~*~*~
Xander shook for a moment and when he opened his eyes again, they were sparkling with tears. He yanked his hands away from Willow's and ran them through his dark, brown hair. She stepped toward him, but he moved back.
"Don't," He pointed his finger at her. "Don't touch me."
She drifted closer anyway, feeling like a ship cut free of its anchor.
"Please, Xander, I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't even realize what I was doing the first time. It was a total accident."
"And the last time? What was that about?"
"I just wanted us to be together."
"Even though that's not what I wanted?"
"I thought—" Willow extended her arms in a pleading gesture, palms up.
"You thought you knew better. But you don't. It's a given when the universe needs a chump, I'm going end up a hyena-infused Mantis-snack. That's just my life. I'm used to destiny making me its butt monkey, not my best friend."
"Let me fix this. I can explain things to Dav."
He shook his his head.
"No!" He stopped dead and put his balled fists on his hips. "Just leave her alone."
She inched toward him, wondering what he saw when he looked at her. Did he think she was a rapist, a monster or that pathetic little girl who did all his homework in middle school?
"But none of this was your fault. It was me and my big, selfish...self. I can tell her that."
"There are some things you can't fix, Wills. This would be one of those things."
"Do...do you hate me now?" she asked.
"You're Willow. Even though I don't like you very much right now, I could never hate you." His face lost some of its tension and his eyes were like melting brown sugar.
She touched his chest and he sighed, lifting her fingers off of him and holding her wrist firmly at her side.
"I'm going to be staying when you guys go to England. We shouldn't be near each other for awhile, not until I feel like I can trust you again."
"But it's dangerous. Giles' place was like Auntie Em's farm after the cyclone."
"I called my parents. My mom and dad didn't even know I was gone. Eddie's roommate said there was nothing weird happening at his place either. Even though we were on the tape, I don't think we got made by Big Brother and his little brother underlings."
"Brotherlings?" she asked, venturing a slight smile. Xander smirked back.
"Right. Dav, Andrew and Eddie are planning on going to San Francisco. I think I'll go, too."
"Where will you stay?"
"Dav has a few friends there willing to put us up and so does Eddie. I figure for the first few months I can couch hop until I get my bearings. It can't be any worse than living in my parents' basement, plus I'll finally be doing the Kerouac thing."
"What about us? Me and Buffy?" Willow asked.
"Buffy will understand. She has Spike now. You'll both have G-man, and you won't have to worry about the demonic energy convergance thingie in England. You won't need me."
"I'll always need you."
"I used to think that, too," Xander said. He walked out the door, leaving Willow alone. She crumpled up on the unmade bed. Her back shook and her tears puddled on the pink sheets. Somehow she'd lost everyone all at once. She wondered if Buffy or Xander would ever forgive her the way Giles had. She scrubbed her wet eyes with the back of her hand and then dragged herself to the door.
The others were sitting in clusters. Buffy was on the couch, her head on Joyce's shoulder. Spike was holding Buffy's hand. All three were silent, almost resigned. Eddie smiled at Willow and she returned his greeting with a wave. He was talking to Andrew. Giles was alone. He nodded to Willow as she smoothed her hair behind her ears. A few seconds later, Dav and Xander came out of the hall from her bedroom. Both of them had red-rimmed eyes and were holding hands. When Giles saw them, the lines in his face seemed to multiply. He took his glasses off and rubbed them on the hem of his shirt, then stuck them back on the bridge of his nose.
"It's time to go," Giles said.
~*~*~
Three Months Later~Bath, England
Buffy kicked a clod of dirt with the toe of her brown riding boot. The cemetery was dark and the ground was covered in crunchy frost with mushy, unfrozen mud beneath. The air was scented with wood smoke wafting from some distant chimney. It made her wish she were at home infront of a fire with Spike. Giles was picking his way carefully beside her, his gaze on the white, stone church in the distance. They were patrolling the quaint village that boardered Giles' family grounds. For the past few months he'd been letting her and Spike stay in his Carriage House. Buffy was humbled when she realized her Watcher was loaded. He had throngs of servants, three huge houses and a stable full of horses waiting for him in England. Giles had traded all that in for a dusty flat on the mouth of hell so he could be close to her.
