Under the Sun

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-13

Archive: Sure, if you already have my stuff. If not, just ask.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters herein; Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other lucky folks do. Of course, I'm not the one making money off of them.

Summary: Set after Avocation in an alternate S4 where many events of canon get thrown out the window. This one won't make any sense if you haven't read the previous story.

A/N: The title comes from Ecclesiastes, which most people know from the phrase, "A time for everything, and a season for everything under heaven." Really, this story is based on the entire book, which is probably my favorite in the Bible. It talks about making the most of what one has now, and while some find it depressing, I love it. If you've got the time, I'd really recommend you read the whole thing.

Chapter 34

"being to timelessness as it's to time,/love did no more begin than love will end;/where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim/love is the air the ocean the land/(do lovers suffer?all divinities/proudly descending put on deathful flesh:/are lovers glad?only their smallest joy's/a universe emerging from a wish)/love is the voice under all silences,/the hope which has no opposite in fear;/the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:/the truth more first than sun more last than star/—do lovers love?why then to heaven with hell./Whatever sages say and fools,all's well" ~e. e. cummings, "being to timelessness as it's to time"

Willow awoke in an empty bed, frowning when her hand hit empty space beside her, rather than the warm body she'd been expecting. She fished around for the pajamas she kept at Wesley's for just that purpose—she had to have something to put on when first getting up in the morning.

As expected, Wesley was in the kitchen, brewing a pot of tea. "Hey there."

He half-turned to smile at her. "Good morning. Did I wake you?"

"No," Willow assured him. "Although, I'd kind of expected you to still be sleeping. You were pretty tired last night."

"I slept well," he responded. "Do you need a ride back to campus?"

Willow shook her head. "I think I can skip classes today; it's Friday, and I'm already going to miss my first one."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, teasing. "Perhaps that spell did something to your brain."

She snorted. "I'll have you know that I can skip class with the best of them, mister."

"Possibly better," he agreed. "I doubt missing a class or two will harm you in any way."

"And it might just do me some good, especially if I can spend the extra time with you." Willow replied. When he didn't respond, she frowned. "Earth to Wesley."

"Hmm?"

He wore that absent-minded look he often got when thinking very hard, and Willow reached out to touch his arm. "Are you sure you're okay? I know that spell took a lot out of you yesterday, but—"

"I'm fine." Wesley glanced back out the window. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"Thinking about what?"

"A dream I had—well, a nightmare, really. It's not important."

Willow reached up to touch the worry-line that had formed on his forehead. He still appeared tired and drained, she noted, and she couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he was back to his usual self. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not particularly." He turned, and Willow could see him bring his attention to bear on her. "It has to do with being slightly claustrophobic."

Willow made a face. "Do you know how you got to be claustrophobic?" she asked. "Because when we talked about it in my psych class, most people think that phobias are caused by a specific event or series of events. Sometimes if you can..." She trailed off when she saw the pained expression on Wesley's face. "Never mind. I'm babbling again."

He touched her cheek. "You're not babbling, and I do have some idea where the phobia began, yes."

"But it's not something you want to talk about?" Willow guessed.

"I've never talked about it," he corrected her. "It just—there was nothing that could be done."

Willow frowned, trying to follow his train of thought, and something clicked. Wesley's fear that night in the haunted house—being shut up in a closet—his distant relationship with his father, his comment that he'd never quite measured up, the fact that he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

She knew that Xander had experienced some of the same issues with his parents, although they hadn't locked him in a closet. His dad had smacked him around when Xander was young, though, and Willow knew that he did everything in his power to distance himself from the family gatherings that often turned into drunken free-for-alls.

In fact, of all the parents Willow knew, Buffy's mom was the only one who was both actively involved and, well, nice.

Although, at this point, Willow could probably include Giles with "parents."

Willow wasn't sure what to say to him. There was nothing she could say that would make it better, that would remove the memories, so she did what she had done for Xander when he'd show up on her doorstep with the expression on his face that said that things at home were bad.

