[A/N: Don’t you just love cliffhangers? *laughs* I’m sorry. I tried so hard to figure out how to keep Once More With Feeling a part of this story, but, unfortunately I just couldn’t do it. I was going to even write an additional song, in fact had some of it already written, but it just didn’t work. I hope you’ll all forgive me. The title for this chapter comes from a line by Alfred Lord Tennyson, Idylls of the King: Balin and Balan, line 509. Quotes are as attributed, and the disclaimers are in full force and effect (legalese for I don’t own a damn thing).]
Previously: Giles has managed to finally put two and two together and come up with the correct answer. Angel knows something is going on in Sunnydale, but nothing specific (he’s got his own things to worry over). This picks up immediately where we left everyone.
46. Mere white truth in simple nakedness
The truth is rarely pure and never simple.
Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, act 1
There is more truth in honest lies,
believe me, than in half the truths.
Samuel Butler, Notebooks, pg 52
Truth is after all a moving target
Hairs to split, and pieces that don't fit
How can anybody be enlightened?
Truth is after all so poorly lit
Rush, Turn the page, from the Album Hold your Fire
She could not believe what she’d thought she heard. It just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. Please god, make this a dream, some sort of nightmare. No. That is not what she’d just heard. Giles did not just ask if she’d been in heaven. There was. . . .
Buffy was staring at her Watcher, her father-figure, her friend, absolutely speechless. There was nothing she could say. Spike stood next to her an unmoving solid presence. Everyone was frozen in place, hardly anyone was breathing.
A soft noise sounded in the air drawing everyone’s attention to the doorway by the kitchen. Tara stood there, hand covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes searched Buffy’s needing confirmation of what Giles had just said. Another noise came from the doorway between the front hall and the living room entrance. Dawn was standing there, her backpack falling from her hands, a stunned look upon her face.
“Buffy?” The teen sounded so lost, so scared that it brought tears to her sister’s eyes.
He hadn’t seen that look on her face or in her eyes in quite some time. In fact, the last time he’d seen it, Buffy and he were sitting on the back porch, just after she’d discovered there was something wrong with her mother. Spike felt as useless now as he did then, but this time, there wasn’t any hesitation in her mind what she wanted to do. Turning to face him, she reached for him, a soft sob breaking through her lips, tears now swimming in her eyes.
“Buffy.”
All he said was her name and she crumpled, reaching for him, anguish in every line of her face.
He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them, his arms automatically pulling her close. The storm broke when her cheek rested against his chest and she could feel him all around her, supporting her and keeping her safe.
“Rupert. Have you any idea . . . “ Spike didn’t know what to say. He currently had an armful of crying Buffy, Tara was frozen in shock and Dawn had moved closer into the living room, where the three adults were standing. Giles had stepped forward then back as Buffy had turned into Spike’s embrace.
“See to the girls.” Everything was secondary to making sure Buffy was okay. Holding her close, he dropped his head down to hers, whispering softly into her ear, too low for anyone else to hear.
“Shh . . . Buffy love, I’ve got you. ‘M right here. Hold on to me.” It was nonsense, just his voice sounding over and over, to give her something to focus on, to anchor her to him. Buffy’s arms were circled around his waist, snuggled up against his chest.
Giles had herded the two girls to the couch, his mind reeling. He’d not imagined his questioning Buffy would have been overheard. And he’d not meant for it to sound accusatory. But it had. And he’d spoken, without taking note of who was present, nor had he . . . God. He’d just not thought it through clearly.
He turned to face the two still figures his gaze resting on the smaller of the two.
******************************** ***************************************
Xander had gotten out of work early, planning on meeting Willow at the Magic Box for lunch. His oldest friend had called him while she was between classes looking for a sympathetic ear and some support. She’d said she needed to talk to him about a couple of things but hadn’t said what exactly was on her mind. But he had a few ideas what might be bugging her.
That scene last night was . . . god he’d been embarrassed for both of them.
He was walking into the Magic Box when Willow’s voice calling his name caught his attention.
“Xander!”
“Hey Will.”
Grabbing his arm, Willow pulled him away from the door, urging him toward the Espresso Pump. “So, what’s the dire?”
“Buffy’s sleeping with Spike.”
“Don’t wanna know this, saw it with my own two eyes.” Taking a deep breath, Xander continued, “did you need to rub this in, coz, gotta say, so not needing the reinforcement.”
Willow was shaking her head, “I mean really sleeping with him.”
“Aaaaaahhhhhh! Stop Will, don’t need visuals.” Missing Willow’s guilty flush, Xander said, “I really don’t wanna talk about this.”
“But Xander, we’re her best friends and you know, she should be trusting us not him and so. . . not with the trusting him and . . . hey, I rescued her from a hell dimension!”
Willow got more agitated the longer she talked about it dragging Xander into outrage with her.
“If we could just . . . maybe she’s under some sort of spell or something?” Xander was still trying to figure out Buffy’s attraction to Spike.
