Disclaimer: All the characters and stuff belong to Joss Whedon, not me.
 
I would like to thank my beta SanityFair for her hard work. She had it done 10 days ago, and I was too brain dead from work to notice it was in my inbox! Hopefully, my loyal readers will forgive me!
 
*******************
Chapter 16
*******************
 
Willow slowly opened the door to the hotel room, finding it dark and as empty as she had left it. Hoisting a heavy bag on her shoulder, she lugged it over to the dresser to set it down before flopping on the bed, exhausted. She had walked all over the campus, looking for Tara, inquiring at the housing office, combing the library, but there was no sign of her. She had walked the streets of Sunnydale, checking out all their usual haunts, but she once more came up empty. She had finally returned to the Magic Box, to find that Anya and Xander had closed up shop and gone home for the night.
 
Willow let herself into the empty shop, locking the door again behind her and flipping on some lights. The store was tidy and ready for the next day. The only thing out of place was the book of magical herbs, still left open on the table. Willow ran her fingers over the page, thinking. She must be really mad at me, if she won’t even talk to me. But where can she be? Is she okay? She’s been mad at me before, but at least she talked to me about it. She sat down and buried her face in her hands. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just wanted us not to fight. That’s all. No one seems to understand me anymore.
 
After a long wallow in the depths of self-pity, Willow got up and started looking through the bookshelves for inspiration. Where are the ‘do-over’ spells? Can I just do control-alt-delete and start again? After a while, Willow found herself drifting up to the little loft that contained the books on dark magic, the ones that Giles wanted kept far away from the general public. She hesitated then picked out several ponderous tomes and hauled them down to the table. Another trip and she had quite a stack that she jammed into an extra carrying bag from the office. She shut off the lights, locked up the store, and started the long walk back to the hotel.
 
Now that she was alone, she pulled out some of the books and lay on her stomach, reading. There were several problems to solve. She needed to find Tara and talk things out with her. But for some reason, all her spells were going wonky today, so she first needed to find out what was wrong with her magic. Then she could find Tara, apologize, and get back to work trying to help Buffy. Although Giles had said she was making progress, the progress sounded painfully slow. Buffy had to be suffering – was she the only one who could see that? Why let her suffer for weeks and weeks when they could cut it short and have her back again sooner? The whole idea just seemed so simple to Willow, but first she needed to figure out why her spells were bombing.
 
After a few hours of research, she sat up and tried a few spells. Simple things, like levitation were a breeze, as always. She conjured a bouquet of flowers out of thin air, turned them into butterflies, then made them all vanish again without breaking a sweat. She went down to the lobby and talked to the desk clerk, asking him a complicated question about the location of the nearest drugstore, then returned to her room. She performed a memory spell, then went back downstairs, and asked the question again, noting with satisfaction that the clerk acted like he had never spoken to her before. She thanked him once more, then returned again to her room, puzzled as ever. Ok, so memory spells, conjuring, and all that still works. Could it be something with doing spells at a distance? She thought for a moment about how to test that. Concentrating on Xander she sent a mental message across the town. Xander! Call me, right away!
 
She waited a minute or two and then sighed with relief as the phone rang. “Hello? Xander?”
 
“Willow?” Xander said in a breathless voice. “What in the great googly moogly was that?”
 
“Sorry to startle you. I just wanted to test something out about my range.”
 
“Well, Jesus, don’t do that again!” Xander said. “I was…ahem, busy, and you damn near gave me a heart attack.” He looked over at Anya lying naked on the bed and rolling her eyes.
 
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” Willow babbled. “You can go back to whatever you were doing. I promise I won’t do that again unless it’s an emergency.”
 
“Great. Good night, Willow.” Willow hung up, more puzzled than ever. So my magic works, and my range is good – I could get into Xander’s head from across town. Why can’t I find Tara then? Could she have left town? Her locator spell had assumed Sunnydale. That could explain why it didn’t work. Willow frowned in concentration returning to the spell books. It was nearly three in the morning when she hit upon a solution. Ok, how about a spell that makes her want to find me? If I enhance my range a little more then she should want to contact me wherever she is. Reading the spell over again to make sure she had it right, she prepared for the first incantation.
 
The enhancement spell called for a black candle, a blessed blade, and her blood. She cast a circle, lit the candle, and began to chant, with the blade in her left hand. “Send my power, far and wide. Strong as earth and moon and tide…” At a critical juncture she ran the blade over her right palm, dripping blood onto the candle until the flame was extinguished. “So mote it be.” A wind sprung up out of nowhere, spiraling around her, lifting her hair into red flames about her head. She jerked as the power entered her, her eyes growing black and wide. Then just as suddenly the wind vanished, and all was still as Willow came back to herself, panting and bleeding.
 
