Later in the Ashes

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Four)


Though Sunnydale had been saved before Willow made it back, Giles’s apartment and its occupants were all strangely quiet. After the obligatory recap of recent events and Buffy’s heroism, the only person who seemed to have much to say was Anya, whose complaints no one but Xander actually paid much heed to or cared much about. Still, Willow caught bits and pieces of them, even as she paid more attention to trying to catch the tenor of the mood in the rest of the room.

“It’s not like she actually has a life. She should have been here doing the research.”

“Just because she’s a loser and no one wants to have sex with her, why do the rest of us have to be miserable? We haven’t had sex in almost thirty hours.”

Every now and then, Xander would mutter something placatory and Anya would calm for a moment, only to start up again as bitter as ever.

Willow made up her mind to tune her best friend’s demon bed-buddy out for tonight (and perhaps forever), though a part of her wanted to rub Anya’s nose in the fact that not only did someone want to have sex with her, but it had been better sex than Anya would ever have. Of course the cold water reality that revealing the identity of her lover would hurt Buffy and ruin Willow’s own life kept her silent

Things between Giles and Olivia seemed strained, though Willow wasn’t as surprised as she might have been. It was odd the way time in Los Angeles, the breathing in of air that didn’t reek of supernatural forces, made her realize just how strange and frightening Sunnydale might be to one unused to it. She felt for the woman, she truly did.

She felt for Giles, too. It seemed like the Hellmouth did nothing but take from him everything that might make his life something akin to whole. For if the look on Olivia’s face was any indication, her relationship with Giles was not going to last. First Jenny, and now...

Naturally, remembering Jenny brought on fresh guilt, though really, she supposed she didn’t deserve it. Willow may have slept with one who shared the body of Jenny’s murderer, but Buffy still loved him, and if Giles could overlook that, well... Besides, she had plenty of Angel-related guilt for any number of other reasons.

Like Buffy. Buffy, whose eyes were full of shadows. Something was bothering her, something she was trying to hide. Funny how Willow was still so curious despite the myriad secrets - well, one secret, really, but it felt like hundreds - she herself was hoping to conceal forever.

Buffy caught Willow looking at her and spoke. “Is your aunt okay?” She had obviously read the note Willow had left.

“Not really, no.” Willow felt terrible for lying, but what else could she do?

“Please extend my sympathy to the rest of her family.” Giles was as correct as ever.

“I’m pretty much the only one Aunt Esther has right now. That’s why I’ve gone to see her so often lately. I mean, my parents are at a conference and...” She didn’t get to finish her sentence.

“Isn’t your Aunt Esther dead?”

Great. Every year at Hanukkah, Xander managed to forget she was Jewish, but he could recall that back in fifth grade, her Aunt Esther died. What were the odds?

Spike, of all, people, manged to save the day. “Nice one there, moron. Puttin’ the lady in the ground before she’s even stopped breathing.”

Xander looked confused, but, amazingly, he also seemed to be questioning himself. Between Spike’s words and Willow’s silence, it looked like she might just get away with this.

Spike then turned his face towards hers; it held an amazingly believable expression of concern and sympathy. “She isn’t dead yet, is she?”

“No, not yet. But the doctors think it’s only a matter of time,” Willow replied, trying hard to look upset and plucky at the same time. She felt horrible for gaslighting Xander, but then again, it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have done the same thing to her. His conduct with Anya was sure enough proof of that.

Besides, it worked. Xander looked horribly abashed and Giles was giving him a sterner than usual version of the disapproving expression he earned on a regular basis.

“I’m really sorry I wasn’t here to help, you guys. But when the hospital called and said she was doing worse, I thought I should go back. If I’d known...”

“She’s family, pet. Of course you had to go to her.” Spike’s sentiment was sincere. She knew it was only a matter of a change in pronouns and he’d have said exactly what he felt. That was certainly food for later thought.

Xander stared and was obviously about to say something. Spike stopped him short.

“What? I’m a vampire. We do care about family, you know.”

“Oh yeah, the way Drusilla cares about you? Because...”

“Xander!” Willow interjected, deciding that returning the favour to Spike took precedence over any residual loyalty to her childhood friend. “That’s mean, and I don’t think you of all people should be bringing up dysfunctional families, anyway.”

