Chapter 21—Vapor Trail

Willow felt strong enough to get into the chair by that afternoon. The doctors had no explanation besides severe dehydration for her coma state. They had no idea what mystical forces they were dealing with. She was struggling with a plastic cup of Jell-O and a plastic spoon, dropping more than she was eating, when Buffy came into her room.

Tension immediately filled the room as the two women stared at each other across the emotional chasm between them. Willow broke first, dropping her eyes in front of the Slayer's scrutiny, and motioned her to the other chair in the room.

Buffy sat down on the edge of the chair. Her spine stiff and her mouth set, she looked resolutely at Willow until the witch started to squirm, then finally broke the thick silence in the room.

“So how do you feel?”

“Weak. The doctors think I’ll be okay. They said I was really dehydrated, and might not have made it if I hadn’t been found when I was.”

“Are you sorry I found you?”

Willow looked at the Jell-O still in her hand, and set it on the table beside her. “No. I’m not sure what I’m going to do now. I’m worthless to everyone.”

Buffy immediately started talking. “That’s not true. Giles said that if you’re magically null, then you can’t cast spells, and you can’t be affected by them either. You’re like a truth seeker person. Nobody can influence you with magic anymore.”

Willow refused to feel hopeful. “Yeah, so? Big deal.”

“Will, it is a big deal. You can tell if anyone’s being affected by a spell. Giles will explain.”

Willow looked down at the fingers in her lap, writhing like agitated snakes. “Are you still mad at me?”

Buffy went down on her knees in front of the redhead, forcing Willow to look in her eyes. “How could you ever think that I would go to hell, Will?”

Tears sprouted in Willow’s eyes. “I didn’t know, Buffy,” she babbled. “I missed you so bad, and I should have known that you wouldn’t, but we were all hurting so bad, and I never even thought….” She buried her face in her hands, tears flowing freely, and Buffy brought her arms around her to rub her back soothingly.

“Will…Willow…it’s okay…I was trying to get back here anyway.”

Willow looked up at her, too tired to cry. “Why?”

“Because of the people I love.”

Willow clung to her, her human lifeline, and Buffy tried her best to soothe her. She rocked her like a child, smoothing her hair as she crooned in a low, loving voice.

When Willow's crying had calmed to hiccups, she raised her tear-stained face to Buffy. “What am I gonna do, Buffy? I’m useless. I can’t help you anymore.”

Buffy brushed the hair out of her eyes, and smiled gently. “I will always depend on you, Will. There is so much more to you than the magic. You lived without it before. Don’t worry about it.”

“Xander said that too. Oh, Buffy, I told him to leave me alone. You don’t think…?”

“Xander will probably be by soon. He’s making up with Anya right now.”

“And Tara?” Willow's eyes were hopeful.

Buffy paused for a moment before answering. “Tara has been staying with us. She’s all right. A little down, but that’s to be expected.”

“I miss her so much, Buff.”

“I’ll let her know, okay? When do they think that you can go home?”

“Soon, I hope. Maybe tomorrow?”

Buffy got off her knees, and dusted her pants off. “Well, you can’t go back to your apartment. Don’t count on the security deposit back, either. You could live with us for a while. Until you feel stronger….”

Willow reached for her and grabbed her arm. “You’re my best friend, you know that, right?”

“I know, Will. I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow.”

She gave her friend one last lingering hug, then left her sitting in the chair by the bed, her eyes still red from the tears that streamed freely down her face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Less than two hours after sunset, there was a knock at the door. Dawn ran to answer it, expecting Janice, but when she opened it, she was shoved to the side by a large, broody vampire with an attitude that preceded him into the room.

“Buffy!” Angel’s voice echoed through the house, and the Slayer stuck her head out of the kitchen, then pulled it quickly back inside.

“Shit.”

Spike had felt him coming long before he arrived, and guilt consumed him for not warning her, but he knew that this particular demon she had to face down herself. “I’ll be right here, love.”

She looked up at him and noticed his guilty look. “You knew he was coming,” she said flatly.

“I did. I….”

“You could have told me.” She turned, and went to face the only obstacle in their way, alone.

“Angel.” Her voice was cool. “What did you want?”

He reached for her, and she stepped back, not wanting his hands on her. “Why didn’t you call me the minute you came back?” Her scent hit him, and he smelled Spike all over her, a hard look shuttering his features. “Never mind. I know.”

