Simpatico Lapse
Lyric

Email: lyric_au2000@yahoo.com.au
Rating: PG - I think. Spoilers - General Season Six - mentions Willow's meltdown.
Disclaimer: Joss, Fox et al own everything - except the idea.
Summary: Spike remembers. That's all you're getting.
Notes: I'm Australian - we spell things the British way. This is my first fic (well, the first one with a beginning, a middle and an end anyway). Big thanks to Dark Childe for the beta. She was gentle and kind and most encouraging. Quick too! Mille Grazie. Thanks too, to Rachel Anton for the inspiration to write. She kicks arse in a major fashion. Go read the 'Geek' series and then try and tell me she's not a genius. This is dedicated to my friend Len who said she likes the way I write. Thanks Len. I like the way you write too as it happens. Enjoy! Oh and feedback? Would be lovely thanks. Don't hold back - tell me what you really think.

It's not long before Spike hears, news like that always travels fast and far, and he wonders if there were some indication, something that he missed back in those 147 days, that this was the way things would go. He forgets sometimes that he's not supposed to care. That they're not supposed to mean anything to him. That she's not meant to mean anything to him. When he does remember he rages against himself, cursing the aberration that is his lifeless yet still too feeling heart. Spike barely even remembers not to care now.

He feels bad that he wasn't able to be there for Willow, and he doesn't think it has anything to do with his stinking new soul. Spike understands what drove her to it. He can't help but think that perhaps if he had been there he might have talked her through things, guided her, made her see that it wouldn't have helped. It wouldn't change what had happened to Tara. That even when it was done, when all that was left was her standing on the scorched and decimated earth, it still wouldn't bring her lover back and the gaping wound that was now Willow's heart would still never heal. Who better to understand the anguish and rage, the desperation and devastation coursing through her at losing the one thing most precious to her, her most cherished? But how could he have been there? How, after what had happened between he and Buffy, after what he had done to Buffy? He knows he should have been there because he was the only one who understood. It wasn't the magick Willow was addicted to. It was the power, and he knew a bit about that.

Turned out Willow was a power junkie and a control freak. It was the power, the control she missed; being relegated back to second banana hurt. She had led them during those 147 days, and she had led them well. She had taken charge when it became evident that none of the others were up to the task. The old man and the whelp had both retreated into their grief proving ineffectual in all but the grunt work. And Spike wasn't delusional enough to believe that they would have followed him. Not that he would have accepted the responsibility even if they would have. So the majority of the organising of patrolling and the running of a house with a 14 year old child who, although mystical in make up, still needed to be fed and clothed and schooled and loved, fell to Willow almost by default, and she met the challenge head on.

But on Buffy's return she had been usurped as leader. They no longer turned to Willow for direction, they turned to Buffy. Had any of them even bothered to pay attention they would have realised that Buffy no longer wanted to lead, no longer wanted to even be there, and she would have gladly handed the reins back over to Willow. But no one noticed and no one said anything, not even Willow. Willow felt it like a slap in the face and it stung like a bitch but she bit down her anger and hurt and resentment and went on as before.

He reminds himself that he has let Willow down as much as the rest of them. Buffy came back and nothing else mattered. Spike felt he had been given a second chance with the Slayer and focused all his energy on making her his. He thought there'd be time enough to reconnect with Willow when he was sure he had Buffy. But life took a strange turn for both the vampire and the witch and led them away from one another. He thinks maybe they'd both be in better places now if they had tried to stick together. He wonders if she's angry at him for not being there for her, or if she even realised he wasn't.

Of course, he hadn’t known. She hadn’t told him what they were planning to do and he understood why. It didn’t stop him feeling hurt and angry and betrayed. He wouldn’t have let her do it for all the reasons he'd given Harris but also because it was dangerous. Not just for Buffy but for Willow and the others. She had put them all in danger.

Of course the boy had attributed Spikes ill-concealed tears and his barely contained rage to the shock of Buffy’s return. And they were, in part anyway. Truth was he hadn’t even begun to process that bombshell properly yet. He was still trying to deal with the fact that Willow had kept this from him. Even while knowing her reasons for keeping him in the dark he felt betrayed. Spike would have expected Harris to keep him out of the loop but he and Willow had…what? What did they have exactly? An understanding? Friendship? He knows he will never forgive Willow for bringing Buffy back but he knows too that he will always be eternally grateful to her for it.

