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By Jackson
It was mid morning and hot, sunlight streamed into the magic shop making even the darker, more powerful potions and powders that surrounded them look harmless. Xander sat, surrounded by a pile of books, helping Giles research and listening to Willow chatter about the World Culture Fair she and Tara were going to this afternoon. After all this time, she still glowed whenever she spoke of her girlfriend, of the plans they'd made together. He tried to smile, nod encouragingly, but the dust prickled at his nose - the sunlight and the incomprehensible books were making his head hurt, and he just couldn't make himself respond to her obvious happiness.
"... I can't wait to see what Tara's going to think of the ..."
How hot *was* it in here? The air was stifling, pressing against him stickily, draining his energy, the tiniest of movements took the maximum of effort.
"Then when we get back to our place I thought we'd ..."
The musty smell of the books was swamping him - irritating and stale, and he wished fervently for a moment that Willow would shut up - just *shut up* about the wonderful *couple* things she and Tara had planned.
"Geez Giles," he snapped suddenly, interrupting Willow in mid flow, slamming a book shut in disgust,"do you ever dust these things?"
Giles looked at him in mild surprise.
/Oh yeah sure,/ he thought with a wave of irrational anger. /Look at me like *I'm* the freak. Why not? I know I do whenever I look in the mirror./
"They're not ..." Giles began.
"I mean its bad enough we gotta be stuck in here with these three thousand page sleeping pills - you gotta make it *worse* with the 'old book' smell?"
"Well I did consider bathing them in fragrant oils but decided the information inside them was *slightly* more important than any affront to your sense of smell," Giles said drily.
"If you ask me anything would be an improvement," he snapped back. " But hey look who I'm talking to. You haven't been away from this crap for at least the last decade - do you even remember what it's like to have a life?"
Giles flinched ever so slightly and somewhere inside him, so did Xander, but he was unable to stop - something was knawing painfully inside him, making him lash out with sour satisfaction.
"Xander!" Willow exclaimed in shock, "What's the matter with you?"
"I don't know - maybe that you don't stop talking? Willow, you wanna talk about your great life, and girlfriend and the Culture Fair why don't you go talk to someone who gives a ..."
Suddenly his voice broke, the edgy, snappish anger departing just as fast as it had come, and he gulped, covering his face with his hands.
"Xander?" Giles' voice floated into his ears, weirdly far away, yet way too close. "Are you all right?"
His mouth was twisting across his face in a scrawl, inside his brittle defences were crumbling, he dug his fingers so tightly into his hair it hurt.
/Not *again*/ he berated himself frantically as panic streamed though him. /Haven't I humiliated myself enough?/ With an effort that left him shaking, he beat back the wail that was rising in his throat doing its damnedest to come out.
"Yeah." His voice came out a little shaky but he managed to choke back the lump in his throat, forcing away the danger of imminent collapse. He wiped his eyes and was dimly aware of Giles moving his chair closer to him, of Willow placing her hand on his shoulder. He let his hands drop from his face as crippling shame caught up to him.
"God, I'm sorry you guys, I didn't mean ... it's just ... Anya ... Glory ... Spike," he drew in a wavering breath. "Its been a rough couple of months."
Willow nodded, rubbing his shoulder soothingly, sympathy etched on her expressive face.
"It's understandable," Giles said gently. "You've been through a lot, it's bound to catch up to you."
"Yeah - but I shouldn't take it out on my friends."
"Xander ... I'm not eager for you to make up with the guy that did this to you, but maybe you should talk to him," Willow said tentatively. "I know things are kind of ..." She gestured vaguely with her hand to illustrate what she meant, "between you two right now."
Xander shook his head. "No, there's no ..." he mirrored her gesture. "It's all very clear."
"Willow could have a point Xander," Giles said reluctantly. "As much as I would like Spike as far away from you as possible it may help you resolve your ... uh ... issues with him."
For some reason a picture flashed into Xander's mind of the endless sleepless nights he spent, where no matter how he arranged the pillows or how many glasses of warm milk he had, nothing worked. He had the feeling the only thing that could push him into sleep was a cool body pressed against him. Was that an issue?
He shook his head, trying to push the memories away. "I don't want to see him."
Willow and Giles exchanged glances.
"You know the thing that *really* sticks in me?" he continued bitterly. "The thing that really cranks it up that extra notch? It's ..."
The door to the back room opened and Buffy came into the shop wiping her face with a towel. She paused as she felt their eyes on her, sensing the tension in the room.
"Hey guys," she greeted them warily.
"Hey Buffy," Willow said awkwardly.
"Is everything okay?"
"Fine," Giles said very unconvincingly. "Um ... did you have a good workout?"
"Yeah it was okay." She checked her watch and tutted in dismay. "I'd better get a move on. I have to drop out of classes, meet with Dawn's principle and I have ... uh, some other stuff to do first."
"Taking blood to Spike?" Xander asked, staring fixedly down at the table. His voice came out stilted and strange.
"Um yeah," Buffy admitted slightly shamefacedly.
"How's he doing?" Willow asked, shooting a nervous look at Xander.
"Better I think," she said quietly. "Not great, but yeah. He's getting better."
