she was plenty confused so Liz had no idea how Will was faring.
“He needs blood more than anything,” Spike observed, his face almost split in a grin.
Liz missed the smart ass expression on the souled vampire’s face but Buffy didn’t and she thwapped him half-heartedly on the shoulder.
“Slayer, if I’d got this kind of reception when I happened along your little Thanksgiving dinner, I might have been a tad more helpful.”
“Sure, honey,” Buffy nodded condescendingly. “I’m so sure you’d have been all with the good fighting when there was the possibility of bloodshed for you to enjoy!”
Spike smirked then ducked his head sheepishly. “Right. So I wasn’t on the track to be reformed just yet. Still, just saying…”
Buffy grinned and squeezed his hand. “That day was a priceless memory—bears and all. No way would I change it for anything.”
“Good to see you two made it with the mushily-ever-after. Can we go home now?” groused Xander good-naturedly while slapping Spike on the shoulder. The vampire stumbled forward in shock.
“That’s quite a bit of force you got behind there, floppy boy,” Spike goaded. “You been working out?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Xander returned the volley, ending with a wink. Dawn snickered heartily as Spike appeared to be blushing before he quickly eradicated the strangeness by stepping away from the burly lumberjack and standing on the other side of Buffy.
“Has the boy turned queer, Slayer?” he stage-whispered for all to hear. Xander and Giles shot him equally vitriolic expressions of disgust but Angel chuckled along at the joke.
“Aaaaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhhh.”
The jollity of the room was cracked apart by the wounded cry that speared through the air. Liz had jumped back from Will, barely missing his tortured movements to grasp his head as obvious pain wracked his body. Her face was a picture of shock and uselessness, her hands flexing spasmodically with nothing in them to remain steady. Suddenly she remembered that experience was mere steps away from her and she spun on her heel, desperation clear to all with the way her body vibrated with the need for action.
“What’s wrong with him?” she demanded, torn between stomping to them and forcing an answer out of them or falling back to Will’s side to at least offer some kind of comfort.
Spike shrugged, gaze darting between Buffy and Rupert before bouncing back onto Will. “This didn’t happen to me. Not till after the First anyway.”
“The First of what?” Liz asked, her voice rising and becoming noticeably shaky.
Spike ignored her and faced Buffy. “Looks like when the chip acted up.”
Buffy’s eyes widened fearfully and she strode to Liz’s side. “We have to get the chip out.”
“An’ how do you propose doing that, Slayer?” Spike asked, exasperated. “We don’t have any guilt-motivated soldier boy’s to convince to cooperate. This chip just went in—I hardly think the Initiative’s medical team is gonna line up outside and agree to take it out.”
Buffy couldn’t miss Liz’s anguish and it struck every one of her nerves. If only she’d cared about Spike like this earlier—if only she’d cared about his pain from the beginning of the chip. If she’d had compassion and respect for a creature that had proven he’d deserved it—well, things might not have taken two deaths and several apocalypses to come full circle.
She looked wildly around the room, already knowing the bogus flower shop route was completely out. Willow. The witch had turned a whole world’s potentials into slayers over night. Surely she could zap a little chip out of the vampire’s head?
“I know you can do this, Wills.”
Willow blinked at the blonde, not immediately following her suggestion. Then her eyes widened in a flood of understanding. “Oh!” She stepped forward and began touching Will’s head, feeling for the already healing wound exposing where the chip had entered his brain. “Okay, might want to get out of the way for this,” she warned, then wasted no time to check before mumbling some Latin and holding her hand out to receive the metal. There was a zap of electricity and then it sat in her palm, circuits still joined to a little grey matter sizzling against her skin. Horror transformed her pretty features and Willow shuddered. “Ewwwwwww.”
“Perhaps you should take the tracker out of his back while you’re at it?” Giles suggested, earning an appreciative ‘Thanks, mate,’ from Spike for doing so.
Willow sucked up her revulsion and concentrated on the tracking device the Scoobies knew was placed in his back and seriously hoped her hair wasn’t going to frizz this time. Seconds later and she had another chunk of metal in her palm and without waiting for further instruction, she turned them into multi-million dollar, scientifically useless lint.
