Chapter Thirty-Five
“Donna!”
Sam jolted as the outcry tore through the silence that had sat uninterrupted for nearly two hours and sent a pointed gaze in Josh’s direction. The man was on the floor, surrounded by a mass of open, aged books and looked as though he had not even smelled a cup of coffee in ten years. “She’s with Spike,” he said, drawing his friend’s attention back to the present. To his credit, the Deputy Chief of Staff had lasted longer than Xander and Anya. Conversation had dwindled about four hours earlier, and those that had survived the night without succumbing to sleep were scattered in respective corners around the house.
Josh blinked at him groggily. “Huh?”
“Donna.”
“What about her?”
“She’s with Spike. Well, she’s with Spike and Buffy.”
“I know that.”
Sam arched a brow. “You just yelled for her.”
“Oh.” The other man frowned and ran a hand through his messy curls. “Force of habit. Anyway…what?”
“Did you find a thing?”
“What?”
“You yelled for Donna…does that mean you’ve found a thing?” Sam sighed and performed the routine battle with gravity as he wobbled to his feet. “Typically when you yell for Donna, it’s because you’ve found a thing.”
Josh blinked again rapidly. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I found this thing.”
“What is it?”
The Deputy Chief of Staff stared at him numbly, looking to focus all his energy in not falling over. “What?”
“What did you find, Josh?”
“Oh. Yeah. This thing.” He held up the book to his face so that the pages only shied his nose by an inch or so. “Says…Quasimodo or whatever his name is has, among other things, the ability to bend the fabric of reality and has been known to…sire gods? Whatever the hell that means.” He set the text down again, swaying against his exhaustion. “I dunno what the hell I just said, but it sounds like something that’s not good.”
“Yeah.” Sam frowned and navigated to his feet, wheedling the book away from his friend without much of a struggle. “Where did you find it?”
“’Bout a third of the way down on the odd-numbered page.”
The Deputy Communications Director grinned wryly. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “it is okay to sleep, Josh.”
A pause. “Hmmm?”
“I’m just saying, you look like you can use some sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Perfectly fine. Could go a few more hours.”
“Sure. All I’m saying is, it would likely be better if you were more alert while looking for this thing.” He shook his head and pivoted to return to his seat, then stopped abruptly as his eyes scanned the passage Josh had pointed out once again. Perhaps it was better to address this now before he got comfortable. “You know,” he said, turning to his friend once more, “I was being serious. You really should get some rest.”
Josh blinked. “How’s it that you’re still all...perky?”
“Because something tells me that this might be more important than beating the Republican leadership in committee.”
“Don’t be so hasty.” The other man nodded, though, and yawned. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Yeah.”
“I am.”
“Josh?”
“What?”
“Go to sleep.”
The Deputy Chief of Staff nodded and yawned again. “Okay.” And, without another word, he promptly toppled over, dead to the world.
Sam smiled slightly and cast a hand through his rumpled locks, adjusting his reading glasses. “Well,” he said, “that was easy.” He turned without lifting his head, making his way through the eerily silent halls that quaked with the first steps of morn to find where Willow had settled with her own research.
It didn’t take long. The strains of formality between their groups had dwindled to practically nothing over the past few days. The doors to almost every room were wide open in the expectation of midnight visitors. Through the shadows of early dawn, he could see Xander lying open-mouthed on his back across the bed, Anya on the floor next to him. Her arm was stretched over the mattress, head resting against her boyfriend’s just slightly. She had an open book in her lap.
The only room that was shut off from the rest of the world was Wesley’s, and Sam could hear the small rustle of British quarrel from two former Watchers who refused to sleep.
He found Willow curled on her bed, her head cradled with a volume of open, ancient text. She had another book clutched to her chest, and another was draped over her hip. She looked peaceful, if not exhausted with worry. And too adorable for words.
A tender smile crossed his lips and he dropped his own test to his side as he approached the bed. She had literally worn herself out. And though he hated to disturb her, there were some matters that simply would not wait.
“Willow.”
There was a slight shift and she mumbled something that he didn’t catch.
“Willow?” He drew in a deep breath and knelt beside the bed, tenderly brushing a few wayward strands of hair from her forehead. “Willow, I need you to wake up, now.”