Xander kept his eyes averted, and Buffy continued tentatively; "Um Xander would ... you like to take it?"
He gave a small incredulous snort. "I really don't think so."
"I know this is bothering you ..."
"No - its a laugh a minute," he shot back sarcastically.
"Xander I'm on your side, but I can't just leave him. You know the minute he can look after himself, I'm out of there."
"Right."
"If you want I could take him a message ..."
"Buffy," Willow remonstrated gently.
"Okay ..." She backed down quickly, slinging her coat on. "I've gotta go."
Xander watched her as she walked across the shop, the empty aching place where his heart should be pulling at him, getting worse with every step she took, knowing that she was going to Spike. He bit his lip, trying to clamp down the surge of feeling building up inside him but as she reached the door ...
"Buffy!"
She turned back to him hopefully. "Yes?"
He was trembling, his heart thudding painfully fast in his chest, as he felt himself draw close, hover right on the edge of letting go of the past.
"Tell him ... tell him ..."
He choked as a memory flashed through his mind of Spike. Spike laughing carelessly at him after the first time he had slept with him. The rush of forgiveness that only a moment ago had flooded him, seeming so possible, so real, receded. He looked at Buffy waiting by the door and felt his lip curl in bitterness as he drew back from the edge. "Nothing."
Buffy's slight smile faded, she paused for a moment longer, but he kept his mouth resolutely clamped shut. Nodding sadly she left, the shop bell tinkling as she did. He was safe again, back on the firm ground of hating Spike. Safe, and a little sick, feeling oddly let down.
"It's *that*," he finished angrily, going back to what he'd been saying before she had come out. "That's what *really* gets to me, those two suddenly bosom buddies."
"Xander they're not ..." Giles began, when the phone peeled out. "Oh," He jumped to his feet then hovered indecisively by the table. "That will be the Council - they said they'd call with a report on their Glory research."
"Go," Xander said. "It's important."
Giles nodded resignedly. "I'll take it in the back." He squeezed Xander's shoulder comfortingly as he passed him.
"Giles is right you know," Willow said as the back door closed and the phone stopped. "Buffy's not his friend. She's your friend."
"So how is it she's now delivering blood to the guy that wanted to tear me up into little bitty pieces? Besides he was *obsessed* with her. She should stay away from him."
"Well, she doesn't want him to starve. He did do something good."
"What and that makes it all okay?" he asked disbelievingly. "Besides its more than that - its so obvious she thinks ... that she ... how can she trust him after ..."
Damnit! His voice was shaking again. Was he *ever*going to get past this humiliating urge to fall apart every time this came up?
"Well maybe its easier for Buffy." Willow said gently. "He never broke her heart."
"Yeah - I guess I got the deluxe package huh?" He gave her a brief sad smile. "I know he did something good," he admitted. "It just makes it worse. If he was just a demon it would be ..."
"Easier?"
"Clearer. Before he was just a bastard, now all at once he's a hero. He's a heroic bastard. How am I meant to know what to do if everything is so messed up? I know he saved Dawn and that should make up for it but there's other stuff ..." He looked down helplessly at his hands clasped tightly on the table. So much other stuff inside him, tearing him apart, why wouldn't it go away? Why couldn't life be easy?
"I hit Buffy," Willow said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.
His head shot up as he gaped at her in astonishment. "What?"
Willow nodded. "The night she found out about you and Spike. She wasn't taking it so well and I hit her."
"Willow ... I can't believe it - my God I had no idea. Are you guys okay?"
"Yeah - but the thing is, it happened so fast, I don't think anything could have stopped me, but that time in the Bronze when he almost ..."
"I remember," he said hurriedly.
"He stopped. He stopped because you wanted him to."
"Geez Willow are you in the 'Spike's a hero' camp as well as Dawn and Buffy?" He snapped, ignoring his heart that was thudding with fear, because maybe, just maybe she was making him think things he didn't want to think - dangerous things.
"No," Willow persisted, "I'm in your camp - totally. I just think that when it comes to you there is other stuff there with him, I mean stuff other than the bad stuff."
He struggled to close his mind against whatever the hell it was that her words were awakening inside him. Something like ... yearning, sadness. He was past all that now - he had to be past it because that way lay painpain*pain*, and even if it was taking longer than he'd thought to get over Spike, hurting almost more than he could bear, well that was just something he had to deal with.
"Even if I did talk to him what am I gonna say? 'Hey thanks for nearly getting tortured to death but it doesn't change anything'?"
"Doesn't it?" she asked gently. "You know what Buffy said. He told her he did it for y ..."
"I know what he said!" He jumped to his feet in agitation. "It doesn't help!"
Willow's eyes followed him with concern. "Well you know he doesn't want Buffy right?"
"Yeah I know, but it doesn't suddenly make him a good guy! He's a monster - I already forgot that once and look how it turned out. He made this plan and okay - so he fell in ... "
He stalled, unable to say *those* words and then began again, now he'd started to spill out words he had to finish - had to explain to Willow what was going on in his mind, his heart.
