Shattered Ch. 6/? (Willow/Angel)

[eyes_of_laura_mars]

 

"So, little sis started school today," Spike said.

He was at Buffy's grave. He went there every night to talk to her, feel close to her. And apprise her of the things going on in Dawn's life, as well as the occasional tid bit about the others she left behind.

"You'd be right proud of her," he went on. "The way she's handling herself and everything. It's remarkable the way she's managed, all things considered."

"But, she misses you like mad, of course. They all do."

"I miss you," he added quietly.

"God, how I miss you. Miss you tellin' me what a monster I am. How you could never want me an' all that. Just miss your voice. Miss all of you."

He laughed ruefully. "You know, you were right about that bloody bot," he admitted. "It's not real. Not you, could never even compare. Don't know how I could have ever been so daft as to think it could ever be a substitute for the real thing. I can barely stand to look at the abomination. When she talks, the things she says, about me, things I wanted her to say."

He clenched his jaw tight in anger. He was angry at himself. His eyes prickled with tears. He sniffed and straightened, clearing his throat.

"Right then," he announced. "I should shove off. I'm watching the bit tonight, the others got some important things to take care of. Seems like a lot of that lately," he mused. He shrugged. "Well, suits me just fine. Dawn's the only one of 'em I care to be around anyway. She's the only one that has a piece of you."

He ran a hand over the top of the grave, careful not to disturb the stone lying on it  that had appeared since his last visit.

That's a Jewish thing, innit? he mused. Red must've been by.

"Well I know you don't care to hear it and all that, but... I love you Buffy."

He clenched his eyes tight shut for a moment, allowing the tears to spill, then took his hand off the grave and walked away.


 

Willow had been sleeping less and less as the night neared. Though, she really needed to rest when she was going to be performing such a powerful spell in just a few nights time.

But, how could she sleep?

It was just days until they brought Buffy back. Or attempted to anyway.

No, no attempting. It's going to work. It has to. She took in a deep calming breath.

It's going to work, she told herself again. The words had become a sort of mantra to her. Everything's all set. All the elements are in place. All that's left is to do it. Then Buffy will be back and everything will be as it should be.

She kept saying these things to herself, building her resolve as she approached Buffy's grave.

When she stepped on a twig she frightened herself and jumped. She looked down at her feet and laughed at herself.

You would think after the kind of things I've been through these past years I wouldn't scare so easily.

While her eyes were on the ground she saw something that made her heart clench. There were cigarette butts scattered at a respectable distance from the headstone. A lot of them.

She knew they could only belong to one person.

She wasn't really surprised that he had been here, but judging by the amount of butts she wondered how often he visited, how long he stayed.

She found herself hoping that when Buffy came back she would be able to see for herself the change that had occurred in Spike.

She doubted that she would ever want to date him or anything, but maybe she would go a bit easier on him.

"Hey Buffy," she ventured tentatively. "It's me, Willow. I just wanted to come and let you know that it's almost time. We're almost ready. I'm gonna get you out."

She could feel that lump that was never far from her throat begin to surface.

"I know that it's not going to make what I did better," she admitted. "But it's a way that I can begin to make amends with you, for the way I betrayed you. I know no matter what, if you really knew what happened you would hate me forever, and well, I deserve it. And you deserve to be here, alive to hate me forever."

So, there it was again.

Willow had kept insisting that the reason for wanting to bring Buffy back was because she believed in the possibility that she was suffering in some hell dimension.

 

And that was true, but what also fuelled her determination to resurrect the Slayer was guilt. She thought that if she were able to give Buffy her life back it would be a way to make it up to her for what happened with Angel.

Something that never would have happened had Buffy not died in the first place.

Another thing Willow felt responsible for.

But that she could fix. She couldn't erase what had happened with Angel, but she could and would give Buffy her life back. And rescue her from her current hell.

She just kept reminding herself of that every time she felt tortured by her guilt that what she was going through couldn't possibly compare to what Buffy must be enduring wherever she was. So, she could deal.