That's why he couldn't admonish her the night Dawn ended up in the Emergency Room. He couldn't openly support her either, not the way Buffy was reacting and Buffy was his main concern after all. Willow had fucked up royally there was no argument. To put herself in harms way was one thing but to involve Dawn was unforgivable. He kept telling himself that Dawn was okay. That there was no great harm done and she’d be alright. But maybe Willow wasn't. There wasn't any doubt that Willow loved Dawn and would never knowingly hurt her. But Willow wasn't thinking straight. Hadn't been for a while. When did she get so lost? How could they not see this happening? Admittedly, his focus had been elsewhere but surely the others - they professed to love her didn’t they? They should have been watching her. They were fools to believe that someone powerful enough to raise the dead - someone obviously touched by dark and deadly things - would then be satisfied to return to gentle magicks and be happy to fall back into line.

Spike is sure that the Watcher would have picked up on it - had he bothered to stick around. Giles was the only one after all, to call her on the arrogant stupidity of her actions, on the evil Willow could have unwittingly released in her blind determination to bring Buffy back. Giles might have also recognised, had he bothered to pay attention to the subtext, that her actions weren't just those of a grieving friend trying to reclaim a loved one from the grave but of a frustrated, supressed force, hungry to show the world the extent of the power that dwelt within her. If Giles saw any of it he didn't say, and it didn't seem to stop his fears and insecurities regarding his role in their lives from allowing him to abandon Willow, to abandon them all, and flee across the pond to the relative safety of dear old Blighty.

Spike knows it's not fair to blame Giles just as he knows that the blame doesn't fall solely on the shoulders of the others either. He knows that Harris and the demon were trying desperately to hold onto the very reason they were putting themselves through the hell-on-earth that was their wedding preparations. He knows Dawn was trying to make some sense of her role in a family where the principle players kept leaving and, in Buffy's case, coming back. A family, which up until six months ago, she wasn't even a part of. Buffy herself was trying not to hate those who loved her most for removing her from the only peace she feared she would ever know. Even Tara was dealing with the fact that Willow had used strong magicks to control her and then seemingly chose those magicks over their love. Spike understands that their own fucked up lives left them blind to Willows falling into the abyss. He knows they are all at fault.

He remembers a time before all that. He remembers the 147 days when they were all just trying to make it through the day, each day and the pain was still raw and new and tender to the touch. When everything in him screamed to him to leave, to run off and lick his wounds in private. It was the promise he'd made to his love to watch over her sister and the compelling green eyes of a redheaded womanchild that kept him anchored here in this God-forsaken town.

He remembers especially during those 147 days that it was Willow who had not only recognised his all consuming grief but had acknowledged it and made the others acknowledge it also. She tried to help him through it as best she could. She made him feel useful, and not just as a babysitter for Dawn. She sought his opinion on how best to deal with demon matters and heeded his counsel on how best to proceed She also chose to ignore the strain it sometimes placed on her relationships with both her lover and her best friend. She would counter any of their usual arguments against continuing to trust such a dangerous creature by saying 'He's helping us. It's the right thing to do' and would not be drawn further on the subject.

She was sustained, he remembered, by her need to ensure that everyone else was okay. She could hold it together while she had the others to worry about. Spike never saw Willow cry after the funeral. He had heard her once or twice when he had arrived at the house unexpectedly but she always recovered in time before he could witness the tears. The only evidence that she had been crying was the decidedly unladylike noise of her blowing her nose and a redness in her face that rivaled her hair. There had been times when he would take Dawn out for an hour or so; a walk, an ice cream run, just to give Willow time alone. They would come home with sticky sweet smiles and fingers and a cup of Willow's favorite ice cream and Willow would meet them at the door with a freshly washed face and hot chocolate on a tray. He would wave away any attempt on her part to thank him for his thoughtfulness. The only token of her appreciation he seemed capable of accepting was a brief but heartfelt smile.

He recalls also, that he was not exempt from her coddling. She ensured that the fridge was stocked with a constant supply of blood. There was also a cache of human blood she had closeted away (its location protected by some cloaking spell he surmised) for such times when the beating he took was more savage than usual. She would not be drawn on how or where she came by the blood only that it was necessary for ‘emergencies’. She’d even started doing his laundry for chrissakes.

