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Prologue
"Your tears are because you miss young Liam, and because his loss is so tragic. Your hearts still cling to this body because you cannot disassociate it from Liam, who dwelt therein.
"But it is really only a garment which our dear, dear friend has cast aside. So, while we revere the body because of the tender memories, we now consign the it to its original element.
"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. For the Bible says that we brought nothing into this world and it is certain that we carry nothing out. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord."
The young woman stood silently, bravely, as they lowered the coffin into the hard December ground. Her arms were wrapped around herself. Her older brother and her best friend stood behind her, trying to comfort her with their thoughts, when words and actions had faileded. She shuddered as her father-in-law told her to throw the first handful of dirt. She held herself with grace and strength, lending it to those around her who weren't as strong. She couldn't ever let anyone know she was weak. If she cried, it would show weakness, and her world would collapse if she let her defenses down.
She walked to the edge of the hole and threw a fist of dirt onto the mahogany coffin that protected her husband from the harshness of the ground. She stood, staring, yet unseeing at the dark wood as the men filled in the hole. Her gaze locked on the plaque that read Angelus Liam Giles.
"Come on, then dear, we don't want you to catch chill," a hoarse British voice said after some time. She felt hands on her back as her father-in-law tried to guide her from her husband's grave.
She looked into the man's face, which had aged years in the past week. Rupert Giles, or Giles as she lovingly deemed him was a rather young-looking man. He had ushered her brother and friend out of the cemetery, telling them he would take care of her. He treated her like he treated his biological daughter, with love and devotion. Elizabeth, the young widow, reached up and cupped Giles' face, offering a sad, distant smile.
"We'll be all right, won't we Giles," she whispered.
"We'll be terrific, sweetheart," he replied, his heart breaking at her expression, It's okay to cry, Buffy, He won't be lost if you cry, he pleaded in his mind. Her eerie refusal to cry was a bit worrisome. He took her in his arms, petting her hair and whispered, "We'll be terrific."
Chapter One
"Hello," a voice called from the front desk. Buffy put down the book she was trying to put alphabetically on the shelf. She walked to the front of the store and gave her yes, I'm here, do you have a question look. The man had his back to her, arms akimbo, looking at the painting on the back wall. He wore dark jeans and a red shirt. His hair was a mess of white. She cleared her throat. She lowered her eyes to her watch as he turned around. 4:48. Twelve minutes till she could close up shop for the evening.
"Can I help you," she asked. He stepped up to her, observing her tight ponytail, pale skin and ragged clothes. He didn't say anything so she lifted her eyes to meet his, "Sir?"
"Oh, uh. Yeah. I need some, uh. Hagrid root, I do believe," He stammered out. He wasn't quite sure what happened, but one minute he had been looking at a poor shell of a woman, and the next he had seen the beauty she must have been. She nodded curtly and jerked her head to the side.
"Sure. 'S back here." Buffy walked across the store and started looking at the jars across the top shelf, almost too tall for her to even see. Giles had written larger and had tilted them to she could see the numbers on the shelf when she was alone. She was just tall enough to run her fingers over the shelf, but not reach any higher to where the big bottles lie, "23068," she breathed after her fingers ran over the tab labeled Hagrid Root. She dropped to a crouch and started looking for the matching number on the lower level. The man, however, didn't realize she was getting a smaller bottle, so he reached up and plucked the jar off of the shelf. Unfortunately, he lowered the jar just as she stood with the smaller jar in hand.
"Ow," She dropped the smaller jar, its contents spilling on the hardwood floor. She grabbed her head, eyes scrunched up, "Mother�" She looked up, blushing slightly as she swallowed the colorful stream of curses she would have liked to utter. The man hastily set the jar down and touched her head lightly.
"Oi. Sorry 'bout that, pet. I, uh, thought you were..." He looked at her. She glared up at him, furious. "I feel like a right ponce."
"S'not a problem," she said, the word ponce reminding her of Giles, subsequently reminding her of Liam. She looked away. Her eyes shone, but she refused to cry. Be strong. No weakness. "That's me."