"Don't worry Buffy," she said. "You just have to hold on for a little longer, everything will be okay. Once you're back everything will be just fine."

It was very late (early) by the time Willow tramped into the Summers home. She glanced at the couch expecting to see Dawn and Spike curled up there again. But it was empty.

She shrugged and plodded up stairs. She was bone tired and ready to drop on her and Tara's soft fluffy bed and slip into unconsciousness. But she heard something coming from Buffy's room that halted her.

Her brow wrinkled. Is that crying?

She slowly made her way over to the door that was open just a slit. She thought it must be Dawn and her chest constricted thinking of the pain the young girl must be going through. But as she got closer she could tell the sound was not coming from a teenage girl.

She pushed the door open just wide enough to see inside.

Her breath hitched looking at the figure sitting on the end of Buffy's bed. Spike's shoulders were hunched over, his face was buried in something he was holding in his hands.

Buffy's shirt, Willow realised.

And there was that damn lump again.

Willow hovered in the doorway, not sure what to do. Part of her wanted to go over to the vampire and hug him, hold him, try to comfort him somehow.

But another part of her didn't think that Spike would welcome her consoling.

She bit her lip and just stood there, her gaze shifting from the man on the bed to the empty hall. Finally she decided to try and slip away quietly.

She wasn't successful.

"I know you're there, Red," Spike's low voice halted her.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, um," she stammered. "I was just going to bed and I heard… I thought it might be Dawn."

" 'S’all right, pet," Spike interrupted, looking over his shoulder at her. "I'm not ashamed. Real men cry, only insecure tossers try to hide their tears."

Willow gave a small smile and ventured into the room. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Do you wanna, I don't know, talk maybe?"

Spike chuffed. "Well, now lets not get crazy here."

He stood up taking in a slow, deep, unneeded breath. "Well," he cleared his throat. "Guess it's time for me to shove off then, eh?"

He walked passed her to the door. "Night, Red."

 

"Spike, wait," she called.

He turned and gave her an expectant look.

Willow wanted to tell him that he didn't need to feel like this, that he didn't have to be sad because Buffy would be back soon and it would be okay.

But how could she do that when no matter how much she tried to deny it there was still that chance something would go wrong and she would fail? Then the pain would only be that much worse after having been given that glimmer of hope.

"Yeah, pet?"

"Um, good night," Willow muttered. "Sleep well and be careful on the way home." She threw him a weak smile.

Spike gave her a look that was a mixture of amusement and him thinking she was a complete nutter.

But he just said, "Thanks," and left.

Willow sighed and sank down on Buffy's bed.

Goddess, please let the spell work. Please let Buffy come back to the people who love her so they can forget this pain.

And that included Angel.

***

It didn't work.

The whole forgetting thing. It wasn't working for Angel.

He tried. Tried as hard as he could.

It helped sometimes, whenever the thought of the girl with red hair and skin like ivory would drift into his head, for him to go out and kill something.

As a result he had gotten rid of so many vampires and demons in the last few weeks than he had in all his years of fighting the good fight in Sunnydale.

And then when he was through he would drag his sorry ass back to the Hyperion just minutes before morning and go to bed.

And that's where the trouble lied.

Because no matter how much he struggled to distract himself during his waking hours, there was absolutely nothing he could do to drive the woman from his dreams.

The vision of her in his dreams was even more relentless now than it had been weeks before.

He figured it was because he had shoved her so hard from his consciousness when he was awake, that she was the only thing that remained in his sub-conscious mind and her memory resented being hidden away there, so it attacked him with a full assault as soon as he closed his eyes.

And every morning he would wake up with another pair of sheets ruined from the attack.

When he woke up the sheets were sticky like they always were.

He sighed, frustrated.

Closing his eyes, the vision of her still tattooed on the back of his eye lids.

Oh, Willow. His member stirred.

Well, since the sheets were already messy...

 

TBC...