When she put her arms around him, Willow felt him return the embrace, holding on tightly. They held each other in the early morning light, knowing that sometimes words were unnecessary.

~~~~~

"What did he have to say?" Joyce asked anxiously as Giles hung up the phone.

There had been enough phone calls coming in from the Council over the past few days that Joyce had come to recognize Quentin Travers voice without any trouble. She'd called the university, telling the administration that Buffy had contracted mono and wouldn't able to attend classes for a while. Her fear at this point was that the Initiative's presence in Sunnydale, and their interest in Buffy, would make it impossible for her to go back to college.

Joyce wanted Buffy home; her mother's heart needed visual evidence that her daughter was fine.

At the moment, their best hope was that the Council would be able to convince the government to leave Buffy alone. Travers hadn't made any promises regarding Spike, and Giles hadn't asked for any. The Gem of Amara was better insurance than the Council could likely provide, particularly since the soldiers seemed disinclined to believe in anything magical or mystical.

"Travers said that he had managed to convince them that the Slayer wasn't a threat to them, and apparently his contact within the military was most understanding about the fact that duplicating the Slayer's powers is not possible through scientific means." Giles's expression was rueful. "Of course, if the Initiative is already going beyond their parameters, that might not help."

Joyce appreciated his honesty, but at the same time, she wished he wouldn't always deliver the truth in such an unvarnished fashion. "But Buffy can come back?"

"I believe that it's as safe as it's going to be," he replied. "Of course, I think it would be best if Buffy doesn't patrol alone, and if she weren't staying on campus, but I don't believe that she's in immediate danger."

Joyce bit back a sigh, wishing that made her feel better. She knew there were no guarantees for safety, not when it concerned the Slayer, but that didn't mean she didn't want that assurance. "I imagine Spike would agree with you there. From what he's said on the phone, I don't think he'll be letting her out of his sight anytime soon."

"The Initiative won't find it easy, dealing with the two of them," Giles said, his smile holding shades of Ripper. "One might almost hope that they do run into trouble. I don't think it would be the soldiers walking away unscathed."

"No, I don't think so either," Joyce said, unable to disagree with Giles' sentiment. After what they'd done to Buffy, she certainly didn't have any problems with them getting a taste of their own medicine.

The knock at the front door interrupted their conversation, and Giles went to answer it, staring at the young man standing on the porch. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Joyce Summers," the man replied. "Is she in?"

Giles moved so that he was blocking the doorway. "May I ask what this is about?"

"I wanted to talk to her about her daughter—Buffy." He smiled affably. "Is she available?"

"Rupert?" Joyce came up behind him. "Who is it?"

"Are you Mrs. Summers?"

She frowned. "Yes. Can I help you?"

"I'm Riley Finn," he introduced himself. "I don't know if Buffy told you anything about me, but—"

"We know who you are," Giles said, his voice cold. Turning slightly to look at Joyce, he explained, "He's one of the soldiers."

Joyce drew herself up, her eyes sparking with anger. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're not welcome here, not after what you did to my daughter."

Giles went to close the door, but Riley's boot got in the way. "Look, I don't know what you think happened, but I wasn't a part of it. The story is that Buffy was working with vampires, and they attacked the squad she was with. I know Buffy well enough to know that's not true. I don't know what she told you, though."

Giles regarded him steadily for a long time, finding that Riley met his eyes without fidgeting, and he finally nodded. "We can talk, but not here. I have a bookstore off of Maple. You can meet me there tomorrow. It closes at seven; be there shortly beforehand."

Riley looked as though he was ready to argue, but he finally nodded. "I'll be there."

"Do you believe him?" Joyce asked once she was certain he was gone.

"I do," Giles said, although he didn't look terribly happy about it. "Finn was the one Buffy was first in contact with, and I think she trusted him. Perhaps wrongly, but I don't know why he would want to know what story she'd told us."

Joyce wasn't quite so ready to let go of her suspicions. "He might try to find out where Buffy is."

Giles smiled, but there was no humor in the expression, only danger. "He could try."

~~~~~

Wesley wasn't sure what he thought about this idea; it was one thing to suggest that Xander patrol with them, something else altogether to actually do it. Although he knew that he'd been virtually worthless out on patrol at one time, Wesley didn't have much hope that Xander had gotten over it in the recent past.

