Chapter 10: Looking to Believe

The next evening, the whole gang gathered at the Magic Box, even Willow, although she was still exhibiting flu-like symptoms and could barely hold her head up. Tara had sternly instructed her to stay home, but Willow was a Scooby, and she was determined that nothing would keep her from a Scooby meeting, not even sickness.

“So, what’s going on?” Xander asked, taking a seat at the research table next to Buffy. “And please, tell me something good.”

“I’m not pregnant,” Anya offered cheerfully.

Xander suddenly went pale. “Was… was that a possibility?”

“Aww, you’re all white and pasty,” she cooed, as Buffy stifled a giggle.

“Anya!” Xander cried, in a high, screechy voice.

“What? You said to say someth-”

“Would the two of you – please?” Giles cut in with exasperation, as he came over to the research table. “That’s not why I called you here.”

The bell on the shop door jangled a warning, and every head swiveled to watch Spike cross the threshold and stop cold at the unwelcoming stares from Giles and Xander.

“Buffy – uh, Buffy said there was news.” His gaze alighted on the Slayer, the only one who managed any semblance of a friendly facial expression, even if it was only a tiny, hesitant smile. The witches might’ve been pleasant, he hoped, but Willow was too sick and Tara too worried about her to muster up anything more than concerned looks.

Buffy nodded. “Giles has been translating some stuff.” She turned to her Watcher. “What did you find?”

With a wary sidelong glance at Spike, who remained close to the door, Giles gathered the papers in front of him and donned his spectacles. “It – I seem to have uncovered a series of rituals. I’m not sure what they’re leading up to, some sort of preparation for a greater ritual or – or assumption of power. I – anyway, the important part is that one of the rituals involves the blood of a dragon, and another the spine of an Acanthia demon.”

“That’s not a coincidence,” Buffy said darkly.

“No.” Giles looked up from his research. “Buffy, those demons weren’t here to be a threat. They were ingredients.”

Spike scowled. “So, he’d call up the demons and send ’em our way so we could do his dirty work for him.”

“I presume that’s the case, yes,” Giles said, without meeting the vampire’s eyes. “He probably came around after the demon was dead to collect what he needed.”

“Yeah, that dragon – I mean, we just left it there on the bluff.” Xander jumped up from his seat and began to pace back and forth in a self-restricted square of the room. “Anyone could’ve just… damn it.”

Spike shook his head. “I should’ve buried that damned spiny thing right away.”

“What’s done is done. There’s no use worrying about it now,” Tara offered.

“I don’t believe this,” Buffy burst out, starting a pacing pattern of her own that cut off Xander and relegated him to a corner. “He’s been using me. All this time, using me to prepare these rituals!”

“In point of fact, Buffy, you didn’t actually slay either demon yourself,” said Giles. “Xander slew the dragon and Spike –”

Buffy whirled to face him. “That’s not the point, Giles! He used all of us. Played us like a frickin’ violin!” Suddenly, she was questioning every demon she’d slain since her resurrection. Had she been doing this warlock’s dirty work all along? Had she just been playing into his hands?

“He knows us,” Xander said. “Has to know you’re the Slayer.”

Tara nodded, leaning on the back of Willow’s chair and running one hand through her lover’s limp auburn hair. “Maybe – maybe even Willow, too. Her flu…”

“You think it’s a magic flu?” Buffy asked her.

“An evil magic flu,” Xander chimed in.

“Is that possible?” Buffy looked from Tara to where Willow appeared to be lost in a feverish haze and back to Tara again. “Could someone make her sick like this with magic?”

“Sure. Best way to do it is with DNA – hair, blood, saliva.”

Xander turned a knowing look on his friend. “Will? Have you drooled or bled on anyone suspicious lately?” She favored him with a weak smile.

“She lost her hairbrush,” Tara said in a more serious tone. “Right before she got sick.”

“No better target for a warlock than the strongest witch in town,” Spike pointed out.

Buffy set her jaw and assumed her resolve face. “We gotta find out who this guy is and how I can stop him.”

“Perhaps, if we could determine what the next ritual entails,” Giles said. “I’ll continue working on this section of the research. With any luck, the next few pages will shed some light on the end game.”

“I can help,” Spike volunteered, earning another cautious glance from the Watcher. After a moment of weighing how much he needed the help against how dangerous Spike potentially was, Giles nodded his head.