Even Buffy looked shocked at that and Willow could hardly blame her. Still, what else could she do?

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled weakly. She shot a quick glance at Spike, hoping he’d forgive her for backpedaling slightly. The look in his eyes seemed to say he did. After all, he was a vampire. Vampires knew about treachery and survival. “I guess I’m kind of worn out.”

Buffy opened her arms and Willow went to her and hugged her.

“It’s okay,” she told Willow, though really, accepting the apology was hardly within her purview, “I understand how upset you must be. I mean, about your aunt and everything and being the only one there for her. We all have things we have to do alone...” Buffy’s voice trailed off and Willow got the distinct impression that she’d been talking about herself by the end. Whatever secret Buffy was keeping was big, Willow was sure of it - big and burdensome.

There had been a time - at least Willow was pretty sure there had been a time - when Buffy would have opened up to her. She’d have made some clumsy excuse about being desperate for a mocha and dragged Willow off for a private conversation. She’d have spilled her guts, told her everything, and Willow could have given her the support she needed.

When had that changed? When had it all turned distant and awkward? Sure, they both still called each other their best friend, but when had they stopped actually being best friends?

And whose fault was it?

The guilt she felt was now absolutely agonizing. After all, she hadn’t really been off playing dutiful niece to a dying aunt. While her friends had been facing death and destruction, while Buffy had been busy defeating the Gentlemen and saving the town, Willow had been having mind-blowing sex with Angel. Okay, she was consoling him at a time of terrible grief, but there was still lots of nudity and adult content going on and...oh gosh - she’d now officially had more sex with Angel than Buffy ever had.

She couldn’t help it. She burst into tears.

That only gave her more grounds for guilt as her tears convinced everyone but Spike (who knew the truth) and Anya (who couldn’t care less) that she loved her aunt dearly and was suffering a great deal at her imminent passing. Soothing words were spoken by all and sundry, even Olivia, and Anya actually piped up with an observation of her own.

“Is she leaving you any money?”

That, of course, was followed by Xander’s ubiquitous cry: “An!”

Strangely, she suddenly found herself wondering if Cordelia remembered the death of Aunt Esther. Willow had the oddest feeling that she did...and that, unlike Xander, she’d never be fooled into believing it hadn’t happened.

Of course, she might be overdramatizing things and reading more into Cordelia (and less into her friends) than was strictly truth. She certainly hoped that was the case. She loved Buffy and Xander and Giles. They were her home, her family, her heart. Sure, they were going through a rough patch right now, but didn’t that happen in families? Granted, she didn’t have much personal experience along those lines - her parents weren’t exactly familial - but the books she’d read certainly said as much. Though they didn’t offer much advice on how to repair rifts caused by secret affairs with your best friend’s soulmate.

Angel. The elephant in the room, though only two people even knew he was there.

Was it too much to hope that everything could go back to the way it was in their salad days without Angel being dealt with or even mentioned? Couldn’t she just promise to be a good girl from now on and somehow the bite would disappear and she could make things right with her friends and life would be the same as it once was?

A voice inside her, however, asked a different question: Was that really what she wanted?

Willow was brought back to the here and now by the voice of annoyance, namely Anya.

“Why does he have to stay with us again? Xander and I want to have sex. Which we can’t have with Spike there. Well, I don’t mind, but Xander...”

“An!”

“I’m with you on that, moron. Watching you and your demon shagging might well make me stake myself.”

“In that case, I’d be okay with you...hey! I’ll have you know that we’re...”

Willow really didn’t need to hear more of this argument. “He can stay with me,” she interjected.

“No, he can’t.”

“Buffy, I didn’t mean in the dorms. I meant he could stay at my parents’ house with me. I’m going to be staying there for awhile anyway. It’s easier for me to borrow the car to go back to Aunt Esther if I’m staying there. I already told the hospital that’s where they can reach me.”

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind?” Giles was so considerate tonight.

“They won’t even know. I’m pretty sure they won’t be home until next year.”

“Even with your aunt in such poor health?” Was Giles so completely unfamiliar with her parents? They hadn’t taken her to visit Aunt Esther once when she really was in the hospital. The memory still hurt.