"So he got ... *attached* to me and couldn't go through with it, what if he hadn't? He'd have carried on and left town singing a jaunty tune and left us to pick up the pieces. I can't forgive him Wills, I can't forget what he is, and I won't let myself ... care about a demon that uses people like that!"
"Maybe its not something you *let* yourself feel Xander. Maybe you just do."
"No. I hate him. I hate him for what he did. I hate that everyone knows, I hate myself for not being able to stop what happened with him, but ... I," he tried to stem the words but couldn't stop them flooding out; "I hate Glory for what she did to him." His fists clenched compulsively as the rage at Glory he tried to ignore pounded demandingly at the cold cage he'd built to contain it, screaming to be noticed, acted on. "Sometimes I just want to go and find her and ..."
"Woah - Xander," Willow shot to her feet, standing in his path, until then he hadn't even realised he'd been pacing restlessly. "You know you can't right? She'd kill you before you got through the door."
"I don't care!"
Willows eyes were wide and he froze as he registered what he'd just said. " *Sometimes* I don't care." He amended swiftly. "Sometimes I just want to take my best shot, I don't care if she squashes me like a bug - then I remember what Spike did and I want to take a swing at him myself. It's like that rollercoaster we sneaked on when we were kids. Just as I'm tearing in one direction - wham! - just as fast the opposite way." His energy deserted him and he crumpled, exhausted into the chair.
"Was that the time I threw up?" Willow asked, frowning slightly as she tried to remember.
"Yeah. And I've done my fair share of that lately as well."
They gave each other small twisted smiles that faded almost immediately. "I'm losing it Wills," he said brokenly. "Everything is falling apart and there's nothing I can do to fix it." He looked up at her with eyes that were somehow angry yet pleading. "Why did this have to happen to me? I can't stand *feeling* like this."
"Oh Xander," Willow's eyes ached for him, she took hold of his hand tightly. "It'll get better," she reassured him passionately. "It *has* to get better."
"How?" He asked desperately, his voice rising with frustration. "How can it? It's all so wrong now - I just wish I could go back and make it different - I wish he'd never come here - I just wish he'd left me the hell *alone*!"
***
Spike's eyes flew open, a soundless scream trapped in his throat as he forcibly pulled himself out of his nightmare. His eyes darted frantically around him, peering fearfully into the darkness that surrounded him.
He was alone. After a long moment he sank back onto the pillow, trying to stem the panic that was racing in his veins. He clenched the bundle of dark material in his fingers, taking in the scent, concentrating on the inhale, exhale movement to calm him. Deep seated itching nagged at him, in his very bones. An uncomfortable burning warmth swallowed him from the inside out.
In, out.
Inhale, exhale.
All that the itching and the burning meant was that he was healing. He must be - the forced breathing motion didn't hurt him inside the way it had done. Bones knitting together, skin healing, his insides less painful as they reverted back into their natural state. Soon he would be back to himself. Except for the memories. And the nightmares. Nightmares that Glory was waiting to grab him, nightmares he had never really gotten away, that he would regain consciousness still chained to Glory's ceiling, screaming out Dawn's name over and over as Glory changed into Xander looking at him in disgust. Not that he could ever tell anyone about these nightmares of course. Big Bads didn't have nightmares. If they had nightmares then they weren't Big Bads were they?
In, out.
Inhale, exhale.
His eyes and ears were on red alert in case Glory or one of those scabby minion guys were coming to get him. Not that he could fight them off, at the moment it was all he could do to walk. He couldn't do anything except hang around this crypt that didn't feel safe anymore waiting for his body to heal. He'd had some tough fights in his time and had always hated this part the most after being injured. The weakness, the forced inaction, the boredom and frustration as he yearned impatiently for his strength to return, but this now, this was the worst yet. Worse even than the time Buffy had put him in that bloody wheelchair. Waiting in this half alive, dull pain, where he couldn't deal with outside right now - the lights were so bright and hurt his eyes and the air was too much to take. But the loneliness was also hard to take.
Eventually he stopped forcing his breath, allowing his tight grasp to ease up a little. He didn't think Glory was going to come after him again. She probably didn't think he was worth it now she knew he had the Slayers protection. Him with the Slayers protection, now there was irony for you. Never thought he'd rise so high, or sink so low, depending on your point of view. But still knowing in his mind that Glory wasn't coming for him, and feeling it were two different things. He knew the bitch. Being tortured by someone gave you a real good feel for them. She wasn't going to give up, unless Buffy did something sharpish Glory would be coming. It was just a question of when - and who.
He shuddered, and dragged himself out of bed, limping over to the blood Buffy had dropped off for him this morning, he carefully opened the bag and drank it down. He wistfully remembered draining the blood of a Slayer straight from her throat. The heat and *power*, it had flooded through him until surely he must have been glowing with it. He looked down at the empty bag and sighed. Still it was good of Buffy to bring it. She actually seemed to think he was okay these days. Not great or anything like that but she brought him blood and smokes, asked occasional polite questions about his health. Although he was grateful that she wasn't making this any harder on him sometimes he actually found himself missing the days when she had threatened him hourly, because at least them he'd had a little pride, some attitude. At least then he'd had Xander.
