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Title: What You Are Author: Miss Murchison Rating: "Chiaroscuro" is mostly R and PG. However, some content may be considered NC-17. Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine. Thanks: I would never have started writing this without the encouragement and beta of DorothyL. She introduced me to the concept of fanfic and discusses BtVS with me endlessly. I owe a tremendous debt to her insights. Notes: This is a sequel to “Night and Day."
“Where’s Spike?” Dawn looked in the open door to Buffy’s room. The room was brighter than usual. For once, the blinds were open, and light poured in through the windows. Buffy, who had been rummaging through a drawer, looked up. “He’s down in the kitchen, eating whatever scraps he left there after his last foraging expedition.” Dawn smiled. “I hope his appetite isn’t going to stay this huge, or we’ll have trouble affording groceries again.” “I think it’s just the novelty of it. He told me that he hadn’t realized until he started breathing again how much food tasted of ashes when he was a vampire.” Dawn smiled even more broadly. Suddenly, she seemed to catch herself and almost forced a frown. “I’m sorry. It seems like I shouldn’t be this happy when we still don’t know for sure if we’ll be able to save Willow.” “I know,” said Buffy. “But whenever I look at Spike or think about what’s happened to him, I can’t help but be happy. It’s not even just for his sake. Part of it is kind of selfish.” “Because now you know what you are and that all those feelings you were having weren’t evil after all,” said Dawn. “Wow. You are percepto-girl.” “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. I feel the same way.” Buffy looked at her sister in sudden understanding. “I didn’t stop to think. Spike and I were both so grateful to you for being able to open that door. I didn’t think about what it must have meant to you.” “It meant a lot. To know that I could use all that power without destroying the universe. More than that, I could use it for something good.” “I guess I always knew you were something amazing and good, Dawn. I forgot that you weren’t completely convinced of it.” “I’m still not sure I’m good, Buffy. But at least I know I’m capable of doing good.” “Same thing, pet,” said Spike from the doorway. “You are what you do, after all.” Dawn turned and grinned at him. There was a shaft of light slanting through the window, and some of its rays caught him. As he stepped forward, his eyes gleamed brightly blue, and for once his smile was untouched by bitterness or sarcasm. Dawn laughed. “You know, Buffy, he’s handsomer than I thought, now that I finally get a good look at him.” She stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. “See if you can get him to do something about that hair, though.” She left the room. Buffy bit her lip as she looked at Spike. He seemed stunned by Dawn’s friendly gesture, and she realized how little experience he had of simple affection. “I told you that she liked you. And you’d better get used to it. Now that you’re human, there’s a good chance that other people will start to like you too,” she said. He looked startled and apprehensive, and she gave an involuntary giggle. “Don’t worry, I imagine most of the world will still find you annoying. Dawn and I are special.” His smile returned. “You didn’t have to tell me that, love.” He stroked her hair gently. “Come on. Let’s go get your Willow back from this D’Hoffryn bloke before she does something she’ll really regret.”
Willow sensed the irresistible command from the shadowy realm where she now dwelt. She had been prodding at the edges of this new power she had been awarded, testing it and wondering what to do with it. It was shocking to feel herself being pulled helplessly into the dimension where she had lived for so long as a human. She was standing in a familiar Sunnydale cemetery. It was annoying to discover that in this world, she was a roughly human-shaped figure with a distorted demon face. The two sources of her power gleamed on a chain around her neck. D’Hoffryn’s talisman was a blue fire. The other, stranger, talisman winked silver and red in the sunlight. “Why am I here?” demanded Willow. Anya stepped out from behind a crypt. “You had to come,” she said. “I called you.” Willow hissed in anger. “How dare you? Do you have any idea how powerful I am?” Anya seemed to give this consideration. “Well, yes,” she said finally. “I mean, I used to be a vengeance demon myself, so I have a really good idea how powerful you are. And how weak this change has made you.” “Weak?” “Don’t try to fool me, Willow. You’re not just bearing Spike’s talisman anymore. You’ve got D’Hoffryn’s charm around your neck. When you realized your little plan had backfired, and your friends had all turned against you, you decided you needed a new ally. You never liked being on your own much. So you went to D’Hoffryn last night, and he gave you that trinket, and made you one of his demons. I can tell you the precise moment it happened. He put that charm around your neck, and, for a little while at least, you felt like you belonged somewhere again. But I bet you’re already starting to realize that there are restrictions to your new existence.” “Is there a reason you’re telling me this?” asked Willow. “Other than the obvious fact that you’re trying to delay the moment when I kill you?” “Oh, you can’t kill me. I called you, remember? I’m a wronged woman, and I conjured up a vengeance demon. You can’t do anything until I tell you what I wish for.” She looked behind her, and Xander stepped out from behind the crypt. He looked pale and sick. He was unable to meet Willow’s fiendish gaze. Willow was horrified. “You want me to wreak vengeance on Xander?” Suddenly, she realized that her anger at him certainly didn’t extend to a desire to see him tortured. Of all the Scoobies, he was the one who had sought to appease her the most and angered her the least. And he was her childhood friend. She realized that still meant something to a dark, quiet corner of her heart. Anya smiled grimly. “You’d have to, if I asked, wouldn’t you? That wasn’t something you bargained for when you went to D’Hoffryn. Don’t worry, those human quibbles about eviscerating people you love will go away soon. And, for now, you won’t have to wound your tender sensibilities. You see, I’m not angry at Xander any more. Well, okay, I am, but not enough to want him eviscerated. I’m willing to settle for him feeling miserable about what he did, and that seems to be the case already, so I’ve got nothing to wish for there.” Willow shook her head. “If you don’t want me to harm Xander, why did you bring him here?” “I didn’t bring him. He joined me in the ritual that I used to call you.” Willow stared at Xander. “You want vengeance?” “Yeah,” he said. “I’m not proud of it, but that’s the way I feel. I’m angry. Angry enough for Anya’s little ritual to work like, well, like a charm.” “I’m angry too,” said Buffy, stepping up beside Xander. Behind her, Dawn and Giles stood, looking sadly at Willow. “We all are,” said Giles softly. “We expected so much better.” Willow shook her head. “You can’t do this. This can’t work.” “Yes, it can,” said Tara, joining the others. “Your hatred has placed you in our power, Willow.” “Tara, honey, you too?” asked Willow. “I loved you so much,” whispered Tara. “But the Willow I loved cared about and respected her friends; she didn’t try to control them and become angry when they resisted her.” “We all feel the same way,” said Xander. “We’re angry, and hurt, and we know what we want. We’re prepared to wish for it.” “It’s not so strange,” said Anya. “Most vengeance demons earn their talismans because they’ve hurt someone they once loved. You’ve hurt a lot of people who care about you. And now you have to face their wrath.” Willow tried desperately to flee the cemetery, but Anya was right. As a vengeance demon, she was bound by the ritual that had called her and by the anger of her erstwhile friends. She stared at them in despair. “What do you want?” she croaked. It was Xander, her oldest friend, who spoke. “We wish that you would stop being a vengeance demon,” he said. “That was always a little Catch-22 in the system,” said Anya. “But I’ve never heard of it actually being used before.” “Granted.” The word was torn unwillingly from Willow’s throat. She gasped and staggered back. Her features twisted and changed as she screamed in pain. When the spasm was over, her face was still distorted, but marginally more human. The blue talisman had disappeared. “Hey, it worked!” said Dawn. “Now we are potentially in great danger,” muttered Giles. “She is freed from the rules that bound her as a vengeance demon, but she still has her powers of witchcraft.” “You never stop making cheerful statements like that, do you?” said Xander. “I don’t think she’s ready to hurt us right now,” said Buffy clearly. “Anya said that the blood lust would fade when the power center was gone. Now we just have to deal with Willow. And Willow didn’t want to destroy us. She got herself into this mess because she was so afraid we would be hurt that she started making all our decisions for us.” She stepped forward and reached out a hand. “Willow, come back to us,” she said. “Come back to me. I miss my best friend.” “No, you don’t,” gasped Willow, backing away. “You didn’t want me any more. You turned away from me because of what I did to you, and you clung to that fiend instead.” “I—I couldn’t talk to you about some things because it was hard for you to understand,” said Buffy. “And, later, when I did try to explain, you weren’t ready to listen. But that didn’t mean I rejected you. I didn’t stop caring about my best friend because I fell in love with Spike.” “Yes, you did,” said Willow. She stood up straighter. “I was right. Look at you now. Now that he’s gone, you’re talking as if you’re my friend again. I knew he was corrupting your soul. I wasn’t so bad.” She could feel that her features were becoming uglier and more demonic again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She turned to look at Xander and Anya. “I was right about you two, too,” she said. “The ex-demon girl was never good enough for you.” Willow fixed her gaze fixed on Anya meditatively. Xander gulped, and Giles stepped forward protectively. Buffy interceded, distracting Willow from Anya. “You’re wrong,” she said. “What you did to Spike was wrong. You have to admit that.” “No,” Willow said in a wheedling tone. “I can tell, Buffy. I can sense you’re at peace about what happened to Spike. You have to see that I acted as your friend, and that I did something right.” “Not really,” said Dawn in a hard voice. “It came out all right, but that was in spite of you.” She was looking past Willow. Willow turned, following Dawn’s gaze, and saw Spike standing behind her. He was standing in full sunlight, his skin impossibly pale in contrast to the black shirt and jeans he wore. His blue eyes were unafraid and seemed almost sympathetic. “I killed you,” said Willow. “I’m not sure exactly what happened when you threw me against that wall, but I think perhaps you did kill me,” said Spike. “But I was already dead, you see. And thanks to Buffy and Dawn, my dying again didn’t have the effect you expected.” “You’re a ghost!” He shook his head and put one hand to his chest. “No, witch. My heart is beating. And I feel a very real need to pull this slightly polluted Sunnydale air into my lungs.” “How did this happen?” she demanded. By now, she was too shocked to even think of using magic. He pointed at the red and silver talisman she still wore. “You borrowed my little toy. It makes things real. You said it yourself.” Willow backed away from him. “No. If it made you human, and made me a demon—” “You are what you do,” said Dawn from behind Willow. “That’s what Spike told me today. What did you do, Willow?” Willow was still staring at Spike in horror. “You’re human,” she said hoarsely. “And I tried to kill you. What does that make me?” Convulsively, she yanked the talisman off its chain and threw it at Spike. He caught it easily, and held it up between his thumb and forefinger. “And what do you want me to do with this?” “It’s not mine,” said Willow in anguish. “I stole it from you. I had it all wrong, didn’t I? Everyone kept telling me I was wrong, and I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t see—” “No, you couldn’t see,” agreed Spike. “Not until you dragged me out into the light of day. Now that it’s all come clear, what do you want, witch?” “I’m afraid to ask for what I want.” “Afraid you won’t get it? Or ashamed that you’ve lost the right to even beg for it? Never mind. You don’t need to say the words, because I know. You want forgiveness. You want to be that other Willow again. The one you despised because she was so weak, so human, so easily hurt by someone’s words. The one you replaced with the powerful badass witch who didn’t care what other people thought.” She hesitated, then nodded. Spike looked around him. He was in daylight, but just a few steps away was a huge crypt, which cast enough shadow to shield him from the sun’s rays. He stared at the patch of darkness for a long moment, then very deliberately dropped the talisman on the ground before him. With the full light of the morning sun still beating down on his blond head, he ground the charm that had made him human under his heel.
Dawn and Buffy had been about to start forward to stop Spike, but they froze at the sight of him standing unharmed, an expression of astonishment and relief on his face. Then their attention was drawn by Willow, who dropped to her knees, clutching her head in her hands. She was keening in pain, but when she finally dropped her hands, her face was fully human at last. Tara stepped forward and stared at Willow with love and pity. Willow looked up at her ex-lover, hope suddenly breaking into her despair. “Tara, baby,” she pleaded. “Help me.” Tara nodded and waved her hand. “Requiescat,” she said, and Willow slumped over onto the ground. Tara looked up at the others. “She’ll sleep now,” she said. Anya crept further away from the two witches and closer to Giles’ reassuring presence. “Are you all right?” he asked her. She nodded. “You were very brave,” said the Watcher simply, taking her hand and squeezing it. As soon as Buffy saw that Willow was asleep, she ran to Spike and threw her arms around him, trying to reassure herself that he was all right. He pulled her close, laughing. “Still alive, pet,” he said, holding her hand to his chest. “Do you feel that? It seems Pinocchio is a real boy now. This isn’t going away because some toy gets broken.” “I knew that,” she muttered, moving her hand to press her cheek to his chest. “I knew it. But I just couldn’t help being afraid.” And rightly so, she thought. He didn’t want to stay if it meant he couldn’t be truly alive. He wouldn’t risk giving up his soul again, not even if it was the only way he could stay with me. And that’s something I’ll never mention and never blame him for, because I understand it all too well. I wouldn’t want him to think any differently, even though losing him would break my heart. Her frantically beating heart slowed to match the reassuring thud of his. She pillowed her head against his chest and felt as if she could relax for the first time since Willow had begun her vendetta against Spike. Or was it for the first time since Buffy herself had come back from the dead? Tara spoke. “It wasn’t breaking the talisman that changed Willow back, you know,” she said. “She may think it was, but it was really the knowledge that she was forgiven. That all of us, even Spike, could forgive her for what she’d done. That even he was ready to risk his life to let her come back.”
None of the others noticed when Dawn bent down and picked up the remains of the silver and red talisman. The pieces lay in her palm and seemed to pulse like a living thing. She stepped back a few paces away from the group. “It’s not stealing,” she muttered. “This is supposed to be mine. I know it is.” She stared into the shards of crystal before closing her hand briefly. When she relaxed her fist again, the talisman was restored and the crystal was mended as if it had never been shattered. The tiny charm started to glow. It grew warmer in the palm of her hand. Dawn looked up and gasped. Willow still lay on the ground at Tara’s feet, but now a black fog seemed to pulse above her. The ominous cloud was slowly dissipating. Tara seemed taller and more beautiful than before, and she was surrounded by a soft glow. Behind the two witches, Anya and Giles were linked by more than the simple handclasp that had been visible before. Their auras seemed to merge and intertwine. Seeing Anya and Giles like that made Dawn think of Xander, and she turned to look at him. He was staring down at Willow with sadness and compassion. But the glow of his aura made Dawn start and back away. She forced her eyes away from him with a fearful reluctance. Then she turned to Buffy and Spike and gasped again. The creatures that stood there might have been human, but they were certainly something more as well. Their grace and beauty took her breath away, but their power was palpable and terrifying. Alarmed by these visions, Dawn thrust the talisman into her pocket and pulled her naked hand back out. The crystal separated from her flesh like a lover unwilling to release his beloved. She looked around, confirming that her perceptions were restored to normal. She could no longer see the others’ auras. Spike was merely a slender young man with startlingly dyed hair, who was embracing a tiny, smiling blonde woman. Dawn sighed in relief. The talisman was certainly hers, but she hoped she would be spared from using it for some time to come. Suddenly, being just an ordinary teenager seemed more than enough to ask from existence.
Willow lay in center of the pentagram that had been carefully drawn in the center of the old building. She was breathing calmly, and looked merely asleep. Buffy stood just outside the edges of the pentagram and looked down at her friend. Then she looked at the walls around her. The building must have been a church at one time, because there were stained glass windows and a plain altar at one end of the large room. But the windows didn’t seem to be all from the same period, and some of the stories they told didn’t fit with the images Buffy had seen in other churches. There were marks on the floor where benches had stood, but the pews were gone now. There was a scent of herbs. The place should have seemed eerie and evil, but instead it was restful and welcoming. “A lot of people have prayed here,” said Tara, as if Buffy had spoken her thoughts. “Sometimes that can make a place scary, depending on who is praying and what their state of mind is. But the Coven believes that this place was created as a bulwark against the hellmouth, and that the people who have come here to pray were trying to create a fortress. They may have believed different things on the surface, but underneath they were all working towards the same goal.” “The Coven?” asked Buffy. “The Seely Coven,” said Tara. “The—“ Giles had been standing beside Buffy, but now he stepped up and looked at Tara in astonishment. “The Seely Coven has been known for centuries as a force for good. But it resides in England, albeit in great secret. It has for generations.” “And it’s been so secret for the past few decades that no one has been able to find it, right?” said Tara. “That’s because the last high priestess moved it to Sunnydale. She believed that there would be a major showdown between good and evil within the next few years and that this is where the Coven would need to make its stand. She wanted them to have time to put down roots here, so that they would have resources to draw upon when the time comes.” “Astonishing,” said Giles. “How did you find them?” Now the rest of the Scoobies were listening as well. “One of them found me, and offered to teach me. A-after I broke up with Willow, I started to realize how much we didn’t know, how dangerous some of the things we were doing were. I decided I needed a teacher. I’ve spent the last few months learning a lot. Mostly about what things I shouldn’t do, and how to be more careful with things I have been doing.” “And these witches agreed to help Willow?” “Yes, but it wasn’t easy. There’s been a major upset in the Coven and this isn’t the best time for them. There’s a new high priestess, and a new member.” “Tradition has it that a majority of the thirteen members of the Seely Coven must be united by blood. That must make finding new members difficult.” “They’ve managed,” said Tara. “And when I explained the situation, they seemed surprisingly anxious to help, given their recent loss.” She turned towards the door, as a number of figures began to stream in. By this time, Buffy was unsurprised to see that the first person to enter was Sage, followed by Basil and Saffron. Ten others appeared behind them. If they had been wearing robes or chanting, it would have been eerie. But they were dressed in a variety of ordinary clothes and they appeared to be gossiping about the behavior of someone at a recent social event. After a moment, Buffy grasped that Leticia had embarrassed her family by showing up for her mother’s funeral dressed in black and sobbing. The members of the Coven lined up before the Scoobies, with Sage in the center and a little to the front. Buffy saw Laurel standing between Saffron and a thin young man who looked like another relative. Laurel seemed nervous, and Buffy guessed she was the new member of the Coven. Tara stepped forward and greeted Sage by name. “These are my friends,” she said. She introduced them, hesitating only when Sage raised an eyebrow at Spike’s name. Sage, in turn, introduced each of the twelve behind her. Seven were clearly Rosemary’s descendents, including the thin man, whose name was Valerian, and a young woman who appeared from her odd ears and hands to be part demon. The remaining five were of various races and ages, and two of them also appeared to have some demon ancestry. Sage noted Giles’s expression. “My mother believed that the time had come to strengthen the Coven by including those who had previously been barred from membership by tradition. This has been done many times before, most recently when the Coven was moved to England two thousand years ago because its Egyptian leaders felt it had become too conservative. When an organization has survived as long as ours, it needs a good shake-up once every few millennia.” She stepped forward and stood for a moment looking down at Willow. “I can feel her power, and how it has been twisted. Not, I think, from an active desire to do evil, so there is hope for her. Like so many who are strong but misguided, she has been led close to destruction by some of her own best qualities.” Buffy thought that this was a remarkably fair analysis. Sage asked Tara, “Which of these will take the points of the pentagram?” Tara said, “I will take one, if you permit.” “I expected it.” Tara pointed out Buffy and Spike. “They are two of the most injured,” she said, with a doubtful glance at Spike. Sage nodded. “I am acquainted with Buffy and William. They were introduced to me with excellent references. They are clearly acceptable.” Buffy smiled at her friends’ astonishment. Obviously, the