It was a very different Buffy to the one she’d left weeks before that Willow faced in Giles’ study. She seemed to have aged suddenly – there were lines around her eyes and mouth that Willow had never seen before and shadows under her eyes almost dark enough to be bruises. Buffy stood, back to the fireplace, arms wrapped around herself as if cold despite the fire burning at her back, face set and unreadable. But it didn’t take Wicca sensitivity to feel the aura of anger and hurt that emanated from her – it was almost palpable.
Giles sat facing her across his desk, with Willow perched uneasily beside him on a hard-backed chair. Dawn stood uncomfortably between the desk and Buffy, her tensely folded arms mirroring her sister’s, her eyes flitting anxiously between the other three, waiting nervously.
“So?” Buffy hugged herself tightly as if afraid she might fall apart.
“Buffy…” Giles began.
“No.” She gave a terse shake of her head. “Not now.” She looked at Willow. “Did the coven help?”
Willow shifted nervously. “We’ve made some progress, really we have. I mean, we’ve been working on the linking and the getting out and the grounding, and I’ve really been focussing on focussing… if you… see what I mean” Willow smiled weakly. “I’m really focussed, really centred now… or at least, I can be. Much better. We thought we’d need to change my grounding stone, but it wasn’t the stone, just the way I was using it, which is good because, you know, it can take ages to relearn the tuning for a different crystal lattice and sometimes…” Willow caught the look in Buffy’s eyes and stopped. “I can get out more safely,” she summarised quickly.
“So there’s no risk to you?”
“N-no, not really,” Willow frowned unhappily. No, no risk from the spell… “But…”
“Then we try.”
“There’s still a risk to you.” Giles’ voice was determinedly reasonable. "Apparently The Immortal was less than truthful about the risks of you finding out about what happened to you..."
"You don't say, " Buffy said wryly. "Now there's a surprise."
"But," Giles went on, "we do know there is a considerable risk if Willow..."
Buffy stopped him. “It’s my choice,” she said firmly.
“Yes. Quite." Giles batteld on determindly. "But you should be aware of the risk you are taking…”
“For memories I’m better off without? We’ve been through this.”
He shook his head. “You should be aware of the risks because when you do this, and I have no doubt you will do this, you should be prepared. If you are fully aware of what might happen, you may be able to help Willow if anything does go wrong.” Giles looked up at her. “Forewarned is most definitely forearmed.”
Buffy held his eyes for a moment then nodded. “Willow?”
All eyes turned to Willow, who fidgeted uncomfortably. “There’s a risk that trying to rewire some memories could interfere with other memories. So you could be no better off – you could just be swapping these lost memories for other ones, or messing up some memories so much that they won’t make a lot of sense, and there’s no way of knowing which ones will be affected.” She shrugged. “You could end up worse off.”
“Is that the major risk?”
“Well… umm... not exactly.” She bit her lip. “The really, really scary thing is that the mind doesn’t much like being messed with and a mistake could just set off a chain reaction that would… well, you wouldn’t mind about a few missing memories, because… you… kinda… wouldn’t have a mind to mind with.” She looked at Buffy unhappily. “It’s a real possibility with this sort of spell.”
Buffy was silent for a moment. “OK,” she said eventually. “I know the risks.” She sighed. “Willow, I know you. I know what you’re capable of and I would trust you with my life. Can you do it?”
Willow’s eyes met Buffy’s. “I know there’s stuff I can do to help reduce the risks. I–I’m pretty sure I’ll know if I can’t do it and get out before it’s too late.”
“But can you do it?” Buffy’s voice was insistent.
Willow drew a deep breath. “I think so.”
“When?”
“I’ll need to do a purification…”
“When?”
“Tomorrow?” Willow offered weakly.
“Then we do it.” Buffy nodded. “Tomorrow.” With a final glance at Giles, Buffy left them.
“It seems that’s decided then,” Giles sighed.
********
Willow found Buffy later, sitting alone on the worn wooden bench in Giles’ yard, the blanket from Spike’s bed wrapped around her against the chill night air.
“I brought you this.” She held out a cup, smiling hopefully.
“Thanks.” Buffy offered her a weak smile in return and took the cup, cradling in her hands. She sniffed at the fragrant steam and frowned. “Hey! This smells familiar! Isn’t this what you gave me to help me sleep that time?”
“It’s the same thing.” Willow gave an embarrassed smile. “Only I lied about it just being for sleeping. At least – it’s a bit more than that. Herbs to help with the mind opening thing. Sorry.”
Buffy sipped at the tea and grimaced. “Yeww. About as bad as I remember it.”
“Buffy…” Willow began hesitantly. “Buffy, I’m sorry. We just thought…”
“You thought what you were doing was for the best, yeah.” Buffy stared down into her cup. “You all had no right.”
