Chapter 7


“Will someone also tell me, cuz I’m not either of you?” Buffy was getting worried, and worried Buffy was a pissy Buffy, ninety nine percent of the time. She dodged Spike’s effort to kiss her again. “Tell me.”


Spike sighed. He didn’t know why he’d gone and opened his bloody mouth just then. “You know I love you, right?” he started.


~~~~~*~~~~~


Spike looked at William again, then at his hands as they now lay splayed on either side of Buffy’s serious face. He drew his knuckles down her jaw line, sighed, and started worrying the skin around his thumbnail with his teeth.


Impatiently, Buffy pulled it away from his mouth. “Tell me, please.”


“Buffy…” Her name, uttered like this, in a voice choked with tears was enough for her to know what he was getting at.


“No.” She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks to soak the sheet. Spike tried to pull her close while William rolled away to the side of them, but she thumped her fists against his chest, fighting his grasp.


Staying Spike with one hand, his heart breaking at the lost look on both his lovers’ faces, William managed to slide one arm beneath Buffy’s back and pull her as close to him as he could with her lower body still pinned to the bed by Spike.


She hid her face against William’s chest, chanting, “No, no, no, no.” She knew the look on Spike’s face, had seen it before when he was swallowed by the gaping maw of the Hellmouth. It was the face goodbye wore. If she held her eyes closed and her face averted then maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with it; wouldn’t have to let go of him again.


William stroked her hair but her sobs wouldn’t subside. Spike left her body and the bed to light a cigarette he found in the crumbled soft packet he fished from his duster’s pocket where it lay on the floor. He didn’t enjoy the smoke like he’d expected. He didn’t even feel the taste of the bloody thing. The only flavor in his mouth was the bitterness of having let his girl down again. He wanted to laugh at the irony. His Slayer finally loved him and he had to give her up to go help the version of her that despised him. He saw William’s eyes upon him and turned to face out the window. He didn’t want his older self to see him cry, crying was for souled ponces. “I have to go. I can’t leave you,” he all but whispered, his breath clouding the glass.


“Then don’t leave me.” A tingle of hope made her voice stronger and she looked to William for confirmation of that hope, but he just shook his head, his face grim.


“Don’t leave me,” she said again. Gathering the sheet around her naked form, she wobbled to him on legs shaky from exertion and fear. “You’re supposed to be the one that never left. And you’ve been away for so long…” She stood next to him, she too looking out the window. She may have grown up in many ways, but she still didn’t like seeing his beautiful eyes overtaken by sorrow… or showing him how weak being without him made her feel.


“I can’t leave you to face the Hellmouth alone. I can’t let you face everythin’, thinkin’ I gave up on you because you wouldn’t sleep with me anymore… I can’t…” His voice broke and she wrapped an arm around him.


William came to stand behind her, staring at her reflection in the glass. She seemed to stand alone there, being whipped by the sudden storm that broke outside. Her calling meant she was destined to always stand alone, but he was above destiny. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “But Spike has to, and you know that, luv.” Spreading his arms around both his lovers’ shoulders, he turned them around and led them back to the bed.


“I have to, but not yet.” Spike kissed her and, when she lay down, slipped back inside her. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”


William lay on his side, holding his own tears at bay. He’d have to be her strength, their strength. He should be happy to have her all to himself soon, but his chest ached at what Spike would go through after leaving them. And God only knew how things would turn out this time around. They had no way of knowing how time moved in the Universe Buffy’s wish had created, or what had transpired since Spike left. He had the fleeting thought that maybe they wouldn’t be able to send Spike back, and his insides knotted at how devastated the other vampire would be if he couldn’t save the girl. He squeezed his eyes shut as a pang went through his chest when remembering how torn up he’d felt after her fall from the Tower.


He heard her say, “I love you” and opened his eyes to see her reaching out to him. Moving closer to steal kisses from both of them, he silently vowed to do his best to be enough for her when she needed him. And he’d do anything in his power to see Spike had a chance at happiness… whatever his future held for him.



~~~~~*~~~~~



Willow and Kennedy had a terrible night. One that would most probably be the last they shared as a couple. Shortly after Giles had explained to the best of his ability what possible repercussions Spike being present in their time line could have, Kennedy had started yelling. She called them irresponsible, and Willow could live with that, but then she called Buffy a self-centred bitch, and the redhead couldn’t just sit back and take it. Not after all her best friend had gone through, after all she’d given up.


“What’s your problem with Buffy? Why do you always attack her?” she finally asked resignedly after having spent several hours arguing that the Slayer deserved some happiness, finally, and that whatever was to happen to the other Universe was by no means Buffy’s responsibility.


“She is my problem. She and how you are around her,” Kennedy hissed, her voice lower than it had been at any point during the night. “You’re like her lap-dog, bouncing around her for a pat on the head and a treat.” Something caught in her throat, and she cleared it, her voice coming out loud and clear after that. “When we became a couple I knew I would have to compete for your affections with a ghost, but I didn’t sign on to share you with her as well.”


