She immediately reported on the proceedings of last night which weighed heavily on her mind. “Giles, remember Willow offered to bring Dawn home last night? Well, she made a detour and visited some dimension-y magic booster or what-not, some warlock.”
Briefly Buffy covered the bare facts of what Dawn had told them about the visit. She left out the vampire attack on her sister, nothing could be done about that now and she didn’t want Giles to worry unnecessarily. But what to do about Willow?
“When Willow came to my house hours later looking for Dawn, she was – I don’t know how to describe it – ‘out of control’ would be the only way to explain her attitude. I’ve never seen Willow like that, so enraged, so charged. Her face was flushed and her pupils huge; she was covered in crackling energy bolts, like a walking nuclear reactor. When we asked what she’d been doing, she totally flipped out. She threatened us and I don’t know if she even noticed that she nearly ripped my door off its hinges with her magic. I swear she literally floated down the front porch.”
“Buffy, my dear, you must be exaggerating. Willow has power, true, but she is also just a beginner, dabbling a bit in magic. Primarily her spells are just little charms, like the children’s play she did on Halloween. You are clearly overrating her abilities.”
Buffy was disappointed about Giles’ reaction. She had to admit that it might be harder for him to envision Willow as the menacing, out of control witch that Buffy had witnessed. She wouldn’t have believed it either, had she not seen with her own eyes the radical change her normally meek and unostentatious friend had gone through.
“Giles, I don’t know. Maybe this warlock messed around with her. He might’ve, you know, hexed her or something.” Buffy shook her head and looked expectantly at Giles.
“That might be a possibility. When he put power into her, like your retelling of the events suggests, that might explain the phenomenon you described: the crackling of energy and her flushed state. The power was seemingly trying to find a way to leave her again. To be sure, we would need more information about this warlock and his whereabouts.”
Buffy leaned forward in her seat and put her hand flat on the surface. “Giles, I searched today for this Rack, that’s his name, in the alley Dawn told me about. It was just deserted buildings - there was no sign anybody had ever been there. But I’m not a witch, I can’t detect magic if it doesn’t jump up and smack me in the face. I might've trampled straight through his office without even noticing it. Maybe you should take a look?”
Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose and pushed his glasses higher. “I will do this, certainly. If this warlock is so renowned, I might find some information or at least references about him in the Wiccan registers. This would also be a good opportunity to try out the Council’s new online research library – providing I can still remember how to operate it.”
Buffy sighed, “Spike has no clue who Rack is, he’d never heard of him. He tried to sniff him out yesterday. We thought, if Rack’s still there he might smell him, or get a tickle, or a rash, or whatever. You know how Spike hates magic? I found his note this morning that he came up empty – ummh, he did phrase it a little more colorfully, of course. There were lots of ‘buggers’ and ‘bloodys’ in it.”
She smiled a bit about the memory. Spike had surprised her with that note. It was nothing special, just a few sentences scribbled on a ripped apart envelope, but with elegant, flowing writing, like calligraphy.
“I went to Willy’s and asked if anyone knew of Rack, but again, zilch. But you know Willy the weasel, if he gets no profit out of it, his brain turns to mush. I hit some of his customers, but that didn't bring up anything either. Not that I'd expected it, but...” Buffy looked a bit sheepish.
Thinking back, she’d just needed an excuse to funnel some of her pent up anger and frustration on the few demons hanging out there during the morning. Well, if they attacked a grumpy Slayer, or stood in the way of her fists, it was their own fault anyway.
Giles looked her over, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. Clearly he had seen her true motivation behind the facts. “It would be best if we confront Rack personally. I’ll need to know the nature of his defenses and how to pass this barrier. You said that Willow chanted something? This might have been a password to open the gateway. I just wonder how Dawn could escape such a strong magical boundary, without help.”
Buffy stood up and restlessly paced the room, her arms folded over her chest. She needed to bring the topic back to Willow. “I would really like to blame Willow’s behavior on a spell, Giles. Just, I've a bad feeling with this one. Willow’s often been impulsive the last few weeks, like she was, I don’t know, above the rest of us – like our opinions didn’t matter – even with Tara. Willow's my friend and I don't want her to turn into what I saw last night. It was frightening. Whatever she was, she wasn't our Willow anymore.”
Giles pulled off his glasses and started to polish them again. “Maybe we should reduce the pressure on her for the moment. She’s spending a lot of her time helping with research and spell work. Now that university has started again, perhaps we should give her more time for her studies.”