“Mmmm.”
“Willow…”
His voice elevated just a few notches, and that was enough. She finally began to blink to awareness. Her eyes foggy with sleep, hand clutching at the book at her breast with sudden fervor. “I wasn’t asleep!” she blurted before she was even aware of who had awakened her. “I was just…” Then she saw him, and her eyes softened. “It’s you.”
He smiled. “It’s me.”
She nodded and settled back, smiling drowsily. “I wasn’t asleep,” she said.
“Of course you weren’t.”
“I was resting my eyes.”
“Quite comfortably, from the looks of things.”
A scowl crossed her face and she sat up with sudden fervor. “I wasn’t sleeping,” she said. “This is how I research. I sit, I’m surrounded by books that say many important and interesting things, and—”
“You sleep.”
“I wasn’t sleeping!”
“Willow, Josh found a thing.”
The semi-alert teasing persona immediately dropped from her façade, and she was fully awake the next minute. “What? What is it?”
“Well, nothing about how to help Buffy, but it’s something that wasn’t mentioned before.” He extended the book for her viewing. “Quirinias has the ability to create gods, it looks like. Aside being one himself. What Josh didn’t see was the subtext.” Her eyes immediately leapt to the aforementioned text. “It seems he might be the same as an African god called Buku, who was at times worshipped as a goddess. I don’t know exactly what this means, but I think it might be a good idea to start cross-referencing other noted gods in history to see what other cultures might have called this guy.”
Willow licked her lips and nodded, then frowned, shoved herself to her feet and glared at him. “Wait. No. No, this shouldn’t be important. Because we’re gonna find a thing and it’s going to be okay. And we won’t have to find out what happens if Quirinias becomes corporeal, because it’s not gonna happen. Right? Why are you wasting time looking up stuff like this?”
Sam frowned his surprise and gave her a long look. “I…I didn’t…Willow, I know that we’re going to help Buffy, but we have to be prepared for the alternative.”
She shook her head. “No. I—”
“When we’re running an election, we don’t bank that we’re going to win no matter how good our numbers are. If you don’t believe me, Josh and Toby will vouch. We have to know what to expect if something really bad happens.” He held up the book again. “And if this guy’s bad enough to be named in other cultures and listed as one of the gods that can create other gods, I’m thinking we have even more incentive to get Buffy thoroughly exorcised.”
There was a long, silent moment.
“First,” she began, a sharp edge to her tone that she had never taken with him. The rapidity of it all nearly blew him off his feet. This was the last thing he had expected. “Buffy’s my best friend. I don’t need incentive more than that. Secondly, don’t use the world exorcised. I’m not a priest, this isn’t a 70s horror movie…and if I was a priest, I wouldn’t be, ‘cause I’m Jewish and priests really, really aren’t.”
His eyes widened, hands coming up in protest. “Whoa, girl. Calm down. I’m just saying—”
Willow gave him another long, hard look before she sighed and glanced to the floor, tension rolling off her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just…this thing just happened, and I’m so…” A deep breath. “You know if anything happens…if we find anything, it’s going to be up to me to fix her. I’ve never had to do that. I’ve never been the one who saves the world. I keep needing to talk to Buffy, and Buffy’s the one who might bring on the apocalypse.” She shook her head with a quivering sigh. “I just can’t let myself believe that I will fail, you know? And I can’t sleep on the job. I’m supposed to be researching and I was—”
Sam grasped her hand and tugged her forward to silence her with a kiss. It wasn’t much he had to offer, but she softened in his arms and quivered relief into his mouth. Willow’s kisses were drops of honey. Like discovering candy that was sweeter than anything he had ever before had the privilege of sampling.
It was meant to be a short, loving kiss, but at first taste he knew he was lost. There was something about her purity, her sweetness that hooked him at the slightest touch. In seconds, the loom of the god that brought the apocalypse on his heels and everything else that had everyone choked with tension they could not swallow—all of it was forgotten. The book in his grasp toppled to the ground, his hands coming to cup her face with gentle veneration. And for a few blissful seconds, there was no world around them, no worries to distract them. Nothing to keep them from the simple grace that was this.
