Willow leaned into Tara as they walked home from the last class of the day. “I’m so tired,” she said, nuzzling Tara’s neck.
 
Tara smiled. “Not really surprising, Sweetie.” She rubbed her cheek against Willow’s head, and put her arm around her waist. “You’ve expended a lot of magical energy the last couple of days.”
 
“Ummm,” Willow said. She’d felt tingly and … more powerful … ever since the resurrection spell. Her magical reserves hadn’t even come close to being depleted. “Not so much with the magically tired. Just really physically tired.”
 
“Oh,” Tara said, surprised, and a little bit worried. “Well, unconscious doesn’t really count as sleep, so that makes sense too.” Tara squeezed her waist.
 
Willow sighed.
 
“What’s wrong?” Tara asked.
 
“Me? Nothing. No worries at all.” Willow laughed nervously.
 
Tara stopped walking and raised her eyebrows. “Tell me?”
 
Willow slumped under Tara’s gaze. “Nothing turned out the way I thought it would.”
 
“What were you expecting?”
 
“Don’t you think everyone should be acting … happier?” Willow asked in a small voice. “I mean, everything that happened, I get that it’s gotta be intense. But … I was kinda expecting a party or something. A celebration. If the spell really did go right, shouldn’t Buffy be happy we rescued her?”
 
“It’s been kinda traumatic for Buffy. And Dawn. I don’t think they’re ready for celebrations yet.”
 
“Yeah,” Willow squirmed.
 
“Were you thinking the party would be for you? Everyone saying thanks? Being grateful?”
 
Willow cringed. “Am I a terrible person if I say yes?”
 
Tara smiled. “Will, this is me. I’m never gonna think you’re a terrible person for telling me how you feel. In this space” Tara drew a circle around them with her fingertip, “you’re totally safe. Because no matter what, I love you.”
 
Willow smiled gratefully at her girlfriend. “Thank you.”
 
“It’s okay to be disappointed they’re not happier. So long as you accept and respect their feelings, too.”
 
“I think I can do that,” Willow said.
 
They clasped hands and carried on walking.
 
When Spike heard the key in the lock, he considered passing on Anya’s message immediately. But he was feeling off balance and edgy, and he decided he’d rather get some killing in before he tried any more conversations. As they came through the door, he jumped up from the sofa and ran upstairs, completely ignoring their presence.
 
Buoyed by her conversation with Tara, Willow was okay with that.
 
But it hurt when he and Buffy came downstairs – so obviously together – a few seconds later. Spike was still blanking them, and Buffy just said, “’Night, Will,” as they walked out the door.
 
It’s not fair. I brought her back. Me. I should be going out with her now, not him.
 
Tara watched Willow’s face crumple. Her heart ached. She knew how devastated Willow had been by Buffy’s death, and how much she’d hitched to the star of bringing her back.
 
“C’mon Sweetie. Let’s have bed and cuddles.”
 
Willow forced her lips into a smile and let herself be led up to bed.
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
There was very little stirring on patrol. After nearly an hour, they’d only found two lone vamps rising – no sign of sires, even. Buffy had a sudden spike of panic as they approached the first disturbed grave, but she overcame it relatively quickly. Her kills were quick and clean.
 
They still hadn’t exchanged a word since they left the house. Waiting for a third fledge – a particularly inept digger – Buffy turned to where Spike was standing, several feet away, “You’re not usually this quiet.”
 
“Not usually, no.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
 
“You didn’t have to come,” she said uncertainly, unsure how to deal with a Spike who wasn’t talking.
 
“Said I would,” he said curtly. Then, jerking his chin towards the waving arm now visible above ground, “Think he’s finally figured it out.”
 
Buffy yanked until a man’s head and torso cleared the dirt. “What idiot thought you would make a good vampire?” she asked, plunging in the stake.
 
“No!” screamed a woman’s voice. Spike and Buffy turned. A female vamp was running towards them. “You killed Simon, you bitch!”
 
“This idiot, clearly!” Buffy said brightly, shooting out her fist and letting the vampire run into it.
 
She went straight down, unconscious. Buffy stood over her, watching for a few seconds, before staking her. “What does a girl have to do to get a good fight around here?” Buffy wailed in disappointment.
 
