O SOFT EMBALMER OF THE STILL MIDNIGHT

By Medea

medealives@hotmail.com

 

 

O soft embalmer of the still midnight,

Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,

Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close

In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,
Or wait the "Amen," ere thy poppy throws

Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me, or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,--

Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.

--'To Sleep', John Keats (1795-1821)

 

 

 

 

Willow felt better than she had in a long time.

 

As she patrolled the cemetery with Buffy, Xander, and Dawn, she realized how good it felt to be part of the gang again. After all she'd tried to do to them! She'd been horrible, using her power to force them down: telling Dawn she'd be better off as a ball of energy, fighting Buffy to her knees when she knew how hard it would be for Buffy to fight someone she cared about. And then, the worst: reminding Buffy that she could put her right back in the grave, like Buffy was nothing more than a *body*.

 

It was still hard to believe that they could welcome her back and include her in the old routines after what she'd almost done.

 

Willow figured she was pretty lucky that it had been *almost*.

 

She'd almost ended the world, but instead, here she was, enjoying a relaxed stroll with her friends, listening to the breeze as it rustled through the trees. For a patrol night, it was pretty peaceful.

 

Something that Dawn noticed, too. "So, what's with the quiet? We've been out here for almost two hours, and no slayage opportunities."

 

"Maybe you've scared off all the vamps," Xander teased, draping an arm across Dawn's shoulder like a proud brother, while gesturing to an imaginary marquee with his free hand. "Dawn the Vampire Slayer – a name that strikes fear into the unbeating hearts of fanged menaces everywhere."

 

"Shut up," Dawn insisted with a broad grin. "You know, I *have* been getting better at this. And if we run into any vamps, I just might be able to impress even the mighty Xander."

 

Xander gave Dawn an affectionate shove, which left Willow feeling even warmer inside. She'd missed all of this so much! The playfulness, the joking – this really was home.

 

"Oh, there's one vamp out there. He's been shadowing us for the last forty-five minutes," Buffy announced dryly.

 

The change in mood was instant.

 

It was as if a chill wind had passed through the entire group. Xander and Dawn slowed their pace and cast disappointed looks at Buffy. Confused, Willow wondered what Buffy had said that could have possibly upset them so much. Why would they be that uncomfortable about one vamp tailing them? That was pretty easy work, compared to the things they'd faced in the past.

 

As Willow furrowed her brow, Buffy halted, sighed, and called out, "Spike! I know you're there. You might as well come out."

 

"Just what we need: everyone's least favorite stalker," Xander muttered in disgust when the haggard, blond vampire emerged from behind a nearby tree, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

 

Dawn folded her arms across her chest, frowned, and observed primly, "So, it just kinda slipped your mind again to tell us that Spike was around?"

 

"Dawn," Buffy warned sternly.

 

Willow's confusion mounted as she observed the sullen exchange between them.

 

The Slayer redirected her attention to Spike and asked, "What are you up to, Spike?"

 

There was an expectant silence while Spike stared down at his feet, looking decidedly ill at ease and exposed without his trademark leather duster. At last, he confessed, "Couldn't sleep."

 

It struck Willow as almost painfully comical that Spike would be standing there, so like a five year-old boy seeking comfort from his parents, softly lamenting his inability to sleep. She felt sorry for him.

 

"What? All those memories of slaughter no so restful any more?" Xander bit out harshly, fixing Spike with a cool stare. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say how *not* sorry that makes me."

 

Willow flinched and a sickening hollow formed in her gut. She suddenly suspected that there was more going on here than she knew about, but it still seemed like Xander was being meaner than necessary. Willow herself had witnessed how genuinely miserable Spike was when she'd visited him in the basement last week. At the same time, though, she didn't feel like she was in any position to question her friends after what she'd put them through, so she held her tongue.

 

...And felt a stab of remorse when Spike briefly raised his eyes to hers, his expression sad yet guardedly hopeful. Willow could literally feel his quiet desperation saturating the air.

 

Her lack of response must have discouraged him, because in the next instant, he lowered his gaze again and said, "Not looking for your pity. Couldn't sleep, is all. Just thought I'd make myself useful. Watch your back; keep an eye out for trouble, and the like."

 

"And we're supposed to feel reassured?" Xander countered, glaring daggers at Spike. "Are you sure you're not keeping an eye out for another woman you can try to force yourself on?"

 

"Xander!" Dawn reproved harshly.

