“Is that it? Candles and a couple of rocks?” Buffy looked around the room nervously. “Shouldn’t there be – I dunno – pentagrams or incense or strange unearthly mood music or something?”
“Would you like that?” Willow gave her a perplexed frown from her position cross-legged on the rug.
“Wouldn’t it help?”
“Nope. Strictly speaking we don’t need the candles. Just thought they were kind of pretty.” She smiled at Buffy encouragingly. “It’ll be OK,” she said with rather more conviction than she felt.
“OK.” Buffy took a deep breath and sat facing Willow mirroring her crossed legs. “So – you ready for this?”
“I’m ready.” Willow sat up straight and put on her determined face. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Buffy watched as Willow closed her eyes. “Should I close my eyes?”
“If it makes you more comfortable.” Willow began to focus on the two polished stones she held in her hands, drawing on the familiar resonance of their crystal structure.
“Oh.” Buffy waited. “Should I have a pebble, too?”
Willow opened one eye. “Do you want one?”
“Would it help?”
“Other than give you something to do with your hands? No.”
“Oh.” Buffy watched Willow, amazed at her aura of quiet calm. “Should I concentrate on something?”
“Not yet…” Willow opened her eyes and smiled, calmed as always by the familiar shape and smoothness of the crystals. “Well, I guess that’s it. Ready to rock with the rocks.”
“OK. Let's do it.” Buffy swallowed nervously. “You will be careful? One sign of you being in any sort of danger…”
“And I’ll be out of there quicker ‘n fleas off a dead dog…”
“Yeww. Thank you for that.” Buffy grimaced.
Willow grinned. “We’ve been through all this with Giles. No taking the risks. No messing around. No doing anything unless it’s safe. Oh, and no peeking where I shouldn’t, like you told me. And the look Spike gave me?” Willow nodded. “I get it.”
“It’s just…”
“I know.” Willow smiled reassuringly. “I’m not risking either of us.”
“Will?” Buffy watched Willow. “I’m glad it’s just the two of us.”
“Me too; it’s neat. Although on a purely practical note, having Giles peering over my shoulder and Spike pacing the floor like some sort of caged animal…”
“Spike paced?”
“Couldn’t you hear him while you were getting dressed? Up and down, up and down, until Giles threatened to chain him up in the bathtub again if he didn’t stop wearing a track in his Persian rug.”
“Well, then for the sake of Giles’ fragile sanity and his rug, we’d best do this.” Buffy smiled. “Willow?”
“Hmm?” Willow was concentrating on her final preparations.
“I… thank you. For trying this.”
Willow looked over at her. “You’re my friend. What else would I do?”
Buffy nodded, tears glinting in her eyes. She shook them back. “What do I do?”
“Just… let it happen…OK?” Willow’s eyes locked with Buffy’s, their hazel lights shifting to mirror the green of her friend’s eyes. A flash of amethyst-purple sparked in their depths. “We begin,” she said calmly and reached out.
******
Willow had touched Buffy’s mind before, so it was easier to slip back in, and Buffy’s trust helped smooth the way. She soothed Buffy into a trance-like state that left her open to her soft, calming touch and gradually slipped deeper into her consciousness. Carefully, Willow approached the ward on Count Cagliastro’s spell, the trigger that would alert him if anyone touched Buffy’s lost memories. This time she was ready for it; and she had to admit to a small disappointment at how basic it was. No challenge to deal with at all – even given the little surprise she was leaving him. That sorted out, Willow refocused her mind and prepared to move deeper – and to face up to her fear.