He limped back over to the bed, sitting down and stretching his aching leg out.
Xander. Who hadn't come, and despite all the healing his body was doing that little fact was ripping him apart inside and getting worse with every passing day. How could someone just not being here hurt so damn much? It wasn't that there was a Xander shaped hole in his heart, it was his whole heart, it ached, it breaked, and it never let up.
And stupid and pathetic as it may be, he'd been nourishing a tiny hope that Xander would come to him and they could be together again, and no, there was no big reconciliation scene planned, no wild sex, or pretty speeches. There'd be time for all that stuff later, right now he just wanted Xander. Wanted Xander to sit with him, hold him and talk - or just be quiet - without restraint and he could drop this silent, suffering thing, stop denying just how scared he felt and just ... take some comfort.
But he hadn't come, and that really said a hell of a lot. Maybe it was time to face it. He wasn't *going* to come. Maybe now all that he could do was let go. What else *could* he do? Yes he'd done a terrible thing but he'd tried to stop it, apologised, begged, hung around at great risk just to be near him, tried to talk to him and let a hellgod tear him to shreds. He was all out of ideas, it was up to Xander now, and if he couldn't deal with the past ... then that was his loss.
Yeah. Sure. The misery and loss and fucking *pain* that clawed at him suggested differently.
But it was time to move on, find a bit of fighting spirit, regain his pride, his attitude. Xander wasn't coming back, if he wanted to move on from being just as pathetic as the Ensouled One, he would have to face that. He'd be alright. He'd lived without Xander for over a hundred years and done pretty damn fine, he didn't need him, he didn't need anyone.
His eyes fell on the bundle of dark material he had been clinging onto. Xander's coat. He didn't know how it had arrived here. He guessed it had been draped over him to protect him from the sun after pulling him out of Glory's place. It was a true testimony to how pathetic he'd become, hanging on to this tiny remnant of Xander, he should get rid of the damn thing, burn it maybe. Soon.
He shivered, and lay back down on the bed, trying to close his mind against harsh reality. The painful past, the unbearable present, the bleak future. Right now he just needed to imagine for a moment ...
He closed his eyes tightly and inhaled deeply, wrapping the empty arms of the coat around himself.
It was mid afternoon, the time where no vampire was at his best or brightest and Spike was dozing fitfully when he heard his name being called, footsteps clattering across the floor above him.
"Spike!"
"Huh?" Spike jolted himself out of his half doze. It was Buffy, and she was sounding pretty damn stressed. He looked up to see her heading swiftly down his ladder into his underground cavern, he tensed, his nerves, already stretched taut, pulled a little tighter. She'd already done the blood run this morning and she never came twice in one day. This couldn't be good.
"What, what is it?" he asked as he swiftly hid Xander's coat that he'd had tangled around him under his pillow.
Buffy shook her head, barely even seeming to notice him, never mind the coat. Her eyes were overly bright, darting restlessly around his crypt as though she was hoping to find answers written on the walls. "Spike it's Glory."
He sat up swiftly, instantly checking the exit. "What - what's she done?"
"She's ... " Buffy glanced above her where Dawn's legs were coming into view as she climbed down the ladder. "Its Tara."
"*Tara*?" Spike repeated, he'd been so sure she was going to say Xander, or that Glory was on her way here, it took a moment to sink into his baffled mind. "What's happened to her?"
"Glory seems to think that Tara is the key, she's going after her - I have to get out there - *now* I need you to look after Dawn."
His eyes widened in disbelief. Him? Protect the kid? He was a wreck! He opened his mouth to protest, but paused as she looked back at him with wordless pleading. She knew he was a wreck, and he was still the one with the best chance of keeping Dawn safe.
Dawn reached the bottom of the ladder and turned to him, her young face blotchy and scared.
"Hey Little Bit," he said softly.
"Hey." She bit her lip.
He turned to Buffy. "Yeah, sure I'll watch her, you go."
Buffy nodded gratefully, gave Dawn a swift hug and scrambled back up the ladder. They listened in silence to her footsteps run across the crypt above and the door slamming behind her.
He and Dawn looked uncomfortably at each other. She shivered slightly, glancing around nervously at the gloom of his resting place. "Is it ... are we safe here?"
"Sure we are," he said with a confidence he didn't really feel. Still it would have to be safe here now. She was relying on him to make it safe.
He stood, disentangling himself from the sheets and heard Dawn give a strangled gasp. "Oh Spike," she choked.
He looked up at her in confusion and realised he was only wearing his jeans, her wide eyes were staring at his bare chest. Not in a good way. The light from her torch jumped erratically over his body, as her hand shook violently, the beam ruthlessly spotlighting the mass of purple bruises and welts that covered him.
He looked down, seeing himself through her eyes, then back up at her. Her eyes were filling up as she stared, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away. He struggled into a T-shirt and his duster as quickly as he could manage, ignoring the pain shooting through him at the movement. The palpable guilt and concern from her made him feel edgy, embarrassed about the physical evidence that lingered on him of how much he'd suffered to keep her safe. Yeah he'd done something for her. No need for her to beat herself up over it. It wasn't her that had chained him to the damn ceiling and tortured him in all manner of interesting ways.