 

Willow's eyes widened at the scarcely veiled accusation and a dreadful chill spread down her spine as she began to piece everything together. Her heart beat even more rapidly when she saw both Spike and Buffy, rooted in place, motionless, eyes downcast, their fists clenched. When Dawn placed a reassuring hand on Buffy's arm and scowled at Xander, Willow's suspicions were confirmed.

 

Suitably chastened, Xander softened his expression and murmured, "Sorry, Buffy." He nonetheless followed with an unrepentant glare at Spike.

 

Willow felt queasy, shaky...like she was suffocating and being burned all at once as she struggled with the sheer revulsion that the unmentioned scenario summoned up. Yet, as overwhelmed as she was, Willow was further cast into turmoil when Spike raised his head and sought not Xander or even Buffy, but Willow herself.

 

What little, fragile hope there had been in his eyes was quickly extinguished. Willow realized that her confused horror must have reflected transparently in her face.

 

Spike flared his nostrils, blinked rapidly, swallowed once, then ducked his head and muttered, "Sorry...I shouldn't have...so sorry..."

 

Shaking his head agitatedly, Spike was backing away when a sudden motion shocked them all out of their tense stand-off. Without warning, a dark-haired vampire, fairly recently risen from the look of his dirt-covered hands and clothes, burst forth from the bushes and yanked Dawn into a deadly embrace.

 

Caught off guard, Buffy reacted a second later, but not before Spike managed to throw himself on the ravenous fledgling, yank him off Dawn, and wrestle him to the ground. The fight was brutal but short. After a few, savage punches, Spike seized hold of the other vampire's head and, with a violent twist, dusted him by decapitation.

 

When he turned toward Dawn, the shaken girl was already being steadied by her sister. At Spike's hesitant approach, Xander blocked his path and snapped, "Hey! Just back off, okay?"

 

Spike froze. A contemptuous sneer formed on his lips as he glared at Xander, but then he seemed to grow confused. Grimacing, a lost, haunted look in his eyes, Spike lowered his gaze and started to tremble. Once again, guilt stabbed through Willow's gut as she observed Spike's humiliation. The part of her belly where she'd been skinned began to throb in earnest as she was reminded of how much she owed Spike.

 

Literally, her life.

 

But she was as paralyzed now as she had been in the cave. Her earlier feeling of belonging had been shattered. Part of her wanted to confront Xander for not even offering the tiniest, grudging acknowledgment to Spike. Yet at the same time, she was desperate to stay in her friends' good graces – she wanted to play nice, but life just wasn't cooperating. And then there was the whole matter of what Spike might have done to Buffy. Willow couldn't even think of it without feeling a hot rush of anger.

 

None of that prevented her from feeling like a coward as she stood there silently and watched Spike's spirit wither. Dejected, he backed away from the group and faded into the bushes.

 

Willow felt a lump rise in her throat as she watched him go.

 

However, Dawn was soon back on her feet and ready to go. The gang continued their sweep through the cemetery and soon Dawn and Xander were walking ahead, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. Buffy and Willow lagged behind.

 

They walked together in awkward silence until Willow mustered the nerve to ask, "Buffy...what did Xander mean back there?" She hesitated for one agonizing moment, then added, "Did Spike hurt you?"

 

Buffy's face grew drawn and her posture stiffened. To Willow, it seemed like her friend was ages older than she'd ever seen her before.

 

"Yes, he hurt me. He tried to rape me."

 

At Willow's unguarded expression of horror, Buffy continued, "He tried; he didn't succeed. But it still hurt." Buffy paused, set her jaw, then continued, "When he attacked me, I felt so stupid! I'm the Slayer. I'm not supposed to be that weak. I'm supposed to know better. I'd already told myself I wasn't going to let him get that close, that it was all wrong...but the attack made me realize how much I *had* let myself trust him, because I felt him betray it."

 

"Buffy, no, it wasn't your fault," Willow insisted.

 

"I know that," Buffy acknowledged vehemently. "And I hate that he made me doubt myself. I was so confused last year. There were times when Spike was the only one who could see me clearly...and I let myself take advantage of him. I needed him, and I hated myself for it, and I took it out on him, and we just kept going on a downward spiral. We brought out the worst in each other. But that is still no excuse for what he tried – there's never an excuse for that. Even though I think he's sorry, I just can't...I'm not ready to make peace."

 

Willow nodded sympathetically. "You shouldn't have to worry about patching this up. You shouldn't even have to doubt yourself, Buffy. No woman should ever have to choose between being able to trust, and being safe. I'm so, so sorry! This all started when I brought you back without thinking of the consequences. Giles was right: I was arrogant. All I was thinking about was whether I *could* do it; I never asked myself if I *should*."

