When In Rome: Soulmates
by Helga Von Nutwimple
"All checked in, children," Spike announced, handing out room keys. "Couldn't get adjoining ones this time, sorry."

"Quite all right, Spike," Wesley smiled, hefting his new duffel bag. "Dawn informs me that there is a Britney Spears concert she plans to watch on television this evening, and I believe not sharing a wall with you will suit me fine."

Spike whirled on Dawn. "You're soddin' kiddin' me."

"You'll like it, c'mon. She dances half-naked! It's like a party for your eyeballs."

"Right. Can we watch it on mute, then?"

"Spiiiiiiike!"

"And with that," Wesley grinned to Illyria, "We take our leave of you."

"I don't see why you get the vengeful blue hell-god and I get stuck with Britney Spears!" Spike called after him. "Can't we flip for it?"

Wesley answered him with the brusque closing of a door and the sound of a lock turning.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered. "Guess it's just you n' me n' Britney, Bit."

"Guess so..."

--------------------

"I see," Giles said quietly.

Xander and Willow stared at him. Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them.

"Okay," Xander huffed, "Maybe I'm alone in this, but I'm thinking now is not the time for a rousing matchup of 'The Quiet Game', okay? Giles, if you know what's going on, you gotta tell us. We're freaking here!"

"Well, I'm not entirely certain... but I do have an idea. Which would be very interesting if it were true, as it would certainly explain some of your history..."

"Blah blah blah, we're fast-forwarding past the intro, okay?"

"Fine. You're familiar with the concept of... soulmates?"

"But Giles, I'm-I'm all kinds of gay... and Tara..."

"Soulmates, at least in the sense of which I speak, are not necessarily romantic. You and Xander have felt a powerful bond since virtually the moment you met, is that not correct?"

"That's... well, yeah, I guess that's correct."

"And when you got heavily into magic, Willow, you and Xander suddenly felt a powerful and overwhelming sexual attraction for each other which neither of you wanted and which you could not control."

"True..."

"Willow, your magical track record has been... er... somewhat less than ideal. You have great power, but on your own, your spells misfire at an alarming rate, you drain exceedingly fast, and there are almost always unexpected consequences. Your magic turns to the dark at frightening speed. You lack... the sort of balance that Tara had. I had hoped that Tara would be a balancing influence, but even Tara could not keep you from the darkness. Only Xander could."

"Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Giles," Willow muttered.

Giles turned to Xander. "At the temple... when you calmed Willow down... how did you feel, afterwards?"

"I dunno. Charged-up. Adrenaline pumping. I figured it was, y'know, the narrowly averted apocalypse and all..."

"I now believe you drained Willow that day, Xander. Did anything... strange... happen afterwards?"

"Well, I... I had some really weird dreams, and I had this really bizarre conversation with Spike while he fought this freaky monster-thing..."

"Spike... who was in Africa at the time?"

"He was?"

"Oh, indeed." Giles smiled slightly. "Xander? Take Willow's hand."

Willow flinched. "Giles, I don't want to do more..."

"You won't be the one doing it, Willow. Take his hand. Xander? Close your eyes."

"God, that's the best plural noun in the world..."

"And also, be quiet. Concentrate. Are you sick of granola bars?"

Xander nodded.

"Very well. Think about what you'd like to eat instead, then. Imagine it in your mind, here before you. Smell it. Taste it. See the way the light reflects off of it. What color is the plate? Does steam rise from it? Paint the picture in your mind."

Giles watched Xander's face. "Take your lust and twist it. It's a life force. It's a life drive. Use it. Manipulate it. Make it your tool. Or some... other word that sounds less dirty."

Xander grinned. "Wow, I must be really hungry, I can smell it."

"Then open your eyes and eat it, Xander."

"Can I just say how much I love that plural noun? I love that..." Xander opened his eyes. "Oh, holy crap."

"I don't suppose you feel like sharing?" Giles said longingly, looking at the platter of steaming gyoza.

"Will, how'd you know what..."

"Willow did not conjure this, Xander. You did."

"But I... I can't..."

"It would appear that you can." Giles waved his hand, and three pairs of chopsticks appeared next to the platter. "In fact, it would appear that you're meant to. Judging by the battle performance you two put on... are you two even aware of what you did?"

"Not really," Willow said, picking up chopsticks and selecting a dumpling. "It's kind of a blur once I grabbed Xander and started spelling..."

"Well, you two turned thousands of demons into so much red mist without harming anyone they were fighting. You two healed the wounded, sometimes even before they were aware they'd been injured. You two vaporized a wooden stick that was a centimeter from Angel's heart, you two levitated Faith out of the way of an axe. These are only the things that have been reported to me. And then there was your subsequent healing of Buffy, brain-suck of Spike, the breaking down of the door in Spike's memory, Xander's eye..."