“There’s gotta be something else we can do, Giles!” Buffy said, her brow furrowed in frustration. “I feel so helpless!”

“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “What we need is –”

“What you need is a little extra dose of witchcraft,” a feminine voice informed them in a crisp British accent.

The entire group again turned toward the door, where a woman was now standing next to Spike. The vampire jumped in surprise and began edging away from her, disconcerted by anyone who managed to sneak up on him without triggering his senses.

“Emma!” Giles broke out in a relieved grin. “So good to see you.”

“And you, Rupert, though I fear I’m interrupting your meeting.” She stepped forward, commanding everyone’s attention through no action or appearance, but by the power that radiated from her. She dressed plainly, in the conservative style one might expect of a female Watcher, wearing an ankle-length skirt of gray wool and a white blouse under a navy blue peacoat. Her silvery hair was tucked neatly into a simple chignon, accenting her sharpened facial features.

“Not at all,” Giles assured her. “We’re just puzzling over an unsolved mystery. Involving magical rituals, if perhaps you’re interested.”

She smiled, an impish thing that revealed a youthful delight in mysteries and riddles. “Always. But first, my newest pupil.” She set her gaze on Willow, picking her out of the group by honing in on her aura, laced with magic and power.

The young witch’s face lit up, and in her excitement, she jumped to her feet too quickly for her ailing body to handle. “Hi, I’m Wil–” was as far as she got before she collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

*****

Willow woke up in her bed, her vision predominately filled by the visage of her new teacher, who was bending over her.

“Well, that was quite an introduction,” Emma said with a kind smile. Her face was smooth and without wrinkles, but her eyes spoke of an age and wisdom more in keeping with the silver hair she kept tucked into a bun at the nape of her neck. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just went ten rounds with Buffy,” Willow groaned. “Sorry about the fainting thing. I’m usually not this vertically challenged.”

“You’re under the influence of quite a bit of black magic, my dear. I won’t hold it against you.” She brushed her hand across Willow’s forehead in a gentle, familiar gesture. “Get some rest now. I’ll let your friends know you’re all right.”

As Willow’s eyes slipped closed again, Emma headed out to the living room, where the others were waiting anxiously for news.

“She’s awake,” Emma informed them, holding up her hands to halt their collective advance toward the bedroom. “Or, rather, she was. She still needs a lot of rest. It’s best if you keep the visits to a minimum.”

“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Buffy asked.

“Magic. It’s certainly a curse of some kind.”

“C-can you break the spell?” Tara’s face was etched with concern.

Emma shook her head. “You were right, my dear. It is thaumaturgy, and that’s not something I can break.”

“What does that mean?” Xander cut in. “Thaumaturgy?”

“It’s a type of black magic,” Tara explained, sitting back down on the sofa. The others followed her cue, taking the seats they’d vacated when Emma came in. “Kind of like voodoo. You make something happen on a small scale, and pour enough energy into the spell to make it happen on a large scale. You use something like hair or blood to create a conduit back to the object of the spell.”

“A spell like that is nearly impossible to break without removing the conduit,” Emma added. “The most I can do is ease the pain a little. I’ll do what I can for her, but you’ll need to find whoever’s doing the spell.”

“That’s kind of a problem.” Buffy bit her lip. “We don’t know who’s doing it.”

“You’d better find out soon.”

Tara’s eyes widened at Emma’s tone of voice. “Can – can she die from it?”

“Anyone channeling this much power could kill her instantly,” Emma replied, glancing around at each of them in turn, conveying the gravity of the situation with her eyes. “From miles away, even. If the spell is cast, she’ll be dead before you even know it’s happened. Of course, they could’ve done that already if they’d wanted to. Fortunately, whoever’s doing this seems content to just keep Willow incapacitated… for now.”

The Scoobies exchanged worried glances. “We’re gonna need to step it up,” Xander observed. No one disagreed with him.

*****

“This is all my fault,” Buffy muttered, on the way home from the witches’ apartment.

Walking beside her, Spike raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”

“I – I don’t know.” She stopped, startled by the question. “It just feels like one of those things that oughta be my fault, you know? Because I’m the Slayer. If it weren’t for me, Willow –”

“Might still be a bloody powerful witch,” Spike reasoned. “You didn’t make her a target. Her powers did.”

“I just wanna find this guy,” Buffy pouted. “And when I do, it’s gonna feel really good to kill him.”

“Buffy…” Spike hesitated. “What if he’s human?”