Wow. She sat back, a little startled. The sensation had been both terrifying and exhilarating, like a thousand cups of coffee at the same time with some hallucinogens thrown in for good measure. Getting shakily to her feet she went to the bathroom and found a towel to wrap her hand in. Her face in the mirror looked pale and her eyes far too wide. Okay, that was about 8.5 on the old Richter scale. A small corner of her mind was sounding an alarm, telling her to quit while she was ahead. Can I control this? But the part of her mind that was still buzzing from the high won out, and after splashing her face with some water and tending to her hand, she went back into the other room.
 
Once more sitting down on the rug, she lit another candle, red this time. She made a pentagram of lavender flowers around the candle and burned a small amount of dried sage as she chanted, “Draw her to me, as a moth to the flame. Let the fragrance of my love enter her mind.” She sent her power out in a diffuse web, spreading out in no particular direction, but with Tara’s sweet face as its object. She felt a little twinge, as if her power was being deflected in places, but she ignored the discomfort and concentrated, sending out the spell as far as she could. When she reached the limits of her power she paused, picturing Tara, her hair shining in the sunlight. I love you. Come back to me. We can work this out. Finally, she relaxed, feeling the power rush back to her in a wave. She blew out the candle and staggered, exhausted, into bed.
 
*************
 
Despite her progress the previous day, the night was a bad one for Buffy. Nightmares had gripped her three times during the night, terrible dreams of death and demons and torment. Each time Spike had been there to wake her, hold her, and soothe her back to sleep. Across the hall Dawn had been able to sleep through the screams, but Tara had sat bolt upright with her heart in her throat. The wrenching terror in Buffy’s voice brought tears to Tara’s eyes. She had been unable to sleep after that. As she lay there, she thought of Willow, wondering what she should do. She made up her mind at last to go talk to her in the morning, knowing that the longer she let it go, the more likely Willow was to do something rash.Her brain knew this was the right thing, but her stomach churned at the thought of confronting Willow. Confrontation had never been Tara’s strong suit. She thought about asking Dawn or Giles to go with her, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. This issue was between her and Willow.
 
Dawn was up early the next morning to get ready for school, but she was the only one who felt like rising after the long night of broken sleep. Giles got up in time to see her disappear out the back door as he blearily began to make himself a pot of tea. As he stared out the window he heard a noise behind him and turned to find a tousled looking Spike entering the kitchen. “Morning,” mumbled the vampire as he rummaged in the fridge for some blood. “I could do with a spot of tea if you’re willing to share.”
 
Suppressing a sigh, Giles answered, “Reach me two cups then, if you will.” Spike handed over two cups to Giles, poured the blood into a third, and put it in the microwave. “I take it she had a difficult night.”
 
“Yeah.” Spike took his blood and sat down. He took a huge gulp and ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “She couldn’t articulate what the dreams were about, but she was screaming, crying, and clinging to me like ivy. Lather, rinse, repeat, all night. Took me about ten minutes to extract myself without waking her, so I could sneak down for some breakfast. She had me in a death grip the whole bloody night.”
 
Giles frowned at the image, but still set two cups of tea on the table. “Does she seem to remember anything more after these nightmares?”
 
Spike downed the rest of his blood and reached for the tea. “Hard to say. She was so hysterical. She could barely speak. Maybe she’ll have something to say this morning.” After a few sips of tea shared in silence Spike asked, “Did you get hold of your contacts in England?”
 
Giles shook his head. “I left a message for the leader of a powerful coven who works with the council sometimes. I asked her to call me as soon as possible today.”
 
“What are we going to do in the meantime?” Spike pressed. “Do Tara and Buffy have to stay here like prisoners so Red doesn’t hex them to the point of no return?”
 
“I will have to meet with her later to discuss this situation,” Giles said, in a tone that indicated how little he relished the idea.
 
“Hope your magic is stronger than hers, or you could be in for a world of trouble.”
 
Giles looked curiously at the vampire. “Do you really think Willow would try to deliberately hurt someone?”
 
“Magic is power, and power corrupts. If she’s tripping on that power, she may not be able to stop before she does something we all regret,” Spike answered grimly.
 
Giles was about to protest further when they heard a noise from upstairs. A moment later Tara came into the kitchen, with circles under her red eyes. “Morning,” she said. “Is there any coffee?”
 
