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
49. Reflection
Once Giles had gathered together the few
supplies that Willow would need for the location spell, and the Watcher
and the witch had retired to the kitchen – where Willow said there was
much less "yucky, angry energy" – the mood in the living room returned
to much the same as it had been before Willow and Buffy had come
downstairs, with one major difference.
Buffy *was* downstairs.
She knew that most of the others blamed her, at least to some extent,
for the disaster that had become of her plan – and she really could not
fault them for it. She blamed *herself* for what had happened, for the
fact that despite her promises, Spike was once again in danger, at the
hand of the one who had broken and abused him.
She did not make eye contact with anyone, or say anything, as she
hesitantly crossed the room from the stairs to the sofa, her arms
crossed defensively over her chest. She sat down on the edge of the
couch, her legs drawn up under her, visibly huddling in on herself as
if expecting the other occupants of the room to physically attack her.
Dawn did not seem far from doing just that.
Willow's words had momentarily left her at a loss for an argument – but
the emotion of anger that filled her toward her sister, and her foolish
actions that had cost Spike so much, had not vanished with the witch's
well-placed, logical explanations.
Spike was still in danger – and he still would *not* be, if Buffy had
listened to her warnings about the stupid plan.
As far as Dawn was concerned – that was all there was to it.
For Buffy – it was nowhere near that simple.
She still could hardly bring herself to believe that it was her best
friend who had done those horrible things to Spike. Her mind filled
with images from the past few years...Xander awkwardly, shyly, asking her
on the date that she had refused him...his face hovering anxiously over
her moments after he had literally breathed the life back into her
body...his scratched and bleeding face, exhausted and confused, but so
open and full of love, in the hectic hours following his infamous
"yellow crayon speech" that had saved the world from Willow's
grief-stricken rage.
And now – there was no such valid excuse for the horrible crimes that
it was increasingly obvious that he had committed.
Xander had not lost anyone to an untimely death – had not been abused
or violated in the ways that Spike had been – had no terrible,
traumatic event on which to blame his actions.
Anger.
Hatred.
Petty jealousy.
Those were his motives for taking a creature that was helpless to do
any harm to anyone else, and not simply taking his life, but rather
destroying him in a brutal act of cruelty – and then slowly,
systematically employing a regimen of sadistic abuse and
degradation...rebuilding him with the mentality and emotional state of an
abused, mentally handicapped child.
It was mind-boggling to Buffy.
She could hardly reconcile the two sets of images in her mind.
And Dawn expected her not only to be willing to kill her friend for his
crimes – but to do it without any hesitation or sorrow – as if he had
never meant anything to her...as if there had never been any warmth or
love or depth of friendship between them.
But there *had* been – she remembered it.
It had only been days since she had been sure of it.
And behind all of her doubts and confusion, there was a quiet but
insistent voice, berating her and accusing her, filling her with a
sense of self-disgust because of her hesitation.
*Xander's not the victim here!* it reminded her angrily. *Spike is! The
things Xander did to him are unforgivable! He deserves to die!*
*But – Spike's committed hundreds of murders – done so many more
terrible things...and you can justify not killing *him*...doesn't Xander
deserve the same chance...?*
*Spike doesn't even remember those things he did now! And he *begged*
you to protect him, not to let Xander hurt him again – and you promised
him you wouldn't – but where is he now? Who knows if he's even still
alive...because *you* couldn't accept the truth!*
"Anya!"
Buffy's thoughts were nearly pulled from her reverie -- *nearly* --
when the vengeance demon suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs.
She looked pale and disheveled, and was gripping the banister for
support – but she smiled weakly at the group in the living room as she
made her way gingerly across the living room.
"How are you feeling?" Dawn asked her with obvious concern. "Better,
obviously – right?"
"Well, it still hurts like hell – and I should know!" Anya informed
them all matter-of-factly, as she sat down on the sofa , directly in
the middle of the "great divide" that had separated the Summers'
sisters. "But whatever that stuff was that Giles used, worked like a
charm." She shrugged slightly, before adding, "Probably because it --
*was* a charm."
No one laughed; a few half-hearted smiles were the only response her
weak joke garnered.