And there it was. It glowed in Buffy like a hard, bright jewel, shot through with myriad shards of power, power that sent delicate tendrils of connection through time and space. Darkness swirled through its brightness, tied and moulded by the power it helped forge, quelled but not tamed, as essential as the pure white energy that caged it. The heart of the slayer – the power she had tasted when she’d held the scythe and channelled it to rouse the potentials. Despite her resolve, she couldn’t resist drawing closer to it, couldn’t stop herself craving the feel of the ancient strength, the engrossing complexity of it. It was so beautiful. The urge to touch it, to feel the resonance of that power, was overwhelming. This was what she had dreaded – the call of the magicks, the intoxication she had tasted but never truly owned, the hunger for power – and the fear she would succumb, that all the efforts of the coven, all her own efforts to deny her cravings for the taste of the forbidden, all would come to nothing. Distracted, Willow felt her consciousness drawn toward it. Just a touch… one small taste… so much beautiful power… she fought back the thought of what she could do with that power… what good she could do with it… how it was wasted on Buffy… I mean, you know, Buffy: sweet girl, not that bright… She stopped. A gentle calm washed over her. The memories of the coven, their warm, steady support, their quiet belief in her despite their fear of her potential, filled her mind. They believed in her. And with their help, and with the love and trust of her friends, right then, she believed in her too. She didn’t need this. She was so much more. Calm and refocused she turned away from the power.
And that was when she sensed it.
It was barely there; a shimmer in the threads of connection that spread from the core of the power linking Buffy with those who had gone before, and those that the scythe had enabled. When Willow tried to capture the flickering wrongness it shifted, resisted her probing. Hesitantly she drew closer to core of power, reached out to it and let it resonate in her own mind. She withdrew her touch quickly, suppressing a surge of panic. There was something very wrong. She felt an answering uneasiness in Buffy’s deep consciousness and she poured calmness and reassurance into her like balm. There was no time for this now. She had a job to do, and if she didn’t get it right – well, what she had felt was hardly going to matter. Resolutely she closed her mind on what she had seen and refocused.
The threads of Buffy’s memories of Spike sent echoes through her consciousness; the complexity and extent of their connection staggered Willow. She took a mental breath, drew hard on the smooth, comforting weight of the amethyst and reached for a memory, the first and earliest, gently easing it back to where she sensed a loss.
She started a chain reaction. The connections began to snap back with no further help from Willow, so rapidly that she had no time to try and organise them, no chance to stop what she had started. It was as if Buffy’s mind was avid for them, hungry to reclaim them, grasping at them greedily to try and repair their loss. Taken by surprise by the apparent chaos around her, Willow tried to pull out of Buffy’s consciousness as a kaleidoscope of images and emotions flooded Buffy’s mind and hers. But she’d lost the link. She grasped in panic for the homing connection – for the draw of the haematite she knew she clutched in her hand, but in the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that filled her she lost her tenuous hold and she felt herself swept into the maelstrom.
******
For Buffy, time ceased to exist. Her memories flooded back, orderless, old on new, new on old, painfully intense as if she lived each moment again; a powerful, overwhelming mix of despair and despite, pain and passion, agony and ecstasy, hate and hope and affection and something so deep, so strong… through it all… through it all… the strength of his love for her held her together. And as each remembrance fitted into the pattern of their past she saw that past through new eyes, eyes opened by what she had learned, a heart set free from prejudice – she saw what had been.
She wasn’t sure if the wail that echoed in her head was hers or Willow’s.
******
Her senses alive with Buffy’s emotions, body wracked with aching gasps for breath, Willow finally felt the chaos begin to subside. She frantically reached for the grounding stone, found it, focussed on its cool, stable form and pulled home.
Buffy felt her friend break from her mind, felt the sudden loss of her presence as the last few memories snapped into place. Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring into Willow’s stunned eyes. For a moment they stared at each other, each panting breathlessly.
“Wow.” Willow’s voice was husky with strain and emotion, “Wow, Buffy… Are-are you OK?”
“I’m…” Buffy stared at her a moment longer “Oh, God, Will,” and tears started in her eyes. “Oh, my God.”
*******
They were waiting in Giles’ study. As soon as Buffy and Willow walked through the door all eyes turned to them, and with their assurance that all was well, they were engulfed in Dawn’s arms. Giles’ resisted a moment, then finally dropped all pretence of British reserve and hugged the two women. Buffy’s eyes scanned the room, looking for Spike. He was hanging back, standing uncertainly in the corner, watching. She met his eye, read the apprehension there, and looked away quickly. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“So it’s all back?” Dawn was talking excitedly and Buffy struggled to focus on what she was saying.
