**Loco2: Exactly. Now THAT is what I would call a Cliffhanger. Willow seeing things on campus, in broad daylight, with Anya to watch over her and Buffy and Tara on the way - that's SO not a cliffhanger.
**W.I.: Nope ... I still stand by that not being a cliffhanger *shrug*
**Ephiny2002: LOL ... dagnabit - I still say that wasn't a cliffhanger. And thank you - I'm really glad you liked AD ... and yeah, Tara, at least, always knows what's going on with Willow. We'll have to see if it works the other way around.
Title: Lingering Darkness Part 5 - Questions
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.com Summary: An argument or two. Maybe three. I lost count.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6 and for the previous story, 'Answering Darkness'. For anyone who has NOT read Answering Darkness (or, come to think of it, people who are nuts enough to reread that monster), it's in the Completed Fics Archive here on the Kitten.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. The stories all mine, though.
Rating: R for Adult Themes
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, all subsequent events appear in the story 'Answering Darkness'. This story picks up where the previous one left off.
EXTRA NOTES: This part is pretty … well, it's angsty. And unpleasant. And many other things along those lines. There are several references to different types of violence in this update (and I'm not talking about Anya's fond disembowelment memories - I'm talking about actual threats). I just want to make it abundantly clear that none of the violent acts referred to by anyone in this update are ever carried out, or, in fact, even >attempted< at any point in this or other 'Darkness' storylines. And by 'not attempted' I don't mean 'not attempted graphically' … no, I really mean it never ever happens. Buffy beating up baddies is about my comfort level for violence of any kind.
Lingering Darkness Part 5
Questions
By Sassette
Giles frowned as he shifted the pile of books this way and that. No matter how he arranged them, the one book he was looking for didn't appear, and it was annoying. With a sigh, having moved every single book in Buffy's living room five times, he gave up, picking up a different book and flipping through the pages.
He was feeling … unsettled. Someway, somehow, everything felt disturbingly unfinished. Everyone was safe, no one died, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to what happened down there in Hell than Willow and Tara had let on - more that they hadn't confided in him.
On one level, he completely understood. He had certainly never divulged the details of his torture session with Angelus - had never shared the mental anguish he had endured, or the fact that he would wake up in the night, screaming, a cold sweat covering his body.
But on another level, it hurt. He had always been the one the Scoobies would turn to in times of trouble - ion times of need. Now, the two girls were clearly recovering from a great ordeal, but they wouldn't talk about it.
Or, perhaps, they couldn't talk about it. He could certainly understand that, but still - his questions remained. What, exactly, had happened? What was said? What was alluded to? What kind of clues did the visit to Hell glean that he wasn't aware of - clues that could give him some indication of where, exactly, they stood and what the Hell Gods would do next?
Because they would do something. That much was certain.
There was no way The Trickster was going to just give up his plan of coming to Earth and disrupting the balance of the universe, and no way that Glory was going to sit idly by and let him. Something was going to happen - he could feel it, and while he preferred having facts in front of him than vague notions that things were about to go horribly wrong, he had learned not to discount such feelings. Feeling such as these had a tendency to save lives when they were acknowledged, and steps were taken.
But what steps?
The truth was, he didn't know. He was completely at a loss, and he hated it. Should he be pressing Willow and Tara for a more detailed account of their time in Hell? Or should he just let it go until they were ready to talk?
Either course could be dangerous - he knew that much, at least. Pressing them for information could, in fact, do more damage than good. Suppose reliving those memories was emphatically NOT what they needed right now, and nothing had happened that would give him any sort of indication of the Hell Gods' future plans? Then again, what if they knew something that would make all the pieces of the puzzle click into place? Could he afford to spare them the mental pain of recounting the events down to every last word they could remember?
There was no "good" option here, and he sighed, taking off his glasses and letting them dangle from his fingers as he rubbed at suddenly tired eyes. No - no good options.
"Don't you ever leave off?" Spike mumbled, trudging into the room, his feet bare and his torso covered by an open shirt.
"Spike! What are you doing here?" Giles asked, looking up sharply, taking in the way he moved stiffly, his battered body flopping down in the chair. Clearly, the vampire had been roughed up, and Giles was immediately concerned once he noticed - not that he was concerned for Spike, but the idea that something had gotten the better of the vampire meant that something nasty was probably afoot.
"Got into a bit of a spot. Slayer found me, brought me here," Spike said shortly, leveling his one-eyed gaze at Giles. The other eye was still swollen shut, an impressive purple color marring the skin.