And as all perfection must, theirs faded and the world returned. They pulled away with reluctance but the sort of haste that came with the importance of things bigger than themselves. That instant of guilt that came along with momentarily forgetting what was important.
He smiled when it took her a few seconds to compose herself, despite the nature of the circumstance. “Well, that wasn’t planned, but I can’t say I disapprove.”
She grinned girlishly. “You really know how to romance a girl, Sam,” she said, clearing her throat before she bent over to collect the book he had dropped. “Kiss the life out of her, then scientifically explain how the kiss itself wasn’t scheduled, but you’re glad for the sudden burst of creativity.”
The smile faded just like that. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” She kissed his cheek with a grin. “I was just saying.”
“Well, I got a smile out of you. My morning’s already made.” A slow sigh escaped his lips. “You shouldn’t deprive yourself of sleep. I know you’re stressed, but you’re not alone. We’re all here to help.”
She quirked a brow, taking in the ragged appearance of him. “Have you slept yet?”
He paused with a frown. “No…?”
A grumble. “How are you so perky?”
Sam shrugged. “I work for the President. I’m used to these hours.”
“I’m in college.”
“Yeah, I think I win.”
“I don’t know. My psych professor’s kinda scary.”
He waved his hand demonstratively. “Congress.”
“Okay. You win.” She grinned a bit. “But still, you shouldn’t be lecturing me on my sleeping habits if you’re not getting any rest, either.”
“I’m used to it,” he said with a weary smile. “Listen, I’m going to go downstairs and start breakfast for the Millers. Don’t want them to worry with it, especially with the night they had with the light show and the town finally realizing what’s going on around here. Then we’re going to sit down and go over these books with a hot meal and good coffee and figure out what it is we’re supposed to do, okay?”
The redhead arched a brow and shook her head. “No. You’re not going to be any good to me if you pass out at noon. Try to get a little sleep. I’ll make the breakfast and the coffee and start going over some new stuff that you’ll be all ready to help me with when you’ve had a few hours of rest.”
“Willow—”
“Really. It’s, what…” She glanced around the room for a clock and nearly toppled over when the time stared back at her. “Good lord, it’s almost five-thirty. You’ve been up all this time?”
“I know. I look cheery, don’t I?”
“Are you the only one up?”
Sam shook his head. “Giles and Wesley were talking when I came in. Josh stayed up until about twenty minutes ago until I told him to go to sleep and he collapsed on command. I’m pretty sure that Spike is still up.”
“Why?”
“The light in the townhouse was on. Besides, if I was in his position, I wouldn’t be able to sleep if you gave me a sedative.”
Willow smiled and neared to brush a bold kiss against his lips. “You’re sweet.”
He grinned. “You are not wrong in this.”
“You’re also going to sleep.” She stepped away and moved around him for the door. “I’ll be up around noon to wake you and get you back, okay?”
“Where do you want me to go?”
A coy grin crossed her face. “You can use my bed.”
“Well, if I knew that, I would have tried to go to sleep a long time ago.”
“Good, but I fell asleep on Donna’s bed, so that would’ve been a lost cause.” Willow heaved a sigh and shook her head. “I’m going downstairs now.”
“Yeah. I just have this thing.” There was a deep breath and a sudden drop of their pleasant, however nervous banter. Her eyes met his anxiously. “I know that this is…it’s your life. I know that saving the world is what you’re used to. And I know the level of stress in your life must make the stress in mine look like child’s play. Which, I might add, is no small feat of victory. But I was just wondering…”
Her gaze had gone wide with expectation, suddenly even more nervous than he thought she could become. And almost immediately, he understood the nature of her misapprehension and started with a tense laugh. “I want this,” he reassured her. “I really want this to work. I want to continue seeing you after all of this is over. I just want to know…is this the way it’s going to be?”
“Is what the way it’s going to be?”