Of course, he couldn't actually reject Xander's help on that basis. It would be rather like the pot calling the kettle black.

When Xander showed up at his apartment, obviously ready to go, they stared at each other for a long time. "Where's Willow?" the younger man finally asked.

"She couldn't make it," Wesley replied. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Xander responded, watching as Wesley grabbed his weapons and a jacket. The thought had crossed his mind that it simply wasn't fair that the ex-Watcher had once made him look cool and now definitely outranked him.

"Where do you think we ought to start?" Wesley asked, not necessarily because he wanted to hear Xander's opinion, but because it seemed the diplomatic thing to do.

Xander shrugged. "How about Restfield? Buffy usually finds a few vampires there."

Wesley nodded. "Lead the way."

"I thought Willow was supposed to come along," Xander said as they walked towards the cemetery.

"She had a test to study for." Wesley's voice was perfectly even, and Xander couldn't help but wonder what was going on between the two of them. They appeared close, and at least moving towards the sort of closeness that Willow had had with Oz.

Xander wasn't sure how he felt about that, not that he thought he had any say in the matter. Willow could and would date anyone she wanted to, but after what had happened with Oz—after seeing how broken Willow had been—Xander wondered when he'd be called upon to pick up the pieces again.

Besides, it was Wesley.

"Did you want to say something to me?" Wesley asked. Xander kept glancing over at him, the look on his face a mixture of uncertainty and distaste.

"What are you planning on doing with Willow?"

Wesley stopped, staring at the younger man in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Xander squared his shoulders. "What are your intentions with Willow?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," Wesley replied with some heat. "Our relationship is private, and it's between the two of us."

"Look, Willow has been my best friend since kindergarten," Xander said. "I just want to be sure that you're not going to hurt her."

"I would never hurt Willow," Wesley said, hurt creeping into his tone. "I'm not that kind of man."

Xander frowned. "Look, last time I knew, you were after Cordelia, and—"

"Cordelia and I are friends," Wesley replied. "It simply didn't work out between us."

They stared at each other for a long moment—two men with very little in common, except concern for their mutual friends.

Xander took a deep breath. "So..."

"Shall we go back to patrolling?" Wesley suggested.

"Just as long as you understand that if you hurt Willow, I will hurt you."

Wesley barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Fine. Now that we understand one another, can we get back to business?"

"Sure. Just as long as we're clear."

"Crystal."