“Afraid there’s just tea this morning,” Spike said. “Comes of letting two Englishmen into your kitchen.”
 
“That’s alright. Mr. Coffee and I are well acquainted.” Tara busied herself with the coffee maker while the two men sat, each drinking their tea in silence.
 
“What are your plans today, Tara?” Giles inquired as Tara finally sat down with her coffee.
 
Tara stared into her mug. “I feel like I should go talk to Willow.”
 
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, pet?” Spike asked.
 
“I need to hear what she has to say,” Tara said. “I just… I need to hear.” Despite her hurt and betrayal, she couldn’t just walk away from Willow without some sort of explanation.
 
“May I suggest a neutral meeting place then?” Giles said with a note of concern.
 
“I’ll meet her at the coffee shop and just see how it goes.” They all found themselves with nothing much to say as they finished their drinks.
 
*******************
 
Willow sat at the local espresso bar with a cappuccino and a muffin, but she was too apprehensive to eat much. Tara had called her this morning, and although she had had little sleep she bolted out of bed to answer the phone. Tara had been subdued and noncommittal on the phone but had asked to meet her at the coffee shop at eleven that morning. Elated that her spell had apparently worked, she had showered and dressed and arrived early to stake out a quiet table for two in a corner. She sipped at her foamy drink and nibbled a few crumbs, but her stomach was in knots as she thought about what to say to Tara.
 
The blonde witch finally arrived, biting her lip when she saw Willow. Tara got herself a cup of coffee and moved over to the table with Willow. She sat down, saying nothing at first, just looking at Willow, and trying to work out how they had gotten to this point. At last Willow couldn’t stand it anymore and blurted out, “Tara, I just want to… to apologize. I know I shouldn’t have done that spell but…”
 
“But what?” Tara interrupted. She brought her eyes up to meet Willow’s and the red haired witch was nearly knocked backward by the pain they held. “What possible reason can you have for… for raping me of my memories like that? For making me wonder if I was going crazy?”
 
Raping her? Willow was completely floored by Tara’s statement. “Tara, sweetie, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted not to fight with you. I love you.” She reached out to touch Tara’s hand, but Tara jerked away.
 
“If you don’t want to fight, then you don’t fight. You don’t use magic to make the fight disappear. You don’t erase my memory just because I don’t agree with you.”
 
“But everything was so tense. We were all upset, and I just wanted to make things better for us,” Willow explained.
 
“You don’t get to decide what’s better for us. We’re in a relationship. We both get a say in how it goes.”
 
Willow chewed her lip and looked down at her coffee. “I know I screwed up. I went about this all wrong.”
 
“Willow, you’ve been trying to solve all your problems the same way. Any time something gets rough, you do a spell without even considering any other options, without even listening to any other possibilities. You’re doing it to me, and you’re trying to do it to Buffy, and it’s got to stop!” Tara’s voice rose to the point that a few people nearby raised some eyebrows.
 
“Tara, baby, I’m so sorry,” Willow said desperately. “What can I do to make this right?”
 
“I don’t know,” Tara said sadly. “Right now I just can’t be around you. I don’t trust you.”
 
Her flat statement stunned Willow. “I swear I’ll never do anything to you without your permission ever again. I promise. Please, don’t…”
 
“I…” Tara wavered for a moment, then stood up. “I need some time to myself for a while. Maybe we can start over someday, but not now. Right now, I just… can’t.” Stifling a sob, Tara turned and fled the restaurant, leaving Willow stunned in her wake.
 
*******************
 
Demons. They were coming in from all sides, battering at the door. The blonde girl was on her knees chanting something and the dark haired boy was fighting off a demon. Her angel was in trouble, she had to get to him before the demons hurt him. For some reason he couldn’t defend himself but the demons kept coming and coming, and she couldn’t get to him through the throng. And in the corner was the red-haired witch, watching the chaos, not a part of it, but it was her doing, it was all her doing, and they were all in danger because of it…
 
Buffy jerked awake with a shriek, clutching the blankets. Just a dream, just a dream, she told herself. But then she noticed that Spike was gone, and she panicked, dashing out of the bedroom frantically. “Spike? Spike!”
 
Spike heard the commotion and dashed out of the kitchen. “Buffy? What it is it?” He collided with her at the bottom of the stairs where she clung to him and sobbed with relief.
 
“You’re s-safe. Not hurt,” she cried, burying her face in his chest.
 
“Just can’t catch a break from the nightmares, can you?” Spike said. He led her into the living room and sat her down on the couch. “What do you remember? Can you tell me?”
 