"C'mon kid," he offered tersely, without meeting her eyes. "I'll give you the tour."
***
Xander wandered back to the magic shop after a long walk he'd taken to try and clear his head. It was something of a relief to know he hadn't been totally paranoid earlier on, it really was one *hell* of a hot day. Sweat was trickling down his back making his T-shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. He wondered idly how Willow and Tara were getting on at the Fair thing they were going to this afternoon. Any sensible person would either be jumping into a swimming pool right now, or indoors with some ice water and air conditioning. Of course he was doing neither of those things himself. Instead he was planning an afternoon surrounded with old books and weird smelling herbs. No air conditioning in here, but he did have a couple of large cokes loaded with ice. He figured a cool drink and some extra research was the least he could do to make up for his short temper with Giles this morning. He pushed at the door to find it locked, pulling back slightly in confusion he noticed the 'Closed' sign.
A thud of sick worry hit in his stomach. However over the years he'd gotten so used to that feeling he only arched an eyebrow very slightly before digging out the spare keys Giles had given him. He unlocked the door, looking around him warily as he entered the shop. It was warm and silent and filling him with a very bad feeling. He locked the door behind him again. The ceiling fan turned lazily above him, it didn't seem to be cooling the place down - only rolling the waves of hot air around. The faint hum from it was the only sound he could hear.
"Hello?" He carefully placed the cokes on the counter. "Giles?"
"Xander? In here."
He pushed the door to the back room, standing motionless in the doorway as it swung open to reveal Giles standing behind a chair, cleaning his glasses. Slumped in the chair, bound by twine was one of Glory's minions. He was quite dead.
"Hey Giles," Xander greeted him uncomfortably as he cautiously stepped into the room. "Re-decorating? Going for the Reservoir Dogs' kinda style?"
"I caught him sneaking around outside," Giles said grimly. "He was keeping an eye on us while Glory goes for the key."
"Oh no - Dawn ..."
"Is not in danger at the moment. Glory seems to think that the key is Tara."
"*Tara*?" he echoed. "Oh God." Sick helpless fear washed over him in a tide, but he ignored it, there would be time to freak out later. "What's happening?"
"Willow knows, she's checking at the Fair, I've already called Buffy, she's out looking for them. Now all we can do is wait."
"Oh. Great."
Giles replaced his glasses, and Xander found himself slumped against the wall. He pulled listlessly at his T-shirt, peeling it away from where it was clinging damply to his skin, trying not to look at the dead demon in the chair, trying not to think about what could be happening to Tara. He remembered Willow this morning, bright and happy. The way she had glowed, and how he'd snapped at her. Because ... he'd been so jealous.
It was hard, acknowledging that. He hadn't until this very moment. She'd found something with Tara that he'd wanted with Spike, something he'd come so close to, only to have it slip away, like water between his fingers. The jealousy had twisted inside him, ripping into him with its spiky, cruel edges, making him lash out, and now, oh now he'd give anything to go back to this morning, to shake the petty jealous bastard he'd been until his teeth rattled, to be happy for her, to have Tara safe and Willow happy, she must be frantic right now ...
"Wait - Willow knows?" he questioned, trying to distract himself from ugly painful truths. "How? I thought they were going to the Fair together."
"They were supposed to but they had a fight. Willow came here and Tara went alone."
"They had a ...?" He stared in disbelief at Giles. "But they *never* fight."
Giles shrugged tiredly. "It seems they picked a bad day to break with tradition."
"Oh God," he said again, whether as an examination of dismay or a plea for help he didn't know. Maybe both. But at this moment the only god that seemed to be around was the one hellbent on torturing, killing and tormenting them all.
Images of Spike, battered and bleeding floated before him and he had to squeeze his eyes closed tightly for a second to try to block them out. They didn't go away completely though, but danced just at the back of his mind. Spike, Tara, how many more people he loved were going to pay for protecting Dawn before they *did* something to stop Glory?
He pushed himself away from the wall, pacing restlessly about the room.
"She''ll be fine," he said aloud, needing to hear the words out loud. Giles remained silent. "She'll be *fine*. Willow *and* Buffy on the case? Glory won't know what's hit her ..."
At that moment they both jumped as the phone peeled out. Crazily, he already knew it was bad news, the damn thing was almost pulsating with bad vibes. They looked at it for a moment as it rang out persistently, then Giles, looking like he was facing a firing squad, picked it up.
***
It was cool in the hospital. Too cool. The air conditioning was set too high and he couldn't stop shivering, even with his coat on. It should be a relief after the heat from outside, but instead it just made him feel cut off from the outside world, in a place that wasn't quite real. They'd spent a lot of time in this hospital lately. Too much. Memories of Joyce, pale and ill filled the place. Xander had a sudden powerful yearning to be on the beach, in the evening, with a cool breeze and the scent of sand and salt water, and *away* from all this. From the smell of antiseptic and despair, the artificial, too-bright lights that made everything in here look stark and ugly, the doctor with his patronising false cheer, the x-rays on the wall, the incomprehensible charts, and all it really came down to was Tara's blank eyes and the tears streaking Willow's face.