Spike shrugged and lit a cigarette.
 
Buffy watched him smoke most of it in silence, finally half-shouting in frustration, “If you’re just going to be all freaky and not-talking, I’d rather patrol alone!”
 
Spike shut his eyes as he exhaled. “An’ if your memory goes walkabout again?”
 
“Oh,” Buffy said in a small voice. She sat down on a gravestone.
 
“Yeah, ‘oh’.” Spike flung his cigarette down and ground it out viciously.
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
Lying in the long grass, well downwind, he was completely hidden. He thought the vampire suspected something, but that was only to be expected. He knew his limitations hiding from demons.
 
The Slayer died. I saw her buried.
 
This changes everything.
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
“Why?” she asked, softly.
 
“Why what?”
 
“You’re mad at me, but you’re still here.”
 
“I told you—”
 
“You’re feet away. You could have watched from a distance.” She paused. “Like you used to.”
 
“You knew ‘bout that?” Spike was surprised. Surely if she’d noticed she would have said something. Or hit him, it being Buffy.
 
“Yeah. I … appreciated the back-up.” She shrugged. “When you weren’t being an asshole or stealing my kills.” Buffy stared across at him, mock-glaring.
 
“Well, well.” Spike pulled out his lighter and flicked it alight, stared at the flame, then flicked it shut. Still staring at his hands, he said, “I saved you. Not when it counted, of course, but … after that. Every night after that. I saw it all again, and I did something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways…. Every night, I saved you.” He looked up, straight at her. “I won’t watch from a distance. Not again.” He looked back down at his hands, and brought a flame to light. “Bein’ mad? ‘S temporary. I’ll get over it. Losin’ you?” His eyes met hers again, and he snapped the lighter shut.
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
When they got home, Buffy took him by the hand and led him upstairs and into her bedroom. She pushed him gently into the chair by the bed and, picking up her pyjamas, left for the bathroom.
 
Spike took off his boots, not sure what to expect.
 
When she returned, she sat on the bed, her knees a whisper away from his. “I don’t know what this is,” she said, looking up at him. “But … if you don’t mind staying….”
 
“I don’t mind,” Spike said, slightly hoarsely.
 
Buffy slid under the covers, eyes still locked with his. She bit her lip. He could hear her heart speeding up. She lifted the corner of her duvet.
 
“Keep the nightmares away?”
 
 
 
------------------------------------------
 
 
 
Giles was awake by five. His mouth tasted like something furry had died in it, but the worst of the headache was gone. He lay in Spike’s surprisingly comfortable bed and dozed, hoping to go back to sleep, until he heard people walking around and the faint rumble of conversation overhead.
 
He sat up, gingerly, and climbed the stairs to the kitchen. He felt grotty and wished he’d had the energy to change into pyjamas before going to bed last night.
 
“Morning, Giles,” Dawn said, when he came through the basement door. Her face was still showing traces of puffiness, and there were circles under her eyes. “How’s your head?”
 
“Fine, thank you, Dawn,” Giles said. Definitely never drinking again. “Are you … are you alright?”
 
Dawn nodded, going back to her cereal.
 
Spike downed the last mouthful of his mug of blood and flipped the kettle on. “I usually go to bed ‘bout now, if you don’t mind vacatin’.”
 
“Of course,” Giles murmured. He turned to go back downstairs.
 
By the time the kettle had boiled, Giles was back upstairs with his suitcase.
 
“I, uh, wasn’t sure whether to strip the bed?”
 
“You back for good now?”
 
“I … I hadn’t really planned beyond getting a flight here.”
 
“Better here than some hotel. We can keep swapping off ‘til you sort yourself out.”
 
“Thank you.”
 
Spike ran his hand over the top of Dawn’s head. “You know where I am if you need me.”
 
She nodded again.
 
“Right then, I’m off.”
 
Xander arrived as the basement door was closing.
 
“Hey, Giles! Didn’t expect to see you up so bright and early. How’s your head?”
 
“Fine, thank you, Xander,” Giles sighed.
 
“You ready to go, Dawnie?”
 
