Chapter Twenty-Four
The minute that he opened the door and digested the shifty, uncomfortable look on her face, piecing together what the day had been like was not a matter of much disclosure. Her body language reeked of discomfort. Of hesitation; of doubt. It wasn’t entirely unexpected—not with friends such as hers—but even still, the uncertainty coloring her eyes was heartbreaking.
He could stake himself for having her face the lions alone. While they had not attempted to keep their budding relationship shrouded in secrecy, he should have known—he had known—that her friends would pounce the moment they got her by herself. And they had. They had, because he had not been beside her. Even if rationality told him that the sun had kept him at bay. He had found ways around the sun before.
This was pure madness.
Even still, Spike released a deep breath and flashed a winning smile. No use letting her know that her discomfort was written in large red letters across her face. “Evenin’, sweetling.”
There was a pause at that. His smile faded. Perhaps he had underestimated the strength of his hold. The look coloring her face refused to dither. He didn’t believe he had ever seen her look so tentative. “Buffy?” he asked softly, guiding her inside. “Are you all right, pet?”
There was another pause. She blinked and forced a weak smile, as though only then realizing he was there. Dragging herself from some elusive thought. “Hey,” she said, yanking her arm free and rigidly shoving her way past him. The formality of her countenance was nearly a slap in the face. Her walls were up again, guarding her fortress with quivering resolve. She fidgeted, not knowing what to do with her hands. The deep hazel of her eyes was drenched in misery. “I…” she started, standing awkwardly in the middle of the dining area. The thought refused to conclude itself, and she fell to deeper silence.
When she finally met his gaze, he knew immediately whose neck to wring. There had never really been any doubt, but now there was none at all. She looked thoroughly tormented.
“Buffy—”
“I’m gonna go patrol,” she said abruptly. “I should…we didn’t get to the cemetery, and I should—”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. I need to go alone.”
Spike growled lightly and stalked forward. Bollocks if he let Xander Harris muck up everything that he had been working toward simply because of a prejudice he could do nothing to dissolve. Before he could gauge his own actions, he had grasped Buffy by the arm and pulled her against him, forcing her eyes to his. “What did they say to you?” he rasped. “It was Harris, wasn’ it? What’d he say? Did he—”
“It’s nothing, Spike.” For the flush in her skin and the way she couldn’t maintain eye contact, he wagered she had never told a larger lie. “I just need some time to think…about this.”
“About us,” he corrected, voice guttural.
“I—”
“What did he say, pet? What did he—”
She wrenched her arm free again and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she replied softly. “It doesn’t matter. I just have to think.”
“Buffy—”
“No, I’m going to go now.”
“Shouldn’t we chat this out?” He didn’t mean for the plea to hit his voice, but it did all the same. He had a terrible feeling that if she walked out, there would be no more discussion.
Fuck it all. How could everything they had done, all the truths they had exchanged, everything that had accounted for the best days of his life be so randomly threatened? How had he allowed that?
“I need to think, Spike. It’s nothing. Really, it’s…” She met his eyes remorsefully. “Nothing’s changed. I feel the same way I did before I left…I just need to think this out before we rush into it headfirst. And I know that’s what you did for me last night. I said I needed time but I haven’t used it…I’ve just…I dunno. But I have to be alone for a little while, so I’m going to go patrol now.” She licked her lips. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Then we can talk.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just stood, stared, and felt himself nod. She attempted another smile in his direction and placed a brief, albeit reassuring kiss upon his lips, then moved for the door and was gone in seconds. Her whirlwind arrival and departure left him bereft. A crashing storm dividing them down the middle.
He shouldn’t have let her go alone.
*~*~*
“Leo said he’d have the state militia test the barrier.” Josh plopped wearily in the lobby sitting area of the Eola Hotel, catching a canned beer as it whizzed off Sam’s aim. “There wasn’t anything else, though. Said he’d never heard of a Slayer but would run it passed Fitz and McNally.”
“Fitz is the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs,” Sam said, turning to Willow for explanation. She offered a tired smile and nodded. “Nancy McNally is our National Security Advisor. As far as Leo knows, they’re the only people who have an ear to the President who know.”
“Except us,” Donna said, taking a sip of her lemonade. “Now we know.”
“I think Toby’s going to go crazy before the night’s out,” Josh retorted. “Anyone wanna take a pool on that?”