Liz stared at the witch as if she’d never seen magic performed before—or at least, none that had actually benefited anyone else—and then rushed the witch into a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat clogged with emotion.
Willow nodded, glad to do something to wipe a little of the haunting sadness from this slayer’s face and then stood back as Liz helped a severely depleted Will to his feet.
“I’m gonna take him up to my room to rest. Can someone here organise some blood?”
There was action, and speech, and excitement exploding back into life as she quickly manoeuvred Will from the room. Together they slowly ascended the stairs, a cup of warmed blood waiting for them at Liz’s bedroom door with a friendly, smiling Dawn attached to it. Liz had barely even noticed when the girl had raced by them on the stairs. Dawn pushed open the door and placed the mug on the bedside table, smiling happily at the couple before she left the room in a similar whirlwind to the one she’d arrived in.
“Thank God I don’t have a sister,” Liz bemoaned gratefully. She could barely take care of herself let alone a bundle of energy like that. “I mean, I’m sure she’s lovely and everything—”
“Yeah,” Will agreed in his gravely, bone-weary rasp. “Bet the Bit’s a bloody peach. Still wouldn’t want to get caught in her way.”
Liz couldn’t hold back the grin and she actually allowed herself to share it with Will as she gently lowered him onto her sheets. It felt like a lifetime since she’d last graced them, yet she knew the second Will remembered and she flushed. Of course he’d remember—he’d taken pleasure in pointing out her nakedness.
Silence stretched out between them and the longer it continued, the more confused Liz became. Confused, and ashamed.
“I’m sorry,” she admitted, then waited for the sarcasm that was her due.
“What for?”
The crinkle between his brows appeared cute to Liz and she melted even more. Refusing to give in to that ‘he’s-a-vampire-and-I-slay-vampires’ mentality was working wonders at helping her see her bed-guest more clearly. Her heart thudded with realisation. This was Will: faceless, nameless shoulder that she’d cried on when the perils of living with Willow had become too much and she’d known her time was running out. Will, whose flirtatious innuendos had warmed her blood and made her body ache for contact. This was the guy she’d trusted not only with her secrets but to come to her aid at the first whimper of her need. She’d trusted him and he’d come.
How lucky was she to have a friend like that?
Back ramrod straight and courage in her heart, Liz admitted it to him as well as herself.
“I’m sorry for thinking of you as a vampire first and last.”
Will was obviously perplexed, his face crumpling up adorably into a frown.
“What else exactly were you supposed to do, pet? I’m the bloody wanker too gutless to tell you who I was. Can’t blame you for not taking the news well when you finally found out.”
Liz smiled down at the bedding that was covering Will’s legs and felt herself flushing. “Definitely might have been nice if you’d told me yourself,” she agreed, wondering at how warm she felt at his dry chuckle.
“That’s it, Slayer. Put the boot in when a vamp’s not feeling his best.” He’d already finished the blood Dawn had brought to the room and Liz looked up and saw a gentle resurgence of colour to his skin. He still looked grey and a little blue around the lips, his expression pinched, but there was a renewed light in his eyes that Liz realised she’d never noticed before—not when she’d only been looking for the cold confirmation of a brutal killer.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” It felt like a secret and as the words balanced on the air and then sank into Will’s psyche, nerves hammered through her body hard until Liz felt the pain of rejection before she could even receive it.
He looked awed that she could share such words with him and with a hand that shook, he cupped her cheek and wondered if he’d ever have the courage to try and kiss her again.
“That means a lot, Buffy.” For something so momentous he wasn’t going to muddy the waters with a name that was meaningless to both of them. On the surface she was Liz—but only until the house cleared out and their guests returned to their own dimension. Then she’d be Buffy again and he’d be free to press his advantage and hopefully end up with happiness all around.
And right now, Liz didn’t look like she’d mind so much.
“I’ll get you some more blood,” was all she said, but the hope that burned in her eyes as she caught his gaze one final time before leaving made him feel stronger than he suspected any blood ever could have done.
It was enough to bring a hardened evil vamp to tears.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hope nobody gets confused as I'm hoping to post a number of chapters tonight. Hopefully some of you will think it's Christmas and sooth my poor battered ego.