Buffy shook her head and shrugged slightly. “Giles, I’m not so sure that’ll help, but it’s worth a try. I talked to Tara on the phone and I’ll meet up with her and Wills later at the Espresso Pump. Something’s going on, Willow is changing and not in a way I think is safe for her and everyone around her. I know Tara’s worried too, but I don’t want to question her behind Willow’s back about what’s going on. That wouldn’t be good, not for their relationship, or for my friendship with Willow.”
Giles smiled at Buffy. “Haven’t you grown up in the last year? I always forget how adult you are already. I often still see the headstrong young girl, who came into my library and wanted nothing more than to shed her Calling. The cheerleader, more concerned about fashion and dating than ‘vampyres’. You came along with friends and family, and turned my entire Watcher’s training upside-down.”
Giles paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “That reminds me of something else I wanted to talk to you about. While I was in London at the Watcher’s headquarters, I had also some talks with Travers. I don't agree with a lot of the Council’s procedures, but what he suggested made sense.”
Uh oh. That was what Buffy had feared. Interference from the Council again and Travers for sure hadn't forgotten how she outmaneuvered him last year. Giles at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. She slumped back into her chair and braced herself for what was coming.
He cleared his throat. “It is great that you have your friends, and now also Spike, to help you. You rely on them and that’s worked remarkably well in the past. But, what if you become too dependent on them? What if a situation arises where you can’t get help from them?”
Giles looked at Buffy, concern in his eyes. “Even worse, what if they get into trouble and you can’t help them? What if one of them dies? That would be a blow you might never recover from. What if you get distracted trying to protect them? You are taking a great risk, not just with your life, but with theirs, as well.”
Even if she didn’t like the questions, Buffy could see his point. She herself had often enough replayed scenes of ‘what if’ in her head. She absentmindedly shifted one of Anya’s bridal magazines back and forth on the tabletop.
“Please Giles, that’s one of those ‘chicken and the egg’ questions! What if I don’t take them with me and I lose? What if they cross a street and get run over by a car? They are living on the Hellmouth, after all - everything goes haywire here. It was always their decision to join the fight, I never asked them to – they just did it. Even when I tried to keep them away, they still got involved. I can’t forbid them to volunteer and, unlike the average people in Sunnydale, they at least know the threat they’re dealing with. The best I can do is place them where they’re of the most value and in the least danger.”
Giles stood up and walked over to the counter and back again. It clearly wasn’t an easy topic for him either. He looked down at her, concern but also understanding in his eyes. “I don’t want you to order them to stay back; we both know they are much too stubborn for that to work. But perhaps you could act more independently once in a while? Patrol without your friends; you can take Spike with you. He’s nearly as strong as you and knows how to handle himself in nearly any situation. If you cut down your dependence on all of your friends, this would also reduce the pressure on Willow without making it obvious.”
Buffy’s shoulders sagged as she thought this over. Was this what being grown up was about, making the hard decisions, or was that just a Slayer thing? Didn’t her problems ever get any easier? Whenever she felt some burden had been lifted, another one descended on her, just to keep her life from being enjoyable. Money problems, school problems, friend problems – where did it end?
Willow was veering off into unknown territory. She might lose their house and custody of Dawn, not to mention that she herself didn’t have a future to speak of. She might never have a chance to finish college and what job opportunities would that give her? She shuddered when she envisioned herself, working at a burger joint for barely enough to keep food on the table, the smell of rancid grease her substitute for Chanel No.5. Didn’t life ever get easier?
No matter how hard she tried, it was never enough. Life was throwing her one curve ball after another. As the Slayer, she could save the world from an impending Apocalypse. But as a woman, dealing with real life? She sucked! Boyfriends? She had efficiently chased them all – well, both of them - away. Now she seemed to be pulling Dawn and her friends down into the drain with her. What else was there to do for her?
“Okay, Giles. I’ll think about it.”
Buffy was sitting at a small table in the Espresso Pump, her hands folded around her hot White Chocolate Moccachino, while she stared vacantly at the sprinkles of dark chocolate chips melting on the frothy surface. It was growing dark and the evening chill was closing in. She tried to rehearse in her mind what she might say to Willow. How would her friend react? She hoped the witch wouldn’t go all ‘electrified woman’ on her again. When Willow and Tara arrived with their drinks at her table, an uncomfortable silence settled on the threesome.
