[A/N: I’m having so much fun writing this, I almost don’t want to stop, but I know that not everyone feels that way. *laughs at my girls*. The title is . . . well, there are two sources for this title. The first one is Rudyard Kipling’s famous poem of the same name (one of my very favorites) and the second source is a quote from the Bard – in As You Like It, act 5, sc. 4., which reads “Your ‘if’ is the only peacemaker; much virtue in ‘if’.” Such a small tiny little word – and yet it wields so much power. If not for this . . . . Quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers still in full force and effect.]
Previously: Buffy patrolled for only the second time since returning and she and Spike have found two bodies. Dawn has found what she believes is a clue in one of the journals, and Tara has just broken up with Willow. This is later on that same night.
43. If
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
if you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
if you can meet with triumph and disaster
and treat those two imposters just the same;
Rudyard Kipling, If
When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness;
instead keep your head up high and gaze into heaven
for that is where your heart has been sent to heal.
Anonymous
Children find everything in nothing;
men find nothing in everything.
Giacomo Leopardi, Zibaldone Scelto
The journal entry was dated February 1911.
‘We have spotted the dark warrior again, this time with his consort. They have been living in Spain, feeding off the wealthy and powerful of Barcelona. He has just fought his second chosen one. He left her wounded but alive, in fact both were wounded. Sunlight is what caused the end of their battle, neither warrior gaining an advantage though they fought for hours. It was not I that witnessed their battle, but Brother Jerome, who told me that it was a fierce struggle. Brother Joachim fears we will lose sight of him now, since he was wounded. I am of the same mind. 23rd February, 1911, by my hand, Alexios, Prior.’
Dawn hadn’t breathed the entire time she’d read that entry. It had to be him. She was absolutely certain the only vampire to consistently seek out slayers had to be Spike. There was no one else as insanely brave and stupidly courageous as him. Or quite so bold. It had to be him. She flipped quickly through the pages, hoping to find another mention of the dark warrior, but there was nothing. Only more mention of the chosen ones.
Interestingly enough, there was another entry not too long after that one, this time for March 1911, mentioning that the chosen one had died of secondary injuries received after going out too soon after battling with the dark warrior. So maybe he had gotten three slayers . . If this dark warrior was him.
Knowing him though, he probably wouldn’t take any credit for it, since he hadn’t been the direct cause of death.
But she had to know if it was him.
******************************** ****************************************
It felt good to be away, felt good to be out of that situation. Gods it had been so stifling, so . . . heavy, was the best word she could come up with. Even before Willow had messed with the waitress, the atmosphere had been dense, everything uncomfortable. She hated that feeling. It was the feeling she’d grown up with, feeling like she didn’t belong, that no one understood her, and that she had no safe place. The only time Tara had felt differently growing up was when her mother was alive, and even then only when she was nearby.
But this was a different kind of uncomfortable. This was . . . despite being a witch and gay, it wasn’t that which was making her uncomfortable. It was the feeling she was getting from being around Willow. The skin crawling not in a good way feeling. Thinking there were butterflies in her belly only to find out it was worms. And it wasn’t even the same kind of feeling she got whenever a strange vampire was around, which was generally creepy, but hey, she didn’t feel this . . . used.
Yeah, that’s what it all boiled down to. She felt used. Cheap and unwanted and just not as important as she should be feeling.
If things had been a bit different, if Willow had come to her sooner and spoken about her plans, what she wanted to do, perhaps things wouldn’t be like this now. But Willow hadn’t. She hadn’t told anyone. Instead she had gone ahead and brought Buffy back.
Tara hadn’t talked to Buffy about any of this, mainly because the other girl still wasn’t completely herself. But she had a sinking suspicion that Buffy was feeling the betrayal also. Wasn’t hard to miss who was talking to who in the house, or where people were sleeping, and she was pretty certain that Buffy wasn’t talking to Willow. She knew for a fact that Spike wasn’t.
As she walked through the cemetery, Tara wondered what it might have been like if Willow had just done one thing differently. Gods, she could have killed both of them. One tiny misstep with the Lethe’s Bramble and poof, it would have been over for both her and Dawn.