“She needs our help Xander. Buffy needs us – her real friends.” Willow looked around moving closer so they weren’t overheard. “We just have to prove to her that Spike will always be evil and she’ll get rid of him.”
She had his full attention now. Xander trusted Willow, she was smart and well, he’d known her most of his life, so yeah, he’d go along with pretty much whatever plan she could come up with. “All right Will, what should we do?”
******************************** *****************************************
Tara’s voice was the first to break the tense silence. “Is it true? What Mr. Giles asked?”
Lifting her forehead from where it rested against Spike’s chest, Buffy shared a look with the vampire, drew in a steadying breath and gaining strength from his proximity, she said softly, “Yes it is.”
Dawn’s indrawn breath broke on a sob while Tara’s hand shook as she raised it to her mouth. Giles closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself.
Holding onto Spike, Buffy wiped her eyes, then faced the girls. Dawn was hugging one of the pillows against her belly, her face pale, the shock clearly visible. Tara was no better the implications of Willow’s actions weighing very heavily. She at least was aware of the possible complications and the huge consequences of Willow’s reckless and thoughtless actions.
“Its not. . . . “ Buffy’s voice broke, then taking a deep breath, she tried again. “I didn’t want you to know. It’s not your fault. I’d never . . . “ and it happened again, only this time she looked up at Spike for assistance.
Finding whatever she was looking for in his eyes, she continued, “neither of you knew what Willow was planning, so not your fault.”
But Tara was shaking her head, trying to force words to her tongue. “We . . . we . . I didn’t know. Buffy, I would’ve stopped her.”
For the first time, Dawn spoke, her voice harsh and sounding very, very old. “No. She would have figured out something else. She would have tried again and again until it worked.”
It was, Spike thought, exactly what he’d been thinking, and a more than fair assessment of Willow’s character. Buffy broke from his embrace, moving toward the obviously distressed Tara.
“Hey. Its really not your fault. I don’t blame either of you.” Reaching her side, Buffy crouched down in front of Tara, then slid onto the coffee table. “Look, I know you wouldn’t have done this, tried something so dangerous. I know it. What Willow did . . . you aren’t responsible for it. Please, Tara, don’t feel like you . . . it wasn’t your fault.”
Tara turned anguished blue eyes toward the floor shaking her head. “I cccould’ve figured it out. Tttried to ssstop her.”
She was so upset her stutter was very pronounced. Buffy wouldn’t let go of her hands and Tara was very aware of the tears sliding down her face.
Dropping her gaze to their joined hands, Tara could see tiny lines, scars of long healed minor wounds criss-crossed on the backs of Buffy’s hands. Her hands were so small, fine boned and delicate, almost child-sized, yet they wielded extraordinary power, delivering death to demons, saving the world. So much rested on those delicate hands.
“Tara.” Spike had stepped up behind Buffy his hands resting on her shoulders. He rarely used anyone’s real name, especially when talking directly to them, so she knew whatever he was about to say was important.
“Tara.” He repeated, forcing her gaze upward by the strength of his tone. “Aside from being duped, you had nothing to do with Willow’s spell, yeah?” When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up a hand, motioning her to wait. “Red kept it from you both, didn’t say a word to anyone save the boy and even then she lied to him. You’re no more responsible for what Willow did than Buffy is. She used you both. Hell, used all of you, Dawn, you and Buffy.”
His face wore a look she’d never seen before, his features stern and forbidding, a dangerous glint in his eyes. There was no forgiveness in those blue depths, none at all. Tara realized she was looking into the eyes of a man who had no compunctions about taking a life, a man who had no remorse.
Glancing down at Buffy, Tara found the same look staring back at her.
“I’m so sorry” slipped from between her lips before she could censor the thought.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Buffy’s voice hadn’t wavered. “I’m sorry that you found out like this.”
For the first time since blurting out his question, Giles spoke. “That is my fault.”
Apprehension was written in the depths of Giles’ eyes and it was clearly visible that he feared an eruption of monumental proportions was about to occur. He was braced for it.
What he got instead was a Buffy who just turned wounded doe eyes up and him and her softly worded “I didn’t want to upset them Giles, its not fair to them. They didn’t know.”
“I am very sorry.” His regret was evident.
They stared at each other, neither one able to find the words to heal this latest breach between then, but aware it needed healing.
It was Dawn that mended the tiny crack.
“Not even half as sorry as Willow should be.” And she remembered the scene outside Buffy’s bedroom last night and figured, what the hell, Willow’s already in deep. “OH! Last night, she was listening outside your bedroom door.”
All eyes had swung toward her at the first comment but at the second, two pair narrowed further.
“What?!”
“When was this Niblet?”
Dawn rolled her eyes, clearly not wanting to say exactly when she’d busted Willow listening, but judging by the looks on various faces, everyone had pretty much figured it out. Which was good, coz she really didn’t want to blurt that out.