“What—what are you talking about? What ghost?” Willow’s eyes widened comically. “And—and it’s not like that with Buffy, she’s my friend.”


“I’m talking about Tara’s ghost.”


Willow blinked.


“Oh, come on, Willow. She’s here, she’s everywhere!” Kennedy pulled the covers off the bed and threw them across the room to land in a heap on the floor. “She’s in fucking bed with us.” The redhead opened her mouth to object, but didn’t get a chance. “Don’t you dare deny it!” Kennedy kicked at the bed, dislodging a leg and making the whole thing lean to the right. “It’s ok,” she said offhandedly, seemingly calmer. “I don’t mind. I mean, I do, I shouldn’t be competing for you, but with her it’s kind of ok… understandable. You loved her and she was taken from you, and it hurts, baby, I know.” Her eyes softened and she made to caress her girlfriend’s face, but her anger came back tenfold when she saw her lover shy away from her touch. “What, now you’re afraid of me? You’re a fucking witch, Willow.” She threw her arms up in frustration. “More than that. A Goddess. And what do you do with all that power? Dance to an ex-slayer’s rhythm.” She grabbed the Wicca by the arms and drew her close. “Why do you do this to us? Why do you do this to yourself?”


Willow felt bad. She knew she shouldn’t have been so insensitive to her girlfriend’s insecurities, should have brought her in closer with her friends, should have shown her she was special in her life and didn’t have to compete with anyone. Her hands came up to link together at the small of Kennedy’s back, her body leaning in, poised for making up. She could make everything better, and this time no magic would be involved.


“You could send Spike back and make everything right, but you won’t, just so that Buffy can have double the pleasure,” the brunette went on, her words dripping with malice. “You would feel better if you just stood up to her and did the right thing,” she added, but Willow had suddenly had enough. Not of this conversation, that seemed long overdue, but of Kennedy.

“This…” power started thrumming inside Willow, making her body hum. “Is not about me.” Kennedy was thrown across the room, caught in the torrent of power to land on her ass in the pile of beddings. Airborne Slayer wasn’t Willow’s intention, but she wasn’t entirely dissatisfied with the outcome, either. “This is not about Buffy. Or Tara.” She stalked over to the brunette, her eyes blazing, but thankfully still their normal deep forest green colour. “This is about you not wanting to share your toys.”


She was now standing over Kennedy, feet planted on either side of the other girl’s hips. “What you fail to understand,” her voice was steely, with no sign of her usual, nervous speech patterns, “is that you don’t have any toys.” Her nostrils flared. “Buffy is not an ex-slayer. She is the Slayer. The one who was around, saving the world, while you were being spoon fed your egg by your butler. She has lost everything but the handful of people living here and those two Vampires, who are the only ones who never gave up on her. Even if you don’t care about that, after she decided to share her Calling with you, with all of you, stepping down from being the only one, you owe her your respect.” Her hands flexed at her sides, the effort to contain her wrath and power almost palpable. Kennedy was frozen, not used to this side of her normally mellow and sweet lover. “That woman is my best friend and I love her. She’s been around long before you, and trust me, Kennedy, the way you’re acting, she’ll be around long after you’re gone. If I have to ignore an entire Universe that means nothing to me for her to be happy, I will. And,” she added pointedly, “God help anyone who tries to get in the way of my friend being happy.”


She reached down and the young Slayer flinched, but Willow was only offering to help her up. The brunette took her proffered hand and stood in front of her. “Whatever happens to that Universe will affect everything,” Kennedy warned with vehemence, her eyes narrowed.


“If—if it affects us, Buffy and we will handle it.” Willow smiled sadly. “I hope you’ll decide to be with the ‘we’ when that happens.”


Seeing the old Willow, the one she could handle, Kennedy shook her head noncommittally and walked past her to the closet. Taking her sword out, she unsheathed it and drew the curtains to look outside. “Still an hour `til dawn,” she commented, as if they’d been talking about that and not bringing down what was left of their relationship. “I’ll go see if there are any nasties about.”