‘I do have a reputation to maintain Willow. What sort of fear and loathing can I hope to inspire on the Hellmouth if I go around smellin’ all ‘apple blossom fresh’? I’ll be a laughing stock.’ he had grumbled.

'Where is it written that the Big Bad has to smell bad too?' she had countered and that had been the end of that particular discussion.

Willow had set up a cot in the basement for him 'just in case' which he used more often than not, but she was unsuccessful in her attempts to cajole him into using one of the bedrooms during the day. She had claimed it would be easier for her to do the laundry if he slept upstairs so she wouldn't disturb him. She knew better than to even suggest he use Buffy's old room. When Spike stated that he would simply go back to the crypt she never mentioned it again. ‘I understand your need for privacy, really, but I just think that it would be safer for all concerned if we stayed close.’ Spike knew that she did not voice her most pressing reason for the invitation. He understood Willow was worried about him and what he might do if left to wallow too long in his solitary grieving. She had been sensible enough, however, to omit that part of her argument. He secretly enjoyed the attention and appreciated all her efforts to keep him with them. Spike continued to sleep in the basement.

Some nights, when the others had gone home or gone to bed, they would stay up talking. The latest threats, possible strategies, Dawn's most recent battle with authority. Other nights they would sit in companionable silence. Long nights spent wordlessly in front of the flickering television, when neither of them could sleep, sitting at opposite ends of the Summers' couch, each grateful for the others presence. He would come back after patrol and find her waiting up for him. So after he had carried the deadweight of Dawn's sleeping form to her room, careful to leave the bedroom door ajar so they would hear her if she had one of her frequent nightmares and after he had closed the door to the witches bedroom so the noise of the television would not disturb Tara's sleep, he would come back downstairs and join her on the couch.

If he was entirely truthful he would say that this was his favourite time of the day. Spike did not harbour romantic feelings for Willow. Nor were his feelings of a sexual nature. But Willow treated him like a real person. She really listened to him and shared with him her thoughts and feelings as she would any of her other friends. Willow was his friend. His first true friend in perhaps his entire existence and as such became his touchstone. He relished the time that he and Willow spent alone and he did not wish the others to intrude on their time together. When she would finally let sleep overtake her, Spike would make her comfortable on the couch and sit and watch her until he heard the other occupants of the house stirring to wakefulness. Only then would he bid her a whispered 'goodnight' and make his way downstairs to the cot in the basement.

He remembers the time when it had all proven too much and his hold on his grief had slipped. They had been discussing Dawn and yet another note that had come from the Principal's office regarding her escalating truancy. A tiny voice in Spike's head said 'Wait ‘til the Slayer hears about this'. He was hit with the sudden realisation that she would never hear about it. Spike stopped mid-sentence unable to stifle a sob that threatened to claim him and hold him hostage. Willow took his face in her hands. The look of understanding and sympathy she gave him was too much to bear. 'I know' she said quietly 'Me too'. The tenderness in her voice made him want to scream. Spike grabbed her to him in desperation, clutching clumsily at her back, burying his face in the soft smooth skin of her neck and wept openly. Willow held onto him, rocking him gently as she cooed soft nonsenses in his ear, her own eyes damp with silent tears. He has no idea how long they stood like that in the Summers' kitchen but with the banging of the front door announcing Dawn's arrival home from Janice’s, he recovered. Wiping his sleeve roughly over his eyes, Spike made his way out the back door into the twilight without another word. Neither spoke of it again.

He's having a little trouble reconciling this memory of the soft sweet gentle girl he's almost able to admit he's grown to care for with the harridan who tried to annihilate the world. And he mourns for that girl because he thinks that there is no way that she could have survived. And he knows if that's true they have all lost a great deal. And he thinks that he may miss her even more than he misses Buffy.

Word is that Giles has spirited Willow off to the mother country to 'heal', Bath he thinks, away from the other, still fragile and trying-to-forgive, Scoobies.That's why he's staring at the departure board in the international terminal of the Nairobi airport in the middle of the night checking for the next available plane to London. Spike figures Willow can use all the friends she can get right now. He figures that he probably needs to remind Willow that he's her friend. And so what if he wasn't around for the showdown? Doesn't mean he can't be part of the clean up crew. Spike figures it's a start.

The End.