“Wha...? Oh, um… yeah… all back…” Buffy gave her a short smile.
“No wooziness?” Giles peered at her closely.
“No wooziness. Bit of a headache maybe…” She fluttered a hand in the general direction of her forehead.
“No short-term memory problems?”
“Why? What’s happened?” She frowned at Giles in puzzlement.
“You… you don’t remember?”
“Joke.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Very… bad… joke.”
“Ah. And sadly your sense of humour hasn’t suffered.” Giles turned to Willow. “Well done, Willow. Good job.”
“Hey! No big.” Willow shrugged her shoulders and gave a self-deprecating smile.
“And all went smoothly? No… ah… problems?”
Willow hesitated. What she had felt – sensed – in Buffy… She found it hard to put into words, wasn’t sure if she could explain – leastways, she looked at Buffy, not now. She fought back her unease. “No. No problems. Like a quiet night in with a good movie.” She exchanged a smile with Buffy. “A really wild movie.”
Dawn was beaming widely. “Well, so much for stupid Morty and his feeble old wizard. No match for our super-cool super-witch!” She hugged Willow again and turned back to Buffy. “Oh, it’s so neat! Everything back to the way it was!”
“Yeah,” a fleeting frown touched Buffy’s forehead, “kinda…”
“It’s great. Really great! Isn’t it, Spike?” Spike’s silence had suddenly registered with Dawn.
“Yeah.” Spike was watching Buffy uneasily. “Really… great…” All eyes turned to Buffy, who flushed and looked down. Spike frowned.
Willow’s eyes flicked between Buffy and Spike. “Oookayyyy…” She slipped her hand through Dawn and Giles’ arms. “All that magic has made me wicked hungry. How about we go make hot chocolate? Maybe order up a pizza. Extra anchovies.”
“Ah… shouldn’t we…?” Giles gestured toward his desk. “You know, we should make a record… notes… that sort of… and start thinking about…”
“After pizza.” Willow said firmly, leading the two of them out of the study. She glanced back and Buffy and smiled reassuring. “Plenty of time for the dusty stuff later.” She closed the door firmly behind them and Spike and Buffy were alone.
There was a long moment of silence. “So – it’s all back?” Spike was the first to break it.
“Yes. Sort of.” Buffy’s voice was nervous.
“And now you wish it wasn’t.”
“No. No, not that.” She frowned and wrapped her arms around herself. “Spike… it’s all back, but it’s all…” she paused unhappily, “...different.”
“Oh.” he winced and looked away, fighting against the hard ache in his gut. Well, what did you expect…?
“When the memories came back – it was… intense,” she gave a slight shake of her head, “ but at the same time it was like… like I was outside of it. I was seeing it all… what we… what I did… really seeing it.” She looked up at him, then quickly away, hugged herself closer. “How could you…” She shook her head, lost for words.
He looked over at her, blue eyes raw with pain. How could I what? How could I do those things to you? How could I drag you down to my level? How could I dare to love you?
She moved closer to him, laid a tentative hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said hesitantly.
“S’OK.” He couldn’t meet her eyes, stared instead at the intricate pattern of the rug. “Fool to think it would last.” He knew his voice was bitter, but it hurt too much to hide.
“Last?” Her voice was confused. “You think…? Spike… Spike look at me.” She reached up to take his face in her hands. “I’m sorry. For all I did, for the mess I made of… of us.” The shock and surprise in his eyes pulled at her heart. “I don’t know how you could… after everything I said to you… the way I treated you… kept on… why you kept on… I didn’t deserve…” The intensity of her emotion made her voice raw, brought tears that drowned her words.
He stood for a moment, eyes locked with hers as she stared at him wordlessly. “I loved you,” he said simply.
She looked up at him with something approaching wonder. “And I wouldn’t see it," she whispered. ”I’m so sorry. For both of us.”