She opened her mouth to respond, only to find that she had no answer. “I… hadn’t thought of that. I guess… we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

They walked in silence as Buffy pondered Spike’s question. She couldn’t kill a human, could she? But he was evil… possibly ending-the-world evil, and surely that warranted slaying. But then again, human wrongs were supposed to be dealt with by the police, not her vigilante justice. And yet, how would the police handle an evil sorcerer who summoned up demons?

The more she thought about it, the grayer it all became, and suddenly, Buffy realized what it must be like for Spike, having to puzzle out right and wrong when the compass didn’t always point north.

“You wanna patrol?” he asked suddenly, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Could stop by my place and pick up some weapons.”

“Sure.” With her agreement, they veered off the sidewalk, cutting across the cemetery toward Spike’s crypt.

“Spike?” He glanced over at her tentative tone. “How are you doing? You know, with… things.”

“You mean without the chip?” Spike shrugged. “Haven’t gone on a killing spree, ’f that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I was asking.” She took a deep breath, as though gathering her courage. “I just… I know it must be hard for you, adjusting to this new situation… and trying to do what’s right.”

Spike didn’t answer, just paused to look at her with his hand on the door to the crypt, his expression betraying how unsure he was of himself. After a moment, he headed inside and Buffy followed him, catching his arm before he could pretend to be preoccupied with gathering up stakes for patrol.

“Spike,” she said, more firmly this time. “I just want you to know… I believe in you.”

His eyes widened at her declaration, and then he shook his head. “I don’t know, Buffy…”

“I do.”

When he seemed discomfited by her serious tone, she let out a forced chuckle and added, “Come on, how many times have you saved my life now?”

“Six. But who’s counting?”

They both smiled, although by Buffy’s count, he was low-balling it. She stepped closer and reached out to cup his cheek with a gentle caress. “I trust you.”

Spike turned into her touch, grateful for the affirmation even if he wasn’t completely sure he believed it. His fingers came up to brush against her wrist where she held his face, his thumb making tiny circles against her pulse point, almost as though he needed to convince himself that she was really touching him.

“Spike?”

Buffy immediately snatched her hand away at the sound of the other woman’s voice, taking several steps back. Spike tilted his head back briefly with frustration. Fuck.

“Susan?” He glanced nervously toward the doorway, where Susan was taking in the scene with a quirked eyebrow, then back at Buffy, who was now cold and withdrawn, their tender moment ruined as she directed her gaze toward the door, oblivious to his longing look. Spike let out an inaudible sigh of resignation before approaching Susan, his brow furrowing with concern as it fully registered how she’d gotten there.

“Told you never to come here alone at night, love. It’s not safe.” He reached behind her to shut the door. “Anything coulda taken a bite out of you.”

Susan understood exactly what she’d walked in on, and it only took one look at Spike’s face to know which one of them he’d rather be with. But she also knew that Buffy would never fight for him, that she would fold in the face of competition rather than voice her unspoken feelings. Susan, on the other hand, knew what she wanted, and had the confidence to take it.

She grabbed Spike’s belt and tugged him closer, smiling as though she were humoring him. “I'm a big girl, Spike.”

“And a tempting meal for some demon,” Spike replied, inclining his head toward her as he ran his fingers down her arm. “Promise me you won’t put yourself in danger like that.”

Shifting nervously, Buffy watched them, filled with the uncomfortable sensation that she was intruding. They seemed so intimate together, their touches casual and familiar, their interaction relaxed, even with Spike’s fear for Susan’s safety. It was a far cry from Buffy’s own tense, hesitant attempt at comfort moments earlier.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” she said, jealousy burning in her gut as she grudgingly acknowledged the other woman’s cleverness. Now that Susan was here, Spike couldn’t very well send her back out by herself, so either she got to stay, or Spike had to leave Buffy to take Susan home.

Spike looked back at her, dismayed. “Buffy –”

“No, I’ll go patrol. You take care of your… Susan.” She quickly skirted around them and slunk out the door.

Before Spike could call her back – or even decide whether he wanted to – Susan was untucking his t-shirt so that she could slide her hands underneath.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked, tracing hot trails up his chest with her fingers. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days, thought maybe she dusted you.” She tilted her head toward the door, a teasing smile on her face.

Spike shook his head, taking a step back, out of Susan’s reach.

She immediately sensed his discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

“She knows. Buffy knows about us.”

