Fourteen
They’d made it back to the flat above the bakery without incident. Moments after the women were safely inside the flat, Spike wheeled the car about and sped down the street. His plan was to ditch the vehicle somewhere between the club and the bakery, hopefully not leading any of Sweet’s henchmen to their door. He was gone only a matter of minutes, but in that time, Buffy had gone up to the roof, while Giles, Willow, and Tara were working on finding a way home.
Seeing Xander’s reunion with Anya brought up feelings Buffy had been avoiding in the weeks since her return to life. She felt so disconnected. Nothing was real. She looked down at the dress she was still wearing, unable to really appreciate the picture she presented. Spike’s reaction had been interesting, at least at that moment. It had made her feel real; made her feel like she really existed. There were times this all felt like a dream, a bad dream. She felt insubstantial, unreal. Not even looking after Dawn felt real. Buffy leaned against the low parapet wall surrounding the roof and sighed. She didn’t belong here – her time had been done. She’d accomplished her life’s work. She’d saved Dawn, saved the world. That’s what a Slayer was supposed to do. To save the world, and if she gave her life to do so, well, that too was a Slayer’s destiny.
She’d done that. Died to save the world. Only her friends hadn’t been able to accept that. Hadn’t been able to let go, to let her rest in peace. They hadn’t even believed she’d gone to a place of peace. How crazy was that? Did they think I deserved to be tormented forever? I’m the Slayer, fighting for the forces of good – didn’t that automatically ensure a place in heaven?
Didn’t it?
Buffy sighed again, wondering why she couldn’t find a way to connect. Find where she belonged. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper of sound in the dark. “Everything has its season, everything has its time. Show me a reason and I'll soon show you a rhyme. Cats fit on the windowsill, children fit in the snow. Why do I feel I don't fit in anywhere I go?”
Her arms crossed over her chest and she fought a chill. “Rivers belong where they can ramble . . . Eagles belong where they can fly. I've got to be where my spirit can run free, got to find my corner of the sky.”
Dawn leaned against the door to the roof, her eyes filled with tears as she listened to the tune her sister was singing. The pain and longing, and utter sadness in the words made it impossible to stop crying. This isn’t fair . . .
“Every man has his daydreams, every man has his goal. People like the way dreams have of sticking to the soul . . . Thunderclouds have their lightning, nightingales have their song and don't you see I want my life to be something resembling long . . .” She raised her head to the night sky, as if searching for a way to return. “Rivers belong where they can ramble, eagles belong where they can fly . . . I've got to be where my spirit can run free, got to find my corner of the sky.”
Brushing away the tears, Dawn decided against going to her sister, since it was clear she needed the time alone. Knowing where Buffy had been explained so much, but there were still things Dawn didn’t understand. “So many men seem destined to settle for something small. But I won't rest until I know I've given my all. So don't ask where I'm going, just listen when I'm gone . . . And far away you'll hear me singing, softly to the dawn: Rivers belong where they can ramble, eagles belong where they can fly . . . I've got to be where my spirit can run free, got to find my corner of the sky.”
Buffy sang the last line over again, then dropped her head down and sobbed. Dawn couldn’t let her believe she was so alone that no one cared. She knew what her sister was asking. . . that the next time she died, she be allowed to stay dead, to stay in heaven. Reaching her in a few quick strides, Dawn hugged her tight. “I promise. I swear it, Buffy. I won’t let them do it.”
That was where Spike found them, not long after Buffy had stopped singing. The pair was still enwrapped in each other’s embrace, neither one willing to let go. The smell of their tears led him to where they stood in silence. It wounded him, in a place he rarely allowed anyone entry, when a woman wept. The fact it was these two, who both held most of his heart, made that place ache even more. He wished he could take away their pain, make it all better for the both of them; but it was beyond even his considerable strength. Theirs was a pain nothing could alleviate. Easing Buffy’s hurt wouldn’t do anything to help Dawn’s, in fact, would probably make hers worse. He was caught, unable to help at all.
The girls broke apart at the sound of his footsteps on the roof. Spike searched for something to say, some way to make them both smile, but words escaped him. The three of them stood in awkward silence, until Dawn huffed out a self-deprecating noise. “I’m gonna go ditch this dress.”
Neither of the other two acknowledged her statement. Spike’s eyes and nearly full attention were on Buffy, who had once again wrapped her arms about herself and was staring off into the distance.
“Yeah. I’m just gonna go do that.” Dawn shot a glance at her sister. “I guess I’ll check on the others too.”
She was gone in the next heartbeat, before either one of them could respond.