"Where are the others tonight?" he asked, avoiding a coffin-shaped sinkhole.
"Willow has a final tomorrow and I didn't let Spike come because of that cracked rib thing."
Giles sighed.
"When I first became your watcher, I broke my floating rib four times in a single year. It comes with our work."
She couldn't stop her jaw from clenching, thinking about the bruises marring her lover's skin, or the way he'd wheezed as he tried to lie in bed. True, Spike was almost healed, and he was quick to remind her every day. She still didn't want to see him in another mellee.
"I just want him to be safe. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. It's actually rather fortunate that we're on our own tonight. There's something important I need to speak to you about."
"What's up?"
"When we were in Sunnydale, before we fled the Initiative, something happened. I was less careful than I'd thought and now the consequences are coming to light."
"How not careful? Do they know where we are? Did they get Xander?"
"Nothing like that. It's rather personal." Giles got quiet, almost shy. They tromped along for a bit before he spoke, ducking his chin to his chest. "Davinia is pregnant."
"Xander's Davinia?"
"My Davinia. She is having my child," Giles said gently.
"But...did she know you were...you?"
"It was well established before the circumstances took place." Giles' lips twitched up in an expression that would've been a smile if it weren't so disapproving.
"But what about Xander? Does he know?" Buffy asked, her white breath hanging like a ghost in the cold air.
"I'm not certain she's told him the news yet, but their relationship was quite finished before all this happened."
"He's still carrying an Olympic-sized torch for her. He's going to be crushed," she said.
"And I'm sorry for that, but it was ultimately her decision. She wanted me to live with her for a few months in San Francisco, but I'm still wanted for extradition on unspecified charges, so she'll be staying with us here, in Bath. If things work out, she's agreed to marry me—"
"Wow...that's just. Wow. When did that happen? Not the actual happening that led to the..."
"Baby?"
"Right. God that's so freaksome."
"I'm trying very hard not to be offended, but you're making that rather difficult."
"Sorry! I can totally see a woman your own age going in for the tweed and the stalwhart jaw, but she's only a few years older than me."
"I've never been attracted to a younger woman before, if that's what is troubling you."
"It was, maybe a teensy, tiny, ton. Plus the Council is breathing down my neck and we still haven't found Faith. This is going to leave you M.I.A., for awhile just when I need you the most."
"Yes, but you're well-equipped to deal with Quentin. You always have been, far better than me. Spike can keep up your training regimen. It's not ideal, but I can continue instructing him and he's a quick study. I never thought I'd say this, but there is no one I trust more." Giles searched her face, desperate for some kind of approval. She wondered if he would actually stay if she forbade him to leave and knew instantly that he would. He'd give up his whole life for her if she asked. Buffy shook her head once as though casting out the ringing his revelation had left in her ears. Then she smiled at him, a grin with the power to thaw frozen earth and make flowers grow.
"There's no doubt you're going to be a great dad. I'm on board with this, whatever you need."
Relief transformed Giles' face, his grin setting off ripples from cheek to forehead. He took her gloved hand and gave it a squeeze.
*~*~*
Spike turned on the stove and listened to the burner tick. He dipped his head down and ignited the gas with a wooden match. A blue wreath of flame appeared with a hiccuping woosh. He set the kettle on top of the grate and then took a mug out of the cupboard. He sat down at the table with a Latin translation book, intent on learning the language that had eluded him for a better part of a century. Anything to make himself useful to Buffy.
