CHAPTER 10

“I’m doing well,” said Willow firmly. Spike suspected the firm tone was as much to convince herself as to reassure him. “Giles and Buffy took me to Tara’s grave yesterday. It was awful, but I didn’t try to destroy the world or anything, so that has to be good, right?”

The witch sat on Spike’s new sofa – his first real guest. Anya as landlady didn’t count, he figured. She and Giles had arrived to open the shop together that morning; it was strange to see the Watcher acting like a teenager, all laughter and innuendo. Spike had even caught the pair of them stealing a kiss behind Amulets and Artifacts.

“It sounds pretty good to me, love,” he replied. “Means you’re coming out of it okay.”

“But that’s just the point,” she burst out. “I don’t want to come out of it okay. If I come out of it - if I get better, that means it was nothing. It means I’m forgetting Tara.”

He held her gently, letting her cry it out. It was about all he could do for her.

“I know how it feels, love. Last summer – when Buffy was dead – for a while I just wanted the pain to stop. Everything I beat on was an insult to her memory; how dare I continue doing her work, when she was just lying there, cold and dead and underground. But we fought on, keeping the world safe from the nasties. Because it was what she would have wanted us to do, and because it was the right thing to do.”

He set her back, holding her shoulders and looking directly into her eyes.

“You have to ask yourself what Tara would have wanted, Willow. Whether she would have wanted you to punish yourself and the rest of the world, or whether she would have wanted you to get on with your life.”

Eventually, her tears dried - for now, at least. They sat together in companionable silence while she collected herself.

“So what’s next?” asked Spike.

She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. The witches in Devon gave me some stuff to do. Practise my focus, and work through my emotions. It’s not exactly challenging.”

“It’s a holiday, love. It’s meant to be relaxing, not challenging. Take your time. You’re not in any hurry.”

She frowned. “It’s so frustrating. I feel useless. There was so much I could do, and now I’m just this useless person who sits around, needing her friends to look after her. I can’t even do simple locating spells anymore.”

Spike shook his head gently. “They don’t need you to be useful, Willow. I may not be a Scooby, but I’ve been around you lot enough to know. They just need you to be their friend, love.”

“I’m not even very good at that, anymore. I seem to remember trying to kill them all. Hardly the friendliest kind of behaviour, really.”

Spike grinned. “You all forgave Buffy, didn’t you?”

She collected herself then offered him a watery smile.

“And here I go again. Sorry to dump on you like this, Spike.” She stood, collecting her jacket and moving to the door. “Thanks for listening.”

“No problem, pet.”

***

Xander leant against a pillar in the Bronze, surveying the crowd. Schoolkids, mostly. A couple of older guys he was keeping a close eye on. They might be harmless, but it couldn’t hurt to watch them. Perverts or vampires, it didn’t matter that much to him. He fingered the stake in his pocket; he might not be a superhero, but his practice over the past six years was paying off. He could handle himself in a fight – and these days, with nothing to take him home, he was finding himself in a lot more fights than he had before.

“So will the building come down if you move?”

He looked around, smiling to see the young woman standing before him. “Hi Dawny, how’s things?”

“Great,” she replied. “Or they were, until I noticed that that guy over there doesn’t have a pulse. He’s been hitting on Kerry all night. I promised Buffy I wouldn’t take anything on by myself, but there’s not time to get her here. Do you feel up to taking this on together?”

Xander brightened. “Sure. Lead on, McDawn.”

They were just in time, as they watched Dawn’s friend follow the man out the door.

As they hurried out into the alley, they saw the vampire’s face change, heard Kerry’s scream. Dawn pulled a stake from her too-large-to-be-truly-stylish purse (it was hard to be a fashion leader when you had to carry weaponry) and ran towards the couple, as Xander kicked the vampire and pulled the hysterical girl to safety.

Fangs at the ready, the vampire whirled to face Dawn. “One little girl is as good as another.”