"I take it the general bad mood means that we've had no luck in finding
Xander and Spike?" Anya guessed, glancing around at Dawn, Angel, and
Buffy in turn. She frowned, puzzled, as she added a second question,
"Where's Giles?"
"He and Willow are in the kitchen doing a locator spell to find Spike
and Xander," Dawn explained, when neither the Slayer nor the vampire
seemed inclined to speak at all, each of them lost in their own
personal brood-fest.
"Willow? What is she doing here? She's out of her skinning people alive
phase, isn't she?" Anya frowned, alarm in her eyes, until Dawn nodded
in response.
"She gave Xander the magic – Giles thought she should help." Dawn's
disgust was clear in her voice as she explained. "It's only right –
it's partly her fault this happened." Anya wasn't quite sure, but she
thought she heard her whisper under her breath, "Stupid witch..."
Or it might have been a slightly different expression...Anya couldn't be
sure.
"Well, I'm sure she thought it'd be all right," Anya surprised even
herself by speaking up in defense of her ex-fiancee's best friend, who
had been her rival of sorts ever since she and Xander had been
together. "Willow's never shown the best judgment when it came to
safety with magic, and – it was *Xander*. I'm sure she trusted him
completely."
"Like I said," Dawn muttered. "Stupid."
Anya did not miss the Slayer's slight flinch at the word that was quite
obviously not only directed at Willow – or the tears that streaked
Buffy's face. She was quiet for a moment, considering, before she
replied in a mild tone.
"I don't know – I suppose I've been rather stupid, too, then."
Dawn gave her a puzzled, wary frown, waiting for her to explain her
comment.
Anya shrugged slightly, as she went on, "I trusted Xander. I kind of
thought – when we found Spike in the caves – that it was the sort of
thing he might have done...I mean, he always hated Spike, and I knew it
was probably a human that had done it...but I didn't want to believe that
he could be capable of that...so I told myself it wasn't possible."
Buffy glanced up at her, her emerald eyes wet with tears and dull with
shame and worry – but showing a spark of interest at her words.
"I should have known better – like *really* should have known better,"
Anya shook her head, with a short, ironic laugh. "But – I guess I
didn't want to." She looked at Dawn with an open honesty that was
uniquely hers in her eyes, unapologetic, as she stated, "I went along
with the plan – because I wanted to know beyond all doubt – you know? I
didn't want to think it was Xander – because I loved him."
Dawn stared up at her, unable to think of a response to those words.
After all – how did one argue with the simple truth?
Dawn couldn't find a way to blame Anya for her feelings – but she could
still blame Buffy.
"You were going to marry him – in love with him," she countered with
quiet anger in her voice. "I can understand *you* not wanting to
believe it, but..."
"But someone who's known him, like twice as long as I have – who
practically grew up with him and faced life and death situations with
him like every day that whole time – they shouldn't have any sort of
conflicting feelings at all – is that what you're saying?" Anya
guessed, holding the girl's gaze intently.
"No – I mean – yes!" Dawn replied, her eyes narrowing in defiant anger.
"Spike *told* us it was Xander! His word should have been just
accepted, and Buffy should never have placed him in the situation to be
hurt like that again! *Never*! We could have taken more time, tried to
come up with something safer, if she absolutely *had* to have more
proof..."
"She made a mistake."
Angel's voice from the chair opposite the couch was completely
unexpected, and drove them all to silence, looking expectantly up at
him, as he met each of their eyes in turn.
"Yeah – it was a stupid plan. Yeah, we all *told* her it was a stupid
plan. But – she really didn't think anything was going to happen –
because deep down, I don't think she could believe that it was Xander
who did it – not until she saw it for herself."
All three girls were silent for a long moment, taking in his words.
"I wouldn't have believed it," Angel added softly after a moment. "If
someone had told me it was – Buffy," his eyes met the Slayer's, gentler
than they had been all evening, as he added, "I wouldn't have believed
it unless I saw it...I would have thought that no matter how scared he
might be, he would have been perfectly safe in a room with her...because
there'd have been no convincing me that Buffy would be capable of
something like that..."
The room fell silent again, as they all considered those words.
