Chapter 11—Guide My Way Home

No navigator to guide my way home—Pink Floyd, "Learning to Fly"

Dawn was surprised to come home from school and find Spike and Buffy curled up on the couch together, watching television. Buffy noticed her first, and held her hand out to her, beckoning her forward. “Come sit with us, Dawnie. How was school?”

“School was good. What’s with all the lovey-dovey?”

Spike looked around Buffy, and smiled. “We’ve come to an understanding.”

“Oh.” She saw them look at one another, then turn back to her.

“We…want to tell you something, Dawnie,” Buffy started, and Spike interrupted her.

“We’re getting married.”

Dawn's squeal could make eardrums bleed, and this was no different. “I’m so happy!”

“We’ll tell the others later, but we wanted you to know. Because we love you, and you’re a part of all this.”

Dawn jumped on both of them, enveloping them in a huge hug. “We’ll be a family.”

“Platelet, come on! Watch the manly bits!” Dawn's leap had sent her knee into his gut, and was threatening to come down on his straining erection.

Dawn settled down, barely. “So, when’s the day? When do we get to celebrate?”

Spike chuckled. “Give us a bit, Platelet. We just decided today. Maybe a couple of months?”

Dawn bounced and pouted, and the whole couch shook. “When are we going to tell the gang?”

Buffy's eyes took on a sad cast. “I don’t know if there is much of a gang left, Dawnie. Willow's in a bad place right now. Tara isn’t much better. Xander and Anya are constantly fighting, it seems. Giles isn’t happy with any of us. That ole gang of mine seems to be falling apart.”

“‘Twas bound to happen, Slayer. They looked to you for their own guidance, and when you weren’t there to give it, look what they did.” Spike raked his fingers through his hair. “Seems like all they wanted was you to make it all better. You didn’t come back all blood and peaches, and spoiled their worldview. That can’t be a good feeling for them, pet. Maybe you should talk to them. Let them know you still care about them.”

She looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should. Maybe I should go see Will…she looked awful when she left the other day.”

She stood, leaning over to kiss Spike. “I think I will. Go see Will, that is. Stay with Dawnie?”

“Wait for you to come back, love.”

“Just like you always do, huh?” She grinned, and grabbed her coat. “I’ll be back shortly. Tara should be home soon, too. See you in a few.”

Spike turned to Dawn and handed her the remote. “So, you wanna watch the cheerleader movie again?”

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

In a darkened apartment across the small Californian town, an emaciated form sat in front of a shaky pentacle drawn in chalk on the bare floor. Ripped carpet pieces surrounded her, closing her in, away from the dark forces that would rip power from her. Any power. If she had any left.

“Blessed Aradia, hear my petition. Return my magic to me. Bring me back to power to revenge myself. Aradia, hear my call! Aradia, Hecate…. Anyone…. Please. Please. I’m nothing without the magic. Nothing. Please, Goddess, help me.”

When no answer came, when candles didn’t light spontaneously and bitter herbs did not please, Willow collapsed on her side, sobbing uncontrollably. She needed her magic. Didn’t anyone understand?

She was lying on her side, willing herself to die when Buffy found her.

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

She called home first.

Spike picked up the phone, thank God. She didn’t think she could tell Dawn or Tara.

“Spike, Willow's in the hospital. She looks…oh, God…she looks like she’s been casting since she left yesterday. She’s skeletal, Spike. Like she’s been drained from the inside. I almost didn’t believe it was her when I found her.”

“What are they doing for her?”

“Well, she’s in a coma. They’re giving her IV nutrition and fluids. Most of this hinges on whether she has the will to live.”

“I’ll keep things going here. You stay, long as you need to.”

“I’m just waiting for Xander right now. I’ll be home soon.”

She hung up the phone and turned around in time to be enveloped in a bear hug. She pulled away to look into Xander's miserable face, then hugged him again, harder.

“Breathing an issue here, Buff.”

She released him and he looked at the room across from the bank of payphones. “How is she?”

She wanted to lie to preserve his feelings, but she opted for the truth. He deserved the truth. “Skeletal. Comatose right now, but we don’t know if it was due to the lack of food or something else.” The way Buffy emphasized the words, he knew the something could have been magical. “The doctors have a lot of good things to say about her getting over this—complete recovery, they said. But right now, we don’t know.”

“Did you call Tara?”

“Yeah, I did. She and Willow didn’t part on good terms. I don’t know that her being here is such a good idea. She’s staying at my house right now.”

“Okay.”

Buffy looked around. “Where’s Anya?”

Xander grimaced, and Buffy was sorry she asked. “She’s gone right now. Wants me to get my priorities straight, I guess.” He didn’t want to tell her what the fight had been about. It just wasn’t something he was ready to share, or Buffy was ready to hear. At least, not right now, with Willow's life hanging by a thread.

They went to Willow's bedside together, supporting one another as they looked at the thin body suffuse with tubes and lines. Her fingers were paler than usual, skin stretched tautly over bones. Xander shuddered. Buffy was right to say that she looked skeletal. There was not an ounce of flesh on her anywhere. Her cheekbones protruded in stark relief, her closed lids sunken into her eye sockets and ringed by black circles.

Xander turned back to the Slayer and wrapped his arms around her, sobbing into her shoulder. She patted his shoulder and comforted him as best she could.

“How? How could this have happened to her?” he asked hoarsely, his throat raw from the tears.

“I don’t know, Xan. I found her in her apartment. She had trashed it completely, tore up the carpet and built herself a little cave. It was almost like she wanted to crawl up in there and die.”

“Was—was there magical stuff around?”

“Yeah, there was. Candle stubs, a pentacle on the floor, herbs burning a hole in a piece of carpet. It looked like she was trying to cast a spell and couldn’t.”

Xander pulled a chair to the bedside, and took the thin hand in his. “Do you think Tara's right? Could she have burned the magic out when she brought you back?”

“I don’t know, Xan. It could have. Magic’s weird, you know? I don’t know much about it, but Tara and Giles and Spike all think….”

“I don’t care what Spike thinks.”

She knew the flat tone and the inflection on the vampire’s name meant something, but she heedlessly continued. “They think that Willow was using a spell too powerful for her to control. Remember, Xan, she had no training whatsoever. It could have…well, Spike said….”

“Don't mention his name to me again, Buffy. I told you, I don’t want to hear what he thinks.”

She dragged him to the other side of the room, and lowered her voice, although she really wanted to scream. “What is your problem?”

Xander glared at her. She didn’t wither, like she used to. If anything, she stood taller. “I cannot stand that vampire, and I don’t understand why you didn’t stake him any of the hundred times in the past when you had the chance.”

Buffy sighed. So this was Xander's Spike thing, surfacing again. She was angry, but she was also tired, and knew that this was neither the place nor time. “I don’t think that this is the best place for this talk, Xan.”

“You keep bringing him up, not me.”

“You know what, Xander? He’s gonna be a big part of my life from here out. If you don’t want to hear his name, maybe you don’t need to be around me, and vice versa. I’m going home. I need to see about Dawn.”

“Yeah, run home to the evil dead. Hurry, he might find a new obsession before you get there.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it firmly, with resolve. She looked at the living dead girl laying on the bed, sending her loving thoughts, and left quietly. Xander stood there and watched the door close, still fuming, then went to the side of his fallen friend, picking up the bony hand and stroking it lightly.

“Well, it’s you and me, Will. I’m right here, and I won’t leave until you can leave with me. Just like when you had your tonsils out. Remember?”