“D-demons. We we’re fighting. Me a-and you. Others too. W-Willow did it. M-made the d-demons come.” She shivered at the memory.
 
Giles had followed them, leaning against the door frame and listening to Buffy’s tale. A thought struck him. “Do you think she’s remembering Willow’s ‘my will be done spell’?”
 
“Could be,” Spike agreed. Facing Buffy he said, “Were we in a tomb? Me and you, Xander and Anya? Demons coming in all over the place?”
 
“Y-yes. Was that r-real?” This wasn’t a nightmare? It really happened? Her eyes got wide at the implications of that.
 
“Yeah, it happened. Red was upset because her boyfriend left, did a spell that went wrong.”
 
“Why is sh-she here? Hurts e-everyone.” Buffy couldn’t understand why they had allowed this dangerous person to stay around, near Dawn and Tara and the others. She understood that she was somehow chosen to fight bad things, but why hadn’t she dealt with this threat?
 
“Although she has made some mistakes, she has been your friend for several years now,” Giles explained.
 
Buffy shook her head. “Don’t remember. Just remember h-hurt. Hurt T-Tara. Hurt me.”
 
“Watcher’s telling you the truth, pet,” Spike said gently. “I know it’s hard to imagine right now, but she’s been your best mate for ages. She’s lost her way, and we need to get her back on track, but she’s on our side in the end.”
 
“Scared,” Buffy whispered, hiding in Spike’s shirt once more. “So scared.” She couldn’t put into words how much it terrified her to have so many holes in her mind, to not know what was real, what to trust.
 
Spike rocked her, murmuring nothings to her as Giles looked on. He loved Buffy like a daughter, and it was like a knife in his gut to watch her suffer so. I can almost see Willow’s point. If I could make her better with a wave of my arm, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment, if I knew there would be no consequences. The difference between Willow and himself, however, is that he was experienced enough to know that nothing came without consequences. He wanted to say something to ease the situation somehow, to make it better, but his tongue remained tied as his Slayer shuddered in the arms of a vampire.
 
Finally it was Spike who sat up and said, “You need some breakfast, love. Come on.” He stood up and brought her to the kitchen, sitting her down and serving her coffee and toast. As she ate she gradually unwound, responding to Spike’s gentle attempts at humor and his concern. Giles kept watching, getting himself another cup of tea, but otherwise just observing the skillful way Spike cajoled and coaxed Buffy out of her shell, a little at a time. By the end of the meal the storm was over and she was tentatively smiling back at Spike. “All finished?”
 
“Yes. Thanks.”
 
“Might want to consider getting out of your pajamas then, pet,” Spike said. “We can do some more sparring if you like.”
 
Buffy nodded and went upstairs to find some clothes while Spike cleared away the dishes under Giles’ watchful eyes. Finally, Spike turned around and leaned against the sink, his arms folded. “What? You’re looking at me like I’ve got an extra head. Out with it already.”
 
Giles pursed his lips in annoyance. “If you must know, I was marveling at your ability to calm her. It doesn’t quite…”
 
“Doesn’t fit with the big bad image, is that it?” Spike smirked and shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint. Even I get tired of being evil all the time.”
 
Giles took off his glasses and polished them, squinting at Spike like he was some newly discovered life form. “You are an infuriating creature. I don’t trust you. I don’t understand you. You shouldn’t be doing what you do and acting the way you act. By all rights, Buffy should have dusted you years ago. But here you are, and God help us all — she needs you.”
 
“Just killing you, isn’t it?” Spike turned to wash the dishes as he spoke. “I don’t fit into your little card catalog like all the other demons, and it just about drives you round the bend.”
 
“Please. I think you overestimate your importance somewhat.”
 
Spike dried his hands, tossed the towel on the counter, and leaned against it, staring down. “Don’t know what I can do to convince you that I mean her no harm. I haven’t harmed you or any of the rest of your merry little band since before all that business with Glory. Not planning to. But starting to get a little sick of you looking at me like I’m about to rip out her throat at any moment. I’m not your enemy already, so just lay off.” With that he stalked angrily out of the kitchen.
 
Spike was pacing the living room, trying to get his temper under control when Buffy came downstairs. He forced himself to smile at her. “Ready for a workout?”
 
Buffy looked at him. “You’re… angry?” she asked.
 
“Nothing to worry about,” he reassured her. “Let’s go downstairs, shall we?” He led the way, with Buffy following; still wondering what he was angry about.
 