“You alright, pet?” Spike took a couple of steps closer to Buffy, who backed away an equal measure. “Buffy?”
“I can’t. . .” Her voice trailed off and she turned away from him. “I don’t know. . .”
“You cannot quit me so quickly, there's no hope in you for me, no corner you could squeeze me . . . But I got all the time for you, love.” His voice crooned out the words as he approached her slowly, warily watching her. Hoping she wouldn’t retreat from him. “The space between the tears we cry, is the laughter keeps us coming back for more. The space between the wicked lies we tell and hope to keep safe from the pain.”
Spike reached out to touch her gently on the shoulder and she didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away. He stepped closer, leaving only inches between them. “But will I hold you again?”
When she didn’t respond or reject him, Spike took a chance and placed his hands around her waist. “These fickle, fuddled words confuse me, like 'Will it rain today?' Waste the hours with talking, talking, these twisted games we're playing . . .We're strange allies, with warring hearts. What wild-eyed beast you be.”
Buffy leaned against him, her head resting against his chest. She still wouldn’t look at him, though Spike took some hope from the fact she didn’t wrench herself away. “The space between the wicked lies we tell and hope to keep safe from the pain. Will I hold you again? Will I hold . . .”
He couldn’t take his eyes from her profile. She angled her head, able to see him from the corner of her eye and he closed his eyes. The next second she had turned in his arms and kissed him. She kissed him. Spike was at a complete loss. He’d never expected this. . . never expected her to kiss him. When he broke off, they were both panting. Her eyes were wild, all green and gold in the moonlight.
“Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster. You know you went off like a devil in a church in the middle of a crowded room . . . All we can do, my love, is hope we don't take this ship down.”
A soft smile crossed his features, though his eyes were more cautious. “The space between, where you're smiling high . . . Is where you'll find me if I get to go. The space between the bullets in our firefight, is where I'll be hiding, waiting for you. The rain that falls, splash in your heart ran like sadness down the window into . . .”
She leaned back to where his hands were clasped behind her waist, in the small of her back. An answering smile met his and Spike sighed, pulling her closer. “The space between our wicked lies, is where we hope to keep safe from pain.”
He opened his hands, swinging her away from him, but grabbing her hand. “Take my hand, 'cause we're walking out of here, oh, right out of here. Love is all we need here. The space between what's wrong and right, is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you. The space between your heart and mine is the space we'll fill with time. The space between . . .”
This time, when he pulled her close, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him closer.
“It looks really simple, Giles. We should be able to open a portal.” Willow looked up from the notes Giles had been compiling. “We don’t need much. Salt and a few other herbs. I think we already have them.”
“That’s good.” He looked around, noting that they were all there. “Shall we do it now?”
Willow shook her head negatively. “I think we should wait until morning. I’m still kind of woozy from earlier.”
“It is kind of late.” Tara added her agreement to Willow’s statement. “It might be. . . be better to wait.”
Conceding the need for both witches to be at their best, Giles nodded. “Very well. Perhaps then we should seek out something more substantial than the baked goods we still have left. I suggest Spike accompany me, while you all rest.” Looking around at the others, Giles realized more than half of them were in the tattered remains of the formal dresses. “Perhaps you would all prefer to freshen up?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I cannot wait to ditch these ribbons and bows. So glad no one from home can see me now.” She tugged at the wide ribbon around her waist. “Thanks, Willow, for giving me a dress that looks like a cake.”
Tara smiled wryly at the teen. “It’s really pretty, Dawn.”
“And I still feel like an extra from Gone with the Wind.” Glaring at the red-head, she allowed herself a soft whine. “Can you please change these clothes into something else now?”
“Okay, okay. Gimme a minute.” Willow closed her eyes, then said, “Finite incantatum.”
“Hey! That’s from Harry Potter!” Dawn shifted warily, then glanced down at herself. “Oh, cool. It worked.”
When Giles shot a look at the red-head, she at least had a little grace to look somewhat chagrined. “It works. Not the greatest idea, but . . .” She smiled that smile she always used when she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “It worked. No harm, right?”
“Not what I would recommend, Willow.” Giles shook his head, then motioned Spike out the door. “We’ll be back shortly. I hope.”
Xander headed in the opposite direction. “Dibs on the shower. I gotta wash.”
Once the three men were gone, Anya directed her attention on the Slayer. “Are you going to let Spike comfort you? Have you shared orgasms yet?”
“Anya!” Buffy admonished the ex-demon, motioning toward her sister. “I can’t. . . I . . .”