Willow bowed her head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You know, I’m sort of surprised you hadn’t learned, given what we’ve been through. Giles,” she shrugged, “kind of given up on ever expecting him not to try and sort my life for me the way he sees fit. Once a watcher… But you, Will. You’re my friend. I told you how I felt about things, about how confusing it all was. Didn’t you just think that just maybe I should have been told, been the one to decide?”
There was anger in her voice; an edge to her words that made Willow wince, but it was the sadness that touched her most. “You’re right. I should’ve stood up to Giles. We should’ve…” she wrung her hands. “I should’ve spoken up – not been so much the witchy wimp. My bad.”
Buffy shook her head. “It’s done now. We just have to put it right.” She sighed and shifted her position on the bench to make room for Willow, wrapping the blanket around them both when she sat down. They sat together in silence, each lost in their thoughts.
Willow bit her lip. “Buffy, there’s something you should know. I…”
“You know you said that putting the missing stuff back might mean I lose other memories?” Buffy interrupted. “Do you think I could give you a list of things I’d like to forget? I mean, could you rub out, say, Parker? Or the stuff I said to that boy I had a crush on in third grade? Or that green dress…”
Willow smiled. “No, you’re stuck with them. Besides, memories like that are all good for the character building.”
“Can’t help thinking my character would be built a lot better without the cringing embarrassment factor.” Buffy gave a self-deprecating smile.
“Buffy…” Willow began again.
Buffy stopped her with a shake of her head. “Will, if – if you lost your memories of Tara, if someone took them away, wouldn’t you do anything – risk anything – to get them back?”
Willow felt the sharp pain that still came with the memory of Tara, of her loss, of the love that still burned in her heart. “Yes,” she said simply.
“So, can you do this? Please?”
Willow looked up into Buffy’s eyes, at the hurt and hope that shone there. It wasn’t right… not right to destroy that hope… it was going to be all right… it was… really… “Yes,” she said softly, biting down her fears, “I can do it.”
“Thank you.” Buffy smiled. “See? I’ll even drink this awful tea.” She took a deep drink from the cup.
“Speaking of which, I have a ritual to perform.” Willow stood up, stretching and yawning. “And you need to get some rest, too. And Dawn is possibly going to burst if she doesn’t get to talk to you.”
“Mmm. Not sure I’m ready for that. I’ll hide out here a while longer.” Buffy snuggled deeper under the blanket. “Willow?” She looked up at her friend. “It’s going to be OK.”
“Yeah.” Willow smiled, struggling to suppress the gnawing anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She mustered as much confidence as she was able and smiled. “It’s going to be fine.” She turned away and a nervous frown creased her forehead. It was going to be fine. She was going to do this. And as to the scary thing, she wasn’t going to let it beat her. Grasping her resolution tightly to her, she set off to prepare the ritual.
Buffy watched Willow disappear into the house and close the door behind her, heard the reassuring tone of her muffled words to Dawn, their voices retreating deeper into the house. She looked down into her cup and smiled. “So, are you just going to lurk there all night, or are you going to come down?”
Spike jumped down from the shadows at the top of the wall. “Wasn’t lurking. I was standing about. It's a whole different vibe.”
“On top of a wall?” Buffy looked up and felt a sudden sharp tug deep inside at the sight of him, an almost overwhelming sense of relief.
“Just passin'.”
“Yeah, right.” She looked pointedly at the bag in his hand and shook her head. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.” He shrugged awkwardly. “Heard what Red had to say. How did you find out?”
“Andrew.” Buffy gave a wry smile.
“Silly sod told you? But…”
“No – not exactly. He’s not here...”
“No, left him in the tender care of this babushka I know.” Spike grinned. “Long story,” he added at Buffy’s raised eyebrow.
“I’m sure it is,” she said dryly. “But he did tell me – sort of. He’s been writing your biography. You should read it some time. It’s very… colourful.”
“I’ll bet it is!” Spike shook his head. “You don’t want to believe all you read, ‘specially if it’s the boy’s work.”
Buffy smiled at him. “I think maybe Andrew has a bit of a crush…”
“Hey!” Spike pointed an accusing finger at her. “I told you about that before!”
She pressed her lips together at the sudden prick of tears in her eyes. “You probably did,” she said softly, “I don’t remember.”
“No.” He winced. “Sorry.” He settled down on the bench beside her with a sigh. “Must’ve been a bit of a surprise, readin’ all that.”
“Kind of.” She gave a soft snort of laughter. “But then again…” she looked off across the yard “if I think hard about it – really hard – there are sort of… holes… strange little blank areas in what I remember about things, not big enough to jump out at me as wrong on their own, but if I think about it… yeah, wrong. And then there were the dreams.“ She frowned. “Actually, finding out was kind of a relief.”
“And now?”