Sam shook his head, eyes glued on the attentive redhead at his side. “How’d research go?” he asked.
“A whole lot of nothing,” she replied desolately. “These terms that Giles gave me were written in…I don’t know. Some language beyond my comprehension. The stuff I’m used to is all ‘rosemary herbs’ and ‘rat-tail’ and ‘newt eyes.’” A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “The closest I came to translating any of what he gave me was a recipe for dip.”
“We decided that the book guy probably wasn’t too interested in expanding his culinary prowess,” Donna added. “So we started researching the ghost cat some more and found a few very interesting—”
Josh groaned. “Oh, God, here we go…”
“And as I explain them to you, we’re going to play the Everyone Ignore Josh game.”
“Where is Giles?” Willow interrupted, earning a devastatingly grateful look from the Deputy Chief of Staff. She smiled apologetically at Donna, but turned to the ever-tacit Wesley all the same. “When I called, he said to be back here by seven.”
The former Watcher smiled. “Yes,” he agreed. “Then he and Anya stumbled across something that required immediate attention. They believe they know whom the book belongs to. An ancient Roman god called Quirinias.”
Sam frowned. “Quirinias? I thought he was a war god of the Sabines.”
That random bout of knowledge seemed to stun the room. Willow beamed proudly and gave him a shoulder hug.
Josh and Donna just stared at him. “Why in the world,” the former demanded, “would you have that information at your disposal?”
The Deputy Communications Director spread his hands diplomatically. “So it’s all right for the President to know these things, but when it’s me, it’s too unreasonable?”
Josh seemed to consider this for a minute, then shook his head in concession. “No,” he admitted. “You’re both nerds, so I suppose it’s to be expected.”
“Hey!” Willow yelped defensively. “Smart is not synonymous with nerd.” She paused and glanced down. “A-at least that’s what my mother used to tell me.”
“You’re adorable,” Sam informed her.
“Regardless,” Wesley said, voice tiresome. “As Anya claims to have known Quirinias at one point or another, Rupert is hounding her for information that continuously contradicts itself. I believe she is getting him confused with the god Buku, which makes absolutely no sense as Buku is an African god; not of Ancient Rome.”
“This conversation gives new meaning to the term, ‘separation of Church and State,’” Josh mumbled.
Willow quirked her head to the side. “That’s strange,” she mused. “Anya’s tact might be…well, lacking, but she usually remembers all the ancient gods with a fair amount of accuracy.”
“I don’t think I want to know how old Anya is,” the Deputy Chief of Staff volunteered.
“Eleven hundred, or in the thereabouts,” the Witch replied.
“Thank you.”
She shrugged. “Well, she knows her stuff. She’s annoying and socially deficient, yes, but…I guess I need to be fair. She’s only been human for about a year.”
Donna cleared her throat and turned back to Wesley. “So,” she began. “We know who the book belongs to...what does that mean?”
He shrugged. “We don't know at the moment. Quirinias, if he is indeed the proprietor of the text, isn't a god that we have too much information on. As Sam observed, his origin was technically claimed by the Sabines, but later adapted by the Roman Empire.”
“And if memory serves,” Sam continued, “in equivalence with the Roman Empire, Quirinias was regarded as important a god as Jupiter or Mars.” He glanced to Willow and smiled sheepishly. “I took a class in ancient mythology when I was in college.”
Josh turned to Donna. “The more I watch them, the more I'm positive that they're either twins separated at birth, or need to do it and get it over with before it just gets too...cute.”
The redhead and the Deputy Communications Director exchanged glances of mutual discomfort.
“Where's Xander?” the blonde asked a minute later to quell the inherent discomfort. “I thought he and Buffy would be back by now.”
“He called,” Wesley said. “Evidently, he had not foreseen winding himself on the trips about town, so he decided to return to the Wensel House to rest. Buffy was supposed to go on her night patrol with Spike, but I haven't heard from her one way or another.”
Josh shook his head. “I don't understand how she and that psycho boyfriend of hers keep getting the jobs where they're alone together for hours on end.”
Willow shrugged, her smile fading. “Just lucky, I guess.”
Donna licked her lips, sensing the subject stray into dangerous waters and making a mad dive before things could become even more rigid. “So, if the state militia gets here and can’t get in from the outside, what happens?”