"Huh?"
"Nothing. I... uh� need to clean the... uh..." She looked down at the small roots on the floor. He bent down and helped her put them back in the jar. She pulled another bottle from the shelf, handing it to him. He grabbed both bottles and walked up to the register. "Wait, don't buy that one, it's contaminated."
"But it's my fault, so, I'll pay for both," he said.
"They're twenty dollars, sir."
"S'no problem, s'my fault, I'll pay for it," He was a bit held back by the price, but damn if he didn't want to make this girl's day. "In fact I want three."
"So you're big on vengeance spells then," the young women asked, looking at her register and completely missing the grin he had had plastered on his face.
"What?"
"They're good for vengeance spells, and uh, some minor mind control stuff," She said, ringing up his three bottles of Hagrid Root.
"It's good in minestrone," He offered, looking at the bottle of root.
"The soup?"
"Yeah. Quite good. Gives it a nice undertone," he replied, looking at her from under heavily lidded eyes. She met his eyes and started laughing. His eyes flew open.
"It's just funny that you would use it in soup. Who did you feed it to?"
"Myself. And the dog. And my step mum. She's a bit of a vengeance demon." She looked up at him, eyes still dancing, standing out from her pasty complexion and tired hair, "And you?"
Her head snapped up at the last remark, at the almost inaudible addition.
"My in-laws have invited me over for dinner this evening, but thanks, I'm sure vengeance stew is a wonderful thing" She replied, not mentioning the fact that she wasn't going to go to Giles and Anya's house. His face fell.
"You're married."
"I was married. He - " she looked away, blinking a few times before looking back, "I'm not married anymore." He nodded.
"Sorry, love."
She smiled halfheartedly and looked at her watch.
"Ta for the roots. I'll try not to think evil things when I make it." He turned to leave.
"I'm Elizabeth," She blurted out.
"M'Will, pleasure to meet you, 'Lizabeth." He stretched his hand out to her.
"We have courses in herbs on Tuesdays and Thursdays," She suggested, a faint smile teasing her lips. Anyone who would use hagrid root in soup and feed it to both their stepmother and their dog needed to learn. But mayhaps there wouldn't be side effects. Hmm. Can't be too safe.
"Do you teach them?"
"My best friend Willow, certified wiccan, teaches them for us," she answered, pointing to Willow's picture on the board behind her.
"Are you there at least," he questioned, instantly regretting the neediness conveyed in his voice.
"Yeah. I help. Like when there's a magician and he needs the� lovely assistant." Her eyes dropped on the word lovely, "Anyway, you might learn something, or at least get one of the educational pamphlets on what not to use in food."
"I'll make it a point to come. I make a lot of soup. I'm sure there are other good roots I can use." He picked up one of the calendars from the display panel by the front door, and let himself out.
"Maybe this town won't be so bad," Will said to himself as he strolled on the sidewalk, fingering the small paper. "Not bad at all."
Chapter Two
"Lucy, I'm home," Buffy called as she crossed the threshold to her house. Or the first time in almost a year she didn't feel as if she were dragging herself into the house. Lucy the cat meowed and ran into the room.
"You know," a voice called from the next room, making her start, "that habit of watching nick at night is almost as insane as your anorexia. And soon you're going to have a cat for every show on the damned T.V."
"Anya! What are you doing in my house," a very annoyed Buffy asked, all thoughts of the young man in her store snapped out of her mind as her mother in law entered the room. She didn't want to deal with the in-laws this week. Her answering machine had been full of messages from her mother-in-law. Liam had been dead almost a year, and lately Anya had wanted her to get out more, start dating.
"Oh I have a key from when you first moved in, Angelus gave it to me, so if there was ever trouble, I could get in. Or something," The blonde woman answered, noticing Buffy wasn't paying attention, "Anyway, Rupert wanted to make sure you were okay and insure your arrival at tonight's dinner."
