“What do you mean, your strength is gone?”
Buffy looked up miserably. She’d managed to talk her mother into letting her stay home that Monday, convinced that she was sick. She felt so slack that little things, like changing clothes, had suddenly become burdensome. She hadn’t realized until she awakened how much she’d hoped that the previous night’s newbie-vamp experience had been a side effect of being near Spike. And at the time, she hadn’t bothered to acknowledge the fact that, were that so, it would not only make absolutely no sense, but also add another problem to her already lengthy roster.
Willow had called her around eleven that morning and, after listening to a considerable amount of begging, had broken one of her personal cardinal laws. In perhaps her first conscious act of academic defiance, the redhead had skipped school to spend the afternoon with her ailing friend. And while she kept casting dodgy glances to the front door, as though the mob squad would burst into the room and drag her back at any second, she seemed otherwise content to serve as the sounding board.
“Spike and I were patrolling last night, and I got attacked by a random fledgling vamp. He would’ve killed me if Spike hadn’t been there.”
Willow frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“Gee, you think?”
“I take it Spike saved the da…erm, night?”
Buffy inhaled deeply, trembling. Spike had done more for her last night than anyone ever had. When she’d been weak, he’d given her his strength. Never before had anyone allowed her to be the damsel, and while it was hardly a role she wanted to grow into, Spike hadn’t berated her for something she couldn’t control. He hadn’t expected more from her, hadn’t demanded more from her; had, in fact, encouraged her to rest. She’d needed help, and he hadn’t thought any less of her because of it.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair to say that her friends treated her any differently, but God, she certainly felt like they did. Xander seemed to think she was Superwoman, and was constantly disappointed when she couldn’t run faster than a speeding bullet. When bad things happened, his eyes always fell to her, silently demanding why she hadn’t done anything to prevent it.
Angel was the same way. If she slipped up, he wanted to know why. If there was an error in her judgment, he wanted to analyze every facet of her decision. If she was beaten, it was because she wasn’t strong enough. She’d let the baddies get the best of her. She’d done this. She’d done that. Anything and everything was automatically her fault, because the Powers had pointed to her in the lineup and decided it was her turn at bat. This was the only life she’d ever have, and she spent most of it feeling discouraged over things she couldn’t help. Feeling guilty for deaths she hadn’t prevented, and certainly not for lack of trying.
Buffy spent so much time trying to be a superhero that at times she’d forgotten how it felt to be human. Humans weren’t weak, as Spike’s wordless understanding had reminded her last night. There had been no condemnation in his eyes whenever she had to lean on him. When he’d carried her into her house, doctored her wounds, and carted her up the stairs like she was Scarlett O’Hara or something.
The strong-willed, strong-minded, but oh-so-female protagonist.
Spike hadn’t looked down on her for that. He’d made her realize, without saying a word, that sometimes, the strongest thing a person could do was rely on another for help.
And after that? She’d kissed him. She’d allowed her rules to fly out the proverbial window because of the way he made her feel—not as a slayer, not even as Buffy, but as a woman. As an individual who was different while still the same. Who was human while being superhuman. He’d given her so much, and without thinking, she’d cast the plan aside. The woman in her had reached for the man in him, and rather than take advantage of an emotionally confusing situation, he’d remembered enough for both of them.
He’d slaughtered the vamp that had hurt her in rage. He hadn’t used her body. He hadn’t done anything other than care for her. And in doing so, the last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. She knew without a doubt now; her heart would not survive this.
She was completely in love with Spike.
“Buffy?”
Buffy blinked and glanced up. Willow was looking at her strangely. “Oh,” she murmured. “Did I…”
“Wander off? Yes.” The redhead’s lips twitched. “I take it that I hit the nail on the head? With Spike saving the day?”
“Yes.” Damn, she hated that her voice was so shaky. “Yeah, he did.”
Willow frowned. “Buffy?”
“I don’t…” She cleared her throat and looked away quickly.
God. I love him.
It wasn’t as though the words hadn’t been floating around in her head; she’d been frightened of how deep her feelings were becoming for days now. But last night had cast aside any doubt. She was completely, insanely, and hopelessly in love with Spike. She’d never known love like this. Not with Angel; not with anyone. It felt…
Real.
Terrifying.
“I’ll…ahhh, I’ll go to school here in a while,” Buffy said softly, scratching absently at her thigh. “Talk to Giles about the…the thing that happened last night. Maybe every slayer runs out of batteries after a few years and needs a day or two to recharge or something.”
The redhead nodded helpfully. “Yeah.”
She wilted. “Or…or maybe the Powers have caught up with the news that there are two of us—two slayers, I mean—and decided that Faith should be the fulltime girl.”
“Huh? No way, Buffy. No way.” Willow frowned and shook her head furiously. “Are you kidding me? With the…it’s Faith. She’s like the dunce of all slayers. You do all her patrolling on top of yours. In the meantime, she does nothing but get into brawls and bar fights and she kills demons when she feels like it. When she needs to…ummm…”
Buffy arched a brow. Willow shifted uncomfortably.
“What’s this?”
“Well, one of those times that you and…Spike were off…at the Bronze, she came up and was all floozeyish and all over Xander.” The redhead’s green eyes flashed angrily. “Not that he minded, that unbelievable jackass. Cordy might be evil, but she doesn’t deserve being cheated on by Xander. And with Faith.”