“Willow, I’m sorry that…”
“Buffy, I shouldn’t have…”
Buffy started at the same time as Willow. They looked at each other and laughed, the ice finally broken. The redhead seemed her normal self again, no lightning cracks of energy, no black eyes, or electrified hair anywhere in sight.
“Buffy, I’m sorry that you worried about Dawn last night. I should’ve brought her right home from the Magic Box.” Willow gave her an apologetic look and shrugged it off.
Buffy had to give Willow credit for trying to look sorry, but there was an undercurrent in her voice that suggested that it was not heartfelt.
Buffy tried to explain her reaction to what had happened the previous night. “Willow, I may have overreacted, but I was so worried when we came back and Dawn wasn’t there. She got attacked by a vampire on her way home and was nearly killed! It’s a wonder she was able to stake him; we would’ve been too late to save her from getting bitten – she would’ve been completely drained before we could’ve gotten there.”
Oh, God, just when she thought about it again, Buffy could still feel the icy cold hand of fear wrap around her heart and squeeze it to a pulp. She’d never run so hard in her life, and with each footstep she felt the certain dread that she would be too late. Even though Spike had a head start on her, it wouldn’t have been enough to prevent Dawn from getting bitten.
“Oh my God! Buffy, how horrible! Is Dawn ok? This must’ve been so traumatic for her!” Tara’s voice trembled and her eyes were wide with concern.
“It’s okay, Tara, she’s alright. She was even smug about it this morning; thankfully she’s focusing on her first staking and not on the horror of being attacked. I don’t know how often I can endure her telling the tale though. Hasn’t Willow told you anything about it?”
“Uhmm, no.” Tara looked hesitantly at Willow. “When she got home, I was already asleep. Anya and Xander walked home with me when Willow didn’t come back. Xander was really upset that she didn’t bring his car back in time. We all thought that you’d just had an extra long patrol and she had to wait for you longer than expected.”
Buffy hesitated and took a sip of her rapidly cooling moccachino. She didn’t know how to bring up the topic about Willow going over the top. “Hmm, Wills, why did you go to that warlock, anyway? You were so, I don’t know, so high afterwards.”
Willow didn’t look fazed though. “Meagan, from the camp - Tara, you remember her? She was the tall brunette who taught me the cleansing spells? She recommended him and I wanted to check it out. If Dawn had just waited for me like I told her, nothing bad would’ve happened - she shouldn’t have run off on her own. Rack only gave me a short demonstration about how he works, and I think, ummm, I sort of got drunk on it. I felt a bit tipsy afterwards. But nothing bad, really.”
“Willow, you nearly yanked the door off its hinges and you seriously threatened Spike! This wasn’t ‘a bit tipsy’ but a full blast of fright night special, with lightning effects and a wind machine. Rack clearly must’ve done something weird to you! I think I should look into this guy… I mean what do you really know about him?”
Tara listened, her face showing concern as she looked back and forth between them. Her own hot chocolate sat forgotten in front of her.
Willow shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, he didn’t mess with me. He couldn’t, even if he tried. I’m much too strong for that. He just gave me a bit of a power boost, like a vitamin drink. I felt a little fuzzy afterwards, hyper, like I said, but nothing more. And hey, it was just Spike, I didn’t actually do anything to him and he shouldn’t have attacked me anyway, verbally or otherwise. What was he thinking, accusing me like that?”
“Spike was angry because of what happened to Dawn. You know how he feels about her.”
“Yeah, he behaves like Dawn’s his favorite pet. He’s a vampire, for heaven’s sake, Buffy. They don’t have real feelings, so I couldn’t have hurt his.”
Buffy sighed; Spike’s feelings weren’t the point right now as much as she might have argued with Willow about it. “Wills, Giles wants to look into the background of this Rack character, so will you help him? He’d need to know how to locate him and open the doorway to his office. We need to know how long this warlock will stay in town and what his intentions are. I don’t feel comfortable with an unknown player wielding this kind of power so near to the Hellmouth – you know how dangerous that can be.”
Willow averted her eyes as she answered reluctantly. “Rack gave me the coordinates to meet with him tomorrow. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to take Giles with me though. He might frighten Rack off and I want to attend some more sessions with him before he leaves the area.”
“Willow, d-d-do you… you think that’s a good idea?” Tara was wringing her hands in distress. “I d-d-don’t think you should go there again, please. Why do you need more power? You’re already much more powerful than me, can’t you be content with the blessings you’ve gotten from the goddess?”