Giles pointed between them with his chopsticks. "No scary black eyes. No nosebleeds. No headaches. The only spell that could have been said to go wrong at all was the locator spell on Spike, and that was only because you two were unaware of your own strength. Your own... combined strength. Strength and precision."

"Giles... what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I now believe you two were always meant to be magical partners. You weren't designed to magically function without Xander, Willow. As earth-magic and light were Tara's gift, so the dual-sided magic of creation is yours and Xander's. That you could force yourself to work without him is a testament to the power you share, but you've paid an enormous price for forcing it. Without him, you're out of balance; yin without yang, dark without light..."

Willow gaped. "I'm a lesbian witch with the magical power of... heterosexuality?"

Giles smiled. "You've worked side-by-side for years with a superhero named Buffy, Willow. You cannot be unaware that the universe has a sense of humor."

"Ha, ha, ha," Willow said flatly.

"So, wait..." Xander demanded. "All this time, I haven't been the Weakest Link, goodbye? I'm like, a powerful warlock? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Xander straightened up, a smile growing on his face. "I'm a powerful warlock. I'm a powerful warlock. Check me out, Will. Xander Harris, Powerful Warlock."

Willow crossed her arms, staring at the table.

"Xander, I'm terribly sorry we did not figure this out sooner, although I must say I don't regret not having to spend the past eight years listening to you say 'I'm a powerful warlock' over and over..."

"Oh, I'm only gonna say it about 543 more times," Xander grinned.

"Fabulous," Giles drawled, then grew serious. "We will need to begin your training immediately. If the two of you can learn to harness and direct this power... we just might win this war."

Xander was practically bouncing. "When do we start?"

"I say now," Giles said. "We'll need to catch you up to Willow, and quickly. Powerful magic in the hands of the untrained is a dangerous thing indeed."

--------------------

"Bloody hell," Spike groaned into the pillow over his head. "This is it, then? I stayed dead, and this is Hell. It even smells like it. Bit, couldn't you take the bloody brimstone into the bathroom, where the lovely convenient vent is?"

"I need the space," Dawn insisted, casting herbs into a bowl in the center of the circle.

"Vampires have a very keen sense of smell, y'know. And hearing. This is double torture. At least turn the bint down a notch or two... we've got neighbors, y'know. You're not even lookin' at the soddin' screen."

"I still want to hear it."

"Then buy the bloody compact disc, Bit, it's what she's lip-synching to! That's it -- tomorrow, I'm taking you out and buying you real music. No more of this 'Who is Johnny Rotten' business. I'll get you sorted out."

Dawn added a final pinch from a baggie. "I'm sorry, Spike."

"Ah, it's all right, Bit. Tomorrow, though, serious now, your musical re-education begins, and..."

Spike suddenly sagged on the bed, every muscle relaxing, his eyes staring sightlessly ahead of him.

"I'm sorry, Spike," Dawn repeated. "Sit up."

As if tugged by invisible puppet strings, Spike's body lurched into a sitting position.

Dawn crossed to him, kneeling at his feet, taking one of his limp hands between her own. "Spike... I really didn't want to do it this way. But it's all going to turn out okay. You'll see. Everything's going to be so much better."

She ran one hand through his hair, smiling at him. "I love you, Spike. I wanted you to know that. I wish I could have told you these things when you were conscious, but... you would have suspected something."

"Thanks for treating me like I wasn't a stupid kid. Thanks for telling me the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. Thanks for letting me hang out in your crypt after school, for listening to me talk about all my stupid problems."

Dawn traced the scar at his eyebrow with her fingertips. "And thanks for taking care of me after Buffy died. Thanks for getting all pizzaface trying to save me from Glory. Thanks for... thanks for making me eat my vegetables, even though that spinach crap you make, that is truly nasty. Thanks for that time you threatened to eat Julia McDuffy for calling me a freak. Thanks for coming to pick me up the day I got suspended and not telling Buffy about it."

A tear slid down Dawn's face. "You were the first real friend I had, the first friend that, y'know, wasn't an implanted memory or anything. And if this doesn't work, well... I'm really going to miss you. Really going to miss you."

Dawn wrapped her arms around Spike's torso, burying her head against the cold of his chest. "Hug me back."

Spike gazed at the wall, unblinking.

"That was a command!" Dawn shrieked. "Hug me back!"

Spike's arms raised heavily, flopping around her.

Dawn pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. "Spike... I swear to you. When I get back into Buffy... you can teach me who Johnny Rotten is."

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