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chapter three - chocolate and berries

Willow was extremely comfy alone in the sun-filled apartment on the second floor of the ancient four-story building on the Champs Elysees. She'd spent the entire day curled up on the big cushy sofa, cross-legged, thumbing through her favorite issues of Zurban Paris. An over-sized mug filled to the rim with a foamy, thick mocha latte, fresh from Lillie's expresso machine, rested on the coffee table in front of her. She closed her eyes and breathed in the nutty bittersweet aroma of the Sumatran coffee beans and steamed milk before lifting the cup to her lips for one delightfully luscious sip after another. Sighing as she finished the sweet liquid far too quickly, she inhaled the smell of the double-chocolate cake she'd baked, which, fresh out of the oven, was cooling in the kitchen. Her nostrils flared as the scent of chocolate replaced the latte as her latest guiltless pleasure.

This was Willow's happy day – her reward. After months, perhaps even years, of doling out a limitless supply of nightly hugs, reassuring words and ever-ready temple massages, Willow needed a break. She was exhausted. Night after night, she'd been the one to help Buffy recover from her latest ‘big bad' dream. Grimacing at her double entendre, Willow chastised herself silently for having been even remotely surprised when the former big bad of Sunnydale became the featured player in Buffy's nightmares. Buffy's feelings for Spike were obvious that last year in Sunnydale if anyone had cared to notice. It was just that no one had the stamina, especially not Willow, to deal with the Buffy and Spike train wreck as the Scoobies had called it.

“Why does everyone in this house think I'm still in love with Spike,” Buffy had said, defensively, during a conversation about Buffy's planned first date (and last date, as it turned out) with Principal Wood. Willow never thought she'd hear the words ‘still in love' and Spike in a sentence uttered by Buffy Summers. Even more importantly, it was an offhand remark, out of left field, and completely unexpected. Willow had been questioning Buffy about her self-imposed isolation, not her need to ‘move on' from Spike. But that's not what Buffy heard – it was all about Spike. In fact, saving him and beating the First were the only two topics Buffy seemed to 'hear' that entire year. It was a shame she didn't know until it was too late that she couldn't accomplish both.

Nonetheless, Willow had a hard time accepting the idea that Buffy loved Spike so much his memory still haunted her two years later. Spike had been different that last year, she had to admit that. And well, damn it! He did die to save the world. However, Willow preferred to think of Buffy's love for Spike as more of a metaphor for her guilt about surviving the Apocalypse. No way, Buffy missed Spike the way she missed Tara. That wasn't Willow being mean-spirited either. She just hoped her best friend wasn't going through that kind of pain, even if she appeared to be in agony on the outside. Inside, it was much better to love less than to be destroyed by loss; Willow had learned that lesson with Kennedy. She chuckled. It was a coarse sound filled with sarcasm, as Willow recalled those last days with her former lover.

She could have stayed with Kennedy and traveled the world, recruiting potential slayers from remote, exotic locations for years. She was officially the supreme princess of witches. Following her mega-spell that changed the lineage of slayers forever, she could do whatever she wanted. No sweat, she could stay with Kennedy. No big deal. All the same, she left her on a sunny afternoon standing outside a small café someplace in Brazil, stunned into silence by Willow's few, but precise words, “I'm leaving you. I don't love you enough, and I can't do this anymore.”

Yeah, today was Willow's day to concentrate on Willow, she repeated silently, settling her body deeper into the cushions of the sofa. She had to enjoy this time alone because this was also the day she planned to have the conversation with Buffy. It was to be another intervention. This business with the nightmares and Spike, well, it…

Shit, she cursed as she heard the keys jingle in the front door lock. Looks like time was up. She rose from the sofa and grabbed her empty cup as she strolled into the kitchen to dabble some fresh berry icing over her chocolate cake.