“Should we do some exercises to warm up first?” When Buffy looked at him blankly he dropped to the ground and started doing pushups until she got the idea. They quickly made a game of it, seeing who could carry on the longest. Spike finally admitted defeat after a hundred when it appeared that Buffy could cheerfully keep going forever. “Bloody hell, woman. You’re like a machine.”
 
“C-can we… spar now?” Buffy asked, grinning at having worn him out.
 
“If I can,” Spike laughed. He got up and they squared off, starting slowly, but soon falling into their dance. Spike found it hard not to just stop and revel in how beautiful she was. The Slayer was never more attractive than when she was fighting. The way her body moved, the way she balanced and spun so effortlessly made him want to just pull up a chair and watch her for hours. This was a bit difficult to do while blocking punches and ducking under high kicks, truth be told. But he found himself growing ever more aroused by the display of her power in spite of himself. Admit it, William, that’s why you sought out the Slayers. They get you hot, always have. All that power in such a beautiful package.
 
His musing was interrupted by a shot from Buffy’s bare foot that sent him flying into the wall. As he lay there, stunned, Buffy shook herself for a moment before rushing over to see if he was okay. “Spike?”
 
“I’m alright, love. Just a little dazed, that’s all.” He staggered to his feet, trying to clear his ringing head. He made his way to a chair and sat down, like a prize-fighter retreating to his corner. “Can we call a time out for a while? Could use a bit of a breather.”
 
“Okay,” Buffy said. She plopped down on the floor at his feet and rested her head on his knee, panting with the exertion. As she rested she thought more about what she remembered of the demons and other trouble that Willow had called down on them in the past. Something happened between Spike and me. We were… connected somehow. Sitting up she asked, “What else h-happened? When she brought the d-demons?”
 
Spike looked confused for a moment, then realized she was referring to her dream again. “All sorts of things. Watcher went blind for a while, Harris couldn’t go anywhere without demons following him.”
 
“What happened with… us?” I seem to remember it wasn’t all bad, but I just don’t know.
 
Spike was sure that if he could blush he would be as red as his dinner right about then. “She, um…” Buffy looked at him curiously. Spike took a deep breath. “She made us think we were getting married.”
 
Buffy pondered that. “You said I didn’t l-love you.”
 
Spike laughed ruefully. “Neither of us was even the least bit attracted to the other at the time. The spell made us think we were engaged. Spent the whole day talking about wedding parties and invitations and all that rot. Bloody awkward it was.”
 
She leaned her head back on his knee, trying to remember. He was wearing a red shirt, I think. And I was looking up into his eyes and we were happy. She closed her eyes and just kept that image, him smiling down at her, blue eyes shining, his white hair curling just so. ”I remember,” she said. “Remember being happy.”
 
Spike stroked her hair. “I guess we were, while the spell lasted. All came crashing down in the end though.”
 
Buffy hardly heard his words as she reveled in the touch of his hand in her hair. The only place where she felt secure and in control in this confusing world that she had landed in was in the arms of this… man, not angel. He’s a man of some sort, and he loves me. She turned and looked up at him again. “You love me n-now?”
 
“Yes, Buffy. I do,” he said with quiet honesty.
 
She reached up and pulled his face down, planting a tender kiss on his lips before she said, “I love you, Spike.”
 
“Oh, Buffy,” Spike breathed. His heart shattered at the words. It’s not her. Oh God, she loves me but it’s not really her, and what the hell do I do now. He tugged at her arms until she rose and took her on his lap, settling her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, for saying it. I’m just afraid that once you remember everything about me you’re going to regret those words.”
 
“No,” Buffy said, wrapping her arm around his back and kissing his neck gently. “You’re good.”
 
Oh God. He didn’t have a soul. Why the hell did he suddenly seem to have a bloody conscience? This was all so much easier when I was evil. “I wasn’t always good,” he said slowly. “I was very, very bad when we first met. So much so that we wanted to kill each other.”
 
Buffy shook her head against his shoulder. “I don’t c-care. Don’t remember. Don’t want to remember.”
 
“But the others do remember, pet. Giles, Willow, the others, they all remember what happened. They will get angry if they see us together.”
 
“Giles was angry?” Buffy queried, remembering the argument between the two men the day before.
 
“Yes. He thinks it’s not right for… for us to be together.”
 
“Don’t care,” she repeated stubbornly, squeezing him even tighter. “Need you.”
 
His brain ran through every possible way to say, “I’m a vampire” without actually saying “I’m a vampire” and nothing came up. You’ve got to tell her. You know you’ve got to tell her. But in the end he just couldn’t break that perfect moment. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here. But we need to be considerate of the others for now, alright?” She nodded her understanding but stayed curled up on his lap for a long time.
 