Leaning down, she stepped out of one shoe then the other, scooping them up in her hands. A deep sigh escaped her lips and Tara was forced to admit to herself that sooner or later she was going to have to leave Buffy’s house. And she didn’t want to. She was comfortable there, and it was starting to feel like she had a place there, outside of being Willow’s girlfriend. Maybe she could talk Spike into letting her have the basement.
A soft smile graced her features and she looked wistfully up at the stars. Well, she’d just take things as they came for now. If this was meant to be, then everything would work itself out. If not, then so be it. She could always find another room at the college, or a small apartment off campus.
Exiting the small cemetery, Tara spotted the DeSoto parked down the block at the entrance to Shady Rest. She’d sit on top and wait for the others to come back.
******************************** ***************************************
Giles had been immersed in the texts and other books since Wesley’s departure almost a week before. So far, he’d found nothing more about the reason why the Cwn Annwn were in Sunnydale, but Anya’s words about payment kept circling round his head. He knew there was a connection but at the moment he was forced to admit it was eluding him.
On the other hand, the texts were proving to be of an enormous benefit, albeit one that neither he nor Wesley had anticipated. Apparently, these monks were extremely adept with manipulating energy, in short, they were most accomplished magicians and sorcerers. Odd, given the fact that they called themselves monks. Monastic orders were normally Christian, although there were Buddhist monasteries strewn about Asia. Somehow Giles got the impression that these monks were neither Buddhists nor Christians, though they may have hidden themselves in plain sight inside the Church. Wouldn’t have been the first time a covertly pagan group had protected themselves by entering en masse into the Church.
What intrigued him was the meticulous records they kept. For an order that eschewed Church teachings, they had perfected the liturgical hours. Each Prior had kept his journal according to the medieval Church, recording a bit each day at Prime and then again at Compline, roughly six in the morning and then again at nine at night. There were also copious annotations to herbals and grimoires that nearly had Giles salivating. He wondered if Wolfram & Hart had obtained all the books from the monks, and Wesley had only liberated the journals, believing them to be of primary use, leaving the others for later. He could only hope that Wesley had thought ahead and ‘liberated’ all of them.
If those grimoires fell into the wrong hands – and he considered Wolfram & Hart to be the wrong hands – there would be no telling what kind of havoc they could wreak.
Reaching for his cell phone, Giles hit speed dial, hoping Wesley was available.
******************************** ***************************************
They approached the DeSoto, Spike scenting Tara long before the car came into view, and he told Buffy that, so neither one of them was surprised when she smiled up at them from her perch on the hood.
“Hey guys.”
“Glinda.” Spike opened the trunk dropping in a small double-headed axe.
“Hey yourself. What’s up?” Buffy didn’t want to come out and ask it, but she was a bit curious why Tara was here. Last she knew the two girls were going out to dinner with Xander and Anya.
“Thought you were out with the scoobs?” Spike didn’t have any compunctions about asking. He knew Buffy was curious, hell he was too.
“We did go out. But well,” Tara sighed a little, looking from one to the other, “I guess I sort of broke up with Willow.”
Buffy hopped up to sit next to her. “You okay?”
Nodding her head, Tara said softly, “yeah, I guess I am.”
Spike stood silently letting the girls talk.
“You sure?” Buffy offered, but Tara just shook her head.
“You know, I am okay. This isn’t so sudden, been building for a while. Since . . . “
“Since she brought me back.” Buffy made a face, then glanced up at Spike. They shared a brief look, then as one they shifted their attention to the other girl.
“So what happened?” Buffy shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable.
Relaying the story to them, Tara repeated her fears about Willow’s misuse of magic. Spike snorted, interrupting her. “‘s not about magic pet, for Red its about control. Always acts out when situation is out of control and ‘specially if its outta her hands.”
Tara stared up at him. She’d never really thought about it that way. “You know, I think you might be right.”
There was silence for a bit, then Spike asked, “so what now pet?”
“Well I’m not sure. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I could try and get another dorm, but it’s probably too late.”
Shooting a look at Buffy, Spike raised his eyebrows at her. She just looked at him, then very quietly said to Tara, without taking her eyes off Spike, “you could always sleep in the basement. Spike’s room isn’t really being used.”
Well, Tara thought, this is going better than I expected. She’d never thought Buffy would be the one to bring up any of this.