“Did anyone ever tell you the smelling thing is gross? And is it any business of yours anyway? Where were you when my sister was grieving? Where were you when Spike was keeping the demon population at bay? Did you ever call him and say, ‘hey, Spike, hear you need a break—well, here I am, buddy.’ Or childe, or whatever you call him this week.”

“I think that asshole would be the word of the week, Buff. Why?” he questioned, his face a mask of confusion.

Her eyes gentled at the thought of the blond vampire, and it pissed Angel off even more than normal. “He loves me. Simple as that. He loves me.”

Angel moved toward her, and she danced around the dining room table, keeping something large and wooden between them. “I love you, Buffy. Spike can’t love. He doesn’t have a soul.”

She laughed, and it was bitter on the lips and grating to her ears. “A soul? What a joke, Angel. You have a soul and lost it. Got it back too, thanks to my friends. Ted Bundy had a soul. John Wayne Gacy had a soul. Look what they did. And what good is a freaking soul if you can’t keep it anyway?” Her eyes sparkled with anger. Frankly, she was tired of his posturing. “You know, after you’ve been where I’ve been and seen what I’ve seen, then you can judge. Me, Spike, my friends, anyone you want. I don’t care anymore. Take your soul, cuddle up with the damn thing, and pray it keeps you warm at night.”

“Buffy—“

She held up her hand. “Enough, Angel. I’ve had enough. Go back to LA. There is nothing for you here in Sunnydale anymore.”

He looked about to cry, but she was beyond caring.

Spike chose that moment to come out of the kitchen and the souled vampire found another target. “You!” Angel bellowed, and started to move in his direction.

And found himself face to face with a very pissed off Slayer. “Angel,” she said, her tone low and menacing, “I have asked you to leave. No, told you to leave. I suggest you do so, before I have to make a point.” She gestured at the stake that appeared in her hand, not even noticing her pun, a rarity for Buffy. “Leave my house and don’t come back.”

Spike touched her shoulder. “Buffy, love—“

She whirled on him. “You shut up! I am tired of this—he comes swooping in anytime he wants, criticizes my choices and feelings, then goes back to, what did you call it? Oh, ‘his city’, and lives his life however he pleases. Did you know that he’s sleeping with Cordelia? Cordelia, for God’s sake! It’s disgusting!”

“Buffy,” Angel started again, and she whirled back to face him.

“Don’t. Don’t even say it. You have obviously gone on without me. Made a life for yourself. Don’t I have the same right? Leave me alone, Angel. I’m not waiting for you anymore, just like you didn’t wait for me.”

She stalked across the room and opened the front door. “Angel, I revoke any invitation I have ever given you. Get out.”

He moved unwillingly toward the door, inextricably pulled by magic. “Buffy, don’t do something you’ll regret….”

“The only thing that I regret at this point, Angel, is that I’m not tossing you into the sunrise.”

She waited until he was outside the door, and slammed it in his face.

Spike watched her agitated movements back and forth in front of the door. “Don’t you think you were a bit harsh, pet?”

She turned on him. “No. I don’t. I can’t be harsh enough. What was I supposed to do, put my life on hold for that idiotic brooding bastard? For what? A sexless relationship? Really, please—I’m not without feelings, Spike. You of all people know that.”

He grabbed her arm, and touched her face gently. “I know, sweetheart. I know. The ponce still loves you, though.”

“But I don’t love him. Not like I did. Never like that again.”

She looked up at him, and relaxed in his arms. “I don’t love him like I do you. Not anymore. That was…a teenage crush. Not what I feel for you.”

She forgot the faces surrounding them, watching the unfolding drama of her life. She forgot her sister, stunned into silence and standing by the stairs. The only thing that existed for her was him.

She raised her hand to touch his face, and Giles cleared his throat, bringing her to pause. “So, er, Buffy, I take it that Angel is not a welcome presence here.”

She turned to face them, Tara and Dawn and Giles, and saw them waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Nope. Not until he sees me as something besides property.”

The front door opened again, and Xander and Anya entered. “Hey, what’s…up?” he said, trailing off as he saw the serious faces in the room. “I just saw Angel outside, and he looked like someone took his favorite toy.”