If it was at all possible, Spike’s expression hardened even more. Buffy looked both embarrassed and pissed off, which was hard to do, but Dawn figured in this case, both worked.
“Maybe we should think about taking the basement.”
“Maybe its time we taught Red a lesson” was Spike’s comment back at her.
And none of them could argue with that.
******************************** ***************************************
For once in his life, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was grateful for the fact that vampires slept during the day. And that this particular vampire preferred to sleep in the afternoon.
He was, therefore, alone when the call came in. Nearly the last two people on earth he’d expect to call to speak to Angel were on the phone. And he got that tingle in the back of his neck, the one indicating something wasn’t right, the one that right now was agreeing with the gut feeling he had this phone call wasn’t about anything good. Unsure if the two even knew he’d been in Sunnydale recently, since he’d seen neither one of them while he’d been there, Wesley was certain this had something to do with Buffy.
With the phone hung up, Wesley sat at his desk not seeing what was in front of him, instead his mind was on the non-conversation he’d just had with two of the slayer’s friends. He couldn’t imagine what they were hoping to accomplish and how Angel was supposed to assist them in whatever they were planning. At this rate he was going to be calling Sunnydale once or twice a day.
Heaving a sigh, he reached for his phone and had half dialed the number when Angel wandered in to his office. He hung up, warily eyeing the vampire pacing around, watching him carefully. When he spoke, Wesley mentally breathed a sigh of relief.
“Have you found anything about this? About Darla’s condition?”
Looking down at the books opened on his desk Wesley had to admit that it had been slow going. His only lead had come from Giles, who admitted the information was in the Council’s library, which was closely guarded. It was more than possible he could find more there, but that would entail going back to England, and that was something Wesley had zero intention of ever doing. “I’ve gotten something about a hybrid getting pregnant by a vampire but nothing else so far. Darla’s not a hybrid. She was fully human when she got pregnant.”
“Yeah. She was.” Angel thought for a moment then looked at Wesley. “Could it have something to do with her being brought back from the dead? She died twice, maybe there’s a connection there.”
He was staring at the vampire, a myriad of thoughts running through his head. Could that be it? Twice dead; returned the second time by mystical means. The implications of that had him reeling. It was as good a theory as any other he’d heard. And, oh dear gods.
Buffy. And Spike.
They were living together.
Wesley realized he really needed to call Sunnydale.
******************************** ***********************************************
Giles knew he’d hurt Buffy. Knew his question was ill-timed. He’d been so focused on getting a straight answer from her he hadn’t thought it all through.
He tried again, needed to assuage his conscience. “Buffy, I am sorry.”
“Not you too.” Noting his confused look, Buffy shrugged a little. “Pulling me from heaven – not your fault.”
“I meant about the way I asked.” Giles shook his head. She was so very impulsive.
“Oh. Yeah, very much your fault.” She looked back at Tara then glanced at her sister. “Was thinking about maybe baring my soul – only telling you.”
Getting up from the coffee table, she laced her fingers together. “Just didn’t want anyone to feel bad.”
“Not something you should’ve kept secret though.” Giles knew he wasn’t completely off-the-hook, just temporarily forgiven. “The thing is, I know why the hounds are here.”
When he didn’t say anything for a moment, Buffy said, “spill.”
“They’re here to exact payment or restitution for your release from heaven.”
Buffy shot a glance at Spike that was laced with anger. “Don’t say it.”
Spike grinned unrepentantly. “Not goin’ to. You are.”
“Nahuh.” Buffy crossed her arms and set her features.
“Have to, pet.” He was trying badly to suppress a grin.
“Fine.” Grimacing, Buffy ground out, “Spike wanted me to tell you because he translated the part Wesley couldn’t. And he was right.”
Tara’s and Dawn’s watery giggles broke the silence. “Spike’s right?”
Dawn was laughing at her sister.
“Hahah. Very funny Dawnie. He’s only right this once.”
Dawn laughed harder. “Oohkay Buff, whatever you say.”
“Spike? Got a moment?” Giles knew he had to talk to him before he said anything else to drive a wedge between himself and Buffy.
“Yeah.” Sharing a look with Buffy, he shrugged, not knowing what Giles wanted.
Giles walked out of the room and headed downstairs to the basement. At the bottom of the steps, he looked about, noting the boxes piled up outside the new bedroom. Spike’s heavy tread hit the stairs and Giles said as he walked down toward him, “are you leaving?”
“No. Tara’s taking this room. She’s given Red the boot.” Spike wandered inside the room, sitting on the bed, waiting for Rupert to blast him.
“Where are you going to sleep?” At Spike’s pointed look understanding dawned in the older man’s eyes. “Ahh. I see.”
“Actually I need to talk to you about something.” Motioning him to wait, Giles hesitated then blurted out, “Darla’s back in Los Angeles. She’s eight months pregnant.”
“What in fucking hell?”
“That was about my reaction.” Waiting a bit, Giles then said, “its also Angel’s.”
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