“This.” Sam stretched his arms expressively. “Buffy’s possessed by a god and you keep using the word apocalypse. Apocalypse, by definition, meaning no more world and it’s somehow my fault because I read a few words out of a book that no one had seen in centuries. Is this the way it is? Will I have to worry about you every second?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. No to me, yes to everything else.” She smiled humorlessly. “This happens. It happens a lot. The first year I knew Buffy, the world nearly ended. Same the second and the third—well, the Hellmouth opened once and then there was an apocalypse on the third, so really…we average an apocalypse every year. This being the fourth, the fact that we’re facing another one right now? Not really surprising. So yes. With me comes the added bonus of the annual apocalypse. The thing is…now that you know it happens every year, and that it’s been happening every year...does that really change anything?”
Sam licked his lips and stepped forward, expelling a deep breath. He kept his eyes trained on hers, because it was important that she know exactly how deeply he meant what he was about to say. “No. It doesn’t change anything. The world turns, the sun rises and sets, and evidently, unspeakable demons try to destroy everything every few months. And I like you, and I want to make sure that you know that I’m all right with this, because something is going on here and I want it to continue after we’re through in Natchez.”
Her eyes warmed and the tension in her body rolled off with smooth pliancy. “Good,” she said.
“But why can’t I worry about you?”
“Oh you can. Just won’t do any good.”
He quirked a brow.
“I’m a witch,” she explained, shrugging. “Can pretty much take care of myself.”
“And that’s the same reason you’re so worried about a god, because you’re a witch and you can take care of yourself.”
“Shut up. And you need to sleep.”
“I really don’t.”
“Well, I’m saying you do. So go to sleep.”
Sam smiled. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“You better go now.”
“I’m going.” She turned around with a note of finality and strode toward the door. And, before leaving him in his own company, she tossed over her shoulder, “I’ll be back at noon. Be ready to study.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She chuckled but didn’t turn to face him. And was gone within the next second.
The Deputy Communications Director smiled and turned to the bed. The concept of sleep was somewhat beyond him. He had gotten through that part of the night where one felt like one could topple at any instant and was to the point of slaphappy where sleep was on the brink of being tackled and yet he felt wide awake.
There was so much riding on what they could dig out of those old books. Spike had not left Buffy’s side, and would not if Sam could read any of how much the vampire loved his Slayer. It struck him odd that it took stepping outside the realm of reality to find something that was allegedly true in the world he had grown up in. But even with the marriage of the President and the First Lady, something he aspired to in his own life, there was nothing like the dedication he had seen in just these few days with the demon who was not supposed to love.
No. He was grateful for it, but he knew as well as Willow that there was no chance of sleep.
*~*~*
The sun had been in the sky for about seven hours. He didn’t see it; didn’t need to have his eyes open to feel it. Didn’t even need to sense the warmth that crept through closed windows and touched the curtains in the back room of the townhouse. His eyes had been fastened shut for the better part of morning, and now that the day was stretching into afternoon, that small nagging at the back of his head was growing louder and more insistent. She was in his arms, soft and warm. Peaceful. For the moment, she was peaceful. She had slept the night through without shrieking. Without ripping through his heart, which no longer required bloodshed. She had slept.
It was afternoon. Donna was in the other room, watching television and trying to not make too much noise. She thought him asleep as well.
As though he could sleep while Buffy was dying.
A trembling sigh thundered through his body and he clutched her tighter, burying his face in her hair.
God.
He should have known this was going to happen. He should have sensed it.
For a few hours, he had been so happy. They had been so, so happy. Happy in ways that creatures of the night were not allowed. Happy in ways he had never known in life. Never known with Drusilla. Never known were possible until he knew the warmth of her embrace.
Chancing fate. It was his fault. All of it.
And Buffy was stirring.
Spike blinked and his body tensed. Buffy was stirring.
Here we go.
He sat up, pulling her with him so that she was cradled in his arms. “Buffy?” he murmured, brushing a kiss into her hair. “Sweetheart? I’m here. Do you need anything?”
There was nothing for a minute but the normal happenstance of waking after a long night’s rest. She crooned, mumbled, rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, and yawned a little.
Spike closed his eyes painfully and kissed her forehead. “Kitten? Are you—”
Then it happened. She tensed, her grip on him tightening; her nails digging into his skin. Her head jerked back and he saw her eyes.
Her gold eyes that swam in blood.
“Oh God.”
Then she screamed. A shrill, piercing rip through the air that tore through his heart.
She screamed and screamed.
And wouldn’t stop.
TBC