Xander surprised her by chiming in. “They’re not exactly big on togetherness. They might send flowers when...well, when...”

Willow graced him with a watery half-smile. She was touched by his clumsy attempt to be a friend again, though some unnerving and uncomfortable thoughts were stirring at the back of her mind.

“See? It’ll be fine, Giles.”

“Are you sure, Will? I’m not sure I like the idea of you being all alone with him.”

“Buffy, he can’t hurt me, remember?” She winced internally as she said it. Later, she’d make sure to apologize to Spike for bringing up his degraded state. She could only imagine how much it hurt him. “It will be fine. I’ll enjoy the company.”

Buffy looked skeptical, but her preoccupation seemed to make her willing to let the matter drop.

“C’mon, Red. Let’s go. Times a-wasting.” Spike seemed more than anxious to get out of there. Willow wasn’t sure whether it was to avoid further mention of his chip and his consequent disability or because he wanted to grill her on her activities. Either way, Willow didn’t actually mind leaving.

She headed for the kitchen and grabbed some blood out of the fridge, then stuck it in a paper bag. Why was she not surprised that Giles preferred paper to plastic?

“Bye, guys,” she said as soon as she got back to the living room. No sense in dallying.

Unfortunately, no sooner had she and Spike reached the door...

“Oh!” Anya cried. “Why don’t you two have sex? That way Willow won’t be all mopey and annoying all the time, and...”

“No!”

As Xander and Anya began another argument, Willow and Spike slipped out of the apartment.

“Nice car,” Spike sneered, obviously unimpressed with her parents’ taste in automobiles.

“Hey! It gets great gas mileage.” And yes, pathetic though it was, that was really the best defense Willow could come up with. It was a sensible family car bought by two actors attempting to look the part of solid and dependable parents. Despite its practical virtues, and even though it was two years old, it had seen so little use that it still held vague traces of the scent one expected in a new car. Willow was sure that she’d driven it more than her parents had and she’d “borrowed” it for the first time when she went looking for Oz.

The car wasn’t the only thing she’d “borrowed.”

“It’s not you.” Spike’s voice halted her depressing train of thought.

“Well, that makes sense since it’s not mine.”

“Your parents never bought you a car of your own?”

“They’d have to think about me to buy me a car.” That sounded more bitter than she’d intended. After all, how much did Spike truly care about her and her life?

“What about your schooling?”

“Scholarship. UC Sunnydale almost pays me to attend. They were pretty excited that someone accepted to Oxford and Yale and Harvard would choose to go there instead.”

For a moment, Willow thought she saw the oddest look of longing in Spike’s eyes, but it left so quickly she couldn’t be sure it had ever been there.

“All those fancy schools wanted you and you chose Loser University?”

What could she say to that? She wanted to defend her choice with everything she had, but right now, she couldn’t. Looking at the way things had turned out, she couldn’t even convince herself she’d made the right decision.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Maybe the tears suddenly brimming in her eyes inspired compassion, or maybe Spike was bored with talking about her education, but he stayed silent for a short while. At least until Willow pulled up near the dorms.

“What are we doing here? I thought we were staying at your house.”

“We are. But I need to get my books and some clothes. Do you want to come up with me or wait here?”

She already knew what the answer was. There was no chance of Spike wanting to remain alone outside, an easy target for the commandos. But asking was a small way of giving him back some shred of dignity.

Instead of replying, he got out of the car at the same time she did and followed her to the building and up the stairs.

She was surprised to see someone standing in front if her door. It was a girl from that ridiculous Wicca group she’d recently joined and even more recently given up on. Tara. She was the only one who seemed to have a clue about magic.

“Oh h-hi, Willow. I just came by to see if you’d l-like to...” She then noticed Willow’s companion and abruptly stopped talking, hiding her face behind the hair that fell over her eyes. Her actions bespoke a shyness that was oddly endearing, though Willow felt badly for somehow putting her in an awkward situation, however unintentionally.

“Tara, this is Spike. Spike, this is Tara.” She hoped to at least make the girl a bit less uncomfortable.