“Xander cheated on Cordy?”
“No, but he really wanted to!” Willow nodded hurriedly. “A-at least…I think so. But Faith was going on and on about how she hadn’t gotten any good slays in and how she wanted…ummm…that. That or a fight.”
Buffy’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Eww.”
“Yes! Exactly! Much with the eww. And there’s no way that the Powers would choose eww over you.” Willow paused. “That was an unfortunate rhyme.”
“Ahh.”
Willow was quiet for a second, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. When she spoke again, her tone was soft and considerate. “You’re not…if this no-powers thing turns out to be bigger than…you’re not worried that Spike won’t like you anymore, are you? Because you’re not the Slayer?”
Buffy froze, her eyes going wide. Truthfully, the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.
“Not that he would!” Willow amended, her voice reaching a high note. “I-I mean, I don’t think so. It doesn’t seem like…he has a slayer fixation, yes, but—”
Buffy wasn’t listening. Her mind was on replay.
She knew. It wasn’t even a matter of concern.
“No,” she replied softly. Then again, louder. “No. No. Spike wouldn’t…no. It’s…he was…last night, he was…he was wonderful.”
If anything, if her powers suddenly vanished, Spike would be only second to her mother in giving her support. And even then, that was stretching it. Her calling might have brought them together, but it was also one of the things keeping them apart. No, if her powers were gone, losing Spike was at the very bottom of her concerns.
Of that list, anyway. It was probably the only list that didn’t feature her fear of losing Spike.
Whatever she was thinking must have been written all over her face.
“Buffy?” Willow asked timidly. “Ummm…did something happen with Spike last night?”
“Hmm?”
“Oh, God. It did, didn’t it? Something happened. You guys tossed out the plan? Or—”
Realization rattled her body. Buffy shook her head. “No. No. Nothing like that.” The plan failed. “No…I just…”
Willow leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Buffy glanced up, blinking rapidly. “I love him.”
Then she burst into tears.
It was no longer a surprise to see Angel in the library, but Buffy couldn’t help herself. She’d just endured one of the longest crying jags in recent memory over something she couldn’t help, and while Willow had told her repeatedly that she had nothing to cry over, nothing about her current situation could be labeled okay. Her strength was gone, her heart was lost, and she still didn’t know how much could be attributed to a spell—Dru’s or otherwise.
Seeing Angel provoked a whirlwind of negativity. She needed a reason to scream; she needed a target, and he was right there.
“You know, there’s a word for people like you,” Buffy spat coldly. “Stalker.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“No. It’s really not.” She turned her eyes to Giles, who was sitting behind the counter, thumbing through an ancient text. “And you! I need answers.”
“Hello, Buffy,” he greeted. “How was your day?”
“My day? Sucky. You know why?” She reached into her back pocket and produced a stake, then glanced to Angel. And before he had a chance to duck or even register what was happening, she hurdled it across the room in what would have been a perfect spiral aimed for his chest, and watched as it tumbled pathetically to the ground, a good five feet away from target.
“Hey!” Angel objected. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” Buffy retorted, turning back to Giles. “Why didn’t that hit him?”
The Watcher’s eyes had an unusual light to them. “I don’t know. Shall we try again? I’ll hold him down, if you like.”
“Giles!”
“Giles!” Angel echoed, bending over and collecting the fallen stake from the floor, shaking it demonstratively. “She threw this at me!”
“Was that what that was?” He sniggered and shook his head. “Damn my fleeting bouts of blindness.”
“I’m way off my game,” Buffy continued, ignoring her pouting ex. “My game’s left the country. It’s in Cuernavaca. Giles, what’s going on here?”
Angel gestured emphatically. “Am I to understand that both of you are disappointed that I didn’t dust?”
They turned to him on the same dry beat and replied, “Yes,” in perfect unison before returning their attention to each other.
“It’s likely just a cold,” Giles replied airily, not meeting her eyes. “Take…forty-eight hours. I’ll have Faith cover your patrols for you.”
Buffy froze. No. No. Patrols were her time with Spike. She wasn’t about to just give that up. “Faith? Faith doesn’t even cover her own patrols. How the hell do you expect to get her to cover mine?”
Angel stepped forward. “I’ll—”
“No,” Buffy barked, not even tossing him a glance. “Giles—”
“It’s nothing. Look, you’ve been giving it a hundred and ten percent for the past few weeks. I don’t see the problem in allowing Faith to take over patrol for a night or two.” He blinked and glanced down to his text and sighed. “Besides…tomorrow is your birthday. Were you really expecting to be asked to patrol on your birthday?”
Buffy shrugged. “Hasn’t really stopped me before.”
“I thought you had a standing date with your father for ice skating.”
“Yeah, and how often has that occurred in the past three years?” She shook her head. “I’m patrolling.”
“If you’re weak—”
“I’m patrolling.” She turned to Angel and wagged her finger in warning. “And if you so much as think as of showing your abundance of forehead around my cemeteries, I’ll be throwing more than stakes at you.”
“You threw that very near the heart,” he complained.
“Yeah. Shame I didn’t make it.”
“Buffy—”
She shook her head and waved a hand. “I have to go get ready for patrol.”
This was a little thing. An incredibly little thing. It would pass. It had to.
And she wasn’t about to let Faith ruin her patrol non-date. Not for anything.
To be continued