But Buffy’s voice went on, “I don’t want you to leave. I’d really . . . you’re a good friend Tara. And I don’t want to lose you.”
She’d shifted her gaze to the other girl, reaching for her hand.
Tara was touched. Truly. She’d never expected this, oh she’d hoped for it, but figured she would have to be the one bringing it up.
Smiling at the two of them, Tara suddenly had tears in her eyes. “Thanks Buffy. It means alot.”
******************************** ****************************************
They hadn’t made him promise to keep quiet about things in Sunnydale, hadn’t even spoken about it, but Wesley had not spoken about the situation there beyond “everyone’s doing okay. Better than I’d expected.”
And Angel had left it at that. He had enough to worry about anyway.
Wesley still couldn’t believe the mess he’d come back too. Darla was back, again, vamped and unbelievably, inexplicably pregnant. Nearly eight months gone with Angel’s child.
Wesley figured that his little secret about Buffy’s return paled in comparison to Angel’s indiscretion. It was completely unprecedented, at least as far as he knew. He’d done nothing but non-stop research since his return and he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever find any answers. He was starting to doubt it.
He was contemplating calling Giles when his cell phone rang.
Looking at the caller ID, Wesley heaved a sigh of relief and flipped it open.
******************************** ******************************************
The ride home had been quiet. Neither girl was inclined to talk, each immersed in their own thoughts. Spike figured it was just as well, since he was also deep in thought. Part of him was aware that a step had been taken in his relationship with Buffy, and was rejoicing, but a larger part, remnants of William no doubt, was left wondering if it was just because Buffy didn’t want Tara moving out. He was also worried about Glinda. She appeared to be okay with things, but outward appearances sometimes lied. Her heartbeat was slow, her breathing regular. He wondered for a moment, if she truly felt okay, or if she was just putting on a brave front for them and was going to fall apart when reality hit.
He pulled the DeSoto into the driveway, looking at the girls as he did. Oddly, Buffy was the one with tears falling from her eyes.
“Buffy?”
She didn’t answer, only reached for his hand, the tears falling faster now. Tara got out of the car, unaware of Buffy’s state, heading right for the front door.
“Love? You okay?” He was starting to worry, because she wouldn’t talk or look at him. Instead she just shook her head holding out a hand to him.
Pulling her close, Spike gently pushed her head onto his chest. “Ssshhh. ‘S all right. I’m here.”
His big hands ran up and down her back, soothing away her tears. “C’mon love, let’s go in.”
Maneuvering them both from the car, Spike half carried the crying girl into the house. Tara was in the kitchen, getting a drink and on his way upstairs, Spike called out “I’ll help you move things around come daylight.”
And then his boots pounded up the stairs. Passing by Dawn’s room, Spike called out “lights out, Nib” but he didn’t wait for a response.
Buffy was still crying, but the torrent had slowed to a trickle. Placing her on the bed, Spike hunkered down to get her shoes off. He looked at her face and instead he reached out to cup her cheek and wipe away her tears. The words rasped out before he could censor them. “What’s this about then?”
At first she didn’t answer. Sniffling and shaking her head, she only answered him after he nudged her again.
“What if you hadn’t been there? If no one had been there when I got out?” Her voice was thick with tears. “If I hadn’t trusted you, what would have happened to Dawn? If . . . I couldn’t . . . if something happened. . . . “
“Oh baby. Shhhh.”
Wrapping her in his arms, Spike held her close. “I’m here kitten. Not goin’. Gonna stay here.”
Buffy cried against his chest, breathing him in, his strength, his nearness and his promises.
“If you hadn’t been there . . . oh Spike.”
And she held on tight, afraid to think about it, what it would have been like if he hadn’t been there. If he wasn’t here whenever she needed him. If he wasn’t here with her now.
That was something he didn’t even want to contemplate. It was different for a vamp, you woke up without any breath and made your climb out that way. But even so, he’d had nightmares for awhile. He figured Buffy was in for some very long nights, well no, actually they were.
His arms around her, half laying on the bed that they now officially shared, Spike realized this was his life. She owned him, lock stock and barrel. Unbeating heart and without a soul, he was hers.
No ifs.
He was hers.
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