“Why not? He’s clearly still in love with you.” Anya shared a look with Dawn. “He’s very handsome. And he’s a vampire, so you wouldn’t have to worry about hurting him.”
Buffy shook her head, trying to shake some of the images Anya’s words invoked. “I can’t. . . I don’t – I don’t love him.”
The former demon made a weird snorting, snuffling sort of noise deep in her throat. “Oh, please. Anyone could see it. It’s very clear you are in love with Spike.”
“I am not. In. Love. With. Spike.” Buffy rose to her feet, her hands fisted at her sides. “Don’t say that.”
“Why shouldn’t I say it? It’s the truth.”
Instead of throwing a punch, like she clearly wanted to, Buffy paced the floor of the living room. “If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that. No man is worth the aggravation. That's ancient history, been there, done that!”
Dawn and Anya shared another glance, and countered her argument. “Who'd' ya think you're kiddin', he's the Earth and heaven to you. Try to keep it hidden, honey, we can see right through you. Girl, ya can't conceal it, we know how ya feel and who you're thinking of.”
Buffy stared at the two of them, anger flashing in her eyes. “No chance, no way. I won't say it, no, no.”
Dawn put the back of her hand up to her forehead, then sang, “You swoon, you sigh. Why deny it, uh-oh.”
But her sister was shaking her head in denial. “It's too cliche. I won't say I'm in love.” She turned to face the girls, who had all taken up spots on the couch. “I thought my heart had learned its lesson. It feels so good when you start out. My head is screaming get a grip, girl, unless you're dying to cry your heart out!”
As one, three of the girls got to their feet, fingers pointing at the Slayer. “You keep on denying who you are and how you're feeling, baby, we're not buying. Hon, we saw ya hit the ceiling, face it like a grown-up. When ya gonna own up, that ya got, got, got it bad.”
Shaking her head negatively, Buffy tried denying it again. “Whoa! No chance, no way! I won't say it, no, no . . .”
Anya stepped forward, a huge grin on her face. “Give up, give in, check the grin you're in love.”
The Slayer waved her away. “This scene won't play, I won't say I'm in love.”
This time even Willow sang along with the other three. “You're doin' flips, read our lips, you're in love.”
“You're way off base, I won't say it.” Buffy stamped her foot like a five year old.
Dawn turned to Tara with a grin. “She won’t say she’s in love.”
Buffy lunged at her sister, who didn’t flinch at all. “Get off my case! I won't say it!’
Anya grabbed Buffy’s hand. “Girl, don't be proud, it's okay, you're in love.”
Giving up, knowing she was beaten, Buffy finally sighed and smiled at the others. “Oh-ohhhhh, at least out loud, I won't say I'm in love.”
Giggles rang out through the living room, and although Willow looked like she wanted to say something, Tara caught her hand and shook her head. “Let it go, Willow. She deserves to be happy. It’s okay if she does love him. He’s been changing.”
“That’s just the chip. It’s not him. Not really.” Willow shook off Tara’s hand. “He’s a vampire. He’s tried to kill us.”
“Not in a very long time, Willow. And he does love her. I’ve seen it.” Tara’s voice was low, her head close to Willow’s. “He’s done some really good things.”
“It’s not real.” Dawn overheard Willow’s objections and kicked the red-head. “Knock it off, Willow. Spike wouldn’t do anything to hurt us.”
“She’s right. This is a man who thinks with his heart, his heart is not always wise. This is a man who stumbles and falls, but this is a man who tries . . This is a man she'll forgive and forgive, and help protect, as long as she lives . . .”
Willow screwed up her features, preparing to argue with Tara. “He will not always say what you would have him say, but now and then he'll do something wonderful. He has a thousand dreams that won't come true. You know that he believes in them and that's enough for you.”
She stopped singing, looking straight into her girlfriend’s eyes. “Maybe not you, sweetie. But if Buffy can forgive him, if she trusts him, doesn’t that mean something? If you can’t trust him, you have to trust her.” Tara leaned back. “She deserves to be happy, Willow. We tore her out of heaven. . . and she’s suffering. We owe it to her. If Spike makes her happy, and if she can forgive him, then we have to stop trying to run her life.”
Willow opened her mouth, and Tara took her finger and placed it over her lips. “No, Willow. Let it go.”
Liner Notes:
Corner of the Sky: from the musical Pippin; music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz. Original production premiered on Broadway 23 October 1972 and was choreographed and directed by Bob Fosse. The titular character sings this particular song, and has been covered by such diverse artists as Dusty Springfield, Petula Clark, and the Jackson 5.
The Space Between: