Pairing: W/S
Rating: R-ish, eventually
Disclaimer: Willow, not Tara, was killed by Warren, but now she's back, and Spike is the only one that can see her.
Spoilers: everything
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~Part: 1~
My first thought was that something had gone wrong. It's not that I'm a pessimist, really. It's just that when strange things start to happen…well, it usually has to do with magic…and something going wrong.
I was standing at the backdoor of The Magic Box, but I had no idea how I'd gotten there. The sun had just set; the cool chill in the air suggested that it was early spring. Wracking my brain, I was coming up blank, and that couldn't be a good thing. A person doesn't just suddenly appear somewhere with no recollection of how they got there…unless they're very, very drunk. Scrunching up my nose, I tried to think. Had I been drinking?
I recited the alphabet backwards with a proud smile, as I carefully walked along a crack in the pavement. Testing my breath, I shook my head. Nope, not drunk.
For a moment, I thought that I had amnesia. But then I realized that I still knew my name, so…selective amnesia?
Running my hands through my long, red hair, I closed my eyes, trying to remember…what was the last thing I had been doing?
And then it came to me…Tara! Tara had come back, and we'd made with the smoochies, and…well…hehe…and then we were getting dressed…Stupid inhibiting clothes, and I turned and looked out the window. I remembered seeing Xander and Buffy talking. About time, if you'd asked me.
After that, things got a little fuzzy. I remembered turning toward Tara, and then I felt something. It was odd. Shocking and numbing at the same time. And then I saw her shirt; there was something on her shirt.
Beyond that it was a complete blank.
Thinking for a moment longer, I concluded that I had two choices…Stand outside all night, trying to remember what had happened, or just go inside and ask someone. The prospect of asking about magic troubles made me a little uncomfortable, after all of my addiction troubles that year, but I was fairly certain that I hadn't been the one to flub things up. After all, I hadn't done a single spell in months. Heck, I'd barely done so much as light a scented candle. Whatever had happened, it couldn't be my fault.
Making my decision, I took a deep breath and went forward with option B, walking into the training room through the open back door. The lights were off and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a sudden rush of movement before I heard an odd whooshing sound, followed by a thunk.
Looking up, I saw Spike, standing across the room, several throwing knives in his hands. His eyes were wide and he was in a fighting stance.
"Hey, Spike," I said with a smile and a wave. "Have you seen Buffy around? O-or Giles maybe?"
"Oh god," he mumbled, staring, eyes still wide. I watched as his gaze slowly traveled down from my face toward my stomach.
"Hey, Mr. ogle-y vamp, mind taking your eyes off of…Oh, god."
And that's when I first realized that something was definitely VERY wrong.
Looking down, I saw one of the throwing knives protruding from my stomach. Actually, that's not really accurate. The knife was embedded in the wooden door behind me, and my body was sort of hovering around it.
"Did I wear a ghost costume on the wrong day again?" I asked.
Lifting his arm, he got ready to throw another knife.
"No, wait!" I yelled, holding my hands up, palms out. "I, uh…I don't know what's going on, but I don't think it's going to help either of us if you throw another one of those."
He shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."
Easy for him to say.
I looked down at the knife again. "I don't understand."
He took a step back, not lowering his hand. "Yeah, well, that makes two of us."
As I moved foward, I saw him take another step back. "What is the matter with you?" He looked confused, and it was an unsettling thing to see on someone who was usually so confident.
"Uh, Will…I don't want to upset you here, but…you're dead."
My eyes narrowed. "I'm not dead," I hissed. "It's just some kind of trick or…or…"
He shook his head. "You died almost a year ago."
"I didn't…I couldn't…How…Why…"
"Good questions," he replied, turning toward the other door. "Maybe I should go get Buffy, yeah?"
"Wait! I…I died?" I felt tears spring into my eyes. It had to be a joke, a really sick, SICK joke. "How did I die?"
"Why don't we get Buffy, or one of your other little friends and let them tell you-"
"HOW?" my voice boomed, startling even me.
"Shot…by that guy, Warren."
I grimaced. "Shot? I was shot by a human? That's how I died?" It seems small and petty, looking back, but I was upset to think that a normal…NERDY human had been the one to kill me. With everything I'd been through, if I was going to die, I thought that it should have been something a little more…noble, or something. Of course, there were more important questions to ask. "But if I'm dead, then why am I, you know, here?"
"Good question. Hey, I know, let's get Buffy and she can-"
"Where's Tara?"
He winced before speaking, and I knew that couldn't be good. "Uh, I think that she mentioned something about the library tonight."
"Oh." My shoulders slumped a little.
"I left it in the back room!" Hearing Anya yell from the front of the store, we both turned and looked at the doorway, watching as she walked in. Seeing Spike, she jumped, letting out a squeak of surprise.
"Spike! How many times have I told you not to lurk in my store? It's creepy. What are you doing here?"
Saying nothing, he turned and looked toward me. Anya followed his line of vision, clearly confused.
"What?"
He looked back and forth between me and her, and I waved my hands around a little. He gestured toward me, but still she didn't seem to see me.
Anya put her hand on her hip with a huff. "I do not have time for charades, Spike. There are paying customers waiting out front."
"You don't see-" Spike began.
"See what?"
"Nothing. Never mind. I just…never mind," he said.
Shrugging, she picked up a notebook from a nearby desk and left Spike and I to stare at one another.
Anya didn't see me? That couldn't be good.
"Maybe…Maybe I'm just invisible. You know, like when Buffy got hit with that inviso-ray gun thingy…Maybe they just made another one and zapped me and…"
"Will, you're dead," he said, his tone low and soft.
I started to feel lightheaded, the room beginning to spin around me, and I thought that I was going to be sick. Stumbling backwards, I lowered myself to the old, worn couch, hitting the hard floor a moment later with a painful thud.
"Ow," I whined, tears springing into my eyes, born more of frustration than pain. Looking around I became more distraught, seeing my suddenly translucent body intermingling with the couch.
Jumping up, I ran my hands through my hair, shaking my head and pulling at the strands. "Damn it! I can't even sit down? How am I supposed to have a nervous breakdown if I can't even sit?"
"Okay, Red, just calm down," Spike said, still not coming near me.
I glanced up, glaring at him. He still looked nervous…Almost afraid.
"Do you really think that I'm going to hurt you?" I hissed. "I can't even SIT ON THE COUCH!" Waving my arms around, I began to pace back and forth, talking more to myself than to him. "I can't touch things, a-and no one can see me…Except for Spike. Spike can see me, but…but not Anya." Pausing as an idea struck me, I spun around, clapping my hands together, startling the vampire. "Maybe it's just Anya!" He gave me a questioning look. "Maybe she's the only one that can NOT see me. I...I mean, it's not like she really pays attention to anyone around her, anyways." He seemed to brighten slightly at that prospect, and nodded his head.
"Yeah, sure. Let's just go out into the shop and see if the customers can see you," he suggested.
Marching into the store, I scanned the room. Anya was near the register, finishing up a sale with an older woman, while a man stood near the front, looking through some books on a shelf. Heading toward the man, I stopped beside him and cleared my throat, watching Spike out of the corner of my eye as he edged closer.
The man didn't look up, but I wasn't about to be deterred.
"Excuse me, Sir?" I said, my voice loud and clear. Still, I got no response. Glancing behind me, I saw that Anya and the woman at the counter were not paying attention to me, either.
Drawing myself up a little more, I slipped into the space between the man and shelf, as he flipped through the pages of a book. I glanced at Spike, giving him a bright, albeit forced smile, and then looked back toward the customer.
"Excuse me, Sir. I was just wondering if-"
I gasped as he lifted his head. For a moment, I thought that he was looking at me, seeing me, and I wanted to scream with relief, but then I realized that he was not looking at me…but through me. My shoulders slumped as I looked down, seeing his arm disappear into my stomach, and I just knew that Spike could see it on the other side, replacing the book.
As the man walked away, my head fell and I struggled to keep the tears from my eyes. Now was not the time to panic and it was not the time to cry. That would come later…when Spike wasn't watching me.
Glancing up toward the vampire, I took a deep breath. "Guess it's not just Anya," I whispered. "I really am dead."
~Part: 2~
Storming out through the closed door, I began to pace back and forth outside, taking deep breathes, trying to calm myself down. I heard the bell over the door a moment later, as Spike walked out. He stood, staring at me as I tryed to keep from hyperventilating.
"What?" I growled, still pacing.
"I could be wrong here," he said, "but I don't think that'll help." I paused, giving him a look that was equal part annoyance and confusion. "I don't think you're actually breathing, Red."
I sucked in a deep breath and held it, my cheeks puffed out like balloons. Spike rolled his eyes as I waited. After over a minute, I let the air out in one huge gasp.
"Oh my god! I'm not breathing!"
"It kinda goes with being dead," he said with a careful grin. At that moment, his helpful reminders were not very appreciated.
Sinking down onto the cold, hard curb, I held my head in my hands. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I mumbled over and over.
Sitting down beside me, Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I looked up, glaring at him as I waved away the smoke.
"What?" he asked. "It's not like it's gonna kill ya." He smirked at his own comment. I didn't find it amusing.
"What am I gonna do?" I moaned.
"Don't you think it's odd," he said, waving his hand around. "You can walk through walls and you fall right through a couch, but you're able to sit on the curb."
"What's your point?" I asked.
Spike shrugged. "Seems like you should just fall through the ground. Doesn't really make any sense. Then again, neither does you being here, or me being the only one that can see you. How's that for dumb luck?"
Again I glared at him. "What am I gonna do!" I repeated, shouting the question.
"Don't look at me," he said, holding his hands up. "You're little… condition? Not my problem."
Slumping down a little more, I looked at the ground. I should have known that Spike would be of no help.
"If you need answers, why not ask the watcher?" he suggested, inhaling from the cigarette one final time. Tossing the butt to the ground, he stood up. "Old Rupes would probably love a little conundrum like this."
"Yes!" I yelled, jumping up. "Giles! He'll know what to do, and…oh, but he's in England. Kinda hard to assess the problem from there… Plus, there's the whole issue of not being able to dial the phone, or…you know, hold the receiver."
"Actually, he's back in Sunnydale," he said. "He came back after you kicked it; been stay'n at the slayer's house."
"Really? Perfect! I'll find Giles and he'll help me."
"Yeah, sure. Good luck with that," he said, reaching out for an encouraging slap on the back. Frowning, he looked down at his hand as it passed through me, causing me to shiver. "Uh…right then. I'll just be on my way."
I didn't bother to ask him to stay. He wouldn't, and I knew it. Besides, I needed to find Giles. If anyone could help me, it would be him.
~*~
I stopped outside of the Summers home, staring at the building. I was nervous. After all, I'd been dead for nearly a year, and I had no idea what might have changed since then. Would they want to see me? Would they even be able to see me? I prayed that the answer was yes, to both questions.
Drawing myself up, I marched down the front walk and in through the door, looking around the dark, quiet living room. Slowly walking through, I followed the sound of hushed voices coming from the kitchen. Peering around the corner, I felt a sense of relief wash over me as I saw Buffy sitting at the counter, Giles standing on the other side.
"Her school work is getting better," Buffy told him, "but her teachers all say that she's still really withdrawn."
Stepping forward, I waved my hand. "Uh, hey, guys?" Neither of them looked up, and my heart dropped.
"She took it hard," Giles said. "As would be expected. Willow was like a sister to her. Imagine how you'd feel if you lost Dawn."
"I know," Buffy replied. "I do. I mean, when we lost Will, it was like a part of me…but we can't wallow in that pain forever. It's not healthy. I'm worried."
"Well, you know that these things take time," he said. "Dawn has been through a lot. She's lost a lot. Having you to keep her grounded, it's helping, and she's healing, slowly. She needs time."
"Buffy? Giles? Uh, hello? Dead witch walking here, back from the grave. Could you just look this way?" Waving my hands around, I tried to get their attention. "Please?" I whispered, my voice cracking.
"It's been almost a year, Giles. I mean, I don't expect her to be totally over it. None of us are, but Will's not coming back. We've all accepted that and we're trying to move on, but Dawn, it's like, she just can't."
I dropped my arms and took a step back. They couldn't see me. My closest friends couldn't see me. It felt as if I did not exist, and the truth was that I didn't.
Suddenly, Buffy spun on her stool, looking around the room, her gaze stopping on me. "Did you hear something?" she asked.
"What? No, I can't say that…"
"Are you sure?" she asked, still looking right at me.
"Buffy?" I yelled. "Buffy, it's me! Can you see me?"
The slayer shook her head. "I must be imagining things. I just thought that…"
With a heavy heart and a lump in my throat, I turned and walked away. They were moving on. They were getting over my death and moving on with their lives. Even if they could see me, what would that do? I remembered how difficult things were when Buffy came back. Maybe it was better that I remained dead, a memory, and nothing more.
Walking back into the cool night, I hugged my arms to myself, shivering and feeling miserably hopeless.
"Couldn't see you, either, ay?"
I jumped, hearing Spike's voice, and turned to see him leaning against the tree in the front yard.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed. "I thought that this wasn't your problem."
He shrugged. "Don't flatter yourself. It's not. I'm just here to see Buffy."
"You know, she'll never love you," I said, my tone bitter. His eyes widened a little in surprise. "Yeah, that's right. I know all about you and her a-and what you've been doing on all those late nights, when she says she's patrolling. I know that she turned to you to… to "feel," or whatever, a-and you know, she might be sleeping with you, but she'll never really love you."
Wrapping my arms around my body a little tighter, I waited as my cruel comments were met with a long silence.
"Done with your little tirade?" he asked, his expression blank.
"I…Well, yeah," I said, deflated.
"Good. Then I'll have you know that the slayer and I haven't shagged since you died." This time, it was my eyes that widened in surprise. "And not that it's any of your concern, but I already know that she'll never love me. I've accepted that."
"Really?" I said, my voice tiny. "Then why are you here?"
He shrugged, not looking me in the eye. "Got bored."
A grin slowly spread across my face and I pointed at him. "You came to see me."
"No I did not," he growled. "I just…well, alright, I came to see you. Just curious, is all. Wondered how you made out."
"Not very good, actually," I told him. "They couldn't see me, a-and it's kinda hard to, you know, ask for help when they can't even see or hear me."
"You want me to go in and tell them?"
I considered the question before finally shaking my head. "I don't want to do that to them." He arched an eyebrow, waiting for further explanation. "I don't know why I'm back, a-and I'm not exactly alive, so I don't know how long I'll be here. I don't want to do that to them…get their hopes up and stir up emotions that…it's better this way."
"They'd want to know," he insisted, his tone surprisingly soft.
"Maybe," I assented, "but they're moving on. It's hard to do, and I don't want to make it more difficult for them. Please, don't tell them."
"Red, I…"
"Please, Spike," I whispered, my expression one of desperate pleading.
He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Then what are you plan'n to do? I don't fancy a ghost haunting me for the rest of eternity."
I frowned. "That doesn't exactly sound like a good time to me, either. I…I'm just not sure what to do. There must be a reason I'm back, but I have no idea what it is. A-and why are you the only one that can see me, huh? That's just got weirdness written all over it."
"Maybe it's a spell?" he suggested.
I bit my lower lip, thinking. "Possibly. There are plenty of spells for bringing people back from the dead, but not so many that deal with ghosts. Astral projection from beyond the grave isn't exactly beginner stuff. I'm not even sure who would be capable of something like that…well, besides myself," I said, grinning for a moment before shaking the thought away. It was not the time to indulge in arrogance.
"So, maybe there's a book with a spell, or some clue as to what the hell is go'n on," he said hopefully.
I shook my head. "Nothing at The Magic Box."
"And you know that because…"
I felt my cheeks redden. "I sorta, might have checked before, after Buffy died." Then a thought struck me. "There is a pretty good occult section at the Sunnydale Public Library. Maybe they have something that I missed before. Plus, I'll be able to at least see Tara, if she's still there. I want to know that she's doing alright."
He faltered slightly at my last comment, but I chose to ignore it, giving him my most encouraging smile, hoping that he'd agree to help me.
"Let me guess," he said with a huff. "You want me to go with you to the library and flip through twelve dozen books, looking for your answer."
"Well, I'd do it myself, you know, but there's the whole no-touching thing."
I waited as he wracked his brain for an excuse to get out of researching, and smiled when he finally agreed.
"If I take you there, will you leave me alone afterwards?" he asked.
"Probably not," I admitted.
"Fine," he said with a heavy sigh. "But just so we're clear…we will not be re-enacting any scenes from the movie Ghost, so get that right out of your head."
~Part: 3~
The library was surprisingly crowded, and I jumped, shrieking when a small child ran right through me as I walked into the lobby. Moving toward the back corner, I was happy to see that the occult section was fairly empty. Scanning the area, I saw a small man reading a book about potions, and a young woman scanning the vampire section. She looked like the poster girl for a fetish shop, wearing a tight leather miniskirt and an even tighter matching top with a studded collar around her neck. While the revealing outfit reminded me a little too much of my vampire doppelganger, I did have to admit that the knee-high, lace-up boots were pretty cool…Sexy even. If her clothes didn't scream vampire-slut, then her sultry walk and sensual stance certainly did, and I hated the fact that a small part of me was attracted…at least to the clothes, if not the woman.
Reaching up, a smile on her blood-red lips, she pulled out a large book on sexual practices between mortals and the undead. Spike smirked as his eyes followed my gaze, and I felt myself blush.
"See something you like?" he asked in a low, husky voice as he leaned over my shoulder.
I shook my head, still watching her. "Not in the least. She's just a vamp-wanna-be. A-and look at how she's dressed. Who goes to the library dressed like that? I mean, geesh…you could leave SOMETHING to the imagination, or-"
"What's the problem, Red? That you can't take your eyes off of her, or that no man in the room can, either?"
I scoffed, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, annoyed at his question. I was in love with Tara. Other girls, leather skirts or otherwise, did NOT interest me. "I have no problem taking my eyes off of her. See?" Spinning around, I glared at him. "And I couldn't care less who the men are looking at. Gay, remember?"
I swallowed hard as he ignored me, continuing to stare at the woman. "That right?" he asked, his gaze unwavering. "Then you won't mind if I go say hello."
"What? Yes, I will so mind! You are here to help me, not hit on some vamp-hussy!" Raising an eyebrow and smirking, he left me to stand alone, my mouth agape, as he sauntered toward the woman. A moment later, I was by his side, protesting.
"Spike, we're here to do work…To fix my little ghost problem. Remember?"
He waved a dismissive hand at me as he stepped up behind her. "Check out page 142," he said in a voice that oozed sexual promise.
Flipping to the page, the woman looked over the diagram, a slow smile spreading on her face. Turning on her heel, she looked him up and down before her smile widened.
"That certainly does look like fun," she purred, licking her lips.
"Spike," I grumbled, "we really don't have time for this."
"You're dead," he hissed, looking toward me for a moment. "You've got all the time in the world. Let a fella play a little, yeah?"
"Who are you talking to?" the woman asked, looking into the empty space where I stood. He simply shook his head, ignoring her question. "I'd love to take you out for a bite sometime, maybe give position three a try? It's one of my favorites," he said, gesturing at the page.
Leaning over to see the diagram, I grimaced and then rolled my eyes. "You can't bite, Spike. Remember?" Swallowing hard, I tried to block out the mental picture of Spike in position three, and the little voice in the back of my mind that wondered why that image made me blush.
"I'll bet you really know how to make a girl feel alive," she whispered, leaning in and running a finger down the front of his shirt, stopping just below his belt.
Rotating his hips a little, he smirked. "Baby, you have no idea."
"Hey! We're in a public place, people!" I yelled. "Mind turning it down just a notch?" I was beginning to feel warm and I knew that my face was as red as my hair. I felt a small twinge of envy, but I wasn't exactly sure of whom I was jealous. I didn't like that.
"Such a luscious neck is a terrible thing to waste," he told her, fangs slipping forward as his tongue ran across them. I saw him glance at me out of the corner of his eye, his smirk growing slightly.
"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," she replied, leaning forward a little to offer him a better view of her already bursting cleavage.
"Spike!" I shouted.
"What?" he hissed, turning toward me again.
I stomped my foot, crossing my arms. "We REALLY need to focus on the task at hand."
He growled. "Lay off! Your little problem can wait just a few more minutes. What is it with you Scoobies? Do you ALL believe you're the center of the universe…or is it that you're jealous that you can't hit on the girl yourself?"
I stared at him in shock. After all, I was DEAD. Not being able to hit on a girl was the least of my problems. "I…no…that's not-"
"Pathetic old Spike, with the chip still embedded in his skull…Can't stand to see him get some tail that you'd rather have? That it?"
"No! I don't even…"
Suddenly, he smiled again. "Can't be that you're jealous of the girl, now, can it?" Running a hand down his own chest, he let his tongue slip out between his teeth, the woman momentarily forgotten as she stood aside, staring at him like he had just grown a second head.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked. He ignored her. "Forget it," she grumbled, shoving the book back onto the shelf and stomping down the aisle. "Libraries are for geeks, anyway."
"Get over yourself," I mumbled, looking away. It wasn't that I was jealous of the woman. I was sure of it, and no amount of sexy smiles and lascivious expressions would make me second guess myself.
"Whatever lets you sleep at night," he said, his tone light and dismissive. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cigarette, ready to light it. As my frustration grew, I cursed myself for allowing even a moment of sexy-Spike thoughts to flitter into my head.
"Let's just look for what we came for," I grumbled, stomping toward a section of spell books. "And you can't smoke in here! They'll kick you out."
"What a shame that would be," he said, contemplating lighting the cigarette before finally shoving it back into his pocket with a dramatic sigh and moving to stand behind me. "So, where do we start?"
~*~ "Will you stop that?" I hissed, looking down and seeing a hand protruding from my stomach. Grabbing another book, Spike pulled back, and I watched it disappear, shivering. "That feels…really creepy."
"Thought you couldn't feel anything," he said, flipping through the pages.
"Well, I can feel it when you do that," I said, "and it's icky."
"Did you feel it when the kid ran through you?"
I thought about it, and wasn't really sure. I must have, though I didn't remember that uncomfortable sensation. "Probably. I mean, yeah…I think so. Either way, it's just yucky when you do it."
"Sorry," he said with a shrug. For some reason, I didn't believe him. "This it?"
Glancing down at the open book, I scanned the text, shaking my head. "That's more for turning someone into a ghost when they're still alive. It's a pretty nasty spell, actually. Anya would love it. Witches use it to cast out the astral essence of an enemy, leaving them stranded on another plane, as a form of revenge. Not nice stuff."
"Right then," he said, slamming the book shut and reaching through me yet again to replace it on the shelf.
"Spike!" I yelled, trying in vain to bat his hand away. "Why do you have to-"
"You're the one stand'n in front of the shelves," he said.
Casting him an angry glare, I looked back toward the books. "Maybe this one would be-"
"Spike?" We both spun around at the sound of the voice.
"Tara?" I whispered.
"Who were you talking to?" she asked, looking around. "And what are you doing in the library? I never pictured you as the…book type. A-and why are you in the occult section?" Her eyes narrowed. "You're not planning something evil, are you? Something evil involving magic?"
"Maybe I am," he said, tilting his chin up a bit. "I know that your lot tends to forget, but I AM a vampire."
"I never forget that," she said, her tone low and deep, her _expression suspicious and disapproving.
"Tara, I…" My voice trailed off as I stomped my foot in frustration, remembering that she couldn't see or hear me.
"So…who were you talking to?" she asked again, glancing around the corner, a book held close to her chest.
"Tara?" Hearing another voice, I looked up, watching as a pretty young woman with long, blonde hair walked up to her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbing her hand. "Here you are," she said. "I thought I'd lost you." Glancing up at Spike, she scowled. "Hello, Spike."
The vampire looked toward me, a mix of worry and pity in his eyes.
"Is that her…" He nodded. "How long…"
""bout two months," he said softly, the girls ignoring him as they gazed at each other, smiling and giggling, lost in each other's eyes…the way Tara and I used to be.
Biting my lower lip, I felt tears fill my eyes. "She's…She's happy?" I asked, choking on the words. He nodded.
"Good," I whispered, moving away from the shelves. "I just…I can't…I have to go." Racing across the small room, I passed through the door and out into the night, tears blurring my visions as I continued to run.
~Part: 4~
"Red! Slow down!"
I heard him yelling, but I wasn't really listening. My body was on auto-pilot, and I needed to get far away from that library, as quickly as possible.
"Willow! Stop!"
Jerking to a halt, I shivered and gasped as Spike pitched forward, falling right through me as he tried to slow his steps.
"I should have told you," he said, hands raised in surrender.
"Yes!" I screamed, spinning around and pointing an accusing finger. "You! You should have told me! You should have at least warned me, so that I wouldn't have to…So that it wasn't so…blah!"
"You're right," he replied, nodding.
"I know that I'm right!" I yelled, close to hysterical. "I don't need you to tell me that I'm right. Stop agreeing with me!"
Clamping his mouth shut, he looked toward the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Feeling suddenly deflated, I nodded, wiping at the tears on my cheeks. "I'm glad that she's happy. I am. I just…It was a little bit of a shock, a-and…"
"It's okay," he interrupted. "I've been there. Well…not really THERE, but…Love's a bitch, and all that."
Again, I nodded. "It really, really is. You know, it's weird. I…I mean, don't get me wrong, my heart is nothing but a bunch of tiny little shards at the moment, but I really am really glad to know that she's okay. Maybe…Maybe it's a death thing…being disconnected…"
"It took a while," he told me. "For a long time, they thought she'd never…"
"Thanks," I whispered. If it was a lie, I didn't want to know. The words were good enough. Looking around, I realized that I'd run into the graveyard, and a thought suddenly struck me. "I want to see the grave."
"What?"
"I want to see it…My grave."
"No. Red, why would you…"
"Spike," I said, resolve face slipping into place as I wiped away the last of the tears, "I need to see it. Please."
Rolling his eyes, he clenched his jaw and looked toward the dark sky. "Don't see what good that will do."
I shrugged. Maybe it wouldn't help. Maybe it would be a huge, catastrophic mistake, but I needed to see it.
Without another word, he trudged slowly through the cemetery, his footfalls loud on the cold, damp earth. Stopping in front of a large, marble grave, he shoved his hands in his pockets, gesturing with an elbow. Cocking my head to the side, I regarded the stone carefully. I hadn't known what to expect, viewing my own grave, but as I stood there, I felt only numb detachment.
"This is it?" I asked, not really needing or expecting an answer. Reaching out, I ran a hand through the fresh roses in a vase on top, wishing that I could touch them. Leaning in, I inhaled, their faint scent reaching me, and I smiled. "Xander?" I guessed.
Spike nodded. "Comes by every night. Hasn't missed one yet."
Closing my eyes, I continued to smile, running my hand just above the grave stone. Doubling over, suddenly, I gasped, clutching at the air around me as I felt the earth begin to tilt and spin. Covering my ears with my hands, I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to block out the high-pitched squealing. It was like ten sirens sounding at once inside my head. I couldn't think, blurred visions zipping through my mind as I shook and stumbled, trying to make it stop.
I saw myself, with Tara, in our bedroom, just before…And then Buffy and Xander, outside…They were talking, I was smiling, and then Warren…But something was wrong…Something was different. Tara. It was Tara at the window, not me. I heard the sound, the glass breaking, and I saw red, on the shirt…But it wasn't my shirt with the bleeding wound…It was Tara's. She was saying something, but I couldn't hear her voice…only the ear-piercing squeal of unseen sirens.
She collapsed, and I followed, on my knees, summoning power, strong power, and then the images changed. My hair was black, and my eyes…Dear god… I was killing people and hurting my friends. Then there were fields and…Giles, I think, on a horse?
And then I saw it…A book. I recognized it as something familiar, yet I couldn't place where I'd seen it before. There was a symbol on the cover…A serpent…or…
And then it was gone, and I was on the cold, hard ground, my hands still clutching at my head as the denim over my knees soaked in the dew.
"Red! Say something! Willow!"
I heard Spike yelling as I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Looking up at him through blurry eyes, I sank back onto my heels, sucking unneeded oxygen into still lungs.
"What the hell was that?" he asked, the anger in his voice mingling with something else…Something that I almost believed to be concern.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I tried to draw up the image of the book, struggling with the etching on the cover. What had that been? Where had I seen it before?
Pulling myself up, I stumbled as I regained my footing, and then turned to meet his eyes, my voice barely a whisper.
"I think I did a bad thing."
~*~
"So, what you're tell'n me is that you think that you did some kind of spell to turn back time and change the events of that day, placing yourself in front of the bullet instead of Tara?"
It sounded ridiculous when he said it, but then, so did the idea of a vampire talking to a ghost that no one else could see.
Shrugging, I gave him a lopsided smile. "Stranger things have happened. Spike, the things I saw, the things that I was doing…I was out of my mind. I went too far."
"So you used magic to kill yourself instead?"
"Well, no, not exactly. It was more to save Tara, I think. To retrieve a life, a life must be given, so…Maybe I, you know, gave."
Spike shook his head. "Doesn't add up. If you did the spell to right your wrongs and set the world straight, or whatever, then why are you back, and why am I the only one that can see you?"
"I…Well, I have no idea," I admitted. "Maybe, if I could remember where I'd seen that book...I know it wasn't The Magic Box. Maybe the stash in our room? I kept some darker books on the shelves there, where Giles wouldn't…"
"No! Red, we are not going to sneak into the slayer's house, looking for some book that may or may not have been used in some crazy magical time warp." Hands on my hips, I glared at the vampire. "Since when do you have a problem with a little breaking and entering?"
"Since it may very well lead me to the pointy end of Buffy's stake," he grumbled.
I rolled my eyes. "If she hasn't staked you for everything else you've done…"
"Point taken."
~Part: 5~
Breaking into the house was unsettlingly easy, and I was surprised to see that not even Dawn was home, despite the time of night.
"We've got two, two and half hours, tops, before the sun is up," Spike reminded me as we ascended the stairs.
I paused in the doorway of my old room, looking around the small space as Spike walked in.
"She still…"
"Yeah," he said, glancing at a few pictures on the wall. "She still sleeps here, most nights. Sometimes, if she's at school late, she stays with…"
"Right," I said, taking a deep breath and stepping in. "The girlfriend," I whispered.
Walking into the room, a million memories flooded my mind. I bit my lip, forcing the tears away as Spike turned on a small lamp, bathing the room in a soft, yellow glow. My gaze swept over the bed, and I longed to reach out and touch the blankets, the sheets and the pillows, rumpled and soft and so inviting.
Turning away, I looked toward the dresser, carefully regarding the objects on top.
"These were mine," I murmured, speaking more to myself than anyone else. My hand moved over a few crystals and a smooth, black stone. "She kept them here, after…A-and I gave this to her," I whispered, picking up a small silver talisman on a thin chain, not even aware of the fact that I was actually touching it. "I gave this to her for the summer solstice last year."
Putting the necklace back, I ran my fingertips along a small, wooden picture frame, remembering the day the photo was taken…Xander, Buffy and I, in high school…On one of the good days, when smiles came easily, and the future still seemed mildly bright. My heart felt heavy as I swallowed around a lump in my throat, missing them, at that moment, more than I ever thought possible.
Turning around, I saw the window, drawn to it, unable to look away as I stepped up to the glass, running my fingers along the cool, smooth surface.
"This is where it happened," I said, my voice shaking, my eyes wide and unfocused. "This is…"
"…where we lost you," Spike supplied, stepping up behind me. He cast no reflection in the glass, of course. Neither did I, but I knew that he was standing there, before he even spoke, hovering just behind me.
I felt his hand drop gently onto my shoulder, and I turned, looking up into deep blue eyes, my own swimming with tears.
"How did things get so complicated?" I asked. "How did everything get so confusing?"
He shrugged, taking a step closer, filling the small gap between us as I took a deep breath. "Seems pretty simple to me," he said, his voice deep and sensual.
And then his lips were upon mine, meeting in a gentle whisper of a kiss. I felt his hands gripping my shoulders, his fingers dancing up and down my arms, slowly pushing my coat down and off. Closing my eyes, I leaned in, deepening the kiss as my lips parted, an open invitation that was gladly received, his tongue darting in and tangling with my own.
I panted and gasped and shook in his arms as we shared a kiss more passionate and needy than anything I'd ever experienced. Running my hands up under his coat, I pulled and pushed, desperate to remove the barrier and get that much closer. Eventually, the heavy duster hit the floor with a soft thud, and my hands were immediately traveling up under his shirt, my fingers greedy for more as they moved along his cool flesh, my lips trailing over his neck as he nipped at my ear lobe.
"How are you doing this?" I asked, panting and moaning, my head falling back as he sucked at a sensitive spot on my neck. It seemed as if it had been an eternity since I'd felt the touch of anything on my flesh, and I felt a frantic wave of panic, afraid that I would suddenly fade and slip through his fingers.
"Magic," he whispered, grinning as I pulled at his t-shirt and he moved his hands to the buttons of my jeans.
"Magic," I mumbled, my own hands pulling at his waistband, fumbling with the clasp of his belt. A faint thought began to push its way through the thick cloud of lust and need in my mind. "No, wait…I think…"
"Don't think," he hissed, his hands gliding under my shirt and up my back, lips once again plundering my own. "Just feel." We sank to shaking knees, his hands, his lips, his flesh never leaving mine as we knelt and fumbled, sinners worshipping at the alter of an unseen power.
"Feel," I agreed, nodding slightly as my eyes closed, his tongue dancing with mine. "I just…Magic…Oh god…"
"He's not listening," he murmured, removing the last bit of his clothing, as he hovered over my trembling body, but it was too late. The thought had broken through the haze, reality crashing down around me.
"The book!" I yelled, pushing him away and sitting up as he stared at me, wide eyed and panting.
"What?"
"The book!" I repeated, crawling toward a nearby shelf as I pulled a bra strap back up to my shoulder and kicked my jeans out of the way. "I think that…Yes…This," I said, pulling a book out, staring at the serpent on the cover. "This is the one…The book, with the spell that I used."
I flipped to the page with the spell, looking over the words before Spike yanked the book from my grasp.
"This is one hell of a spell," he said, turning the page over and reading it as I gave him a cocky smile. "How could you be so stupid?"
"I…Hey! I'm not…" I stood up, glaring at him as he knelt with the book in his hands. "That's just…You…You sound like Giles," I hissed, watching his eyes as they traveled up and down my nearly naked body. "Hey!" Grabbing my pants from their rumpled heap, I quickly pulled them on, hopping in a small circle as he continued to watch me. "You know, you could, uh, put on some…some, you know…" I stuttered, pointing in his general direction as I tried to avert my eyes.
The vampire stood, smirking as he made no effort to cover his nakedness. "Didn't bother you a few minutes ago," he said, running a hand down his chest, over his abs, down to…
Realizing that I was staring, I spun around, covering my eyes as a deep blush colored my cheeks.
"In fact," he continued, "if I remember correctly, and I think that I do, you were the one tearing my clothes from my tight, hot body."
I rolled my eyes as I bent over, grabbing his pants and throwing them at him. Snatching my own shirt from the pile, I quickly pulled it on, looking for my shoes.
"I was…that was…Well, I…I don't know what that was. An hour ago, I couldn't even touch anything, a-and then, you just…We…I almost…"
"Almost what?" he asked, grinning at me.
I frowned, glaring at him as he casually pulled his t-shirt over his head, a tiny twinge of disappointment hitting me. Apparently content to finally drop the subject, Spike turned his attention back to the back, holding it up and open.
"What did you do with the counter-spell?" he asked.
"The what? The…I didn't…"
"It's gone," he said, pointing to the jagged remains of a torn page.
Stepped forward, I grabbed the book, eyes wide. "I didn't…I would never…This book is hundred of years old. You think I would rip a page out? Why would I…"
"To make sure no one would bring you back and take tara away again?"
I stared at him, my hanging open, eyes wide. "Do you think that I actually planned for the possibility of coming back as a ghost? I never even considered that as a possibility."
"Well, someone did."
"Well, it wasn't me!"
"Who else would know about the spell and have a reason to steal it?"
A long silence stretched between us, before we both answered at the same time.
"Warren."
~*~
"I should be doing something," I complained. "I should be talking to someone, or finding something, or…"
"What are you going to do?" he asked, clearly annoyed. Walking up the front stoop of an old, worn apartment building, he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door, pushing it open and stepping into the dim, dingy foyer. "No one else can hear you, no one else can see you, you haven't been able to touch anything since we left the house, and unfortunately for you, the only guy who CAN see you, that being me, has a severe allergy to the sun, which just happens to be on its way up. Besides, Warren is safely tucked away in some nice, big maximum security prison, probably being made into someone's bitch as we speak. Even if he did take the spell, there isn't much he's going to be able to do with it in the next day."
He was right, of course, though I hated to admit it. For whatever reason, the only person that could see me was a vampire, and that made daytime activities of any kind pretty much out of the question.
Following him down a long, dark hallway, I looked around, shivering slightly. Stopping in front of a door, he opened it and walked into the apartment, gesturing for me to do the same. Pushing the door shut, I waited a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as Spike moved to light a few small candles.
"It's a bit dodgy," he said, "but the slayer trashed my crypt last year, and see'n as how I'm on somewhat of a fixed income-"
"When did you get it out?" I interrupted.
"Come again?"
"The chip. When did you get it out?"
"How did you…I mean…I didn't…"
"Come on, Spike. I might be dead, but I'm not stupid. You can suddenly afford an apartment, even if it is a somewhat scary apartment, in a questionable area; you were extremely uncomfortable in Buffy's house…More so than usual, and when you were looking at that woman in the library, staring at her neck, you didn't have that glimmer of fear that used to be in your eyes."
"I never had a glimmer!" he argued.
"You did. I noticed. Get over it. The point is, that fear is gone now, and so is the chip. So the question is, how long?"
Spike shrugged. "Right around the time you…left."
"Why haven't you gone after Buffy, or any of the others, for that matter? Not that I'm suggesting that you should, but…"
"Haven't been in the mood," he said, turning his eyes up and away from me. The look I gave clearly conveyed my disbelief. "Was plan'n on it," he said with a sigh. "She's had a hard time, losing her mom and then you, and…Just didn't seem like the right time. Besides, killing the slayer wasn't the only reason to get the chip out."
"Well, sure, killing Xander was probably great incentive, too," I said, frowning my disapproval.
"The one I wanted was already gone when I got back," he whispered, his voice so low I barely caught the words.
I stared at him for several moments, the meaning of his words sinking in.
"There was never a choice, was there?"
He shook his head. "You were supposed to be mine. You know that I wanted to turn you."
I shook my head, but he simply nodded, giving me a knowing look, and my expression finally drifted to one of exhausted acceptance.
"I kind of figured that," I admitted. "It's why I never offered to remove your chip."
He smiled. "Yeah, I kinda figured that, too. It's why I never asked."
Taking a step forward, he closed the small gap between us, and I looked up, watching the flaming light of a nearby candle as it danced on his face. Suddenly uncomfortable with how close he was, I moved to step back, but his hands on my arms stopped me, holding me in place.
"What scared you more?" he asked. "The fact that I wanted to turn you, or the fact that a part of you wanted it, too?"
A momentary look of shock crossed my face, before acceptance once again settled over my features, my shoulders slumping slightly.
"A little of both, I think," I admitted, my voice shaking.
"You wanted me," he said, a cocky grin on his face.
I shook my head, a surge of anger coursing through me. He seemed to think we were playing a game, and he'd just scored a point.
"Yes, you did," he insisted, his expression turning serious. "You still do."
"I don't! I hate you!" I shouted, struggling in his grasp.
"Then why am I the only one that can see you?"
"I don't know," I cried, tears, born of frustration, burning my eyes.
"Why am I the only one that can touch you, feel you?"
"You're not…"
"I am," he said, his gaze dropping down to where his hands held my arms, and I gasped. I hadn't even been aware that he was actually touching me.
"How…"
"You want this," he said. "You want me. See, I started to figure out how this works, back at the house. You want something bad enough, you can make it happen. You wanted to touch that necklace, and you did, without even realizing it. You wanted to touch me, and-"
"I did," I whispered, closing my eyes and shaking my head. "No. It's not you that I want."
"Your witch is gone, Red," he whispered, his fingers loosening their grip, now caressing my arms. "She's moved on, and so have you, in a manner of speaking." I shook my head, desperate to deny it, but he continued on. "You want someone to see you. Your whole life, you've longed for someone to see you. I know how that feels, and I did…I saw you. Even when I was nearly blinded by obsession for the slayer, I still saw you."
"You were afraid," I whispered, "like everyone else. You were afraid of what I was capable of. After I brought Buffy back-"
"Not afraid," he insisted. "Never afraid. I am the big bad, after all," he said with a grin, tilting his head slightly, his eyes fixed on mine. "I worried for you. I feared FOR you, but never of you, and I always saw you."
I tore my gaze from his, looking down at where his hands rested on my arms, once again.
"How are you doing this?" I asked.
"I'm not, Willow. You are. This is happening because you want it to happen. I can only see you if you want me to see you. I can only touch you if you want…me…to touch…you," he said, punctuating the last couple words with kisses on my cheeks, forehead and lips.
"Oh, god…" I whispered, melting into his embrace.
"Already told you," he whispered, his hands already in motion, removing my coat and eager to pick up where we'd left off earlier. "He's not listening…"
~Part: 6~
Chanting…soft, urgent. Candles…burning, melting. Smoke, fire, power…magic.
Magic can do great things…Great, horrible things. In the right hands, magic can save lives. In the wrong hands, magic can destroy them. I've experienced both extremes…Neither are good.
I'd learned so much, and I'd still given in, using magic to change the world, to end my own existence, my own suffering, and yet I was still there. Now, someone else was using magic, to change things again, their intent no more pure or good.
"Eximo! Eximo! Release!"
We want to wield the power. We think that when the time comes, and we have the chance, our choices will be better, smarter, but they seldom are.
~*~
His lips were upon mine, an entirely different kind of magic at play as we traveled, slow and fumbling, across the living room, our hands, our fingers, our lips never leaving the other as we stumbled through the small apartment and into the bedroom. Thick curtains were drawn over a small, single window, and the room was dark, only a dim beam of light reaching just beyond the entrance from the hallway.
My legs, shaking and weak, hit the bed, and it was only his hold on me that kept me from falling. My shirt was gone, abandoned along the way, surrendered to the rumpled trail of clothing we'd left throughout the apartment. His coat, my shirt, his boots, my socks, his pants, my...oh god, we were both nearly naked, and it still wasn't enough.
Pulling away, he left me panting and grasping, wanting and needing more.
"What are you doing?" I asked, sucking in a deep breath as I ran a hand through my hair. He was staring, his eyes dark and wild, and I suddenly felt like an insect under a microscope. I didn't like it.
"Enjoying the view," he said in a low, husky voice, tilting his head to the side and letting his eyes freely roam.
I took a step forward, ready and willing to take control of whatever was happening, if it meant that he would stop staring, but he grabbed my shoulders tightly, keeping me an arms-width away as my form flickered, solid, transparent, there, nearly gone.
I tried to avoid his gaze, but I couldn't help myself, staring, hypnotized and desperate.
"Please," I begged, my voice a harsh whisper, and it seemed to be enough as he was once again upon me, lowering me to the bed, one hand behind my head as it fell to the soft pillows below.
The small, remaining bits of clothing were removed, and it was once again skin on skin, his touch burning me from the inside out.
Dear Goddess, I thought, sending up a silent prayer, don't let this stop now.
~*~
Magic appears to create something from nothing, but it's not really true. It's an illusion. In fact, magic allows us to exchange one thing for another. There is always an exchange. Nothing is ever free. There is always a price.
Andrew watched as Warren materialized before him, and he smiled, tired and relieved.
"You did it! I knew you could do it," Warren said, running his hands over his face as he looked down at his body before glancing back toward his friend, a sudden frown marring his expression. "Took you long enough."
"I was nervous," Andrew admitted. "That was a pretty powerful spell."
"You did it just like I said, right?" Warren asked.
Andrew nodded. "Everything will be changed. There will be no record of you being in…the big house," he said, whispering the last words as he cautiously looked around the empty building.
"Excellent. And you got that other spell for me?"
Andrew nodded, pulling out a sheet of worn paper, handing it to Warren. "I'm still worried. Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean…"
"What are you not sure of? Would you rather have left me there, in prison? Do you know what they do to guys like me? Huh?"
"I'm sorry. It's just…We're talking about murder, here."
"It's not murder," Warren said with a nervous chuckle. "She's already dead."
"I…I meant the slayer," Andrew said, looking away.
Reaching out, Warren grabbed the young man by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward. "You know that we need to do this, right? She'll never leave us alone."
"Maybe we could just go away somewhere…like Mexico?"
Warren shook his head, shoving Andrew into a wall. "I'm not leaving town because of that bitch. We stick to the plan, got it?"
Andrew nodded, a grim expression on his face as he gathered up the spell ingredients, dumping them into a worn box. He was still shaken from the spell he'd performed, and he wanted to believe that what he'd done was a good thing. His friend was free, and still alive, but then, he'd felt the dark power in the spell, and couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that filled him.
After all, there's always a price.
