A/N: This story picks
up right after Entropy,
so obviously the Spike/Buffy part of Seeing Red did not take place for
the purposes of this story...but otherwise, just assume that everything
else from the end of Season Six happened just as in canon, with the
exception of Spike going to get his soul...Hopefully I'll fill in some
gaps and feel free to ask about it if something doesn't make
sense...and
if it's not a part of the mystery I'll do my best to *make* it make
sense! J
47. Fixing It
"What are you talking about? He wanted those
things so he could *help* you, with that new demon you've been dealing
with! Xander would never do anything to hurt you, or anybody!
Especially Anya..."
"He did." The Slayer's answer was simple, and deadly serious. "I'm
telling you, he did."
"Buffy, are you out of your mind? You're talking about *Xander* here!"
"Will, just stop and listen to me for a second!" Buffy snapped, her
voice trembling with impatient anger when her friend simply refused to
listen to her explanation for longer than two seconds without
objecting, apparently incapable of conceiving of the idea that Xander
had lied to her.
But at her outburst, Willow *did* fall silent on the other line – and
Buffy took a deep breath before continuing.
As she readied herself to go on, her eyes fell on the doorway beside
the kitchen wall phone she was talking into – and momentarily met the
solemn, dangerous blue eyes of her Watcher as he entered the room, his
hands covered in a mixture of blood and an ointment he had mixed
himself to put on Anya's wound. He did not say a word as he made his
way to the sink and turned on the water to wash his hands.
"Willow – he lied," Buffy finally continued, hoping that the redheaded
witch would let her get the whole story out this time. "There is no new
demon we've been fighting – he needed the magic so he could get back at
Spike. When Spike disappeared – just before – you went to England – it
was because Xander had hurt him..."
"Buffy..."
"Let me finish!"
There was a brief pause, before a muffled, reluctant, "Okay."
"He shot him." Buffy did not hesitate – afraid that if she waited, she
would not be able to bring herself to say the words – to shatter her
friend's heart the way that hers had so recently been shattered, by
Xander's betrayal. "He shot him in the head, and kept him chained up in
the Initiative caves. He hurt him, Will. He tortured him, and beat him,
and – and basically took out every last shred of the junk he's been
repressing for as long as we've known him – on *Spike*."
Both girls were silent for a long moment, before Willow spoke up again,
cautiously. "Buffy – are you *sure*? I mean – I can see Xander hurting
Spike, after – after what happened with him and Anya. But – but
*torture*? And Xander would never, *never* hurt Anya! I know it!"
"He shot her, Willow!" Buffy insisted, her voice sharp and angry again.
"She caught him hurting Spike, and he shot her!"
"Xander wouldn't do that!"
Buffy flinched at the suddenly warning edge to her friend's trembling,
angry voice – and in her mind's eye, she could see those sparkling
green eyes darkening into pools of black, as she still saw every now
and then in her nightmares.
Before Buffy could formulate a response, Giles was suddenly standing
facing her, his expression serious but calm as he met her eyes again,
slowly and thoroughly drying his freshly washed hands on a dishtowel,
and then setting it aside on the counter.
"Let me speak with her, Buffy."
Buffy nodded, holding his gaze with a concerned question in her eyes,
as she said into the phone, "Just a second, Will. Giles wants to talk
to you..."
As she handed the phone to her Watcher, she asked quietly, "Is she
okay?"
Giles nodded curtly, though Buffy got the impression that his
irritation was not with her.
*At least *someone's* not mad at me,* she thought with a pang of
self-pity – for which she immediately chided herself.
"She's sleeping," Giles replied in a soft, even voice. "She'll be fine,
now."
Buffy nodded again, letting out a sigh of relief as she walked into the
living room – more than happy to hand over the task of convincing
Willow of Xander's guilt, to one who was probably much more capable of
convincing her. But with the first words from her Watcher's mouth, she
flinched at the scathing accusation of his voice – and hurried her pace
to escape the sounds of the brewing confrontation.
******************************
"You're still nothing but an amateur with the arrogance to think that
the forces of nature are nothing more than toys for you to play with,
or share with your little friends as you like, are you, Willow?"
The young witch's shock was clear in her stunned silence, as she
obviously was caught off guard by the Watcher's controlled, but clearly
furious words.
"Giles – I..."