“I did.” Buffy grinned at the couple, and noticed their linked hands and happy smiles. “I take it you had some awesome make-up sex?”

Again with the gaping faces and dropped jaws, except Anya. “Oh, yes! Xander gave me many multiple orgasms and groveled nicely, and we are back together.”

“I knew that you would appreciate that remark, Ahn. I went to see Willow today.” She threw a look towards Tara, then continued. “The doctors expect her to make a full recovery. She may get out of there as soon as tomorrow.” She lowered her head, before raising it to meet Tara's eyes. “I invited her to stay here. If she wants. If you don’t mind, Tara.”

“I can go,” Tara immediately replied back.

The blond witch’s remark stormed the room. “You will not. If that’s too uncomfortable for you, we can do something else.” Buffy moved to where Tara sat on the couch, seating herself next to her and taking her hand. “She still loves you, Tara. She…she was worried about you.”

Tara glanced up as if looking for guidance before turning back to Buffy. “I still love her. It doesn’t change what’s happened.”

Buffy smoothed the blond hair with her other hand. “No, it doesn’t. Willow is going to need our help to get through this. She can’t do it alone. Right now, aloneness and Willow are un-mixy things. That’s what led to the badness before. With all our help, she can learn to live with her actions and what they did.”

“Magic has consequences. ‘Ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Spike said.

Buffy looked up at Spike gratefully, then back at Tara. “Can you help us? Will you?”

Tara raised her face, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Yes, I will. I love her. I don’t want her to be alone in this.”

Buffy pulled her into a hug, and motioned for the others to join them. “We aren’t alone in this, none of us. Never again.” As comforting arms surrounded them both, the warmth filling them up inside, Buffy repeated, “None of us ever have to go through the bad times alone ever again.”

Giles broke away from the group hug first, his British reserve overcoming the warmth of the moment. He removed his spectacles and polished them thoughtfully while he watched the others disengage from the tangle of arms, then cleared his throat. “Buffy,” he started, then found he couldn’t continue.

Buffy looked up at Giles. “I take it that the research has turned up some info on the stewardship?”

“Er…yes. I’m afraid that it isn’t what we expected.”

They gathered around the dining room table, all eyes on him, and he dreaded telling the Slayer their discovery. He cleaned his glasses, unwilling to meet their eyes, then replaced them on his face and busied himself with the books spread in front of him.

Buffy interrupted his avoidance tactics. “I know that you don’t want to share, Giles, but this is really important. What did you find out about Dawn?”

He sighed. “The, er, stewardship is usually given to someone that possesses natural immortality. A vessel, so to speak, that is strong enough to handle the strain of the burden placed on them by the Powers That Be. In many cases, this would be someone akin to a vampire or demon, perhaps even a Slayer. How Dawn seemed to acquire this is beyond me at this time. Our research has not revealed the method that the Powers use to divine who would be the steward on this plane.”

Buffy leaned forward in her chair. “Could it be because Dawn is the Key?”

“That could be one possibility, Buffy. Perhaps they thought that a vessel for the Key energies would be strong enough to perform the duties of steward.”

“An’ what’s the Bit supposed to do as the steward?” Spike asked, his hands reaching for those of his two girls, Buffy and Dawn. They clasped his hands readily, an action that did not escape Giles' attention.

“The steward is…a conduit of sorts. She…Dawn…has an innate sense of balance in the particular plane of existence that she inhabits. When the forces of evil and darkness grow too powerful, she alerts the Powers, although we have not yet discovered how. The Powers then correct things by creating or altering the good or evil.”

“What does that mean, Giles?” Tara looked across the table to the gangly teenager, and wondered how this was affecting her. She didn’t have to wonder for long.

“So I’m what, their good/evil smoke detector? What about all those crazy things that I’ve been saying, and the blackouts, Giles?”

Anya spoke up before Giles could continue. “The blackouts are because you’re only human, Dawn. You wouldn’t be having them if you were some kind of superbeing like the Slayer or a vampire, even if you are still the Key—which we really don’t know yet.” She turned to look at Giles, and said, “You know—I should have thought of this days ago. Why not ask someone who knows a lot more than we do about the Powers?”

“And who would you suggest, Anya?” Giles asked, curiosity filling his voice.

“Why not ask D’Hoffryn?”