fact that she already knew Sage was much less amazing to them than the high priestess’ opinion of Spike. Tara took Dawn’s hand. “She is young, but I think she has the strength.” Sage looked into Dawn’s eyes. “You know what you are, little one?” “I think so,” said Dawn. She didn’t object to the mode of address, even though she towered over Sage. Sage shook her head. “It would be presumptuous of me to try to exclude you from this ceremony.” “And this is Xander,” said Tara finally. Xander stood in agony, acutely aware that he was the only garden-variety human to stand as a candidate. Sage looked into his eyes and smiled. “You have chosen well, Tara. This one is the anchor the others will need.” “An anchor to what?” Xander could not keep himself from asking. Sage looked surprised. “Humanity,” she said. “Humanity is your great talent.” “Oh.” “Don’t look disappointed,” said the high priestess. “It is amazing how many humans are no good at it at all.” She looked at Tara. “Let’s begin. It’s been a long day.” Tara stepped up to stand on one of the points of the pentagram. Slowly, the others did the same, Buffy first, and Xander trailing over to his position last. Once he was in place, a warm yellow glow began to trace the pattern of the pentagram. The Coven had formed a circle just outside the pentagram, with Giles and Anya standing just beyond them. They all stared at Willow. Tara’s fingers twitched slightly, and Willow’s eyelids began to flutter. She moaned, then sat up. When she saw her friends standing around her, she shuddered as if in pain. This turned to fear as she took in her surroundings and the members of the Coven. “Willow,” said Sage. “Those of our kind are given great latitude in behavior. But we all must follow the same law; we must harm no one intentionally or by carelessness. You stand here accused of black magic. It is alleged that you have misused a great gift and harmed your friends. Because of that, you have been called before this court. Do you acknowledge our authority?” Willow stared at the elderly witch for a long time. Then she looked at Tara. Tara nodded gently. “Yes,” said Willow faintly. Sage seemed to relax slightly. “You must now face your accusers.” Willow looked as if she would rather face the fires of hell, but she looked up at Tara again. Tara’s misery was palpable as she spoke. “You used magic to violate my mind. You stole my memory and changed the love I felt for you from joy to pain.” Willow’s eyes closed in agony. Tara signaled to Dawn, who said, “You violated my mind, too, Willow. But that wasn’t as bad as when you stopped listening to me when I told you what I wanted. You decided you knew what I needed and what I was. You stopped seeing me.” Xander shifted from one foot to the other. “Taking my memory was nothing. You used your influence to destroy my relationship with Anya,” he said, finally. Buffy spoke softly. “You acted on my behalf when you had no right to do so. First, when you brought me back from death, but later, too, when you thought you had the right to show me what my life should be.” Then it was Spike’s turn. “You struck at me with magic and stole the agent of my salvation,” he said. “You tried to turn it into an instrument of destruction.” He stopped. “I’m guilty,” said Willow wearily. “Guilty of all that and more.” Sage looked at Spike. “Yes. There is more.” “No.” He shook his head. “I have heard the story, William,” insisted the priestess. “Didn’t she try to kill you?” “Couldn’t,” he said. “I wasn’t alive.” Sage sighed. “Without the charge of attempted murder, the sentence cannot be as severe.” “You mean, you can’t take her powers away forever?” “No.” “Spike,” said Willow desperately, “make the charge. If they can get rid of the magic for good, I want them to. It’s only what I deserve.” “It may be what you deserve, but it’s not what’s best,” said Spike. Everyone in the room, including Willow, stared at him in astonishment. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced, clearly uncomfortable at having to explain himself. “Look at her. She’s smart, and everything that made her a scary witch is still there. It’ll still be there, ever if she doesn’t have the power to float a bloody pencil any more. She has to learn to control what went wrong, or she’ll find some other way to make as much trouble as she did on this outing. And if she does learn control, what a waste to have destroyed what she could be!” Sage’s eyebrow went up thoughtfully. “If we do not block her power entirely, we must find a way to control it until she has learned self-restraint. William, will you offer to be one of those controls?” If she thought this would take Spike off guard, she was wrong. He didn’t look happy, but he nodded. Sage looked at Willow’s other accusers. “You must agree as well,” she told them. “This will be no small charge that we place upon you.” “What?” asked Willow. “What more are you asking them to do for me?” “Willow,” said Sage, “your powers can be tied to the will of your friends. You will be unable to perform any magical act without their freely offered agreement. This concurrence must be entirely voluntary and not coerced in any way. In other words, they must agree to help you because that is what their best judgment tells them to do so, not because you have pointed a pistol at someone’s head.” Willow looked miserable. “I can’t ask them to do that,” she said. “But I can,” said Sage. “If they agree, and if it is the judgment of this court that this is an appropriate sentence, will you accept that judgment?”