**********************
 
After she left the coffee shop, Willow was at a loss for what to do. She went back to the hotel in a daze. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, gradually sinking down to the floor and breaking down. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sobbed. Tara. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Never. When she finally cried herself out she got up to wash her face and stare at herself in the mirror. What now, Ms. Rosenberg?
 
The phone rang in the other room and she hurried to answer it, hoping against hope that it was Tara. “Willow? This is Rupert Giles.”
 
Shit. “H-hello Giles,” she said nervously. “What can I do for you?”
 
“I would like to discuss some matters with you,” he said. “Can we meet at the Magic Box at around three o’clock?”
 
Willow found she couldn’t quite tell if he was mad or what. “What’s this about?”
 
“I just have some questions for you about your magic,” he said noncommittally.
 
Since she couldn’t come up with any particularly good reason to decline she said, “Um, sure. I’ll be there at three.” She hung up and looked at the clock. It was noon. Suddenly very tired from the late night and the emotional outburst she set the alarm for 2:30 and lay down.
 
At three o’clock she walked into the Magic Box to find Giles already there, talking to Anya. “Hey guys,” she said, trying to sound more at ease than she was.
 
“Hello.” Giles was stony faced, giving nothing away. “I wondered if we could go into the office and talk privately.”
 
“Sure,” Willow responded. Her stomach did flip-flops as she followed Giles into the office.
 
“Please, sit down.” He gestured to one of the chairs and closed the door. Willow sat, feeling an awful lot like she was back in high school and getting called into the principal’s office. “Tara came to see me. She was extremely upset. Would you like to explain?”
 
“What… what did she say?” Willow asked. Maybe Tara didn’t give him the whole story. She found her defensive hackles rising.
 
“She said that you had performed a memory spell on her without her knowledge or permission. I would really like to hear your explanation for this.” When Willow didn’t immediately answer Giles sat up, folding his hands on the desk. “Please, enlighten me. What possible reason could you have for treating the woman you love this way?”
 
“It wasn’t… I just… I didn’t want to fight with her. I thought that it would be better if we just… started over.”
 
“Did you ever think to ask what she wanted?” Giles barked. “You could have permanently injured her! Was it worth it?”
 
“Look, I made a mistake, alright!” Willow cried. “I didn’t hurt her!”
 
“Perhaps not physically. But it will be a long time before she trusts you again. So was it worth it? Was that evening with no conflict good enough to risk an entire relationship over?” Giles’ voice had risen almost to a shout, despite his best efforts at keeping calm.
 
“Who are you to judge me?” Willow retorted. “When you were my age you were conjuring demons! Does the name Eyghon ring a bell? Nobody died because of my spells.”
 
Giles’ mouth opened and shut a few times with no words. Willow’s comment had hit him hard. Finally, he said, “I admitted long ago that I made some mistakes in my youth. I am merely trying to help you avoid making the same mistakes.”
 
“Look, I can handle the magic just fine. I don’t need a Watcher,” Willow said angrily.
 
“But you do need some instruction and guidance before you do something you regret. I have contacted a coven in England, and they are willing to take you on. You can go there, spend some time with them, and learn how to manage your power without abusing it. I’ll even help you with the plane fare.”
 
Willow was indignant. “So you think you can just ship me off somewhere? Because you’ve decided that you’re the judge and jury who gets to sentence me to… to magic reform school?”
 
Giles’ face clouded once more. He stood up. “You need help. You don’t see it, but the magic is taking hold of you and pretty soon you’re going to be lost. When that day comes I hope to hell you have enough friends left to drag you back from the abyss.” He turned and stormed out of the office and out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.
 
Anya poked her head into the office. “Wow. What was that all about?”
 
“Just Giles being paranoid about my magic again,” Willow said evasively. She supposed the situation between her and Tara would come out at some point, but she just didn’t feel like discussing it at the moment.
 
“Why? Have you been casting spells we don’t know about? By the way, what was that mental shouting at Xander last night? He was in the middle of giving me orgasms when you interrupted us.”
 
Willow blushed – she never could quite get used to Anya’s complete lack of verbal filter. “I just wanted to see if my range was improving. I’ve been working on it.”
 
Anya gave her a look that showed some doubts but then said, “Well could we not practice the range without advanced warning next time? I think we’re entitled to some mental privacy.”
 