"Well, I see," Giles said, nodding and waiting for Spike to continue. He knew from experience that attempting to question Spike was an exercise in futility - Spike was more likely to reveal pertinent information when convinced Giles didn't care, or when Giles handed over some money. Currently, Giles had no money, so he opted for patience.
"Came up from the basement for a bit of a drink, then I heard you breathing. You sound …agitated," Spike pointed out, shifting in his seat and trying to find a comfortable position. "Case you didn't notice, the good guys won. You can relax now."
"I don't like you, Spike, and I don't care to discuss my habits with you," Giles said curtly, Spike's words returning Giles' thoughts to the more ephemeral problem of The Trickster and what he was likely to do next.
"And here I thought you were the one with manners," Spike said with a snort. "Guess I was wrong."
"You're wrong about a great many things, Spike," Giles said with a sigh, shaking his head. Why did he get drawn into these pointless discussions with Spike? What was it about the vampire that seemed to bring out the worst in him?
The answer, of course, was fairly obvious. Spike was a bloodthirsty and remorseless killer with an unhealthy fascination with Buffy - that sort of thing tended to set a man's teeth on edge.
"Am I?" Spike asked slowly, drawing out the word. "You're worried about the birds. That The Trickster and Glory aren't finished yet, and you have no idea what they're going to do next. You're wondering if you should try to get more information out of the girls, and yet you don't want to push them into talking about something they're not ready to talk about."
"Spike, you are the most infuriating -" Giles began hotly, only to stop short, letting out a sigh. Then again, maybe he indulged in these conversations because Spike was so bloody observant. "Yes, that's about right."
Spike smirked, a smug look crossing his face, making him wince when his split lip pulled apart, a fresh dotting of blood breaking free. "Damn," he muttered, wiping at his lip carefully.
"So what happened to you?" Giles finally asked, wanting to change the subject away from his worries. At this point, he certainly didn't care what happened to Spike, aside from wishing that whatever had beaten him had had a nice pointy piece of wood handy, but he much preferred talking about that than talking about Hell Gods and their machinations.
"Got jumped. Three, four or so guys. Took my money and my coat," Spike said with a little shrug. "Couldn't fight back, so they had an easy time of it."
"Humans? Humans mugged you?" Giles asked, his eyebrows raising. Perhaps, Giles mused inwardly, there was such thing as cosmic justice - and it had a sense of humor.
"Yeah, that's right," Spike said, scowling as best he could around a split lip.
"And they weren't … scared of you?" Giles asked cautiously, a disturbing thought occurring to him. "I mean, I gather you did, um, well, that is - you tried to scare them off?"
"'Course I tried to scare them," Spike said, shaking his head. "Stupid gits weren't afraid. Had my game face on and everything."
"I see," Giles said, nodding his head. "Wait, no I don't. Were they Initiative maybe? Someone who would know you were harmless?" Someway, somehow, whoever had attacked Spike had to know that he was unable to hurt them, or they were confident in their ability to fight off a vampire. Either scenario didn't sit well with the Watcher, when he had no idea who had attacked Spike.
"You take that back!" Spike growled. "I am not harmless. Nearly got all of you killed with Adam around, despite the chip, and don't you forget it."
"I assure you it hasn't slipped my mind," Giles said dryly, casting a stony look toward Spike. "What I meant to say was, did they give any indication they knew you were chipped?"
"They beat me up despite the fact I'm a big spooky vampire," Spike pointed out.
"I mean other than that," Giles said, his exasperation clear as he pressed for more information. Generally, this was the best way to make sure Spike >didn't< talk, but for whatever reason, Spike seemed to be in a talkative mood, and Giles was determined to take advantage of it. "Did they look military? Government?"
"Definitely not," Spike said, shaking his head. "It was the most amateur ass-kicking I've ever seen."
"Well, that's quite unhelpful, isn't it?" Giles mused.
"Why the sudden curiosity?" Spike asked slowly, looking at Giles carefully. Something was going on in the Watcher's head - Spike could tell - but he wasn't quite sure what it was.
"Is it … well, that is to say … is it possible they were after something? Something specific?" Giles asked slowly.
"What, you think some drugged psychos beating up a vampire was part of some master plan?" Spike asked.
"Drugged? They were drugged? Are you sure?" Giles pressed.
"It's the only explanation, isn't it? And they certainly weren't talkative. I figure they were too drugged to think anything of the scary game face," he said, waving a hand in front of his face. "So they beat me up, took my stuff, and took off. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Well, I do suppose you're right. And you'll probably find your things with some demon in a day or two, if you're correct. They likely won't last long. I'll have Buffy keep an eye out for them - see if she can stop them from getting themselves killed," Giles said, turning back to his book.