Giles walked in the front door of Buffy’s house to find Spike on his way down the stairs. “Given up knocking, Watcher?” remarked Spike. “Since I am staying here, yes,” said Giles. “I didn’t know you wanted a warning before I came in. Is there anything in particular you don’t want me to see?” Spike grinned evilly. “Yes, but nothing that I’m ashamed of.” Giles sighed. “Spike, there is something I would like to talk to you about, so would you mind dropping the insults and innuendos for a moment?” “Anything good in it for me?” “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Spike raised an eyebrow in surprise, but followed Giles into the living room. Giles put down the briefcase he had been carrying and removed a large envelope from it. Holding it, he regarded his companion thoughtfully. Although he was beginning to acquire a noticeable tan, Spike didn’t look very different from his vampire days. He was wearing old black jeans and a shabby red shirt. However, he had let his hair grow out a bit and had stopped dying it. It looked like it had seen the services of a professional, and Giles suspected Buffy had been responsible for that. Spike’s eyes still gave the impression that they saw more than they should, and the satirical twist to his mouth promised that he would reveal what he saw. But although it would have been foolhardy to assume he could not be dangerous, some degree of tension seemed to have left him. There was more genuine amusement in his gaze, and he was less inclined to storm from a room suddenly as if too much human contact pained him. “It seemed to me,” said Giles, “that these would be useful to you. They aren’t as complete as I would like. I had them made up rather quickly and somewhat sub rosa. I thought it better if the Council didn’t know about you, at least not yet, but I do have other connections.” Spike took the envelope that Giles held out and opened it. He blinked in surprise as several official looking documents fell out. He picked up a passport and opened it. “William Sanguinaire,” he said, and grimaced. “William the Bloody. Very funny.” “You will allow me my little joke,” said Giles. “Besides, you cannot deny your history entirely, Spike.” “I know that, watcher. I’m just surprised you’re deigning to help me move on.” “Since you are a part of Buffy’s life, it will be best for her if you can adopt a human persona. As I said, I couldn’t make these documents as complete as I would have liked. I was able to obtain a British passport and driver’s license, as well as a visa, but my influence with the California DMV proved to be nil. You will have to try to get a California license on your own. If my recollection of your driving skills is accurate, you may find that a bit of a challenge. There is also some additional paperwork that you will have to complete to be able to stay in this country legally.” “I haven’t done anything legally for over a hundred and twenty years.” “This will be good practice, then.” Giles’ voice became harsh. “Buffy can’t add bailing you out of jail on a regular basis to her other troubles, Spike. I know that these things seem like petty annoyances to you, but you need to deal with them for her sake.” He pointed at the other papers Spike held. “There is also a curriculum vitae which I encourage you to memorize. If anyone decides to check on the details of birth date and education and so on, they will be supported by the references.” Spike unfolded the papers and read them with a combination of chagrin and amusement. “An interesting fairy tale.” “Not at all,” said Giles coolly. “I did some research. You did earn the right to those credentials.” “More than a century ago!” Spike folded up the paper and stared at him incredulously. “Are you daft? What I learned was obsolete then!” “I think you will find that an education in the classics is equally obsolete today. But it does impress people, and you may find that useful, in time.” “I doubt it. Can you see me putting on a tweed suit and making a living by impressing people with my scholarly misconceptions about the bloody boring past?” Giles said nothing, but he looked struck by something. Spike shrugged, and said with an effort, “Thanks. The passport and things. It will make things easier—for Buffy.” He left the room slowly. Giles looked up and saw Buffy watching him from the opposite doorway. “I just brought some documents for Spike,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll show you later.” “I heard most of it. Thank you, Giles. I’ve been wondering how he would manage.” She made a face. “Not if he would manage—just how. This will be a lot easier, at least on my nerves.” She looked at him closely. “What’s bothering you so much?” “Oh, nothing. Nothing. It just that what Spike said about putting on a tweed suit and playing the erudite fool—“ “That wasn’t exactly what he said.” “Close enough. Close enough to what I said to my father over twenty years ago.” Buffy giggled. “I wouldn’t worry about Spike following in your footsteps.” She looked thoughtful. “On the other hand, the tweed suit was never anything but a costume for you, was it?” “Spike may have to find his own costume to fit into the human world, Buffy. But I doubt if he will choose tweed.” “Me either.” “There is something else I need to tell you. I’ve spoken with Anya, and she doesn’t feel she can continue on in Sunnydale. She wants to start over again some place where she can be free of the temptations to vengeance that this place offers. She is very genuinely hurt, Buffy.” “I know. And I feel terrible about it, but I don’t think I’m the best person to help her. Where will she go?” “She’s going to travel back to England with me, and I’ll try to help her find employment there. I’m sure that an entrepreneur with her skills will find her feet almost immediately.” “That’s—very good of you.” Buffy’s eyes widened in near-horrified speculation. Giles was very glad that Spike was no longer present. “Yes, well, I’ve also spoken with Tara. The expense of school has been getting harder for her to handle, and she has agreed to supervise the running of the magic shop for me. She can hire help so that she doesn’t need to stop taking classes. I thought, well, that Dawn might like to work there. She is of an age to take an after-school job, and taking on some responsibility might help her at this juncture in her life. However, I didn’t want to raise the subject without talking to you first.” “She would like being close to Tara,” said Buffy. “And I would know where she was after school. I’ll ask her, but I think it should be her decision.”
Tara sat on a chair in Buffy’s old room and looked out the window. “This is so hard,” she said. It was not the first time that she had uttered those words during this conversation. Willow sat on the bed that Xander had repaired and stared at her hands. “I know I screwed up, Tara. But I still love you, and I think you still love me. Doesn’t that count for anything?” “It counts for a lot, Willow,” said Tara. “But my need to be who I am has to count for more. It would be so easy to go back where we were, to try to fit into that relationship again. But I can’t do it. I never wanted to break up with you. Loving you opened up my world. But when I left you, when I was forced to leave you, I found that there were things about me that I needed to know. I still have to do that. I love you, Willow. But I still have to leave you here. I won’t be far, and I want to know how you’re doing, but I can’t stay with you. I know that Buffy will take care of you, at least until you’re ready to be on your own. Maybe, after we’ve learned to be strong apart, we can be strong together.”