“Well, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Susan asked, folding her arms across her chest. “To make her jealous?”

“I never wanted to hurt her.”

Susan snorted. “Right. She’s allowed to hurt you, but God forbid you respond in kind.”

Spike’s head snapped up, his body tensing defensively at her words. “It’s not like that.”

“What is it like, then?” When he didn’t answer, she pressed, “Is that the reason you haven’t been around? Because she told you not to?”

Spike shook his head again. “It’s not just that.” He took a deep breath. “My chip’s not working anymore. I wasn’t sure what it – if I’d… I didn’t want to risk hurting you.”

Susan came to him, putting her arms around him and kissing him firmly. “You won’t.”

At her comforting touch, Spike relaxed, seeking her lips for another, deeper kiss. Susan’s hands crept back under his shirt, shoving it up as far as it could go with the duster still on. He sank into the kiss as she massaged the tension from his back, letting the feeling wash over him and easing his doubts with each swirl of her tongue against his.

Finally, Susan pulled away, breaking for air. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fall in love with you, Spike,” she murmured against his throat, reassuring him, in the wake of Buffy’s withdrawal, that he was lovable. “But you’re making it very difficult.”

*****

Buffy found Jacob in the kitchen washing dishes when she returned home after a less-than-satisfying patrol. “Hey,” she greeted him, giving him a peck on the lips. She gestured at the sink. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t mind. How’s Willow?”

“Not good.” Buffy sank down on one of the stools at the island, and Jacob quickly turned off the water and dried his hands, coming over to sit beside her. “She’s got some kind of magical illness. A curse or something. Giles’ Wiccan friend from England showed up, but she couldn’t help her.” Buffy leaned her elbows on the counter and let her head fall into her hands. “I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do, and I –”

She broke off suddenly, pressing her fingertips hard into her forehead, while Jacob rubbed gentle circles on her back. “It’s okay. You’ll get through it. You always do, if all the stories Willow told me are true.”

Buffy looked up with a grateful smile. “Thanks for coming over again. Dawn doesn’t really need a babysitter, but the last thing I need is for her to decide teenage rebellion is the way to go and sneak out of the house or something.”

“It’s okay,” Jacob assured her. “We’re actually starting to get along.”

“Well, yeah. You bribed her with TV.” She wasn’t disapproving, but she gave him a dubious look. “Where’d you get that charm thing, anyway? Did Tara make it for you?”

Jacob shook his head. “I made it.” At Buffy’s surprised expression, he added, “My grandma was all into spells and stuff. I don’t have any actual talent or anything, but I can manage Magic for Dummies.”

“Oh.”

“You’re not… mad, are you?”

“No,” Buffy replied, her voice tired. “I’m just glad you guys are getting along. I think it’s about the only thing that’s going right these days.”

“You mean Willow?”

“Yeah. And this warlock guy – who, it turns out, we’ve inadvertently been helping by slaying demons for him. And then Spike’s chip, on top of everything else.”

“Spike.”

“I’m worried about him,” Buffy sighed, not catching Jacob’s clipped tone.

“Buffy, I don’t think Spike’s the one you need to worry about. It’s everyone else who might get eaten.”

“He wouldn’t hurt anyone!” she insisted. “I know he can do this… I just don’t know if he knows it,” she finished softly, her tone and expression making her affection for the vampire obvious.

Jacob paused, turning away from her as his eyes clouded over with disappointment. “Buffy… listen. I don’t really know how to say this, but – this thing with Spike…”

“The chip.”

“Not the chip.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You. This thing you have with Spike, it’s –”

“It’s not like that,” Buffy interrupted, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “What you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I just – I’m worried about him, that’s all.”

Jacob shook his head. “Buffy, I think… maybe you’re a little bit in love with him.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m not!” The denial came easily, but it left a queasy feeling in her gut to hear Jacob’s accusation spoken out loud.

“But he’s in love with you, right?”

“He’s – it’s complicated.”

“It always is,” Jacob replied flatly, shoving the stool back and heading for the living room.

Buffy jumped up and hurried after him, catching him by the arm. “Jacob, wait! Don’t… don’t go.”

He stopped, turning to look her in the eye, his expression unyielding but not harsh. “Is that what you really want?”

“Of course it is,” Buffy replied, more confidently than she felt, a fact that was unnerving to her. “Come on. Let’s just – let’s go to bed, okay?”