~*~
Trailing soft kisses along my face, jaw, neck, shoulders…Spike worked me into a frenzy of need and want and lust and longing, before finally positioning himself over me, waiting as I opened up, and nodded, my eyes pleading. Finally, in one swift movement, he was inside, and we were one. I was alive again, if only for that moment, sustained by the passion of a vampire long dead.
"You were always meant to be mine," he whispered, nipping at my ear as he set a fast rhythm that I was all too happy to meet, thrust for thrust.
A part of me wanted to argue, wanted to correct him, wanted to make sure he understood…But then, I wasn't even sure that I understood anymore. I was Tara's, and Oz's before that, and Xander's first. I'd never belonged to Spike, and yet, here was I was, giving myself to him, and begging him to take more.
My head fell back as I felt my passion rise, nearing the edge and ready to tumble over, held at bay, by Spike, alone. I was vaguely aware of my own panting breath, my own needy moans and passionate screaming as my body shook with release, flickering, there and not, at the same time. Looking up, I saw that his eyes were closed as he, too, followed my lead, passion and tension releasing as one, before he finally sank down beside me, his hand drifting through my arm several times before I finally felt his fingers on my heated flesh, gently stroking.
Those who wield the power of magic do so at their own risk. The gods and goddesses are not forgiving. If we take advantage, we will pay, one way or another. As I lay there, relishing the feel of the demon beside me, I contemplated the situation. He'd said that I was making this happen, that I had the power, but if that was true, then I had no idea how to fix things, make things right. I still didn't know why I was there, and I wondered just how long I would linger in limbo, but then, with Spike beside me, or on top of me, as it were, I wasn't in too much of a rush to move on.
Magic is a tricky thing. It works off of fantasy and fallacy, creating illusions so realistic that it's easy to forget that we created them. We light a few candles, hold up our hands, whisper a few words, and suddenly we feel like gods, powerful and in control. But that, too is an illusion. We have no control. We are able, only, to beg the gods for small favors. Sometimes, they are merciful and willing to help, and sometimes, what we ask for is exactly what we get.
~*~
"You really think this is a good idea?" Spike asked as we made our way up the front walk, the Summers' house just ahead.
I shrugged. "They need to know. If Warren is up to something…But just don't-"
"Tell them about you. Yeah, I got it, but you know, there is a good possibility that they won't believe me. How am I supposed to explain knowing about the book?"
"You aren't," I reminded him. "Just say that you heard through the demony grapevine."
"And I'm sharing the knowledge with the slayer out of the goodness of my evil, black heart?"
"She still thinks you have the chip, right?" I asked. He nodded, an angry look flashing across his face. "That chip is the only thing keeping you from being dust, Buster." He was ready to argue that point, but I giggled, stopping him. "Dust…Buster," I said with a chuckle. "I made a funny." Spike didn't appear to agree.
The day had dragged on, and yet the sunset seemed to come upon us all too quickly. We were both aware of what our decisions and plans had meant, and a thick tension hung on the air. After tonight, we may never see one another again, and yet, I could see little choice in the matter. We had to stop Warren before he did…well…whatever it was he was going to do. I still wasn't sure exactly what he had planned, but I was confident that he wasn't going to start a charity for the needy and save homeless puppies in his spare time.
We stepped up to the front door and Spike grabbed the knob, ready to push it open, before pausing, his head up and alert as his eyes scanned the surrounding area.
"What?" I asked, looking around. "What?!"
"Shhhh," he hissed, before taking a step back. "They're in the backyard."
"You can…Oh, right, vampire hearing. Neat." Stepping off of the porch, we made our way around the house, stopping just beyond the gate as voices drifted toward us.
"How is that possible?" Xander asked, anger in his voice. "A person doesn't just disappear."
"Giles' source was pretty clear," Buffy said. "There is no record of Warren having ever been on trial or convicted."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Very little does around here," Dawn said, her voice shaking.
"So that's it? He gets away with it?" Xander shouted. "He kills our…He killed Willow and now he walks?"
"I don't really see what we can…" Buffy's voice trailed off, and everything went silent. Curious, both Spike and I stepped out into the yard and I felt the blood drain from my face at the sight before me.
"Spike?" I whispered, my voice caught in my throat. "Spike?"
"Warren," he growled, stepping further into the yard, catching the attention of the other occupants.
Moving into his path, I held up a hand. "Spike, wait! I think that…" My mouth fell open as he passed through me, and I shivered, watching as he continued to storm toward Warren, not even appearing to notice me. "Spike!"
"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled.
"Spike!" Buffy yelled. "What the hell are YOU doing here? And you," she said, pointing toward Warren as she moved closer. "You are going right back to prison."
"On what charges?" he asked, a cocky grin on his face.
"Do you want me to list them off, one by one?" she asked.
"Sure," he said, still grinning, "but don't forget to add possession of an illegal firearm." Reaching behind him, he pulled a gun from his waistband, waving it around. "Remember this? Look familiar? It's the same one that I used to kill Willow. It was meant to kill you, slayer!"
Buffy took another step forward, fist raised, as Andrew jumped between her and Warren.
"Hey, now," he said. "We don't want any trouble."
Shoving his friend aside, Warren glared at Buffy. "Ignore him. We're looking for all kinds of trouble, bitch."
Before Buffy could move, Spike stepped up to Warren, growling as he stopped, nearly nose to nose with him.
"Listen, man, you can't scare me," Warren hissed. "You've got that little chip in your head, keeps you from hurting humans.
"You sure about that?" Spike snarled as I glancing down at my arms, watching them fading in and out, a sick, heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Spike!" I yelled, trying to get his attention. He wasn't listening. "Spike!" I started to worry that he could not longer see or hear me, my heart dropping as panic set it. "Spike, please! Please answer me, look at me, yell at me, something!"
"What?" he asked, turning around and glaring at me. Everyone else followed his gaze, seeing nothing, and looking confused.
"You can still see me?" I asked, looking down at my arm, which was solid once again.
"Yeah. What are…"
"Don't DO that to me!" I shouted, attempting to slap his arm, and frowning as my hand moved through him. The vampire flinched slightly, glaring at me as Warren's eyes widened slightly.
"You should never have done that spell, Willow!" Warren shouted, stepping away from Spike, his eyes scanning the area.
Turning, I stared at him in shock, watching as he looked around, a blind man searching for a face in the dark. He couldn't see me, but he knew I was there.
"Did he just say Willow?" Xander asked.
"What's going on?" Dawn whispered.
"She's here?" Andrew questioned, backing up. "The witch is here? But I thought…"
"Oh, she's here, alright," Warren said, grinning. "She wouldn't miss this, would you, Willow? Huh? Little Miss Know-It-All, ruining all my plans…Well, not this time! This time I have it all worked out. You will NOT take me out again! You hear me? This time, I took YOU out!"
"What the hell is going on?" Buffy demanded, glancing at Dawn, seeing tears in the girl's eyes.
"Warren? You're starting to scare me. You're talking to ghosts," Andrew said, inching toward the gate, ready to run.
"You should be scared," Spike growled, flashing a bit of fang at the boy.
"Oh, please," Warren said, rolling his eyes. "You've been de-fanged for years. Everyone knows that."
Snarling, Spike lunged for Warren, stopping suddenly and held in place by an unseen force as Andrew yelled something in Latin.
"Good job," Warren said, trying to not look too relieved as he paced back and forth in front of Spike, the gun still clutched tightly in his grip. "What are you going to do now, huh? Big, tough vamp…can't even move."
"I wouldn't taunt the vampire, Warren," Andrew warned. "I don't know how long I can keep him frozen like this."
"He's not the problem," Warren said, looking around the yard as I stepped closer to him.
"No," Buffy said, "I'm the one you should worry about."
"Oh please!" he scoffed. "You're nothing. Right, Willow? Willow is the one with the power…Or, well, she was," he said with a grin. "Now I have the power."