“Well, if that’s the case, I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice.”
The redhead’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“The only solution might be to…you know…” Josh cracked a small smile. “Bomb Natchez.”
There was a short pause at that—the former Watcher’s eyes went wide and he came dangerously close to toppling out of his chair. “What?”
“He’s kidding,” Willow explained hastily, gaze darting to the Deputy Chief of Staff, whose eyes were dancing. “You are kidding, right?”
Sam nodded and patted her hand in reassurance. “He’s kidding.”
“If the guys can’t get in, there’ll be a thing and Leo might get the Initiative guys involved.” Josh shrugged. “I dunno. He has a lot on his plate right now. Dealing with the leadership about his thing. Trying to get out of a bunch of assuredly embarrassing hearings and further public disgrace. Working to find replacements to take care of the Mendoza confirmation until we get back—”
“Don’t mention that around Toby,” the Deputy Communications Director advised.
“We’re the advisors to the President and we’re stuck in Mayberry.” A sigh cross his lips. “And apparently, to top it all off, Zoey and Charlie have started seeing each other.”
Donna smiled ear-to-ear. “Oh really? That’s so sweet.”
“Zoey Bartlet?” Wesley asked. “The President’s daughter?”
“Unless you know another.” Josh nodded and leaned back. “Yeah, and now the President’s upped Zoey’s secret service even more so than before and is looking into getting a specific field agent for her to be on twenty-four hour active duty. It’s turning into a thing.”
The redhead frowned. “Why?”
Sam cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Charlie’s black,” he explained.
She stared at him blankly. “So…I’m Jewish, what’s that got to do with anything?”
“You’re Jewish?” Josh echoed, perplexed.
“Her last name is Rosenberg,” Donna provided.
“With as liberated and stunningly intelligent as you are, Willow,” Sam began with a weak smile. “It might surprise, or even shock you to know that a black man dating the President’s daughter is not something some of the more—”
“Red-necked psychos?” Josh volunteered.
“—less-tolerant citizens will understand.”
The Deputy Chief of Staff turned back to his assistant. “Yes, her name is Rosenberg,” he agreed. “But she’s also a witch and I’ve seen her eat bacon.”
The redhead was thoroughly astonished. Granted, it wasn’t really all that surprising, but she lived in a town where discrimination against ethnicities was virtually nonexistent. There were too many real problems to discern to bother with making sure everyone fit the classic standard of a perfect American. “That’s horrible,” she muttered. Then frowned at Josh who was still arguing the validations of her Judaism. “I was born Jewish,” she explained. “I think I’m going through a thing right now where I’m trying to even out my Wiccanism and my upbringing. But I am Jewish…my family was never really orthodox. I don’t know…”
Sam shrugged. “It’s a thing.”
“Exactly.”
Josh shifted slightly in his seat and cocked his head. “So, your high school was so rough that you were finding dead guys in lockers?” he asked. “I thought I heard you say something about a mortality rate.”
Willow cracked a small smile. “The dead guys in the lockers was really one of the lesser problems,” she explained. “Sunnydale’s on top of a hellmouth, so there’s a lot of freaky activity and evil demons to fight. And—”
“Whoa, wait, hold on.” The man blinked slowly. “A what-mouth?”
“Hellmouth,” she answered. “The mouth of Hell, or one of them, I should say. I think Giles said there’s one in Cleveland. I’ve actually done some research and I’m looking to pinpoint how many there are, bilaterally.” The three staffers were looking at her askance. Wesley only offered a small, ‘I’m on the in’ smile and nodded his concurrence.
“Oh my God,” Donna said slowly.
“That would explain for the things I heard as a kid,” Sam muttered.
Willow shrugged. “It’s just the way it is,” she said. “And, yeah, Xander and I were on the wrong side of freaked when we found out three years ago, but it did seem to explain a lot of things.”
“How did you guys find out?”
“We were attacked by vamps…well, I was taken by a vamp, Buffy saved me, then we were attacked by vamps.” She sighed. “We lost a friend of ours to vamps, actually. He was turned and everything. Xander had to stake him, too, so I think that’s why he’s so anti-vampire. He hated Angel…but that was because Angel had this thing with Buffy. And just when he started to not-hate Angel, Angel goes evil. So the Angel-hateage was really a kinda permanent thing.”