"Ahn. I don't feel good. I just want to curl up on my bed and - "
"And not eat? Go Jog? Cut your wrists? Buffy, You haven't been over in a month." Buffy shook her head at Anya's accusations. She wasn't anorexic, she was just having a non-hungry period. She didn't feel like being in the house where she'd married Liam, or where she'd lost her virginity- to Liam.
"Ahn-" Buffy started again.
"Buffy, I know it hurts. But-" Anya started
"You don't know," Buffy said, voice raising slightly, "You couldn't know. You couldn't know what it's like to sit in a hospital and hold the hand of your husband while his life slowly drains out of him. You couldn't possibly know," She snapped, tears coming to her eyes, but she pushed them back.
"I know what it's like to lose someone. You're not the only one who's lost him, Buffy. Rupert lost his whole family in the past two months. Angelus died, and Drusilla lost her mind. Rupert couldn't take care of her anymore; did you know that? Darla left after she didn't have to 'mother' Angelus anymore, and Dru always took care of herself, but when he died, she lost her mind. Dru hated me because I ran her 'Sweet William' away. Rupert couldn't handle her, and he had her committed. Committed Buffy. As in a mental institution," Anya looked back at Buffy, she was crying. But not the tears of loss that Anya had waited for, it was the tears of fear for the poor dark woman she had come to know. Mental institutions were not places you put beautiful young women, "Did you even know that while you were wrapped up in self pity? She's been gone for three months. Haven't you noticed? Or is it because you haven't been to our house for a month, and before that it was sporadic. She's gone. Not just physically, Buffy."
"Poor Dru. Poor, Poor Dru," Buffy moaned.
"You're all he has, Buffy. All he has that connects him to Jenny. I'm there, but I'm not her, I can admit it. You were tied to her baby. Please," Anya took Buffy's hand, shocked at the boniness of it. She held Buffy's hand up and looked at it, horrified. She looked at Buffy harder than she had before, Buffy winced and looked down when Anya didn't stop staring, "And there's not much let of you. You look like shit, Buffy."
"I do not. It's, uh, laundry day," she looked down at her clothes then back at Anya, snatching her hand back.
"I'm not talking about your clothes. Have you been in the sun, or bleached your hair. Or eaten. Buff, when was the last time you ate?"
"At lunch."
"What did you eat?"
"A banana and a lemonade."
"That's not a meal. Did you even keep it down?"
"Um," Buffy looked down, "Yeah."
"Yeah. Go get dressed. Wash up a bit." Buffy turned to get dressed in something else when Anya called her name.
"Yeah," she asked, turning around.
"Let's hang out tomorrow, go to the movies or something."
"Okay," she nodded.
Anya sat down. What was it with these children? First Spike had decided to come back. He'd known about Angel for months, but hadn't been able to find the time to come pay his respects for his brother. He looked nothing like the frail young man who had left as soon as he could get out of the house. He looked good. If she was twenty years younger� well. Heh, she'd definitely still be having sex with a Giles. Off subject. He went away looking like the kid they all picked on at school, and he came back looking like Billy Idol. Only not old. He'd asked her not to tell Rupert. Then he'd gone to the Casa de Giles and cooked up a mean meal for Anya and Rosario, the lady they hired to clean the house twice a week.
Spike and Anya had a strange relationship. He hated her for trying to take his mother's place, loved her for taking care of his dad, loved her for trying with Dru, for being there for him when he needed it, and agreeing with him that Angel was the Prince of Poofy Ponces. She had always thought he was the most adorable little boy. And once he had grown up, well he was a handsome young poet. She had always thought he'd make a lot of money in the writing industry. No one else did, but what did that matter?
Back to the subject. He was back in town after the woman he had been dating dumped him, making a fool of him and causing him to need an escape. He wanted to pay his respects, and he had. So she expected him to go again. But maybe he'd stay a while. So if she couldn't tell Rupert, she might as well do the next best thing - Hook him up with one of her friends She couldn't stand seeing the young boy so hurt. But he was a picky young man, one who'd just been dumped after a long-term relationship. Maybe it was a bad idea. He was acting a lot like�
"Buffy!"