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Part Five
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Buffy pulled a few blankets out of her linen closet, narrowly missing the avalanche of junk that fell out afterwards. She cursed softly, frowning at the mess at her feet. "Oh, I’ll clean it up later," she sighed, taking the quilts to the guest room. Buffy paused at the doorway, watching Willow as she stared out the window, far off and silent, drowning in her memories. Her friend was so up and down now, so unlike the girl Buffy had known five years before. She cleared her throat and smiled, finally catching Willow’s attention.
"I hope these will keep you and William warm enough," she offered. "It’s been unseasonably cold lately."
Willow looked up from the rocking chair she sat in, her child asleep in her arms. She stroked William’s hair, running her hands restlessly through his short locks. "It was then, too," Willow said detachedly.
Buffy looked confused. "What was then?"
"It was cold, the night that Spike took me. I remember skipping on my way home, to keep myself warm." Willow smiled at her childish antics. "Didn’t you notice the cold that night?"
The Slayer gulped. "No, I didn’t. I was too tired, and…" Buffy trailed off, knowing that any excuse she could give would sound lame. "I’m sorry I don’t remember."
Willow carefully got up, and with the grace only a mother possesses, laid William on the bed without waking him. She covered him with one of the blankets Buffy offered and tucked it around the child, staring at him with a look of peace in her eyes. "Isn’t he beautiful, Buffy? I suppose every mother thinks that of her child, but it’s absolutely true with mine. He’s an angel." Willow leaned down and brushed her lips across his forehead. His eyelashes fluttered for a moment, as if he was going to wake, but he stilled and remained asleep. "Goodnight, my baby." Willow’s voice cracked on the words, and to Buffy’s alarm she saw that her friend was starting to cry.
"Willow, are you…" Buffy moved to her side, but the redhead gently pushed her away.
"I’m really tired, Buffy. That’s all. Please, just leave me alone for awhile." The blonde nodded and reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind her. Willow laid down next to William, and watched his serene face until his breathing finally lulled her into peaceful slumber.
That is, until she began dreaming…
…Dark, pulsating redness filled Willow’s vision. High walls sloped inward and loomed into a black ceiling, making the room she was in seem like an upside-down bottomless pit. A faint rumbling echoed, but it was faraway and not entirely registered. The room was frightening enough to make anyone scream in horror, but for some reason Willow did not. She felt cut off to any sort of feeling. Then a voice rang out softly through the rumbling, and shocked her into reality.
"Hey, luv."
Her blood felt like ice running through her veins. Shivering uncontrollably, Willow slowly turned around to face the owner of that sexy, unforgettable voice. She gasped, unable to make another sound. Willow saw who she had been missing, who she had been dead without. Her eyes met with the handsome, finely sculpted features of the man she thought she would never see again.
Spike smiled and walked a few steps closer, running a hand through his bleached hair. "Don’t I even get a hello, luv? Or has a cat got your tongue?"
Willow shook her head and gulped.
"How’ve you been, pet?"
She stared at him for a moment longer, still silent, then it rushed over that he was actually standing before. "Spike!" she squealed, moving to throw her arms about him. He held up his hand, motioning for her to stop. It felt as though she were being thrown backwards by the force of his gesture. Spike purposely kept her away.
"You’re not supposed to touch me, pet," he said sadly. "I can only talk to you for a minute, then I have to go back."
"Back?" Willow whispered. "Where?" Her gaze wandered over the hellish interior around them.
"I can see by your face that you know where." He offered a small smile. "At least it’s never cold."
Willow’s small face scrunched up, holding back tears. "So, is this a dream? Because… well, you’re dead, Spike."
He bent his head down, scuffing his shoe on the floor. When he raised his eyes again they were bright with laughter. "Yeah, I know. And I thought Woodstock was a trip." The childishly startled look on Willow’s face ended Spike’s joke. "I came to talk to you. I *need* to talk to you."
"So do I," she sniffed.
Spike walked to her side. "I miss you, pet. And I know about what the Watcher found. Whoever would have thought I might benefit from a Watcher?" he laughed. "Anyhow, did he tell you what’s needed for me to come back?"
"No," Willow whispered.
"Well, luv, it’s not an easy thing to give up. It’s William."
"William?" she asked. "You don’t mean our son, do you?"
Spike bit his lip and nodded. "As I understand it, the only way I can be resurrected is if I take his place. When I died, there was a void where I should have been. Hence the reason William was born, to fill the space I left behind. To return I have to take his place in humanity. *Humanity,* Willow. I would be human, like you. It’s a second chance."
"But William’s never even had a first chance at life. Can you honestly take your son’s life to live again? Can you do that and still face me? Because I don’t think I could face you, or myself, if I allowed it to happen. When you have a child you would give your life for his, not the other way around."
"He’s dying, Willow."
"No he’s not!" she yelled. "Giles is going to help me stop the curse, and William will live. He’s not going to die."
"It’s not the curse that’s killing him, Willow," Spike said softly.
She stared at him for a moment, then cautiously asked, "What is, then?"
"Me. I’m killing him." Willow’s eyes grew huge with fear and disbelief until Spike continued. "My blood isn’t able to survive with a human’s. Even though the vampire part of William is strong, it’s not strong enough to face the sunlight, and crosses, and things that you are able to. His body’s been fighting internally since he was born, and he’s losing the battle fast. William wouldn’t have lasted the year out, even if this curse hadn’t come up. He’s dying because he can’t survive his genes. He can’t live as half human, half vampire. It’s impossible."