Willow did not move after Tara left. She was still staring at the far wall some time later when she realized she was no longer alone. It took an astonishing effort to turn her head and look at the open doorway. Spike was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with an enigmatic expression. “May I have a word?” he asked. “Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly feel worse,” she said, then forced herself to add, “No, I’m sorry. Whatever you’re here for, you have a perfect right to say it. Just do it and go, please. Don’t mind if I break down in sobs or go catatonic or anything.” Spike stepped into the room and threw himself into a chair near the window. The sun slanted in and picked up the remaining blond streaks in his hair. Willow shuddered at this proof of his humanity, remembering how close she had come to destroying it in unthinking rage. “Having yourself a nice wallow in self-hatred, pet?” remarked Spike in a conversational tone. This penetrated her agony of guilt, and she was roused to anger. “What do you think, Spike? That I’m sitting here congratulating myself on what I did?” “None of us could think that, with you sitting up here day and night like Lady Macbeth. I’m just waiting for you to start wringing your bloody hands and shrieking ‘Out, damned spot!’” “Would that surprise you? Because I can’t get my hands clean, Spike. I can’t wash myself free of what I’ve done. And I feel terrible about it. If you’ve come here to make me feel worse, then you have that right, but I just don’t think that it’s possible.” “Me neither,” he said. “So it’s just as well that’s not why I’m here, pet. I’ve had a bellyful of people moping about and brooding lately and I’m not about to encourage more of it. I mean, I put up with it from Buffy because, well, because she’s Buffy and because she didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to her. And because I didn’t know how to snap her out of it. She had to figure that out for herself, more’s the pity. But you’re a different case. I know just what’s eating you.” “You and all my friends,” she said. “I was evil. I did terrible things.” “Yes,” he said emphatically. “And they loved you anyway. They wanted their Willow back with them so much they were willing do something even harder than risking their lives. They were willing to forgive you and give you another chance.”
“If
this is supposed to make me feel better, it’s not working. It just
makes me more guilty.” She stared at him incredulously. “I can’t, Spike. I can’t even look at them without wanting to cry. How could I go down there and act like I was normal? I’d just fall to pieces.” “No you wouldn’t. You’re made of tougher stuff than that.” She shook her head vehemently. “No. You can’t know—the guilt is so overwhelming—” “I can’t know?” he asked, and she was silent. He thrust out his hand. “Take it,” he said. “What?” She looked at his palm fearfully.
“You
used to be able to look into people’s minds, right? And if you touch
me, you can do magic again. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?” “If you owe me anything at all,” he said harshly, “you’ll do this. I’m calling in my chips, witch.” Unwillingly, she grasped his hand and stared into his eyes for a bare moment. Then she snatched her hand back and huddled into a ball near the headboard of the bed, her eyes full of horror. “Spike, how do you stand it?” she whispered at last. “I stand it because the only other choice is death,” he said. “Unless I go back to what I was. And I didn’t get this far to give up. Neither did you, pet.” “I never heard you talk about it.” “What good would that do anyone? Spreading pain about is no way to get rid of a load of guilt. Might as well start letting my hair stick up and whining about my inner torment every thirty seconds. That’s no use to anyone.” His voice softened. “I just go on living, Willow. Day by day, minute by minute. There’s no great secret.” He waited, but she did not respond or look at him, and finally he stood up and wandered to the door. “Spike?” she said, just as he was about to leave. “Yeah?” He stopped and turned back to her. She uncurled from her pose of misery and stood up. “I like your new hair.” “Oh.” His hand went to his head in surprise. “Uh, thanks.” She stepped over to the door and out into the hall. “Finally got a good look at that blond hairstyle in a mirror, huh?” she asked in a valiant attempt at a teasing tone. He winced in appreciation of the gibe. “Something like that,” he said. She was about to start down the stairs to where her friends waited, but first she turned to look at him, and her face wrinkled momentarily in pain. “Spike?” “Yeah?” “This is really hard.” “I know.” “Does it get easier?” “Eventually.” “Okay.” She took a deep breath, forced a smile on her face, and went down the stairs.