"Stop them … stop them from getting killed?" Spike burst out incredulously, sitting forward in his seat, a look of pure shock on his face. "But … but … they're dangerous! They're running around beating up innocent people and taking their stuff - they're >muggers<. They're >bad<," Spike said seriously, his expression stern as he gazed at Giles.
"Well, I'd hardly call a blood-sucking fiend 'innocent'," Giles pointed out reasonably. "With all the people you've killed when they were helpless to stop you, I find I don't really have any sympathy for you."
"Oh, come on," Spike said defensively. "When have I ever not given someone a fighting chance? Beating me up chipped just isn't fair."
"You're coming dangerously close to whining, Spike, and really - it's rather pathetic," Giles said. "And how is an inhumanly strong, fast, and brutal instinctual killer hunting down the average human a 'fighting chance'?"
"And how is it my fault that I need blood to survive and most people have more of it than they need anyway?" Spike shot back.
"You tend to take ALL of it, Spike - leaving people dead. That would indicate you've taken more than they had to spare," Giles said calmly.
"Yeah, well - it's not like you humans have any idea of what it is to be alive anyway," Spike said with a little shrug. "You have these pathetic existences that don't end up amounting to anything. Really, I just put people out of their misery."
"So you're a humanitarian?" Giles asked. "And here I thought you were evil," he said, his tone sounding bored as he tried, once again, to return to his reading.
"I'm certainly a humanitarian," Spike said slowly and sweetly, as if speaking to a small child. "I eat humans, don't I?"
"Spike, that's quite enough," Giles said sharply, turning a heated gaze towards the vampire. "I'm sick and tired of listening to you defend yourself when there is no defense for you."
"I've helped out, haven't I? Been a good little chipped vamp - looking after Dawn, looking after Willow when she hared off, helping fight the good fight while Buffy was dead. We worked together all summer - you >needed< me, and now what? It's 'shut up, Spike', and 'you've never done anything right in your bleedin' unlife, Spike'," he said bitterly, rising to his feet and shuffling towards the kitchen. "Y'know - the whole lot of you can just go bugger yourselves."
"What do you expect, Spike?" Giles asked, his voice rising. "You said what you've become isn't your fault - all right, I'll believe that. I won't blame the man you were for the demon you've become. But - what? You want me to thank the demon - to credit that thing you have instead of a soul for the good you've done? When all the good you've done is as whimsical a twist of fate as the fact you were made into a vampire in the first place? What would you do, if you lost the chip tomorrow, Spike? Would you still be fighting the good fight, or would you be back to your depraved killing?"
"I don't know," Spike said, looking down, shaking his head and letting out a mirthless laugh. "Honestly? I don't know."
"I do," Giles said, fixing Spike with a steady gaze, full of deadly promise. "And I know exactly what I'd do as well."
"God - what I wouldn't give to be able to twist your nelly head off," Spike ground out. "You and Xander, always with your preaching, and your high horses. If it weren't for Dawn and Buffy - I >would< kill you. Right off - if it weren't for this bloody chip. First thing, I'd grab Xander around his pudgy neck and snap his neck like a twig. You two have always been on my case - always! And you never let up - and I've done some bloody bad things in my day, but who gives you two the right to judge? When did you move out of your glass house, Ripper ol' boy?"
"Don't you call me that," Giles said, his voice dropping low. "I think it's about time you left."
"It's daylight."
"I know," Giles said. "And since this is Buffy's home, and she brought you here last night, I won't push you out the door. But it would be in your best interest to leave at nightfall."
"What are you going to do? Kill the defenseless vampire? Stick a stake in my heart if I don't clear out, because you know I can't fight back?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow at Giles. "Of course, it shouldn't surprise me - killing defenseless things is your strong suit."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Giles asked coldly.
"You know what I mean, Mr. Watcher. Only, you didn't just watch Ben die, did you? Helped him along a bit, didn't you?" Spike asked slowly, clearly relishing each word as he saw Giles flinch.
"How did you know?" Giles asked wearily, removing his glasses and rubbing suddenly tired eyes, slumping back in his seat.
"I didn't - not for sure. Not until just now," Spike said simply.
"What?" Giles asked, looking up sharply. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered, looking back down again.
"And you know what my favorite part is?" Spike questioned softly, a smirk curving his lips. "I would've done the same thing. Y'see? We're not so different, you and I."