Spike’s manner became unaccountably different. He sidled up to Willow, putting his arm around her shoulders in a manner that was...well...almost proprietary. “Nice to meet you, luv.”

“Is h-he your b-boyfriend?”

“Spike?” What kind of question was that? But before Willow could disabuse Tara of that notion, Spike answered for her.

“Yes, I am.” He smiled fondly at Willow, who now felt like hitting him. What was he up to?

“Oh.” Tara’s eyes grew wide behind her hair. Was that disappointment? Oh...oh! “I-I’ll see you around, okay?” And with that, Tara scurried back down the hall before Willow could say another word.

Once she was out of sight, Willow gave into temptation and did hit Spike, though not hard. “What was that about? What on Earth made you decide to lie?” She opened the door to her dorm room and dragged him in before he could answer.

“Best way to let the chit down, don’t you think? I mean, it’s kind of obvious she fancies you and you wouldn’t want the poor girl to keep carrying the torch, now would you?”

“Who appointed you my chaperone? What if I’m interested in her?”

The most startling thing about that statement wasn’t that Willow made it, but that she meant it. Or would have meant it a couple of weeks ago, anyway. If Angel hadn’t entered the picture...

Yes, she would have dated Tara. The thought should have shocked her, but it didn’t. She’d had sex with a werewolf and a vampire. Just how kinky could dating a woman actually be by comparison? And anyway, she’d met her vamp self. She had never been fooled by Buffy and Angel’s lame attempts at lying. She knew that the demon didn’t fall far from the human, at least not in every respect.

“It’s too late for that now, pet. Have you forgotten that mark on your neck?”

“Since when do you care about Angel? I would think you’d want me to be with someone else.”

Spike’s eyes were hooded now. His expression unreadable. “Yeah, you’d think that.”

Conversation now ground to an abrupt halt, so Willow went about the work of gathering her things. Soon enough, she had her bookbag and a large duffel filled up and she and Spike departed the room in prickly silence.

He was angry and Willow had no idea why. Volunteering to play hostess to him suddenly seemed like a very bad idea.

Back in the car and on the road and Spike still hadn’t said a word. Willow couldn’t stand it anymore. So she did the only thing she could think of - she apologized.

“I’m sorry, Spike.”

“What for?” He seemed surprised and it suddenly struck Willow that he was as hard to fathom as Angel. For the very first time, she saw a family resemblance there.

“For whatever I did that made you mad.” What else could she say? It’s not like she knew what she’d done, only that it must have been something.

Chuckling, Spike put a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Apology accepted.”

Darn. She’d been hoping for a reply that might at least give her a clue as to what the fuss was about to begin with, but she wasn’t going to get one. Again, she was reminded of Angel.

Out of the blue, she wondered if it was deliberate - if Spike was bringing forth some of the traits he shared with his sire to make some sort of point, though she wasn’t sure what it could be. She was lost again, wandering through unfamiliar territory. What on Earth was she going to do?

Silence prevailed, but at least it was companionable this time. Willow supposed she could live with that. It wasn’t as though she had a choice. At any rate, they arrived at her house in short order and she figured that upon entering, some sort of discussion would have to take place, even if it was only the niceties of where Spike would sleep and where the kitchen was and whether or not they had cable.

It all transpired along nearly those exact lines. The walk to the door from the car was silent, as were the first couple of moments after entering the house. Willow headed for the kitchen and stowed the blood in the fridge before returning to Spike in the living room..

“So, you wouldn’t happen to have cable here, would you?”

Willow fought to keep from giggling. It wasn’t so much that she found his question funny, just the fact that she’d predicted he’d ask it.

“Yeah, sure thing. My parents spring for the whole package. I don’t know why. Maybe they want to impress the cable company.” Again, there was that bitterness she couldn’t seem to hide, though she quickly plastered a smile on her face. The same one that always convinced Buffy that she couldn't care less about her parents’ non-presence in her life.

It didn’t work on Spike. He gave her an uncertain but obviously well-meant hug.

Perhaps it was the display of affection, or perhaps it was just that these thoughts had finally coalesced at the back of her mind and insisted on making themselves known, even apropos of nothing, but the idea that had taken root in her mind back at Giles’s apartment was now fully formed. And it hurt.