Willow nodded; her back to the Slayer. For the first time since they’d gotten together, she didn’t tell her to be careful out there.



~~~~~*~~~~~



Adalberto got out of bed before his lover. He had worn her out, so didn’t begrudge her. Throwing his plush robe on, without bothering to tie its sash, confident in his nudity, he called for one of the servants to bring them breakfast in bed, before opening the drapes just enough for some of the grey, early morning light to glide over the floor and bathe Sofia in its soft glow. He stood there, studying her, until the breakfast cart was brought to them and heavenly smelling coffee was served.


He liked spoiling his women, always had. He wanted to lavish them with anything and everything they asked for, and things they didn’t think to ask. It wasn’t for their sake, but for his; he wanted to be considered a great lover, and that extended to include his behaviour outside the bedroom. There was only one thing he never did for them, he never kept them for longer than he meant to from the start. No matter how good they looked, how pliable, how good in bed they were, his women had an expiration date. It had always been that way, and always would be. Some were with him for days, or months, and a lucky few, like Sofia, were his for years.


She belonged to him, as did her mother before her, and her grandmother before that. Was his to do with as he pleased, and he pleased to do a lot. Maybe some would be done right after breakfast, they still had a little time. He grinned and drew the covers off her supple body, letting his eyes take her beauty in again. She was the most beautiful of the women in her line he had been with, a great conversationalist, with a taste for the finer things that matched his. Yet it was more than that that made her such a prized lover. Sofia had a stubborn streak that he hadn’t managed to quell, one that didn’t yield to his power over her, and he marvelled in it as much as he wanted to erase the defiance from her eyes every time her lips and body gave in to him.


Laying a kiss on her shoulder, he brushed her hair out of her face to whisper in her ear, “Cara, breakfast is served.”


“Mmm…” A long-fingered hand covered her lovely yawn and her long eyelashes fluttered open. “It’s too early for breakfast,” she purred.


He took in the graceful curves of her body, as she stretched with feline grace before sitting up and flipping her raven locks over her shoulders. Everything about her was beauty and sensuality and he was quite pleased that he still had a few years with her in his service. “Your day will start early today, bella,” he said.



~~~~~*~~~~~



Kennedy hadn’t looked up at their bedroom window as she left the manor. She usually would, and Willow would be standing there waving, and maybe even blow her a kiss. She knew Willow wouldn’t be there this time, and that caused a hurt deep inside and tears to spring in her eyes. Everything was fucked up, and it was all because of Buffy.


Kennedy had never loved anyone but her family before Willow. The protected manner in which she’d been brought up, as well as the constant reminder of her social status, had meant zero contact with girls her age during early childhood and then only those weird, social-status-based ‘friendships’ when she went to school. If her parents told her to hang out with someone because they would be good for her, she would. She’d never invested emotionally in those surrounding her, though, because they were all there to serve a purpose, let alone the fact they all were slightly beneath her social status.


When she met Willow, she was drawn in by the girl’s shyness. It was obvious the young Wicca had no idea how pretty she was, and that was something unprecedented in the circles Kennedy associated with until then. After realizing how powerful the redhead was, that shyness became all the more endearing, alluring even. She didn’t want Kennedy because she had something to gain from being with her, neither did she expect her to be flawless, so Kennedy found herself relaxing more and more with the realization that she was being genuinely cared for. When Willow took her side against Buffy, that night in Sunnydale, Kennedy realized she was in love.


When Willow looked at Buffy in amazement after the Hellmouth was nothing but a crater, the brunette felt the first ugly stab of jealousy right to her heart.


Sure, she’d seen Buffy through antagonistic eyes before, but that was only because she truly felt the older Slayer was doing things wrong… and maybe because she was envious of Buffy for being the Chosen One when odds were against Kennedy achieving that singular status. After that look, however, she was afraid she’d never be number one in Willow’s heart.


She reached the cemetery now, knowing she’d find nothing to kill – which might be good, since her concentration was far from being at its best. Still, she was itching for a good fight, wanted to dust something and get some of the frustration and hurt out of her system, so she kept to the less lit parts, alternatively dragging and stomping her feet to attract the attention of any baddies stupid enough not to have left a city chock full of slayers.


None showed up though, and soon the tears in her eyes started spilling out, blurring her vision. She loved Willow enough to not mind being overshadowed by Tara, the perfect lover who would never get the chance to make a mistake because she was dead. To accept Buffy as the all-knowing perfect woman, even though she ignored everything her calling demanded of her and had slept with the enemy on numerous occasions was beyond her, however. Even if she didn’t resent that Willow would always choose Buffy over her, after that one magnificent night the Slayer was driven out of her own house… she would never forgive Buffy the disrespect she showed every one of Angel’s and Spike’s victims by not slaying those responsible and instead, taking them into her bed. Some part of her whispered that maybe what she hated the most about the blonde was how she threatened her view of the world as being purely black and white, but she silenced that voice by kicking at a fallen gravestone so hard her boot chipped a flake of marble off it.


Why couldn’t Willow see how much she loved her? Why couldn’t she see that whatever Buffy thought she and those abominations had – because William was an abomination too, soul or no soul – it wasn’t love and a chance at happiness?


Why couldn’t anyone see that Kennedy was right, and that she was alone, and that her heart was breaking?


She fell to her knees, weeping, and started thumping her fists against the unlucky headstone until her knuckles were bloody and the name of the deceased wiped off.

That’s when she heard a scream in the distance.


Springing to her feet, she ran towards the sound, blood smudging her cheeks as she tried to wipe the tears away.






Tbc.