After the first flush of joy over his newfound humanity, he had quickly discovered his limitations in reference to his girlfriend. He couldn't throw himself into the fight and allow his body to take damage the way he used to. Since his accident, she'd treated him with such a timid hand, it filled him with shame. All his existence he'd craved tenderness, but getting it under those conditions made him feel like he was coercing her. When she looked at him, he didn't feel like she was gazing at the man of her dreams. He felt like she was looking at another person she was burdened with protecting.
He knew she wasn't satisfied with him in bed, either. It was a rude awakening, finding that his mortal body couldn't keep up with a slayer in her prime the way his vampire flesh could. Making her come once wasn't enough for her and the slayer muscles that had provided endless delight when they were in capitivity hurt him. The first time he'd come away from making love to her in his human form, he looked like he'd narrowly survived a beating. After that, she'd held back and gone patrolling after she thought he was asleep.
The kettle began to whine and he got up to make tea, wincing as he drew in a deep breath. He wore nothing but his pajama bottoms and a thick, white bandage over his middle. Spike fixed himself a cuppa with honey and cream, glancing out the window over the kitchen sink. The sky was glowing crimson on the horizon, like a hint of blood spreading in deep blue water. He plopped down on the wooden chair feeling like a cuckold waiting for his wife to come home with another man's scent on her skin. She was just doing her job, but he couldn't help the way he felt.
By the time she tumbled through the door, filthy and exhausted, the sun had risen. When she saw him with his mug of congealed tea, she started.
"There was a nest of vamps. It got kinda dicey, but then I got slicey, so it was all fine. What are you doing up?" Buffy tossed her ax on the floor and kicked out of her mucky boots.
"You were gone. Couldn't sleep."
She shrugged out of her muddy denim jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. Her back was bloodied and there were claw marks by her left shoulder blade. He was on his feet in an instant, rummaging under the sink for the first aid kit. She saw what he was doing and stood with her hand on the curve of the chair, waiting for him. He set the container on the table and withdrew supplies to clean her wound. Silently, she sat down. He opened a plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol and tipped it onto a cotton ball. Buffy bit her lower lip when he dabbed the slashes. Funny how she had to steel herself for a little sting even though she never flinched when she took a hit.
"I'm losing you, Buffy," he said.
She drew in a breath and her carriage got straighter.
"That's not true," she said, quietly.
He peeled the paper off of a square of gauze and laid it against her back.
"Can feel you pulling away from me when we make love." He taped the material down.
She bowed her head and her voice was constricted.
"I don't want to break you," she whispered.
Spike touched her slim neck, her short ponytail barely brushing against his knuckles. He remembered how excited she'd been when it was finally long enough to pull back.
"Not a china doll."
He kissed her shoulder.
"I know—"
"But I'm not a vampire, either." He cast a sidelong glance at her pained face, the thick awning of her lashes nearly resting on her cheek.
"You think I want Angel?" she asked.
"No. I think you want it to be like it was between us," Spike said.
"Maybe that's what you want."
He let out a heavy breath.
"It is. I feel bloody useless here. Getting hurt, being nothing more than a liability to you. And I can't...don't feel like a man so much in the bedroom."
She turned around so he could get the full force of her glare.
"So you're leaving me," she whispered.
His stomach plummetted and his voice dwindled.
"Is that what you want?"
"No, but that's what usually happens when I fall in love."
He pulled her closer, taking both of her small hands in one of his.
"I'm yours. Don't think you'll ever, really be rid of me while I'm still breathing, and maybe not even when I stop. If you'll let me, I want to be your man. You've got to tell me what you need."
"It's not one thing...like I think we're fine and then there's this feeling. Like a...like I'm empty and alone. Like I'm in this place where you can't touch me. Nobody can. Nothing's safe."
Her words offered a toehold, a way to scale what looked like a smooth fortress made of rock. He cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
"I can make you feel safe."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to Puddinhead and Dorian's kitten. If you haven't read the previous chapter, please do.
Chapter End Notes:
Let me know what you think.