"Man, words cannot express how much I hate this place," he said at last.
"It is dreadful," Giles agreed sadly. Xander looked at Willow, who was staring at Tara, with such a look of gut-wrenching loss his heart was breaking. For her, for Tara. Silence fell between them all again. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do to make Willow feel better, except be here. His presence, silent and useless as it seemed to be was the most he could do for Willow right now, and if it was all he could do he'd damn well do it. He looked at her and loved her fiercely, trying to imagine his love was a blanket, wrapped around her, keeping her warm and sheltered.
They'd been here for hours, and he was still fearfully on edge, as though he was waiting for something, but what? The doctors had poked and prodded Tara every way they could think of before plastering her broken hand, and pronouncing themselves baffled. She had certainly succumbed to some kind of mental problem. Possibly the same that had been sweeping through Sunnydale lately. Gee thanks for the help guys, would never have noticed without you. They had said - in confidence of course - that plans were underway to investigate. Yeah, good luck. They should start with the swanky apartments on the other side of town. He wondered what they'd say if he told them the truth, that a hell god had shoved her fingers into Tara's brain, given them a good wriggle around and sucked all the sense out of there with as much delight as Dawn with a milkshake. They'd probably think he was crazy as well.
He looked up hopefully as Buffy - finally - came into the room. She looked pale and unhappy. Maybe *this* was what he was waiting for. She must have finally checked her answerphone to find the short sad message Giles had left for her before they had left the magic shop.
"Hey," she said quietly. "Will, I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms around Willow, holding her tightly. Willow's eyes began to fill up again, and they pulled apart as Willow gestured helplessly at Tara.
"They kill mice," Tara said, smiling brightly. He bit his lip as Willow cried silently for Tara, destroyed and unaware. At least he hoped she was unaware.
"Tara," Buffy said softly, wrapping her arms around her. Tara looked ahead blankly.
"I'm sorry it took me so long," Buffy said, turning back to Willow. "But Dawn's safe with Spike, so I can stay as long as you need."
His heart skipped a beat, then gave three in fast succession to make up for it, at the mention of Spike, but he stayed still, stoic, silent and concentrating on pushing every ounce of support he had to Willow.
"I'm so scared." Willow said trembling.
***
"Nothin' to be worried about, kid," Spike said reassuringly as he led Dawn through his underground cavern. It was the part he rarely went in, hollow and cold. The light of her torch broke up the darkness, and he hid his winces of pain from her as the beam occasionally danced across his eyes. "No one's gonna hurt you."
"Oh yeah?" Dawn replied sceptically. "Same no one who did that to you?"
Spike felt a wry smile tug as his mouth, that was his Little Bit. "What, these?" he mocked his sore and beaten body gently. "It's just a few bruises. Nothin' to write home about."
He turned to see her watching him, sadness and fear apparent in her expressive eyes, she wasn't going to buy the act. She was scared, scared bad, and he knew why. Glory was going to find her, if not today then soon. She knew it, he knew it, and Buffy probably knew it, and he was just a big walking preview of what was to come when she did.
"Hey, chin up, platelet," he said as kindly as he knew how. "Don't get scared. Maybe Glory doesn't wanna kill you, maybe it's something ..."
"Worse?" Dawn finished. For a moment they looked at each other, then he turned away. He didn't know what he could say to help. Maybe there was nothing he could say.
Shit. To coin a Sunnydale phrase, he really sucked at this comforting thing. Beating up demons - yeah that he was good at, but the kid didn't need that now - she needed some hope, some love. And he wasn't much good at that. She should be out in the sunlight, not trapped in the dark with a demon and bad things coming for her from every direction.
For some reason a memory flashed through his head - false of course, the monks had done their work on him as well - of the first time he had seen Dawn. She'd been with Joyce at the parent/teacher night, and had gotten separated from everyone when the place went dark. He'd found her in a closet and grabbed her. She'd screamed in terror and he'd yelled at Buffy to come out or the kid would make a nice pre-appetiser. Buffy had come out to face him and he'd carelessly tossed Dawn aside. He wondered what the reality had been.
Whatever. They'd come a hell of a long way since then. He realised she was being pretty quiet, and glanced back over his shoulder to see her sitting on a rock, unable to look at him as she struggled to hold back the tears.
He felt his face soften, his heart swell up and ache for her. Poor Little Bit. His best friend. They sure had come a hell of a long way. He slowly walked toward her.
"Hey," he said softly, tentatively reaching a hand out to stroke her hair, still uncertain as to if he was doing this comfort thing right. She turned to him unexpectedly and he swiftly pulled his hand away in a sudden attack of nerves, pretending to be running it through his hair. Fortunately she didn't seem to notice.
"You wanna know what I'm scared of, Spike?" she asked tearfully.
/Glory, Glory, and oh lets say Glory?/ He thought, but he stayed silent. Waiting for her to say whatever it was she needed to get out.
"Me."
His brow creased in confusion as she looked up at him, her face crumpling. Too much pain and sorrow, the poor kid had been through enough to last two lifetimes.