“Sorry,” Willow mumbled. She sat followed Anya back into the big room. A customer came in and Anya bustled off to help him, leaving Willow to park herself at the research table. She got out a notebook and halfheartedly started looking through some class notes but found herself closing the notebook again after about ten minutes. She got up and started looking through the book titles, finding a strange comfort in the dusty tomes. She looked longingly up the stairs at the dark magic books but wrenched her gaze away after a moment or two. Too many explanations if Anya catches me up there. Her mind was running in a couple of well-worn tracks. How do I get Tara back? How do I get Giles off my case? How do I help Buffy? These questions looped over and over in her head as she searched for inspiration in the stacks.
 
*******************
 
“What’s this then?”
 
Buffy concentrated on the object Spike was holding. Round bottom… used for soup and stuff like that. “Ladle?” she asked.
 
“Correct again. You’re improving,” he approved. After their sparring session they had watched some TV while Giles spoke to the coven, called Willow then went out to do some errands before confronting the wayward witch. Tara hadn’t come back after her interview with Willow, and Dawn had a study session planned with Janice after school, so the two of them had the house to themselves for several hours. After a very late lunch, Spike had decided to quiz Buffy about more words, trying to rebuild her vocabulary by working through the kitchen. Some objects completely mystified her, but Spike wasn’t sure if that was the amnesia, or the fact that the girl probably knew only slightly more about cooking than he did. But she was keen to keep trying, desperate to at least remember what things were called, even if she couldn’t remember events. Now Spike rummaged in the utensil drawer and came up with something he didn’t quite recognize. “What the hell’s this?” he mused to himself.
 
Buffy looked astonished. “You don’t remember?”
 
Spike laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever known. Maybe it’s for serving pasta…?” Buffy giggled at the idea that her teacher was stumped by some of these objects as well. Shrugging, Spike threw it back in the drawer. “Should we quit for now?”
 
“Okay,” Buffy said. She wandered back into the living room, looking at various things, stopping to pick up a picture of her mother from the mantle. She stared for a long time at her mother’s face, running her fingers gently over the glass. Spike came to stand beside her, putting a hand on her back for comfort. “You… knew her?”
 
“She was a great lady,” Spike said. “Always had a cup of cocoa and a listening ear when you needed it. I miss her too, sometimes.”
 
A single tear made its way down Buffy’s cheek. “Hurt to… leave her,” she whispered. “Wanted to s-stay.”
 
“I know,” he whispered back. Buffy shakily put the picture back on its perch and turned to Spike, wrapping her arms around him. He held her, wishing for the hundredth time that he could do something more than give her a shoulder to cry on. He stroked her hair over and over, planting kisses on her head and whispering soothing nothings.
 
After a while Buffy sniffled and unburied her face from Spike’s shirt. She realized that she had this habit of constantly crying at the drop of a hat and wondered if it bothered her protector. “Sorry,” she murmured, still staring into his chest. “Can’t stop.”
 
“You don’t have to worry, pet. I can take it, and so can my shirts.”
 
Buffy looked up at him, at the concern and support in his eyes and reached up to kiss him. Spike closed his eyes and returned the kiss, letting himself enjoy the moment for once. Fuck it. There’s no one here to disapprove. He unfortunately was not quite correct in this assumption.
 
***************
 
It had been a very long day for Xander. The boss had been in a foul mood all day, finding fault with everyone and everything. By the end of the day Xander was considering calling up Willow and asking her to turn him into a cockroach or something. In the end, he decided that Giles would most decidedly object to that course of action and resorted to swearing under his breath. As he drove home he found himself once again wondering what had been eating Willow and Tara last night. They had both seemed upset, but neither gave any particular indication of why. Probably still fighting over magic, he mused. Xander had to say that he tended to fall into Willow’s camp on this one. Yes, they sort of screwed up by pulling Buffy out of heaven. But he had a really hard time feeling bad because his best friend was alive again. Buffy alive equals good thing. We just need to help her get back to her old self. If Willow can help do that faster, not sure why that’s such a problem. I mean, ok, take it easy, do your homework, but in the end, let’s just get her back!
 
As he drove he realized that he could very easily cruise by Buffy’s house on the way. I know they said to stay away, but they also said she was improving… He decided that the worst that could happen was that they could send him away again, so he turned into Revello Drive. He noticed that Joyce’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Did Giles go somewhere maybe? He parked and walked up to the front door, mentally rehearsing what he was going to say. As he was about to mount the front steps he glanced at the living room window then stopped. The curtains were mostly closed, but he could see figures through the gap. Maybe I’ll just get the lay of the land first, he thought. He walked quietly over to the window, stepping carefully over the low plantings, and cautiously peeked in. What he saw made his eyes bug out.
 