Dawn glanced sideways at her sister, whose eyes were focused downward
again, her hands clenched together as tears streamed like rain from her
eyes to wet the white-knuckled double fist in her lap.
The younger girl took a deep breath, and opened her mouth to speak.
But there was no time for her words.
Willow came bursting into the living room from the kitchen, an
expression of grim surprise and excitement on her face.
"You'll never believe where we found them," she stated.
They were all already on their feet before she had finished talking,
the Slayer yanking on her coat as she stalked toward the door.
"Tell me on the way."
************************************
As the door closed behind Xander, shutting out the light and leaving
Spike huddled in the darkness, he did not dare move from the spot where
the boy had ordered him to wait. Eyes wide as he stared up toward the
door at the top of the stairs, Spike listened to the voices upstairs,
still clearly audible to his enhanced vampire hearing, now fully healed.
At first the voices were pleasant, as Xander carried on his deception
for a few moments longer.
But within moments, the boy's unstable mood had shifted again, and he
was screaming accusations at his obviously drunken parents, who,
judging by the fear in their voices, were by now aware of the weapon he
held in his hand.
A vague sense of horror filled Spike's mind, as he realized that the
boy intended to kill his own parents.
He momentarily, insanely, considered rushing to the top of the stairs,
attempting to do something to stop it from happening – but then quickly
reminded himself that he would not be able to stop the boy from doing
what he wanted to the older couple – or to him, for that matter.
Xander's steadily decreasing sanity only made him more dangerous.
But then – Spike thought with a tiny spark of inspiration – perhaps it
might also throw the boy off his game a bit.
His mind returned to the scene in Buffy's bedroom, when Anya had
bravely placed herself between Xander and his gun, and the terrified
vampire against the wall. That terrified creature had been him – too
weak and frightened and utterly devastated by Xander's abuse to even
think of standing up for himself.
And yet, when Xander had raised the gun to Anya – Spike had acted, with
no thought for his own safety, only intent on keeping that bullet from
striking its mark. Spike did not know whether or not Xander knew that
Anya was no longer human – and therefore not killable by a bullet to
the head – but Spike *did* know what the results of such an injury
could be...first hand.
In that moment, he had been determined that no matter what the cost, he
was *not* going to allow to happen to Anya what had happened to him –
and he had tried his best to keep Xander from hitting his mark.
And he had succeeded.
True, the bullet had still injured Anya – but Spike knew enough to know
that it was not a mortal wound. She had survived – and without any
serious damage, such as the kind he had sustained.
In a way – he had won.
Could he possibly win again?
A spark of hope rose up in him, as he glanced toward the stairs,
listening as the furious yelling and panicked screaming grew louder and
louder. He knew that within a few minutes, Xander would most likely be
coming back down those stairs – for *him*. He did not know at this
point whether the boy planned on simply staking him, or on repeating
his previous method of a brain-damaging gunshot to the head.
What he *did* know was that if he simply stayed on his knees as he had
been ordered, and did not resist – he would still be shown no mercy.
If he fought – he might be injured, or killed.
If he did not fight – he would *certainly* be injured or killed.
Suddenly – the decision did not seem so difficult to him anymore.
The very least he could do was to try.
As the potent scent of freshly spilled blood reached Spike's nostrils
from upstairs, he felt his vampiric face come to the forefront, as his
sire had shown him – and remembered Angel's words, his reassurance that
attacking Xander, hurting Xander, was perfectly all right, if he got
the chance.
*Would* the boy give him the chance?
The thought that he might -- *might* -- be able to successfully defeat
his former captor was a thrilling and desperate hope...one he found
himself clinging to. But still, in the back of his mind, were the
terrible, menacing words that had been spoken to him again and again by
Xander during his captivity – promises that resistance, attempts at
self-defense, could only result in more pain and punishment than Spike
could imagine.
Xander might have lost his mind – but he *did* still have the gun.
Fear and hope warred within Spike's wounded, but healing spirit, as he
slowly rose to his feet in the darkness, unsure of what he would do
when Xander returned, but knowing that he wanted to be ready for him
when he did...and wondering if this newly found courage that spurred him
to action would hold out until he did.