"He can’t be dying!" Willow screamed. "Not my child." Spike offered his hand, then immediately retrieved it before they touched, forgetting himself for a moment. Willow calmed herself, but the hysteria that gripped her was still near the surface. "You don’t know what it’s like, you weren’t there, Spike. You weren’t there to see him come into the world, or to see him take his first step. You didn’t hear his first word, or kiss away his tears. You haven’t been there to fall in love with him."
Spike’s eyes glistened, but no tears fell. "I have been there, Willow, in the worst possible form. Do you want to know what my hell has been? It’s been watching you all these years. I’ve been there, with you and William, never able to touch you, or talk to you. I’ve been a ghost to the world, and forced to watch you be alone, and scared." Willow took a step closer to him as a rueful smile crossed his lips. "Everyday was so bittersweet, because I got to see everything, but I could do nothing. The day I remember most vividly was the day William first stood. He was on a blanket on the floor, playing with Bunny, that stuffed rabbit of his, next to the piano. You were sitting on the piano bench, just staring at the keys, like you were afraid of them…"
"I had just gotten the piano," Willow cut in. "It looked so like yours, I thought it would be too hard to play it."
"I thought as much," he smiled. "And then finally you touched the keys, and they began to sing. I thought I would never hear you play that song again. I was so enthralled with you that I almost didn’t see William. He dropped Bunny the moment you began playing and listened for so long; I had never seen him stay so still. Then he crawled to the bench, pulled himself up, and let go. I thought he was going to fall. But he stood that way next to you for a minute or so until you finished the song. Then when you saw him, tears already running down your face, and he laughed that little laugh that always make you happy, you scooped him up and praised him to the stars. And I wished with all I had that I could be there, really there, but I couldn’t. That was my hell, Willow."
"Then you’ve seen that William is my life; you know what he is to me." Her voice took on a fervent tone. "The only reason I’m still alive is William. I tried to kill myself--- but I guess you saw that, too. I don’t want to be part of the living anymore, Spike; I haven’t wanted to be since you died, but I’m certainly not going to let William become one of the dead."
Spike look dejected. "I don’t know what I can say to you, Willow. You think you can change it all, but you can’t. It’s fate, it’s set. It was meant to be this way before you or I even existed. We can’t change anything."
"Then why should I even go on? Why try?"
Spike quickly looked around, then just as hastily grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Because you think that you can change, you think you can make it right. I love that you fight everything, and you need to keep doing that. Keep fighting, always defy fate. Maybe you can change it, someday. But don’t stop trying. Never stop trying." Willow melted against him, cherishing the feeling of his cold arms around her. This is what she had missed most: the warmth of love radiating from a chilled body. She was almost transported back five years, when she had been newly in love and ready to start a life with him. It was such a peaceful and incredibly missed feeling.
"I love you, pet," he whispered. Laying a soft kiss on her lips, he wiped away her tears and then smoothed her hair. Suddenly, out of the darkness, a figure of black filled the room with its presence. The figure wasn’t in black clothing, nor was it dark skinned, but simply black, like the things shadows and nightmares are made of.
"Oh, lord," he breathed, almost sounding. . .frightened. "I’m in for it now." The figure held out it’s arm, accusingly pointing at Spike. The soft rumbling had suddenly become deafening, shaking Willow to her very bones.
"I guess this is goodbye, luv. The big man downstairs gets kinda mad when I break the rules like I just did." The figure began to draw Spike away from Willow’s outstretched arms. "It’s your decision, pet."
"Don’t go," she yelled. The rumble was getting louder by the minute.
"I’ll see you again, luv. Remember, I’m always there." The figure drew Spike into the darkness, taking her love away once more. The fiery walls around her began to close in, and Willow shrank away from the foreboding room.
"Spike," she whimpered. The crimson walls were making her dizzy, and she began to hyperventilate. …
Willow jolted awake with a gasp. "Spike!" She could barely breath; it seemed as though the red walls were still closing in on her. And she continued to tremble.
"Momma?" William whispered sleepily. The boy blinked his weary eyes and tried to focus on his mother. She stroked his hair gently, noticing, even in the dark, that her hand shook violently.
"Shhh, go back to sleep, William. I’m sorry I woke you." Willow tucked the blanket around his little shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
His eyes fluttered closed. "I miss the piano, Momma," he breathed softly.
Willow smiled. "Me, too," she murmured. In Seattle, for most of his life, the last sound William heard every night before the tendrils of sleep claimed him was the quiet notes of Willow playing the piano. It was a security blanket for the child; the tunes and Willow’s melodious voice intertwining each evening. She had been worried that he wouldn’t have a good night’s sleep in California without it.
"Sing me a song," William requested, stretching his little mouth with a large yawn.
Willow cleared her throat and pushed the thoughts of Spike out of her head, searching her memory for a tune her child loved. Finally she remembered one she used to sing when he was just an infant.
"Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.
O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep.
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful night shall break."
When the last word left her lips, Willow glanced down at her son. He was asleep, snoring softly, his head buried against her chest. She studied his small face, aided by the moonlight streaming through the window. < A miniature version of Spike. He makes the same sort of sound when he breathes at night: that odd, throat-catching sound Spike made when he slept. Like his body wanted to take a breath but couldn’t ever complete one. >
"I’ll make sure you complete all your breaths, William. Every single one you are meant to have," she whispered. Snuggling into the blankets, she kissed William’s cheek and closed her eyes, content with her child in her arms. The moon still shone insistently, and Willow opened her eyes briefly, staring for a moment at the pale orb.
"Wherever you are Spike, I hope you can hear me. Because I’ve made my decision. You were the love of my life. You always will be," she said softly. "But William is my life completely. I won’t give him up for anything. Not even for you."
With that off her heavy heart, Willow finally drifted off to sleep. No more dreams, good or bad, disturbed her slumber that night.
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