“Oh, this little girl is better than good,” she replied as she aimed a powerful kick at his Adam’s Apple. “This little girl’s had training. It kinda happens when your sister is the Slayer.”

The vampire turned to run.

“I don’t think so,” said Xander, moving out to intercept him. “Ever try picking on someone your own size for a change?”

He saw its eyes darting from side to side, looking for a place to escape, before it exploded into a cloud of dust.

“Not bad, Dawny. You’re good.”

She wrinkled her nose as she tucked the stake back into her purse. “Vamp Dust must be one of the world’s least pleasant nasal experiences.”

Xander shrugged. “I’m usually just happy to see the end of them. I’ll take dust over vampires, any day.”

***

Spike had barely dozed off when he was woken by the snick of the Magic Box’s lock. As he pulled on his jeans, he wondered idly whether he could have ignored the disturbance if it hadn’t been for the soul. Then wondered whether he was going to spend the rest of his un-life second-guessing himself. Soul or self, self or soul? Resolving to leave the quagmire of metaphysical self-doubt to those who chose to wallow in it, he surrendered to the pragmatic. Quickly grabbing a shirt, he padded quietly upstairs.

The shop area was quiet and undisturbed, but a faint noise from the back room had him reaching for a weapon and stalking to the door.

Buffy whirled as the door opened, relaxing when she saw who stood there. “Spike. Where did you come from?” And why aren’t you dressed?

He gestured towards the basement. “I live here now. Heard the noise, figured Anyanka’d never forgive me if I didn’t at least try to stop whichever nasty was sneaking around up here.” He raised a hand and ran it through his hair. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“No.” It was hard to say which of them was more shocked by her outburst. “Stay. Please?”

He shrugged, and reached to button his shirt.

Her eyes followed his fingers. There were new marks there, mingled with the ones she had made, and the one he had taken from a Hellgod for her and her sister. “You have scars.”

He shrugged, feeling exposed. “Yeah. Some things you just can’t heal.”

She looked away. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“Thought about it for a while. I had a pretty good set-up in London, but I couldn’t leave a friend in need.”

Not the way I did when you needed me. She brushed the thought away.

“So, are you training then, or did you come in at two in the morning to admire the décor?”

She stared at him for a moment. “Training. You’re right, I’m not fighting well at the moment.”

He nodded, then offered hesitantly, “I could give you some pointers, if you like.”

She smiled. “In person, you mean?”

“Doesn’t seem much point writing anonymous letters when you already know who anonymous is.”

She blushed slightly, one hand going to her chest where something hung under her sweatshirt.. “I guess. It was kind of nice though. Feeling that someone was looking out for me.”

He shrugged. “Not like you don’t have that already, Slayer. Giles, Dawn, Xander … They’re not exactly chopped liver, are they?”

She grinned at that one, then threw a couple of half-hearted punches at the bag suspended from the roof.

“That’s not how you do it,” he said, moving towards the bag, careful to leave her space to move away. “You need to get in closer, like this.” He demonstrated, standing at least eight inches closer to the bag than she had. “Your punches will lack power if you don’t connect until you’re fully extended. You want to hit the baddie and follow through, moving him back and out of the way.”

***

Anya propped herself up on one elbow, smiling as Giles toyed with her hair.

“So what do we tell them?” he asked quietly.

She trailed one hand idly across his chest.

“Can’t we wait? At least until you come back to Sunnydale to return Willow to the coven? I’m enjoying the extra spice that secrecy gives to our sexual liaisons. And I don’t think telling them is going to be particularly enjoyable. Unpleasant encounters should always be postponed for as long as possible.”

Giles frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to wait a couple of weeks. But you know that the longer we wait to tell them, the harder it gets.”

Anya smiled as her hand slid under the sheets. “I like the sound of that.”

***

The yellow crayon twitched, then rose slowly about an inch from the table.

The witch’s face was bathed in perspiration.

“I did it,” she told herself triumphantly, before she collapsed, unconscious.