"It's not a big deal!" Willow insisted, walking in the front door in a huff, pulling Giles' attention away from Spike, and causing him to let out a sigh of relief.
"It >is< a big deal," Tara said, following close on her heels. Willow stopped in the living room, turning to look at Tara, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. Tara mirrored the pose, stopping a measured distance from Willow - well outside of reach - and meeting Willow's gaze steadily with her own.
"The sun just kind of got to me. That's all," Willow said flatly.
"The sun," Tara said, pursing her lips, a disbelieving look on her face. "The sun made you fall over, miss Anya calling your name, and made me freak out before Buffy's cell phone rang."
"That's right," Willow said, lifting her chin. "There was no reason to call off the school day - none at all."
"Look, Willow," Buffy began, Anya following her into the room.
"Stay out of this," Willow and Tara both said, neither one breaking their staring contest to bother looking at Buffy.
"Okaaaay," Buffy said slowly, her hands going up in surrender. "I'll just … be in the kitchen. Getting ice cream. I deserve ice cream," she said.
"I want to stay and watch the show," Anya said.
"I … think I'll join you," Giles said, standing up and following Buffy into the kitchen.
"Anya?" Tara said, her gaze unwavering as she stared steadily at Willow.
"Yes?" Anya asked, stepping up next to her best friend. "Do you need some Girl Friend back-up for your fight with your Girlfriend?"
"Go into the kitchen. Take Spike," she instructed, her tone and body language brooking no argument.
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike muttered, wondering how Tara had even noticed him standing there when she hadn't taken her eyes off Red the entire time she was in the house. "You sure you don't need some back-up Red? You know I've got you covered," he offered, hoping he could somehow finagle his way into staying in the room.
"Out, Spike," Willow said tightly.
Spike and Anya sighed in unison, heading into the kitchen and leaving Willow and Tara alone to stare at each other silently.
"Why are you lying to me?" Tara finally asked, breaking the stalemate.
"Lying to you?" Willow squeaked. "Like you've been so very forthcoming with the information lately," she shot back.
"I'm not the one having episodes and nightmares that I won't talk about," Tara pointed out.
"Yeah, well - I'm not the one who had nasty Hell God Possession Flashbacks which, I might add, you never ever mentioned to me," Willow said.
"How did you know about those?" Tara asked quietly, her face draining of color.
"Spike told me," Willow said angrily. "My girlfriend was going through this horrific trauma, and I had to find out from Spike?"
"How? How was I supposed to tell you?" Tara demanded. "Your best friend had just died, you were suddenly thrown into this position of being in charge of keeping the world safe from a Hellmouth, you'd spent so much time taking care of me when I was a vegetable, and you expect me to just dump that on you, too?"
"You should have told me," Willow insisted quietly. "I should have known about that - it was my fault, and I should have -"
"Your fault? See? Blaming yourself - I knew you'd blame yourself," Tara ground out. "Get this through your head - it wasn't your fault. You saved me - there was an unfortunate unforeseeable side-effect, but it wasn't your fault."
"Dammit - will you just let me take responsibility for my mistakes?" Willow demanded.
"Your mistakes? How can you be so ego-centric that you honestly believe that everything that happens revolves around you?" Tara asked, her voice raising. "Glory brain-sucking me wasn't your fault. It had nothing to do with you. Glory crawling into my head when you returned my sanity to me wasn't your fault - and it had nothing to do with you. None of any of that was even remotely your fault - or your mistake - or your failing. It just happened. Sometimes things just happen - there's no reason, there's no rhyme - it just is. There are things in this world that are outside of your control, Willow, and you're going to have to learn to deal with that."
"Is that what you think of me?" Willow asked, her brow furrowing and a hurt look crossing her face. "That I'm some kind of raving egomaniac?"
"No - no! You just … you want to fix things so badly - and when you can't, you just … it hurts you. I see that," Tara said softly. "But baby - some things can't be fixed. In your head, I think you know it, but your heart just … it hasn't caught up yet."
"I just … I just want everyone to be safe and happy," Willow said quietly, her eyes downcast.
"You still haven't told me about the nightmares. About what happened at school today," Tara said quietly, her eyes also fixed on the floor.
"And you still haven't told me about The Trickster's parting shot - what he meant by 'You'll have a daughter, one way or the other,'" Willow said, quoting verbatim what The Trickster had said as they had made their way out of Hell. "So I guess we're even."