"You just took his word for it, did you?" he went on, a bitter irony in
his slightly trembling voice. "Just accepted that he would know how to
use the magics that you passed on to him? And now Anya could have
*died* tonight because of your foolishness! Did it never cross your
mind to wonder why *Xander* was calling to speak to you about magic?
Why *I* would not have been the one to call you, if your assistance was
truly needed for anything *good*?"
His fear for Anya had turned into fury – and he released it on his
young protégé, finding in her careless actions, a place
to vent his
frustration and anger, and the rising sense of betrayal he was feeling
toward the young man who had been like a son to him. But when Willow
spoke again, and he heard the tears in her voice – Giles felt some of
his anger beginning to deflate.
"I – I'm sorry," she said in a trembling whisper. "I didn't think – I
didn't think it was as dangerous for him. He's always been so – so
*good*. And I – I thought it was – I thought it was mostly just *me*..."
Her voice trailed off, but Giles understood what she was trying to say
– and he felt his heart, almost against his own wishes, softening at
the vulnerability in her voice.
After all – Willow had been as much a daughter to him as Xander had
once been a son.
"In the wrong hands, Willow – not necessarily evil hands, but even
*inexperienced* hands – magic is always a danger." He paused, regaining
a bit of his composure before he stated firmly, "You should have asked
to speak with me – asked me if it was safe."
"I'm sorry," Willow repeated softly – but with a rising uncertainty in
her voice. "But – Giles – surely *Xander* wouldn't...I mean...it has to be
a mistake – right?"
Giles swallowed back the instinctive anger that rose up in him again at
hearing her blind defense of the boy – reminding himself with an effort
that a few days ago, he would have defended him just as adamantly.
"There's no mistake, Willow. And now – I need to know exactly what
magics you've given to him – and exactly how we can counteract them. I
would have you flown over here immediately, if there was time – but I'm
afraid there's not. We have to find Spike, before..."
Giles' words broke off abruptly, and he blinked in surprise – as the
redhead suddenly materialized in front of him, a slightly sheepish, sad
smile on her tear-streaked face. Slowly, he replaced the telephone in
its cradle, as he waited for her explanation.
"I've been practicing with – with moderation – and – and not letting
the magic get out of control – and only with spells that only affect
myself personally," she stammered out, her eyes lowered in anxious
uncertainty as to how he might react to her use of magic, in light of
the conversation they had just been having. "And – I didn't – teleport
anyone – anyone else." She shrugged, wide green eyes suddenly focused
on his in a silent appeal, as she finished weakly, "Just me. Is – is
that okay?"
Giles said nothing for a long moment – and then slowly drew in and
released a deep, heavy breath...as he moved forward to take the girl in
his arms. Willow was momentarily caught off guard – but then, she
leaned her head on his chest, crying softly.
"I'm sorry, Giles – I thought it was – I thought it was safe...it was
*Xander* -- you know?"
"I know," Giles relented, his voice softening as he drew back from her,
blinking back tears of his own before she could see how emotional the
whole affair was making him. "We couldn't have known – none of us could
have known..."
Willow was quiet for a moment, studying his expression, before her eyes
widened with a new alarm. "How's Buffy taking this? I mean – this has
got to be hard on her..."
"Hard is – er – hardly an adequate word," Giles remarked with a little
grimace – and then, his expression became more serious as he added
soberly, "And I believe she could certainly use your presence right
now, Willow. I have a feeling that right now – Buffy is probably
feeling terribly – alone. More so than she's felt since – well, since
she's been – back."
Willow nodded slowly, her gaze lowering again with the reminder of what
her first major magical mistake had cost her friend the year before.
When she looked up at Giles again, she had her resolve face on, as she
asked a single question, determination in her voice.
"Where is she?"
******************************
"They'll never think to look for me here," Xander crowed as he
carelessly shoved his disoriented captive to the floor against the
wall, and then ignored him as he paced about the nearly empty basement
room. "This is the *last* place I'd ever willingly go again!" he
laughed – and it was a bitter, ugly sound.
The basement of his parents' house was still nearly as empty as it had
been when he had left it the previous year, to move into his new
apartment. After all, his parents were not exactly wealthy – and they
had not amassed much more in the way of possessions than they had had
when he had left.
"Okay," Xander spoke aloud, though Spike knew instinctively that he was
talking to himself, not to his vampire prisoner. "Okay – this'll at
least buy me some thinking time...enough time to figure out...where to go
from here..."