“And now we’re going to break the spell, and I’m going to get back what’s mine.” She turned to look at him. ”What’s ours,” she added softly.
“You sure you want to go through with this?” He was watching her quietly, blue eyes full of concern. “I mean, didn’t old Rupert say there were risks?”
“Yes.” She looked away, jaw set. “Tomorrow Willow’s going to put it right. And then I’m going to go do something excruciatingly painful to a certain Italian immortal.” She looked back at him with a half smile. “You wanna play too?”
“Count me in.” He grinned savagely. “Always up for a nice bit of revenge.” He gave her a puzzled frown. “You seem very calm about all this. I thought you’d be more angry. Was kind of gettin’ myself ready for a good pasting.”
“Is that how…?” How I was with you? She shook her head and sighed. “I get that everyone was just doing what they thought best. But you know,” she looked up at him, “I’d kind of like to be allowed to make my own decisions once in a while. I’m not angry any more, just tired. Besides, I’m not the only one who has the right to be angry.” She paused. “Spike, what I said…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” She looked away, down at the ground. “It was like… like some sort of mantra. I was confused and angry and the… the words just… just came out.”
“Yeah, well. Slayer training and all.” He fought back a twinge of hurt. “No reason for you to think otherwise.”
“No… I guess… But the thing was, even when I was saying it, I didn’t believe it.” She flashed a tentative look up at him, her eyes falling away again quickly. “Something kept telling me it was wrong… very wrong... something didn't fit. Which made it all kind of more confusing, because I really had no idea what that something was, but whatever it was it was a pretty strong something and a something that was really…” she paused, lost for words.
“Something?” Spike offered.
She looked up at him with a half smile. “I’m not explaining this very well, am I?”
“Well, it’s…” Spike began encouragingly. He paused and gave a bemused smile. “No, actually, not so much.”
“Guess I’m more tired than I thought. I should probably go get some rest before tomorrow.” She stood up and looked down at him uncertainly. “Spike… you will stay, won’t you? I mean… Dawn kept your room all ready and waiting. Fresh flowers and all – probably even one of those little chocolates on the pillow. Oh!“ She gestured to the bench. “I stole your blanket. Sorry.” She smiled tentatively. “Will you stay?”
“Well, if the nibblet’s gone to all that trouble, it’d be rude not to.” He gave her a crooked smile, head tilted.
She gave a relieved sigh. “Good, that’s… good.” His eyes held hers and there it was again – the elusive surge emotions, of a sudden need that felt half remembered, half dreamt, a feeling that flowed like electricity through her body and slipped through her mind as she strove to catch it, to hold it, to remember. She blinked and looked away in confusion. “Dawn will be happy you’re back.” She took a step toward the house, and hesitated. “Spike… can I ask you something?” That feeling…
“Fire away, pet.”
“Did we… you know… ever…” She ground to an embarrassed halt, regretting her words the instant they left her mouth and turned to find him standing close by her side.
He looked away and ran his hand over the back of his neck. She watched his fingers, noticed the way the disturbed hair formed soft, unruly curls at the nape of his neck, fancied she could feel their texture with her own yearning fingertips. “Buffy…” he began.
“No!” She held up her hands, blushing furiously. “Please don’t answer that!” Given the heat that coursed through her and the sudden tingling fire of her skin, she was pretty sure that her body remembered something even if her mind didn’t.
Spike looked down with an abashed grin. She watched him, the way his face softened when he smiled like that, the sudden shyness, the vulnerability so at odds with the face he liked to think he presented to the world, and again she felt the pull of him in her core. But this time it wasn’t so frightening, because now he was here she felt – almost knew – that there must be a reason for all this, must be something locked away in the core of her memory that tied her to him despite all the certainties she had thought she had. And that the way she was feeling wasn’t wrong, couldn’t be wrong, because she would never have let herself feel this way if it was wrong… would she?
And because suddenly it seemed natural, and before she really thought about what she was doing, she kissed him – a soft brush of her lips on his, as shy as a teenager on a first date, hesitant and gentle.
She… she wasn’t prepared for how the touch of him might feel, for the sudden jolt of familiarity, the flaring of passion, the shock of emotions that took her breath away with such force that she gasped and pulled back, staring up at him with stunned eyes, her heart thundering painfully in her chest.
And he… she’d never kissed him like that, never with that sweetness and vulnerability and honesty and hesitancy. All the times before – all the sad, desperate kisses, all the bruising, frantic kisses, all the knowing, passionate kisses – none had touched him as strongly as this.
“Goodnight, Spike.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Goodnight, Buffy.” He watched her walk slowly across to the house, turn and look back.
“I’m glad you came home,” she said quietly, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah,” he returned her soft smile, “me too.”
He watched her go inside, picked up the blanket and headed for the steps to the basement.
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