Donna nodded. “And that’s why he’s so against Spike?”
“He’s against Spike because Spike’s a vampire. I can understand that.” Willow sighed again with a frown. “I don’t…understanding whatever Spike is to Buffy right now is weird. Angel left town for her own good and everything…and before all this happened, I really thought she was hitting it off with this Riley guy back in Sunnydale. Now with the Faith thing and the living together and…whatever it is between them, it’s too sudden for me to call. I mean, one day they’re fighting to the death, the next they’re all snuggly-wuggly.”
Josh’s brows arched. “And that’s the literal kind of fighting to the death?”
A giggle tickled the redhead’s throat. “Spike once issued an order for all these demony assassins to kill Buffy. She’s dropped a piano on him, too. Then they joined together to stop Angel when he was all evilly and whatnot. Spike split town and came back a couple months later, kidnapped Xander and me, threatened to kill us if I didn’t do a love spell to get Dru back for him. Then not too long ago, he came back with this gem thing that made him all invincible…until Buffy took it away. Then he got all chipped up, he and Buffy hated each other, and now they’re practically dating.”
The Deputy Chief of Staff grinned warily. “Sounds a lot like Donna’s ex-boyfriend.”
The blonde grumbled and thwacked him. “Hey!”
He bade her off, eyes not leaving Willow’s. He had a silly ‘I’m pestering Donna’ look about his face that was no stranger to anyone who knew him well. “So the answer’s yes, then?” he asked.
The Witch frowned. “Yes?”
“That’s the literal kind of fighting to the death?”
She nodded. “Used to be. Not anymore.”
Sam sighed and turned his eyes to the carpet. “You guys have strange lives,” he said.
“It’s normal to us,” she reasoned. “And that’s just Spike. You guys haven’t heard about Anya and the way she became human. O-or the giant snake and the school blowing up on graduation. One time, we were all dressed up for Halloween and this old friend of Giles’s turned us into our costumes. And Buffy’s gotten to use a rocket launcher and then the Hellmouth has nearly opened two or three or a bajillion times, and—”
Josh held up a hand and turned to Donna. “Do you remember when our lives were boring?”
She appeared to think a minute, then shrugged. “We do work for the President,” she replied. “I guess that’s about as boring as the next job.”
He grinned at her.
“Well,” Wesley said, shifting forward a bit. “If this is as bad as it tends to get, I would prepare for your so-called ‘boring’ lives to become rather interesting very soon. Rupert is adamant that something is coming. Whatever was released with that book…”
Willow smiled. “Typical world-saveage,” she said. “All in a day’s work. Buffy slays, we party.”
That solution seemed something that Josh could very easily live with. “Really?”
“Hardly ever.”
There was a short pause and a collective sigh about the room.
“I think I’m going to miss boring,” Donna said.
“We took boring for granted,” Sam agreed.
Josh shrugged. “I’m not too worried,” he said, earning a foray of vastly amused glances. “We got the Wicked Witch of the West over here and that Slayer chick, plus one of the original Lost Boys and Anya of the ancient demon clan. What could possibly go wrong?”
The redhead groaned and smacked his knee. “That, for instance!”
“I was kidding!”
She hit him again. Harder. “You don’t kid with those words!” And again. “You just don’t!”
“Sam, call your girlfriend off of me!”
“Hey!”
“You’re the one tempting fate,” Sam advised, hands coming up diplomatically.
Another hit. Josh glanced to Donna for help. “What?” he demanded. “You gonna just stand there while I’m pummeled bodily?”
She shrugged. “Yes.”
“You’re fired.”
“Well, if the world’s ending, I really don’t care about my employment status.”
Wesley sighed and turned to Willow after she let up. “Do you suppose Buffy and Spike are having any luck?”
She perked her brows. “If they’re acting at all the way they’ve been acting…or, you know, like we’re acting? What do you think?”
“The world is in serious peril.” He glanced around. “And we’re the ones who can stop it.”
“Not of the reassuring.”
He nodded grimly, but didn’t reply. And as they sank back into calm, conversational chatter to quell the inherent discomfort around them, a line of tedium formed between their reasonability.
It was a game of waiting, now. And they were playing so well it was nearly second-habit.
Until Giles called, there was nothing to do but wait.
TBC