"That's not important," Tara said as dismissively as she could manage. "And stop changing the subject. I'm asking you what happened today, and I'm asking you about the nightmares."
"Not important? A Hell God pretty much threatens you with rape to get you pregnant so he can have another shot at taking over the world, and you think it's not important?" Willow yelled, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead and her eyes widening.
"There's no pretty much about it," Tara said flatly. "You happy now? Now that you know?"
"No, I'm not happy - how can I possibly be happy about this?" Willow demanded.
"Well, he said I have until I'm thirty to have a daughter, so it's not really an issue," Tara said, her tone still flat and lifeless.
"And you believe him? He's a >Hell God<," Willow said, her voice incredulous as she wondered if Tara had somehow missed the part where The Trickster was insidiously evil.
"There's nothing we can do about it!" Tara practically shouted, her shoulders lifting into a shrug. "And I really don't want to even think about it, let alone talk about it."
"Nothing we can do? Nuh-uh … no way," Willow said, shaking her head and moving to the phone, grabbing the yellow pages and lifting the receiver. "There's plenty we can do, and we're damn well going to do it."
"What are you doing?" Tara asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she walked up behind Willow.
"I'm calling a fertility clinic right now," Willow said, her resolve face firmly in place.
"No," Tara said, pressing down on the deskset and disconnecting the line.
"No?" Willow asked, her expression and her voice a little too bland - a little too calm.
"That's right," Tara said, lifting her chin, daring Willow to question her.
"What do you mean 'no'?" Willow asked, as if she had never heard the word before.
"It's a simple word - do you need to look it up?" Tara asked sweetly, grabbing a dictionary off the shelf and holding it out towards Willow.
"I know what 'no' means," Willow said, pushing the dictionary back. "I don't know what it means in this context, so could you please explain it?"
"I mean 'no' as in 'I'm not going to get pregnant because of some stupid hypothetical threat that is nine years away'," Tara said simply.
"Hell God," Willow said, enunciating each one-syllable word carefully. "What part of 'Hell God' are you not getting?"
"Willow - this isn't some kind of … of … defensive maneuver we're talking about - it's a baby," Tara said, her voice low and serious. "And this is a terrible reason to have a child."
"Well, wacky me - it looks like a pretty damn good reason from where I'm sitting," Willow said.
"I can't believe -" Tara began, only to stop short, shutting her eyes and shaking her head. "Will you listen to yourself? We're talking about a child - a living breathing little person. We're talking about bringing one into the world for the stupidest most selfish of reasons. It's wrong, and I'm not going to do it. That's final."
"Final? How can that be final? We haven't even discussed it," Willow shot back.
"That's right - we haven't discussed it. You just decided you were going to call a clinic right this very minute - no discussion," Tara said, her eyes flashing. "What … eighteen years from now we're supposed to say 'Gee, sorry if we were terrible parents, but we weren't really ready to have a child'?"
"How can you be so unreasonable about this?" Willow demanded. "What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that you're not treating this like it's a big deal!" Tara burst out. "When you can look me in the eye and say that you >want< to have a baby - not that you think we should, or that we need to, but that you >want< it … when you can look at me and honestly say that you want to change her diapers and teach her things and never get a good night's sleep again and have a tiny person completely dependant on you for everything, from clothes to food to shelter to love … when you can say you >want< that, and you're >ready< for it, then we'll talk about it. Until then, I don't want to hear one more word on the subject."
"Why are we fighting about this? Why are we fighting at all?" Willow asked wearily, stepping away from the phone. "Can't we even just talk about this?" she asked plaintively.
"That's the word. I'm going for a walk," Tara said, her voice low and tight as she walked towards the door, grabbing a coat from the closet.
"You can't just go out walking by yourself," Willow protested, following after her.
"It's daylight," Tara pointed out. "And I can do whatever I want to."
"Tara - please," Willow pleaded. "Just … stay here. I'll go," she offered.
"No, I need to clear my head. I'll be back in about an hour," Tara said, shaking her head sadly and opening the door. "Don't follow me, and don't send Buffy," she instructed, slipping out the door and shutting it firmly behind her.
"Well, damn," Willow said softly, her open hand pressing against the door and bumping her head into the solid wood repeatedly. "Could I have possibly handled that worse?"
by mollyig » Fri Aug 09, 2002 3:27 am 
but i can't wait to see what's going on with Willow.... 
at: 8/9/02 6:52:36 pm
They both need so much to just tell each other everything and get it all in the open, but they're both so stubborn in their need to protect and take care of the other. *sigh* But it's all so wonderfully written. 