Buffy was kissing Spike. As Xander watched Spike closed his eyes and the kiss continued, both of them completely oblivious to his presence. He quickly backed away from the window. He made his way back to the car, shaking his head again and again. I did not just see that. He was kissing her! Does Giles know about this? How can we trust him alone with her? He was tempted to barge in there and stake Spike on the spot, but decided that would probably not go well. Instead he started his car and drove off to the Magic Box in a state of high agitation.
 
He got there to find Anya dusting some of the displays while Willow sat bent over a book. “Hi honey,” Anya said. “How was your day?”
 
“You won’t believe what I just saw,” he gasped.
 
“What is it?” Willow asked, wondering what could have upset Xander so much.
 
“I was on my way home, and decided to stop in at Buffy’s,” he began.
 
Anya interrupted with a frown. “After Dawn repeatedly told you not to?”
 
“It was on my way,” Xander said, by way of explanation. “Anyway, there was no car in the driveway, so I looked in the window to see if anyone was around, and I saw Buffy and Spike in the living room in a lip lock!”
 
“What?” Willow cried.
 
“They were in the living room, kissing. And I mean really kissing.” Xander paced around, running his hands through his hair. “We’ve got to tell Giles! I mean there’s no way we should be leaving them alone together!”
 
“Xander, are you sure you’re not overreacting again?” Anya asked. “I mean I hardly think it’s the end of the world.”
 
“But… but… he’s evil! If he’s kissing her what else could he be doing to her?”
 
Willow saw an opening. “I think we need to work even harder to get her back to her old self,” she insisted. “If we restore her memory, she’ll put Spike in his place, and Giles won’t have anything to complain about.”
 
“I’m with you, Will,” Xander said adamantly. “Enough is enough. We need the real Buffy back, now. Not four weeks from now when Spike has convinced her that they’re engaged or something.”
 
“I guess that didn’t work out so well last time,” Anya conceded. “But I still think Giles has a valid point. We don’t want to make things worse for her.”
 
“I had an idea about that actually,” Willow said. “Remember that enhancement spell we did when Buffy fought Adam?”
 
“Yeah, but I’m not quite sure how that applies here,” Xander answered.
 
“I was thinking a modification of that,” Willow explained. “Something where we enhance her slayer nature, but in a less extreme way. The slayer is such a huge part of who she is that if we bring that front and center, it will probably reset everything.”
 
“Probably?” Anya blurted out. “That doesn’t really sound very reassuring. I mean, what if she goes all homicidal slayer on us?”
 
“That’s why I don’t want to do the full spell like last time,” Willow insisted. “I should be able to make it a less powerful version of the original spell – just enough to make the slayer part of her wake up. The rest should follow.”
 
Xander agreed heartily. “At this point, we should try it. This can’t go on.” And if she just happens to accidentally dust Spike then we’ll kill two birds with one stone.
 
Anya still looked skeptical. “I don’t know. I really think we should consult Giles first on this one.”
 
Willow scoffed. “Giles. He’s decided that I’m out of control and isn’t going to listen to a thing I say. He’ll just bury his head in the sand like he always does and wait for everything to sort itself out.” When Anya still looked doubtful Willow said, “Look, if it bothers you so much, then Xander and I can do it alone. You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to.”
 
Anya wavered. She was torn between not wanting to make some really, really big mistake, and not wanting to let Xander get ensnared in Willow’s spell-casting without some support. It could go very badly, but on the other hand, the sooner Buffy was back to normal, the sooner Xander would stop obsessing about her, and they could actually announce their engagement and get on with wedding planning. After weighing all this she said, “Okay, I guess. Are you going to ask Tara to help too?”
 
Willow swallowed. “Tara’s a little irritated with me right now. It’s probably best if I give her some time to get over it. Let’s leave her out of this.”
 
“Fine, the three of us then.” Xander rubbed his hands, eager to get started. He found he couldn’t erase the image of Spike and Buffy embracing from his head and it disturbed him as much as it had when they had been under Willow’s spell. “What do we need to do?”
 
“Well, we’re going to need that magic gourd, and a candle, that shouldn’t be too hard. But we’re going to need to get as close as possible to her to make it work.”
 
“That’s going to be tough,” Anya pointed out. “I mean, Dawn will probably bite you if you try to come in the house again.”
 
“We’ll have to hide out in the backyard or something,” Willow said. “If we do it after dark, no one will be any the wiser.”
 
Anya capitulated. “Okay. Let’s just make sure we know what we’re doing, alright?” The three of them sat down to work out their plan.
 
TBC