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Buffy wasn't dumb. She knew dinner wasn't going very well. Sure, the apartment looked great, all homey and all. Lillie and Willow had done a great job as always, preparing, decorating and cooking. The food looked especially good, too, and Buffy planned to gorge herself on a big piece of chocolate cake no matter what. However, the conversation between Buffy and her best friend was escalating with each word that dropped like venom from Willow's mouth. Buffy didn't want to hear it. She didn't need to be lectured. Not today, not ever. She wasn't in the mood to analyze or dissect her dreams. No, not these dreams. Not her dreams about Spike. At least let her keep her dreams, she wanted to wail. But no. Willow was being helpful – again. That always worked out well, lamented Buffy. Oh, right? And now, she was implying that Buffy felt guilty about being alive. When had that ever happened?

Oh yeah, there was that time Buffy was ripped out of heaven by her friends and brought back to life. Wasn't that Willow's doing? Likewise, didn't Giles say that he and Anya were told by the eye thing that the First manifested stronger than ever because Buffy lived? So, the First was Willow's fault, too. And the First was the reason Spike died. That meant Spike's death was Willow's…

No! Not going to go there, thought Buffy, applying the brakes big time to the pedals of that bulldozer. This was a path she didn't need to pursue. With a quick glance to her right, Buffy noted that Lillie was smart enough to stay silent during this battle. This was between her and Willow. No one else but this witch would dare...

Buffy shuddered, unable to finish the thought. She needed to keep this argument on track, and not let it cross that line. Willow didn't know how much, how often, or how completely Buffy missed Spike. She hadn't even guessed at how much she'd miss Spike until he was gone, she had to confess.

“He died to save all of us. Not just me,” she shouted, avoiding eye contact with Willow and Lillie, who both sat opposite her at their small round dining room table.

“Buffy, I know this is hard. It just might help if you'd admit how you feel, though,” Willow paused, and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Maybe if you could do that, you could move on and these dreams would stop.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” Buffy cried. “How can you say that? Have you moved on?”

Willow visibly flinched. Buffy was ready to go ‘there' if forced and the inflection of her voice was meant to let Willow know she was ready to pull out the big guns. If Willow was conducting Spike Intervention Round II then Buffy was going for Willow 's soft gooey center, and that meant Tara was fair game. Buffy almost choked as she thought it, surprised at her own viciousness. But she couldn't help it. This conversation was too dangerous for her. To survive it, she had to play rough.

“So, it should have been you sacrificing your life instead of Spike,” Willow rebounded. “You've died twice to save the world. Now, you want to stop living because Spike decided his breathless body was worth sacrificing to save the world?”

“Spike was more than a body. He was more than that – he was, more,” Buffy's voice cracked.

“He was a vampire. Not a man. Still he showed us the man he wanted to be by choosing to stay in the Hellmouth.” Willow was standing now, leaning over the table, so close to Buffy she could feel her breath on her face. "Maybe you should forgive him for leaving you.”

“What?” Buffy whispered, stunned by Willow 's suggestion. “You think I'm angry at Spike because he died to save us? Would make me kind of selfish, wouldn't it?”

“Buffy, I'm not saying that,” Willow 's tone was softer. “It's just that maybe, Spike could have made a different decision. Faith said you tried to get him to leave, and it looked like he could have, if he wanted to…”

“No. Faith didn't see it, right,” Buffy's voice wavered. It wasn't possible that she was mad at Spike. He chose to stay because he knew it was the only way. She had to believe that. She had to. She really was about to scream. One more word from Willow, and she didn't trust what she might have to do. Then it started. That cursed panic from her dreams, coming for her, again.

“Let the memory of Spike rest,” Willow began, pausing for an instant as if she had to make a decision before she continued. “I realized I could let go of Tara and still live. You can forgive Spike, and then you'll be able to let go, too.”

That was it, decided Buffy. She couldn't listen to Willow any more. She stood up and marched out of kitchen, grabbed a weapon from the chest in the hallway before continuing out the front door. Picking up her pace, she stumbled down the stairs and then, regaining her balance, she ran as fast as she could out of the apartment building toward the nearest cemetery.

She had to find something to kill.


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