Xander and Buffy and Giles, so unconcerned when she really was in pain, were amazingly quick to shower her with compassion over a family tragedy that was completely fabricated. It reminded her distressingly of Professor Walsh, who was filled with admiration for the most fraudulent and slipshod effort Willow had ever submitted to a teacher in her entire life.

Who she was, what was inside her...no one cared about the real Willow Rosenberg. At least not the three people Willow had come to think of as her family, who she’d sacrificed any chance she had for a normal life in order to stay with, who she’d seen herself spending all the rest of her years beside.

The agony was almost overwhelming.

As much as she didn’t want to share this much of herself with Spike, she couldn’t hold back the tears. He kept his arms about her through the worst of it, silent and unintrusive, that last part a blessed difference from his sire. She needed the luxury of loneliness right now, someplace cold and solitary where she could later sort through her thoughts.

After a short while, she brought her emotions to heel.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again, this time at least knowing why. “I didn’t mean to...”

“I’d ask what the tears were for, but I figure it’s probably none of my business.”

“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever been more grateful to anyone for anything than to Spike for his restraint.

“So, shall we go sit somewhere? Somewhere that isn’t this rather catalogue-inspired living room? You really need to redecorate, pet.”

“Sure,” she chirped, gesturing for him to follow her upstairs. She was grateful for the superficiality of his banter. It was diverting. Besides, he was right. The living room was hideous.

Of course, as it turned out, he didn’t think any better of her bedroom. “Is there any room in this house that isn’t appalling? This room can’t ever have suited you. How could you possibly sleep in here?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. He was dangerously close to crossing the line. She’d actually picked out the decor. Sure, most of it had been done when she was nine, but still...

Spike got the message from the look on her face and swiftly changed topics. His reticence and delicacy, however, were now a thing of the past. “So, any chance you might be willing to share the dirty details of your latest tryst with the pouf?”

“Spike,” she whined, really not up to the task of parrying Spike’s verbal thrusts at Angel and extremely uncomfortable with talking about her sex life, even if it hadn’t been something she so desperately needed to keep secret from her other friends.

Spike, however, was not to be deterred. “It’s not like I don’t know where you’ve been, after all. And I’m dying to know just how Peaches lured you back to Los Angeles so soon.”

How was she going to answer that? On the one hand, she didn’t know what she could tell Spike that wouldn’t constitute a betrayal of Angel’s confidence. Yet, on the other hand, Angel had no problem spilling her secrets to all and sundry.

She decided to split the difference.

“A friend of his died.”

“Is that what he told you? Yeah, right. Angel having a friend, that’d be a new one.”

While Spike had seemed almost familial towards Angel earlier, he was now back to the hatred Willow was more accustomed to from him. Still, despite the fact that it was what she'd come to expect, it stung, and now she felt the need to defend her erstwhile lover. Angel’s grief was a real and profound thing and Spike making light of it was grossly unjust. Her memories of Jesse stirred within her.

“It was a man named Doyle. And yeah, they were friends.”

Spike’s expression fell. “The Irishman? The one who was working with him and that ditzy cheerleader? He’s dead? Sad, that. He was a brave one.”

“You knew him?” That was a surprise.

“Briefly. We met when I was trying to persuade Angel to give me back my Gem.”

“You mean when you tortured him?”

“Torture, persuasion...let’s not get all hung up over semantics.” Spike waved his hand dismissively.

Willow couldn’t help it. She laughed. How could she not? Spike was so blasé about the strangest things.

“Well, that’s a pleasant sound.”

“What?”

“Your laughter. It’s nice to hear it at last.”

His words made her self-conscious. Was he mocking her? There was no more laughter now and the silence was back, awkward and unwieldy this time. Amazing how many kinds of silence there were, how many different moods could be carried through empty air, and how unmanageable and frightening they could be. She began to understand why she was forever filling up the quiet moments with useless words.

As if to relieve the tension, the phone rang. While the sound was oddly welcome, the fact that her phone was ringing so soon had Willow worried. Was something wrong? Did the gang need her to go back to Giles’s house?

She picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” she said.

“Willow.”

It was Angel.


Tbc...