"Right now, Glory thinks Tara's the key," she continued, her voice trembling. "But I'm the key, Spike. I am. And anything that happens to Tara ... is 'cause of me. Your bruises, your limp ... that's all me too."
He would have shrugged, as if to say it didn't matter but it still hurt too much, all he could do was listen as she spilled out her hurt, let her get it all out.
"I'm like a lightning rod for pain and hurt." Tears began to trickle tiredly from her eyes. "And everyone around me suffers and dies. I ... must be something so horrible ... to cause so much pain ... and evil."
The guy he'd been once would have enjoyed playing with her heartache, her fear that *she* was the bad thing, the thing that needed to be stopped. The guy he was now didn't hesitate for a second.
"Rot."
And he didn't give a damn if it meant he was soft, pathetic. It was the right fucking thing to do and it felt good.
Dawn shook her head despairingly. "What do you know?"
"I'm a vampire," he said with emphasis. "I know somethin' about evil. You're not evil."
Dawn made a tiny gesture of acknowledgement. "Maybe ... I'm not evil. But ... I don't think I can be good." She looked up at him with misty hopeful eyes like he was some kind of hero that could put everything right with a couple of words. But he wasn't a hero, he didn't really know what he was anymore.
"Well," he said carefully. "I'm not good, and I'm okay."
She gave him a wan smile. "I guess."
He sat down next to her. "You didn't ask for any of this kid, not one bit of it. Only have to look at you to know that. Why do you think everyone *wants* to protect you? You're just about the sweetest most innocent thing I've ever come across."
Dawn sniffed loudly, wiping her eyes with her hand, and he tactfully averted his eyes. After a few moments her snuffling subsided.
"Spike?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you love Xander?"
He started in shock. The instinctive movement hurt his unprepared body. Not as much as the memories her question had released though. She had her sisters knack for hitting where it hurt.
"How did you know about that?" he hedged, staring at the ground.
"I hear stuff, stuff I'm not supposed to. I know what you did, why it all started, but Buffy told me what you told her, after Glory ... And I thought you wouldn't have looked like you did that night you asked for me to take him a message if you didn't love him."
He nodded as the ground blurred under his vision, maybe he would have let some tears of his own out, but they hurt as well. Prepared or not.
"Do you?" she asked again.
"Yeah," he said quietly, looking at her at last. "Yeah. I love him."
She gave him a sad smile. "I figured. You know you kinda suck at sticking to a plan."
"You noticed that huh?" He gave her a tiny, wry smile. His fingers were clasped painfully tight. "How is he?"
"You know Xander - he doesn't give much away, not by talking anyway. But ... he looks like he's hurting."
"Yeah."
"Spike? Do you think you two will get back together?"
Spike glanced away again as the pain that throbbed inside him gave a vicious twist, threatening to swallow him up.
"No."
After a long moment Dawn tentatively reached out, her dainty, warm fingers curling around his pale, cool hand, and they sat in silence for a while.
***
Buffy was slumped against the wall as though the effort of standing unaided was just too much, while he, Willow and Giles stood ramrod straight as though if they even buckled that little bit, they would break altogether. He still felt like a spring coiled up too tight, desperate to be released. What the *hell* was it that he was waiting to do? All of them were watching helplessly as the nurses tried to settle Tara into a wheelchair.
"Don't!" Tara cried out, upset, pushing the nurse away. "Please don't with that treachery! I told the cat and now I beg my mother sitting all alone."
"Bye Tara," Willow called after her, as she was wheeled away. "I'll see you tomorrow, I love you." She struggled to stay still for a moment, then made a sudden move to run after her.
"Willow no," he said strongly, darting in front of her and blocking her path. "It's just for one night."
"I know," Willow admitted unhappily. "But it's a whole night. I don't think I can sleep without her."
/Tell me about it Wills./ "You can stay with me," he offered.
Buffy pushed herself away from the wall. "Will, you just have to rest." she said, sensibly and uselessly. "Okay? Right now there's nothing you can do."
Nothing you can do, nothing you can do ... Buffy's words echoed weirdly in his head.
But she was wrong, there was something and finally he knew what he'd been moving inexorably towards, what he'd been waiting for, not just this afternoon, but ever since he had seen Spike, bruised, bloodied and broken after the torture he'd endured at Glory's hands. The roller coaster had finally decided which direction it was heading in. He looked at Willow, and knew she felt it too. It was like looking in a distorted mirror. Different face, same expression, burning, powerful, frustrated anger. Anger screaming to come out and have its way. Or to put it simply. Revenge.
"Yes there is." Willow turned away swiftly, and comprehension burst open on Buffy's face.
"No, no way!" She shot out into the corridor after Willow, and he followed, more slowly. His heart was thudding fast, but his surroundings were beginning to feel ever so slightly distorted around him. Like he was moving out of tandem with the world. He stood back, listening to the words they spoke crash through his ears.
"You cannot even *think* about taking on Glory!" Buffy yelled.
Willow whipped around to face her, her eyes blind with pain. "You saw what she did to Tara!"
/I hate Glory for what she did to him/ His lips moved as he re-played his conversation with Willow from only this morning, but no sound came out, except in his head, where he could hear his voice, as strong and furious as Willow's.