As the boy paced almost frantically back and forth across the cold
cement floor, Spike drew back against the wall when his footsteps came
too near to wear he huddled, half-sitting, half-kneeling, on the floor.
His mind was racing, desperately trying to think of some way out of
this situation.
His eyes darted automatically toward the stairs that led into the
ground level of the house – but he knew that that was not really an
option. He did not know his way around any part of this building but
the basement – and Xander clearly did.
He would never make it out of the house before Xander managed to stop
him.
And the attempt would certainly not be worth the suffering that would
be inflicted on him then.
"Okay – Anya – there's the problem," Xander was still thinking aloud as
he paced back and forth, his eyes wild and darting across the room
every now and then, as if startled by some sound or flash of sight that
Spike could not see or here.
Vaguely, the vampire recognized the reactions as paranoia – and that
such a mental state made Xander even more dangerous than usual.
"I wish I hadn't had to shoot her – damn it! Why did I have to...?"
Spike's blood ran cold as Xander's dark eyes came to rest on him,
narrowed in cold rage. He flinched back against the wall as the boy
swiftly advanced on him, his foot pulled back to kick him. At the last
second however, the boy turned away, shaking his head in annoyance.
"No," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "No, I've gotta admit – that was
all her. Stupid loud mouth bitch! Always running her mouth when she
should have just kept it shut! Always doing everything she could to
embarrass me – to make me mad – it's like she *wanted* me to hit her,
you know?"
Spike froze, unsure how to respond as the boy's vaguely manic eyes
suddenly focused on him in a question.
Was he supposed to answer?
Would he be punished if he didn't – or if he did?
The question became moot, as Xander suddenly staggered back toward the
wall across from Spike, and sank down to the floor in a crouch against
he wall, his arms resting on his knees, and his head buried in his arms
as he broke down into harsh, guttural sounding sobs.
Spike didn't dare to move or make a sound – though he found his eyes
once more drawn toward the stairs – and possible escape...
*Was* it possible?
While he was wondering, Xander looked up at the ceiling, rolling his
eyes wildly as he groaned, "Oh God, how did I get here? What happened?"
Spike hesitated – unsure what to expect from this Xander – this very
different Xander than any version he remembered seeing. The stairs were
looking more and more inviting all the time – especially when the boy
lowered his head into his arms again, with a muffled moan, "Oh,
Anya...how could I have *shot* her...?"
Spike had almost made up his mind to run for the door – when, as if by
his own force of will, it suddenly swung open, flooding the darkened
stairs with a dim light from whatever room opened onto the basement.
"Hello?" a harsh-sounding woman's voice called down the stairs –
slightly slurred with alcohol. "Is somebody down there?" Her tone was
suspicious, and vaguely threatening – at least, Xander seemed to think
so.
He pulled back along the wall, his eyes wide, obviously not wanting the
woman to know he was there – and he held up a warning hand for Spike to
stay silent.
He would not have dared otherwise.
And then, a male voice echoed her question, also sounding drunk and
dark and menacing. "Somebody in the basement?" he asked, and as he
spoke the voice drew closer to the stairs. "Burglar? I'll get my
gun...close the door for now, and lock it..."
As the door shut, shutting out the light, and Spike's eyes gradually
readjusted to the darkness – and the realization that escape through
that door was not going to be a possibility – his eyes fell on Xander
again.
The boy was still staring up the stairs, his eyes wide and focused not
on the stairs – not even on the here and now – but on some
long-remembered, old past event. As Spike watched with alarm, Xander's
jaw set with rage, and his eyes narrowed with bitter outrage and
dangerous fury, even as tears streaked his face, deranged and
frightening in the glow of the moonlight through the one, tiny basement
window.
"That's how," Spike heard Xander mutter as he rose slowly to his feet,
still glaring up the stairs. "Their fault. That's how – that's why –
their fault!" he nodded emphatically as the idea began to become more
firmly entrenched in his unstable mind. "*His* fault – not mine! He did
this to me!"
Spike felt a new chill run down his spine, though he wasn't quite sure
why, as Xander's voice became deadly calm, and a smile came over his
face. He shrugged slightly, giving Spike a cold, almost maniacal smile
as he remarked,
"Only one way to fix it."