"Don't you mean we?" Andrew asked. Warren turned, glaring at him. "Or you…You is better. You have the power."
"Shut up," he muttered, looking around again. "I may not be able to see you, Willow, but I know you're here. She is here, isn't she, Spikey?" The blond didn't answer, simply staring at the man, a menacing growling rumbling in his throat as he struggling in vain against the magic that held him still.
"Why are you asking him about Willow?" Buffy asked. "Why is he asking you about Willow?" she yelled, turning toward Spike as Dawn slowly moved closer to the back door, Xander stepping in front of her.
"I have a little hunch that our buddy here is holding out on us. I think he has seen our friendly ghost, haven't you, Spike?" Taking a step closer to the immobile vampire, he repeated the question, still receiving no answer, before suddenly pulling a sharp, wooden stake from his back pocket with his free hand, and thrusting if forward, stopping as the tip touched Spike's chest.
Screaming, I ran forward, falling through both Warren and Spike, stumbling and catching myself before I hit the ground.
"She is here, right?"
"How does he know?" I asked, looking at the stake for a moment before suddenly reaching out and slamming my palm into it, startling Warren and smiling as it flew from his hand, hitting the damp ground.
His head shot up and Warren looked right in my direction, grinning.
"What the hell was that?" Xander asked, grabbing Dawns arm to stop her from running toward Spike.
"She's here," Spike growled, "and I think you pissed her off."
"Oh no, I pissed off a ghost," Warren said, laughing. "What is she going to do, haunt me to death?"
"What do you mean, she's here?" Buffy asked.
"Willow?" Dawn whispered, looking around. "Willow's here?" My heart broke at the sound of pain in her voice, but I tried to ignore it. Now wasn't the time to be sentimental.
Reaching out again, I shoved Warren hard, feeling a fleeting sense of satisfaction as he stumbled backwards. Suddenly dizzy and light-headed, I looked down, watching as I flickered in and out of view, again, this time more transparent when I re-solidified.
"Uh, Warren?" Andrew called from his spot by the gate as Spike began to twitch, the spell weakening.
"Shut up!" his friend yelled, taking a few steps back and pulling a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. Unfolding it, he held it up, waving it back and forth.
"You want the reversal spell, Willow? Huh? You suddenly realized what a colossal mistake you made? Too bad! You'll just have to live with it…or, well…I guess not, actually."
Spike's arm jerked as the spell continued to weaken, and Warren took another step back, his grin fading quickly. "Like I said, Willow, you never should have done that spell. Lucky for me that you did, though. This is much better than being SKINNED ALIVE! Oh yeah, I know all about that, thanks to a nifty little seer I met in prison. So, now it's your turn to be DEAD, and just to make sure that you stay that way, I'm going to do what they should have done to you, what they should do to every witch…burn it!"
"No!" I screamed, lunging forward and falling through him again as he held up a lighter and lit the paper, watching as it quickly burned. Letting the last bit float to the pavement, he ground it beneath his shoe, spitting on the ash before looking back in my direction, holding up the gun and pointing it at Dawn.
"One wrong move and she's dead!" he yelled.
"Warren, you have a problem with me, deal with me," Buffy said through gritted teeth, hands held in the air.
"You? You still think this is about you?" he asked with a chuckle. "This is no longer about you, slayer!"
"You see this, Willow?" he yelled, holding the gun up again. "You see this? One bullet for you, one for her!" Staggering sideways, he tripped over his own feet, a sharp crack piercing the air as he caught himself.
"Dawn!" Xander yelled, running to the girl as she collapsed on the ground, blood already soaking her shirt, a bullet hole through her chest.
"No!" I screamed, my stomach churning as I started to flicker in and out of sight, again, and it was at that moment that I realized just how badly I did want that spell. I wanted to be alive. I wanted to feel, I wanted to be seen, I wanted to live, and more than anything in the world, I wanted to help the girl that I loved like a little sister, to keep her from dying.
"Now," he said, picking up the stake and moving back toward Spike, "it's time to finish this off, before that spell wears…"
Suddenly, Spike broke free, charging forward and grabbing Warren before he could move. One arm keeping him still with a crushing hold, his other reached around his head, ready to snap his neck as the vampire glanced toward me, a questioning look in his eyes. He wanted permission, and after only a moment's pause, I was happy to give it to him, nodding slightly and wincing as I heard the crunch of bones and a desperate wail come from Andrew.
Dropping the body and not bothering to look back as the other man ran, Spike was before me in a heart beat, pulling me to him and kissing me deeply, passionately, fangs and ridges to fore.
When he finally pulled back, I looked up, tears in my eyes. "Dawn," I whispered. "The spell is gone. She's…I can't…" I could hear Buffy and Xander, yelling frantically, as the younger girl slipped away, and I was powerless to help. "It wasn't supposed to be this way."
"What did I tell you before?" he said, his tone low and soft…almost pained. "You are controlling this. If you want to reverse the spell, then you can. You just need to want it badly enough." I wanted to believe that, but I had a sneaking suspicion that clicking my heels together three times wasn't going to cut it.
"I do…I really do, but…Then what?" I asked, tears trailing down my cheeks.
"Then," he said, taking a deep breath as his hand came up, brushing the tears away, "it goes back to the way it was, and you're alive, and Dawn is alive, and…"
"And we never…You won't remember…"
"Maybe if you want me to…"
I looked up, giving him a wry smile as sirens sounded in the distance, slowly moving closer. "I think you're giving me a little too much credit."
Spike shook his head, kissing me again. "I think you're not giving yourself enough."
Taking a deep breath and nodding, I closed my eyes, concentrating on the task at hand. I wanted to be alive. I did. I wanted to be with my friends. I wanted them to see me. I wanted to take away their pain and suffering, even if it meant that I, myself, would still be heartbroken and aching. I didn't want Tara to be gone, but then I didn't want Dawn to pay for my choices, either, and I realized that maybe it wasn't my decision to make. I wasn't a god, and I shouldn't wield that power. No one should.
Feeling a sudden rush, I staggered slightly on my feet before my eyes flew open and I saw that I was no longer in the yard, but next to Tara's grave, in the cemetary, and I was alone.
"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered, tracing my fingers along the words on her headstone before slowly standing up.
"Shouldn't be out in the dark by yourself." Hearing the familiar voice, I spun around, eyes wide as I saw Spike sauntering toward me. "Just get back?" he asked, eyeing me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to push aside recent memory of his lips on mine, nodding slowly. "Uh, yeah, I just got back…"
"Slayer didn't mention that the watcher was sending you back so soon."
"I…uh…right, no, he said…Um, something's coming, so…I'm back, ready to fight the big evil," I mumbled, trying to give him a bright smile.
He opened his mouth, ready to say something, but then closed it again, his eyes cold as he regarded me. I felt my eyes fill with tears and I wanted to run. I needed to run, to be away from him, as my heart broke, yet again.
Turning, I mumbled a quick good-bye and started to walk away, when a sudden, tight grip on my arm stopped me, spinning me back around and pulling me into a passionate kiss. Our lips met and we melted into one another, neither willing to ever let go.
Finally breaking the kiss several minutes later, I looked up, panting slightly and smiled. "It feels good to see you," I whispered. "And to feel you."
"Same here," he replied, kissing me again.
"I won't let you turn me," I said as he trailed kissed down my neck, and I felt him pause, suddenly ridged and still. "I'm not ready to die, again…Not yet."
"I know," he whispered, resuming his kisses. "I can wait."
Magic is a funny thing. We think that we are in control, but really, we're powerless, beggars pleading with the gods for small favors. Sometimes, they are merciful and willing to help, and sometimes, what we ask for is exactly what we get.
The End