"I ..."
/just want to take my best shot/
" ... can't let her get away with it!"
"No!" Buffy argued back passionately. "You *have* to let her get away with it. Even I'm no match for her you know that."
"But maybe I am."
"You're not!" Buffy said decisively. "And I won't let you go."
/I don't care if she squashes me like a bug/
"This is not your choice. It's mine." Willow shot back.
"This is not the time!" Buffy said desperately.
"When Buffy?" Willow snapped tearfully. "When is? When *you* feel like it? When is someone you love as much as I love ..."
/Spike./
"... Tara? When its Dawn, is that it?"
"When we have a *chance*." Buffy insisted. "We'll fight her, when we have a chance. You wouldn't last five minutes with her Willow she's a god."
Willow, just as swiftly as she had fired up, gave in. "Fine, I'll wait."
"It's the only way." Buffy said with relief.
"Yeah." Willow turned away walking slowly down the corridor .
"Can I do anything?" Buffy called after her helplessly.
"Just let me be alone."
Buffy turned unhappily to see him standing there.
"I'm right, right?" she asked frantically. "I mean she would be killed."
"Sure Buff," he said, staring after Willow, as the tension inside him coiled tighter and tighter. "Listen I'm gonna go after her - I'll talk to you later."
***
Spike and Dawn had been sitting together for a long time before the Slayer came back. He took one look at her, exhausted and drawn with grief and knew this time at least, that the good guys *hadn't* gotten there in time. He stood up and backed off a little to give them some space while she told Dawn what had happened to Tara. Brain sucked.
He was surprised at just how bad the news made him feel. He wasn't much for being affected by others pain, and Tara was someone he never thought about from one day to the next, but he remembered how fucking scared he'd been at Glory's mercy. Tara must have been petrified when Glory found her, and yet she obviously hadn't given Dawn up. He knew for a fact how much guts that took. He silently saluted Tara, feeling as much grief as though he'd lost a comrade in arms, realising with a shock that he did have something to be thankful for. His wounds would heal, Tara was going to be lost forever.
Dawn cried and cried. "It's all my fault," she wept at last.
"No," Buffy said strongly as she stroked Dawn's hair. "Sweetheart it is *not* your fault."
"How's Willow?" Dawn asked through her tears.
"She was looking to go all payback-y on Glory for a minute. But I cooled her down a little. Actually a lot."
Spike frowned slightly. He'd seen Red gettin' her vengeance on after she'd worked out what he'd been doing with Xander. He was pretty surprised there was *anything* Buffy could have done to cool her down, Red just worshipped that witch.
"So she's not going to do anything rash then," he checked.
"No, I explained there was no point."
Spike didn't know what he'd been expecting, maybe that she'd had Red doped up on too many drugs to move, or maybe even that she'd chained her up, but he'd been expecting a hell of a lot more than that. Sometimes he wondered about Buffy - how could a smart girl be so fucking *blind*?
"Mm -hmm," he said sceptically.
"What?" Buffy asked.
He struggled to find the words to explain feelings that had no rational explanation. They were just ... *felt*. "You - so you're saying that a powerful, and mightily pissed off witch was plannin' on going and spillin' herself a few pints of god blood until you what ... 'explained'?"
Buffy frowned. "You think she'd ... no. I told Willow it would be like suicide."
"I'd do it." He glanced away, remembering a dark haired lad who had stared up at him, eyes all dark and hungry and oddly trusting, even early on, when he'd had no right to expect it. For that look he'd kept his mouth shut even as he screamed at Glory's hands. "Right person, person I loved, I'd do it."
He met Buffy's eyes again. She was looking at him, still uncomprehending.
Dawn nodded. "*Think* Buffy," she said gently yet desperately. "If Glory had done that to me."
Buffy froze. Loss, rage, and understanding whirled through her eyes, taking less than a second. Without another word she flew to her feet, racing out of the crypt as though the devil himself was on her heels.
Dawn bit her lip. "I hope she gets there before ... Do you really think Willow will do it?"
He nodded. "Anyone who loved someone that much would do it."
***
The door rocked on its hinges as it burst open and Willow flew out of the magic shop. Literally. She was several inches above the ground carried by an invisible wind, and her eyes were dark, mists of dark magic gathering in the orbs. She was chanting something he couldn't make out the words to, but the hairs on his arms were all standing on end, he could feel the power gathering around her, feel her charging up, flicking all the switches. The magic was swirling around her in a dense dark cloud, with tiny blue sparks within it, crackling as they brushed close to her. She barely paused when she saw him in her path.
"I know where you're going," he said seriously. "You don't stand a chance."
"I don't *care*!" Willow yelled. She wasn't crying anymore but tracks from her tears had left thin silver streaks on her cheeks. "She has to *pay* for what she did! Don't try to stop me ..."
Xander lifted his hand, showing her the axe he held, swinging it experimentally, testing it in his hands.
"I don't want to stop you," he said, his voice emerging cracked with certainty and a terrible rage, his eyes darkening with his own need for vengeance. "I want to help you."
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