Dawn put her bowl in the sink and grabbed her backpack. “Yup.” They left.
 
Giles had showered and changed and was sitting at the breakfast bar drinking his second cup of tea when Willow padded into the kitchen in her pyjamas.
 
“Hey Giles,” she said, smiling and blinking a bit sleepily. “Were you staying here last night? I didn’t see you when we came in….”
 
“I was in the basement,” he said.
 
Willow frowned. “In Spike’s bed?”
 
Giles nodded.
 
“Oh.” She filled the coffee pot up with water and poured it into the machine. “Guess that kinda works since he doesn’t sleep at night.” She put in the coffee and started the machine, then turned back to Giles. “You have a good talk with Buffy yesterday?”
 
“Yes,” he said.
 
Willow was faltering a little against Giles’ lack of enthusiasm, but she decided to push through. Smile widening encouragingly, she said, “Isn't it awesome she’s back?”
 
“Mmm. Tell me about the spell you performed.”
 
“Okay,” Willow said eagerly. Finally, someone who can appreciate what I did! “First of all – so scary. Like, the Blair Witch would have had to watch like this,” she covered her eyes, “and there were all these weird noises, and these scarab beetles came out of my mouth and they, like, attached themselves to my face, and then there was all this energy crackling and then this pack of demons interrupted but I totally kept it together and the next thing you know….” Willow grinned expectantly, her hands in a “ta-da!” pose, “Buffy.”
 
“You're a very stupid girl,” Giles said quietly.
 
Willow’s face fell. “What? But Giles….”
 
“Do you have any idea what you've done? The lines you've crossed?”
 
“If you’re talking about what happened with Dawn—”
 
“What did you do to Dawn?” He sounded horrified.
 
“Oh. Um.” Willow quavered. “I, well there was no one here to look after her, so, uh….” Willow sped up, “I put her into a trance so she could come with us and be part of the circle for the spell.”
 
“How could you?” he asked, incredulous. “You were supposed to be her guardian, her protector.” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Spike said no one was putting her needs first … I didn’t believe him.”
 
Willow’s gut clenched at “Spike said”.
 
“Of everyone here,” Giles continued coldly, “you were the one I trusted most. Now I find you’re not the person I thought you were.”
 
“Why are you being like this?” Willow said, wanting to cry. “I thought you'd be … impressed.” I thought you’d be proud of me.
 
“Oh, don’t worry! You’ve made quite the impression. And you don’t even realise what you've done!”
 
“I brought her back!”
 
“At incredible risk! Resurrection spells are unbelievably dangerous.”
 
“What risk? Making her deader?”
 
“Killing us all. Unleashing a hell on Earth. Shall I go on?”
 
“No! Giles, I did what I had to do. I did what nobody else could do.”
 
“Oh, there are others in the world who can do what you did. You just don't want to meet them.”
 
“Okay, probably not – but they're bad guys. I am not a bad guy. I brought Buffy back! I think the word you should be looking for is ‘congratulations’!”
 
“Having Buffy back in the world makes me feel indescribably wonderful – but I wouldn't congratulate you if you jumped off a cliff and happened to survive.”
 
“That's not what I did, Giles!”
 
“You were lucky.”
 
“I wasn't lucky. I was amazing! How would you know anyway? You weren't even there.”
 
“If I had been I'd have bloody well stopped you!” he yelled. “The magicks you channelled are more primal and ferocious than you can hope to understand, and you're lucky to be alive, you rank, arrogant amateur!”
 
Willow reeled back as if she’d been slapped. Her hurt and disappointment turned to anger. “You're right,” she said, raising her voice. “The magicks I used are incredibly powerful. I'm incredibly powerful!” She paused. “So maybe it's not such a good idea for you to piss me off.”
 
Willow and Giles just stared at each other for a few seconds, both feeling like they were talking to a person they’d never met before.
 
They jumped when the basement door opened. “Either keep it down or fight somewhere else, would you? ‘M tryin’ to sleep,” Spike said blearily. He turned to Willow, “Oh, Anya says you an’ Glinda are payin’ six hundred a month in rent to Buffy from now on, an’ you’re to stop bein’ so bloody late every time you pay a bill.”
 