Amazingly enough, they actually managed to stake the three vampires they ran across that night.

~~~~~

"Hey, luv. We're here."

Buffy came out of her light doze slowly, blinking sleepily at her boyfriend. "Huh?"

"We're in L.A., luv," he said, smiling. "At the friend's place I told you about? You ready to get out of the car for a bit?"

Buffy nodded, stretching. "Yeah, sorry. I wasn't much company for the drive down."

"We didn't get much sleep last night," Spike said, giving her a wicked smile. "And I don't plan on getting much tonight either."

She raised an eyebrow. "As long as you promise to sleep at some point."

"Don't worry about me, pet."

"I'll worry about you if I want to," Buffy shot back, sticking out her tongue at him playfully.

Spike smirked. "Better watch that tongue of yours, Slayer. I might have to put it to use."

Buffy just smiled sweetly. "Name the place and the time. I'll show you how it's done."

His eyes darkened. "Maybe we should just go find a hotel room," Spike suggested.

Buffy looked wistful. "Not that I want to be the voice of reason, but isn't your friend waiting for us?"

"Yeah," Spike said, looking over her shoulder through the passenger window. "Looks like he's sending out the help, too."

Sure enough, there was a sharply dressed man opening Buffy's door for her. She got out, looking over at Spike, who had opened his own door. "The bag's in the trunk," he said, tossing the keys to the man. "I take it Robert's waiting for us."

"He's been expecting you, sir."

Spike nodded. "Right, then. Better get inside. Ready, Buffy?"

"Sure," Buffy said bravely, trying not to let onto how intimidated she was. She'd had friends at Hemery who'd had "help," and she knew that Cordelia's family had employed a maid or two, but the home she found herself in front of was palatial.

Buffy was also aware that their host wasn't completely human, and she had no idea how he felt about the Slayer. While she was certain that Spike wouldn't have brought her if there were any danger, she had never really known any other demons except for Spike and Angel.

Her fears were quickly laid to rest, however, because Robert met them at the door with a warm smile. "Spike! I'm glad you could make it."

"We appreciate the hospitality," Spike replied, returning the handshake. "This is Buffy. Buffy, this is Robert."

"It's nice to meet you," Buffy replied.

Robert's silver eyes glowed. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. I'm glad I can finally meet the woman who managed to steal Spike's heart. There were a number of us who didn't believe it could be done."

"Have you known Spike long?" Buffy inquired curiously, following him into a study and taking the seat he offered.

"How long has it been?" Robert asked the vampire.

Spike shrugged. "Five, maybe ten years, I reckon. Haven't really kept track."

"Spike had quite the reputation for not getting emotionally involved," Robert stated. "When word started getting around that he'd become rather attached to the Slayer, there was quite a bit of money that exchanged hands."

Spike gave him a sour look. "And did you win your bet?"

"I didn't bet," Robert replied easily. "But I knew it was only a matter of time." He went over to the dry bar. "Would either of you like a drink?"

"Do you have soda?" Buffy asked.

"Of course," Robert replied. "I have to keep it around for one of my clients. He's a Draxal demon, and they're positively addicted to Diet Coke. Spike?"

"Scotch, neat," Spike said. "Did you get any more information?"

Robert handed them their drinks before sitting down again. "I did." He looked over at Buffy. "It seems your Council has involved themselves, which is most unusual. They've taken the Initiative's interest in the Slayer rather personally."

"It's in their best interests to keep Buffy in one piece, what with Faith in a coma," Spike remarked bitterly.

"Be that as it may, it's still unusual." Robert took a sip of his own drink. "As for my own sources, there are rumors that the head of the project has been raising a few eyebrows. She is apparently a scientist, and not military, and therefore not trusted by some of those in charge. It's my understanding that they may be looking for an excuse to remove her."

"So if we make it really obvious that this isn't working, the project could get shut down?" Buffy asked eagerly.

"Certainly redirected," Robert corrected gently. "I doubt that they would shut the entire project down; they've spent quite a bit of money on it up to this point."

"Might get them to relocate it, though," Spike said. "If what they're doing goes beyond mission parameters or some such rubbish, they might decide to go back to doing actual soldier work."

"One might hope," Robert replied. He stood. "I should let the two of you get freshened up for dinner. As Spike can tell you, Buffy, my cook is quite good."

Spike waited until they were alone in their room before speaking. "So what did you think?"

"He's really nice," Buffy said honestly. "I'm glad you wanted me to meet him, Spike. I'd like to get to know your friends."

"Never really thought of Robert as a friend," he admitted. "He was more a business associate who kept good alcohol on hand. After this whole thing, though... He offered both of us a safe place to stay, and he didn't have to do that."

"Well, I'm glad we came," Buffy said. "I forgot to ask. Did Giles call?"

"Yeah. Supposed to tell you that all's clear to head back to town whenever."

Buffy groaned. "Which means as soon as possible."

Spike shrugged. "Knew it couldn't last forever."

Buffy wrapped her arms around him. "At least we're going into this together."

He held her close, grateful that they'd managed the time away, even though Buffy had had to come so close to death to do it. Whatever came, they would be meeting it together.

~~~~~

The dim, nearly ancient corridor of the Sunnydale hospital was mostly deserted. The rooms were unoccupied for the most part, the hospital administration preferring to keep the nicer rooms for people who could appreciate them.

Or people who had visitors who could appreciate them.

The teenage girl in the rather bare room received no guests, nor did she get flowers or cards. Her only visitors were the doctors and nurses who came by periodically to check her vital signs and note them in her chart.

The fact that so few people came around might have had something to do with why no one noticed when her eyes began moving behind closed eyelids, indicating that she was awakening.

And why no one was there to greet her when her eyes did open.