“Buffy, love… it wasn’t just you… I mean, it was hardly easy. An' I..."
She shook her head. “I wish I could make it different…”
“No," Spike said firmly. "‘S all part of what we are love, the past. S'what makes us... breaks us if we let it. Important thing is we keep on learning; we keep on moving on. What matters is now.” He brushed a tear from her cheek. “Believe me – if livin’ for 100+ years teaches you anything it’s that.” He shrugged. “Granted it’s taken me best part of that 100+ years to figure it out, but, you know – never was a quick study.”
She laughed softly. "Turns out me neither, huh?" She looked up at him, smiling. “I told Angel you were in my heart.”
“I bet that went down well.”
She rolled her eyes. “No. Not so well.” She reached up to stroke a hand softly over his cheek. “Something I learned tonight. Before… when I couldn’t remember… I still knew you. What we had went… went beyond memory. You are in my heart. You’re in every part of me. You’re written in my blood.” The intensity of her voice caught as his heart. “It took me so long to see it. You’re the one, Spike. You’ve always been the one.”
“Well," he smiled softly against the lump in this throat and touched her cheek, “that’s OK then…”
Buffy wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her tightly. “I never want to lose you again,” she whispered against his chest.
“No reason you should. I’m going nowhere.” He brushed her forehead with his lips.
She sighed and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him. “Maybe I could get Willow to do a ‘no-more-spells’ spell on my brain. I’m kinda getting tired of people messing with it.”
Spike gave a soft chuckle. “And maybe I should stop pissin’ off the powerful…”
She opened her eyes with a smile. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen…” she said, bringing her lips to his.
And then all hell broke loose in the hall.
There was the sound of raised voices, Dawn’s loudest of all, and the study door flew back on its hinges with a crash.
Andrew stood in the doorway, hands on hips, frowning angrily. “So there you are! You go dashing off without so much as a goodbye – not even a note! Would a note have been so hard? And you told that woman to look after me, and she was unbelievably scary…” He paused and looked at Buffy. “Oh… hello, Buffy.” He turned his attention back to Spike. “You know, she came marching into my bedroom without even knocking, and she kept shouting at me in Russian or something and the flight was just awful! There was a goat! I really…” He stopped, suddenly noticing that Spike and Buffy were watching him with perfectly matched bemusement and standing very, very close to each other indeed. "It... I... you..." he went on bemusedly. The penny finally dropped. “You all did the spell! You remember!” Andrew dashed across the room and threw his arms around them both. “Oh, it’s wonderful! You’re back together! How… romantic!" He stepped back with a sigh and looked at them with a broad grin which suddenly changed to a deep pout. “You could have waited…” he sulked.
Buffy shook her head. “No. Really. We couldn’t.”
“Oh, well.” Andrew considered for a moment. “I guess I understand that.” He smiled happily. “It really is very romantic.”
“Andrew?” Spike raised an eyebrow.
“Hmm?”
“We’re kind of busy.” Spike pulled Buffy closer to him, and she rested her head on his chest.
“Oh? You are?" Spike narrowed his eyes at him and Andrew blushed. "Oh! Right! Busy… yeah…” He sidled to the door. “I’ll just go… unpack, then…”
“Yeah, you do that.”
“OK…” Andrew paused in the doorway and looked back at Spike and Buffy. "Cool," he sighed, closing the door behind him, “So romantic…” The sound of the scolding from Dawn that greeted him could clearly be heard, even through the closed door.
“Oooo, Dawn's cross! Poor Andrew!” Buffy gave a snort of laughter. “Speaking of packing, we’ve got a little trip to organise ourselves. We’ve got unfinished business in Rome. We really need to... to... Mmmm… Spike?” Buffy lost the power of rational thought as Spike’s lips brushed her neck.
“You really wanna do that now?” Spike’s mouth moved to her ear.
“Maybe later… no rush…” Buffy sighed softly. “What is it with you and packing…?” she whispered against his lips.
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