Giles stared at Willow in surprise. “You mean to tell me you haven’t been contributing all this time?”
 
Willow opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I, we, well….”
 
“”M goin’ back to bed,” Spike grumbled, and went back downstairs. He had thought he’d have something more like a showdown with Willow, but he was too tired right now to bother, and he reckoned telling her immediately after a dressing down from Giles was just as good, if not better. Serves her bloody right, the bitch.
 
“C'mon, Giles,” Willow said finally. “I don't want to fight. Let's not, okay? I'll think about what you said, and you ... you try to be happy Buffy's back.”
 
Giles looked at her for a moment before replying. “We still have no idea where she was or what happened to her. And I'm far from convinced she's come out of all this undamaged.”
 
Willow made up two mugs of coffee as quickly as she could and fled upstairs to Tara and safety. She felt battered and bruised and in desperate need of comfort.
 
“Baby?” Willow said softly, opening their bedroom door. “I have coffee.”
 
“Mmmmm, coffee,” Tara murmured.
 
Willow set the mugs down on the bedside table and crawled into bed, wrapping herself in the warmth of Tara’s arms, burrowing to find as many points of contact as she could.
 
“Something wrong, Sweetie?” Tara asked sleepily.
 
“Giles yelled at me,” Willow said softly.
 
“You can’t be surprised,” Tara mumbled, eyes still shut.
 
Willow scrambled to sit up, shocked. “Of course I was surprised!”
 
“Willow,” Tara said carefully, coming up to rest on her elbow and forcing her eyes open. “We decided not to tell Mr Giles we were doing it because we didn’t think he’d approve. Why would you expect him to now?”
 
“Because she’s back now! And she’s fine … well, mostly. And I thought he’d be proud of me.”
 
“Oh, Sweetie. That was never going to happen.” Tara tried to get Willow to lie down again, but she jerked away from her.
 
“Are you taking his side?” Willow asked, horrified and hurt.
 
“Willow, this isn’t about sides!” Tara said, finally giving up on snuggling and sitting up. “I’m always on your side. I love you. It’s about acknowledging that we did something … dangerous. We took a really big risk. And no matter how wonderful it is to have Buffy back, it’s going to take time to sort out what all the repercussions are.” Tara sighed. “And honestly? I’m not sure things with Dawn will ever really be okay again.”
 
“I’m sorry!” Willow wailed. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t leave her there! That I couldn’t go through every day knowing that Buffy was in some horrible hell dimension.”
 
“I know you only wanted to help Buffy. I’m sure Mr Giles knows that too.”
 
“He’s sure not acting like he does,” Willow grumbled.
 
“You can’t control how other people feel, Willow.”
 
“I know that! But it wasn’t just Giles.”
 
Tara stroked Willow’s arm. “What else?”
 
“Spike,” Willow almost spat the name, “said that Anya wants us to start paying rent.”
 
“That’s a really good idea,” Tara said, smiling. “I mean, when we first moved in, it was only supposed to be temporary, so we never really talked about rent, but now….  Plus I’m sure it’ll help with Buffy’s money problems.”
 
Willow was stunned. “Okay, fine, if Buffy asked. But … Anya? And Spike? What business is it of theirs whether we pay rent or not?”
 
Tara crinkled up her face in confusion. “What’s your problem, Willow? We’ve paid rent before, and it’ll help Buffy.”
 
“It’s … don’t you find it weird that Spike and Anya know anything about our bills!”
 
“Well Spike lives here. And maybe Buffy asked Anya for help? We did kind of tell her there were money troubles and then leave yesterday.”
 
“Why didn’t she ask me?” Willow said finally, frustrated.
 
Tara finally got it. “Oh Willow,” Tara said, putting her arms around her girlfriend.
 
“I offered to stay, yesterday. But Buffy said she was fine, so I didn’t. But then she obviously went and talked to Anya about something I’ve been handling just fine for months! And last night when we came home, Buffy just left! With Spike! She … “ Willow started crying. “I just miss my best friend so much! And she doesn’t want to talk to me!”
 
Tara held Willow while she cried, desperately worried that the gap between reality and Willow’s expectations was getting uncomfortably wide.