“She’s doing really well,” said Buffy. There was a tinge of incredulity to her voice. “Yes,” said Giles. They were in the kitchen, looking out the door to the back yard where Willow, Dawn, Xander, and Spike sat talking and snacking. “It almost seems as if she’s forgotten most of what she’s done. I wonder if it was part of the spell that bound her magic. Perhaps it’s helping her heal.” Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know. At first she seemed overwhelmed by guilt, and I was even afraid she would hurt herself, but she seemed to snap out of it suddenly.” “You should watch her,” said Giles. He sounded worried. “But the healing does seem to be genuine. Besides, she doesn’t have the power to hurt anyone magically without the outright collusion of one of you.” His eyes strayed involuntarily to Spike. “Don’t go there,” said Buffy. “I can’t help but notice a lack of contrition for his earlier life, Buffy. Or, should I say, his unlife.” “He doesn’t talk about it at all, Giles. It’s like it’s a closed subject. Sometimes I wonder if he really remembers it clearly anymore. Or if his memories are somehow detached from his emotions, so that he doesn’t perceive them the way you would expect. In a way, he’s kind of like Willow is now.” “But his transformation is more bewildering than Angel’s, Buffy. There is no appreciable personality change, and not much sign of remorse. He hasn’t returned to being the man he was before he became a vampire. He can walk in the sun and he breathes air, but he is still Spike.” “Oh, yeah,” said Buffy in a very different tone from Giles’. “I was worried at first he wouldn’t be, but he –” She blushed. “Thank you for stopping there,” said Giles. “I think feel sure you were moving into the realm of things I don’t want to know about your relationship with Spike.” Buffy looked at the floor. At that moment, Spike came in and nodded at them. “Just after another beer,” he commented. He opened a cabinet and took down a bottle. “What about you, watcher?” he said. Giles’ eyes lit up when he saw the label. “Yes, definitely,” he said. “I didn’t know there was any of that about.” “You don’t think I’d let the bloody Americans put it in the refrigerator?” said Spike, getting himself another bottle. “Quite right,” said Giles, and then almost choked on his first sip when he realized he’d agreed with Spike about something. Spike grinned and put an arm around Buffy’s shoulders. She smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist. Giles regarded them with resignation and something almost approaching approval. “I’m glad you came in, Spike,” he said. “I was about to tell Buffy something and it concerns you as well.” “Oh?” Spike took a long drink from the bottle he held. “Buffy,” said Giles, “you may remember that when I first came back, I mentioned to you that I had found an old text that referred to a prophecy about the Slayer. It hadn’t been translated to English, because it was a very obscure work from an opus that had been somewhat discredited.” “Let me guess,” said Buffy. “Nobody believed it because whoever wrote or collected the thing believed that the First Slayer had evolved from a vampire?” Giles eyes edged away from hers, only to encounter Spike’s ironic gaze. “Well, yes, actually.” “So now you’ve translated,” continued Buffy, “and it’s full of stuff that would have been useful if we could have figured out what it meant before things actually happened and other stuff that we still won’t be able to figure out until it happens.” “Well, the first half is true,” admitted Giles. “It referred to a Slayer and her relationship with a vampire. I first started looking at this text a few years ago, because I thought it might refer to, well, to Angel.” Buffy didn’t react to this at all and Spike contented himself with a derisive snort, so Giles continued. “Before I got very far with my initial effort, it was clear that although the Slayer involved could have been Buffy—there was reference to a death and a resurrection—Angel could not be the vampire. There were incidents in his past which, well, disqualified him.” “Disqualified?” said Buffy. “There was a job description?” “Of sorts. More of a list, a list of tasks that had to be performed before the vampire could achieve, well, transcendence.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and frowned at it. “Spike, did you by any chance kill a child vampire known as the ‘Anointed One?’ We never did find out what happened to him.” Spike looked thoughtful for a moment. “The Annoying One? Yeah, I remember frying him. Too much chanting when he was about. Always wanting to do rituals when my stories were on the telly.” Giles stared at him incredulously. “He was capable of destroying the world, you know.” “Well, it was a good thing I offed him, then, wasn’t it,” said Spike, taking another sip of beer. Buffy shook her head, as if she were wondering whether to cringe or to laugh. “Yes,” said Giles dryly. “Well, that was one of the tasks. As was stopping the soulless one from destroying the world by entering into an alliance with the Slayer.” “When he helped me stop Angel,” said Buffy. “Yes, and there were other things.” Giles looked at the list, as if reluctant to credit Spike with the items on it. “There was one that I remember translating several years ago and thinking that it was so unlikely it could never be performed.” “What was that?” asked Buffy. “The willing submission to torture by a god to save an innocent,” said Giles. “Oh,” said Spike. “That. Are we going somewhere with this, Watcher?” “Yes, yes, we are,” said Giles. “There is a description of the change, which states only that once the vampire is worthy the Slayer will be able to show him the way to the sunlight.” “Been there, done that,” said Buffy impatiently. “So what is there to help us in all this?” “There are a few more words after that,” hedged Giles. “And I don’t know that they will be helpful, precisely. But it seemed to me that you had the right to know what they said.” Spike raised his eyes to the ceiling and said with a great pretense of patience, “Spit it out, Watcher.” “Well, the prophecy ends by stating that that Slayer and her—that is, her companion will perform great deeds together, and—” He hesitated again. “Tell us already, Giles,” said Buffy. “What horrible thing do we have to do? What is it that could be worse than fighting a hell god—or each other?” Giles sighed. “It says that together they will not only continue to fight the forces of evil and face the mouth of hell, but that they will become, well, they will become the—the progenitors of a new race of heroes.” There was utter silence for a minute. Then the beer bottle slipped from Spike’s hand and smashed to fragments on the floor. “Bloody hell,” he whispered. Buffy was staring at Giles, her eyes growing wider and wider with horror. “A race?” she finally stuttered in response. “I’m supposed to give birth to a whole race?”
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