Buffy joined in, “I’ve got to agree with Tara. Until we know more about him, it might be dangerous to go there again. Willow, please, act reasonably. Don’t go back!”
Willow looked from Buffy to Tara with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now you’ve banded together against me? You want to decide what I do and who I see?”
“Willow, sweetie, that’s not…”
Willow cut Tara’s protest short and focused her wrath on Buffy. “Are you jealous because I finally have a chance to make something of the powers I’ve got? Afraid that I’ll become equal to the Slayer?” Willow asked with a sneer.
Buffy was completely thrown by these sudden accusations; Willow’s words and attitudes were so unlike her usually thoughtful friend.
Willow stood abruptly and turned to leave. “I’m going home now. You coming, Tara?”
Tara shot an anxious glance at Buffy and slid hesitantly off her seat. She looked sad, at a loss for words and slightly ashamed. Buffy watched them leave, Tara trailing behind Willow, giving Buffy a final timid wave before crossing the street.
That didn’t go well. Where had the conversation slipped into the disaster zone? Willow was defensive to begin with, but once Buffy suggested staying clear of Rack, the whole talk had exploded. Then the comment about being equal to the Slayer - where had that come from? Had Buffy given Willow the impression that she thought that she was better than her?
She looked after the retreating figures. Had she lost her best friend after all? She’d tried to mend the break that had been forming in their relationship. Willow had been her friend since her first day at school. They had exchanged confidences and shared their boyfriend troubles. Willow had followed her through all kinds of dangers, always standing at her side. Where had they taken a wrong turn?
The now cold, only half drunk moccachino stayed behind on the table as Buffy headed home, deep in thought.
When people spontaneously started to dance and sing in the streets Buffy jumped on the opportunity to distract her with the new mystery to puzzle out. It seemed innocent enough when it started, the strange music wafting through the air. People started singing about everyday routines like dry cleaning or parking tickets. Nothing sinister it seemed, but Buffy decided it needed investigating. Nobody turned her town into a musical stage without consulting her first. What if she didn’t like the act? She so detested tap dancing.
Later that night the situation reached red alert status for Buffy when she started her own dance routine during a normal patrol. A Slayer shouldn’t join hands with her prey to a choreography she hadn’t approved of. She couldn’t stop and resist the urge to gracefully weave around the headstones to the irresistible music - and she never sang. She always had hated singing in public and she knew that she wasn’t any good at it.
Every single night
The same arrangement
I go out and fight the fight
Still I always feel this strange estrangement
Nothing here is real
Nothing here is right
I’ve been making a show of living
But now I’m tired of all this giving
Dutifully going through the motions
Walking through the part
Nothing helps to lighten my heart
Every single day
The same arrangement
I stand up and try to cope
Still I always have this empty feeling
Nothing here is real
Nothing here is right
I’ve not known what real life requires
What a heavy burden it can be
Alone I’ve handled all the problems
Repairs and endless household bills
Everything seems to work against my will
♫
Buffy didn’t find this amusing at all.
The next day as the first fatality turned up and the Scoobies kicked the research mode into overdrive. Apparently the dancing wasn’t just comic relief, a slapstick routine to amuse the onlookers. If the dancer couldn’t stop, he started to burn, until only a pile of dust remained. The ‘dancing bug’, as Xander had named it, seemed to affect all kinds of people, but most often it struck those who were not content with the turn of their life or who had suffered some loss in the past.
When the Scooby gang assembled at the Magic Box, Buffy noticed that Willow and Tara were holding hands. She had a nagging feeling that there had been some discord between the lovers, but whenever she tried to pinpoint it, the memory seemed to slip away from her grasp – like trying to catch a wisp of smoke or to remember an elusive dream. It couldn’t have been too important if she couldn’t remember it, right? She smiled at them affectionately. Star struck lovers, how nice to see them so devoted to each other.
Willow gave her that special little wave, wriggling her fingers, and placed a tender kiss on Tara’s cheek. The blonde girl blushed at that open display of affection and twirled a small, dusty pink flower between her fingers. With a sweet mellow voice she began to sing.
I lived my life in shadow,
Never the sun on my face
It didn’t seem so bad so,
It just seemed my place.
Now I’m bathed in light
Something just isn’t right
Am I under your spell?
How else can that be?
♫
Willow laid her hand around Tara’s shoulder and pulled her near and answered in a low voice.
You fill my life with sweetness
Always staying at my side
Everything to bring you forgiveness
To open your arms for me wide
To look at me with love
I put you under my spell
To erase all bad feelings
What else could I do?
♫
Tara looked questioningly at Willow and lowered her gaze to the flower in her lap.
After the witches’ song, Xander and Anya also confessed that they had a dance routine for breakfast, but they were extremely vague about the nature of the song. The Scoobies had already figured out that the theme and style always had some meaning for the affected, but if that was relevant at all was still beyond them.
While the gang turned pages after pages of musty old books, looking for a musical demon, a spell, or a magical disease responsible for this behavior, Buffy went to Spike for information.
At least this was what she told her friends. Nobody questioned her because really, Buffy and research were kinda unmix-y.
When Buffy entered his crypt Spike was just finishing his breakfast – well, if you call gulping down a cup of blood with pieces of crumbly stuff in it breakfast. Somehow it didn’t seem to bother her today as she hopped on his sarcophagus without any of her usual biting comments.
He strolled around the room to light some candles and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt and her teeth worried her lower lip. Clearly she had something on her mind, but he knew his lesson by heart, prodding her tended to just shut her up. So he continued to brush nonexistent crumbs from his chair and straightened his stack of video tapes.
“Have you heard about the incidents?” She suddenly blurted out.
“Sunnydale, the musical?” He tried to joke. “At least I’m not on the payroll. Can you imagine me doing Fred Astaire?”
“It’s not funny anymore. People have died.” Buffy’s voice was just a whisper, floating in the shadows of his dim, candlelit crypt. “Some of the victims seem to not be able to stop; they literally dance into their own graves. One of them had recently lost his wife to cancer, they’d reported in the paper that he was depressed and was taking medication.”
Clearly something about that was bothering her. He stood quiet and attentive, waiting for her to continue.
“Giles thinks there’s a pattern. Like, you know, they didn’t want to stop; or didn’t have the energy to stop. That they gave up resisting.” She lowered her eyes to the floor and tucked a lock behind her ear with slightly trembling fingers.
“I danced last night.” Her voice was hollow, devoid of all life; an icy promise of an endless winter.
The silence was deafening. If he had to breathe, he would have stopped now.
Then Buffy’s eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze steadily. “Remember, when you told me about the death wish all Slayers have? I think I get it now.”
No, no, no. Spike twitched to step towards her and wrap her in his arms, but stopped, too afraid that it would chase her away.
“It’s always the same, you know. Every day. The only sure thing in my future is that I will die. One day soon, I’ll lose – the demons just need ‘one good day’, right? And then there will be another Chosen One, the only memory of my end will be a footnote in a Watcher’s diary. And it will go on and on and never end.”
She turned her head away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I feel like I’m being stretched, every day a bit thinner, a bit tighter, and the tension is growing. I feel like I’ll snap at any moment.”
She was breaking his heart. Gently he stepped nearer, tentative and quiet. When Buffy looked back up at him her eyes were filled with tears. She held out her hand pleadingly.
“Help me. Can you help me?”
Spike took her outstretched hand, cautiously, like encasing a timid little bird that was only faintly fluttering, too weak to take flight. His strong girl, his precious Slayer, so broken. And she asked him for help! All his barriers broke down and he began to sing.
I died
so many years ago
and you can make me feel
like it isn't so
But why you come to be with me
I think I finally know
You're scared,
Confused by what you feel
And you won’t tell the ones you love
You want them to believe
That all is well, that nothing changed
That your façade is real
That's great
But I don't wanna see
'cause seein’ you hurt touches me
More than I can say
And since you seem to trust me now
I'm saying let me in
I’ll help you live in peace
Let me give you rest
Let me help you sleep
Sink into my arms and wrap you
In my love safe and secure
Let me bear your burden with you
To give you sweet release
So your heart can rest in peace
♫
Buffy stared at him, her green eyes wide and scared, like a deer frozen in the headlights.
“Spike…” Her voice was a promise, low and soft, full of warmth despite the trembling.
Like an invitation to a dance, she lifted her hand towards him. He could watch the emotions flittering across her face, each chasing the other away. Hope – Hesitation – Skepticism – Resignation - Longing.
Before he could grab her hand to pull her out of her misery, her limb fell lifelessly to her side. Then the spell was broken and she turned and ran.
Spike felt like he had nearly connected to her. Just one precious moment more! Now she was gone again, beyond his grasp, and he couldn’t follow her out into the afternoon sunlight.