 

Buffy halted and faced Willow squarely. "Don't even think of blaming yourself for this," she scolded, her eyes shining fervently in the moonlight. "It was hard at first, but now I'm glad you brought me back. I get to see my sister grow up. And I get to be there when my friends need me."

 

Smiling, her eyes gleaming just as brightly as Buffy's, Willow let herself be pulled into a warm, fierce embrace.

 

They caught up with Xander and Dawn and finished their patrol, the earlier camaraderie at least partly restored.

 

However, Willow couldn't stop thinking of the forlorn, pleading look in Spike's eyes when he'd approached them earlier. In spite of herself, her thoughts kept turning back to the profound dread that had gripped her when she'd stepped off the plane at the airport, wondering whether her friends would welcome her back. In a perverse twist of fate, she was unable to sleep as she thought of a wretched, insomniac vampire.

 

Sighing heavily, Willow finally flung back her bed covers, stood up, tossed on some clothes, and made her way toward the high school. It was easy enough to gain access to the basement through the construction area, and once more, Willow found herself wandering through a labyrinth of crates, pipes, and vents, searching for the tortured soul who lurked in the depths.

 

A voice greeted her from a darkened corner behind a tall pile of crates.

 

"Didn't think you'd come."

 

After a short pause came a broken, whispered statement.

 

"You know, don't you?"

 

Willow followed the voice. "I know. It would be hard for me to think of anything worse than what you tried to do to my best friend, and if you'd actually done it, I wouldn't be here," Willow acknowledged sternly. Softening her tone, she added with no small measure of regret, "It *would* be hard, except all I have to do is remember what *I* tried to do to my best friend."

 

As Willow stepped behind the crates and looked down, she saw Spike huddled against the wall and drew her breath in sharply. He presented a macabre sight. His face was as it had looked earlier: stony, care-worn, with dark circles under his eyes. In his right hand he gripped a stake, the tip reddened with blood. It took only a glance at his chest to discover the source of blood: his shirt was shredded where, apparently, he'd repeatedly gouged the stake into his own flesh.

 

"Is that why you got your soul back? To punish yourself?" Willow asked, slowly dropping to her knees beside him.

 

"She told you 'bout that, did she?" Spike muttered, not meeting Willow's gaze.

 

Gently, Willow reached over and pried the stake from Spike's grip, uneasy at the thought of him mutilating himself while they talked. She hated what he had tried to do, but she wasn't blind. Spike was genuinely suffering for his actions. Somewhere in that confused mind of his, there was bitter remorse.

 

"No, she hasn't said anything about that," Willow explained, setting the stake aside. "I can sense it. I'm not like I used to be. I've changed. I can sense things I never used to sense before. It's a little overwhelming and...I'm still a little scared of it. I don't think I'm totally in control yet. Giles helped me over the summer, but it's still a lot to absorb."

 

"Like your head's going to burst," Spike agreed with uncanny clarity, staring glassy-eyed into the air before him.

 

"Is it hard for you?" Willow asked.

 

Spike's eyebrows rose and he released a half-sigh, half-laugh. "All the time." For the first time since she'd settled beside him, Spike looked her in the eye, his expression tired but surprisingly lucid. "I'm not crazy, y'know, no matter what it might look like. That's the worst of it. There's a sane man inside this head, only...I can't control it, can't make the voices stop. And I can't change anything I've done, no matter how much I wish I could make it right."

 

"No, you can't. No one can erase things," Willow acknowledged, feeling a painful stab of guilt as she remembered the botched amnesia spell that had ultimately destroyed her relationship with Tara. She closed her eyes, squeezing back tears of regret over how much time she'd wasted. "You can only try to do better in the future. If you're lucky, you get a chance to make up for what you've done wrong, but it doesn't always work out that way."

 

When Willow opened her eyes again, Spike was staring at her, pursing his lips and knitting his brow, fully perplexed. She took a deep breath and said, "That's what I came to tell you. I know you're trying, Spike. What you did for Dawn tonight was good. It's just too soon for everyone to be...okay...It's going to take time."

 

For a split second, Spike's countenance brightened and a smile even threatened to break out on his lips. Then, abruptly, he convulsed, clutched his head, and exclaimed, "No! Not good! Not hardly helpful, not hardly...I deserve to burn...wake up on fire."

 

Willow shushed him as she gripped his arms to steady his trembling form. "Easy, Spike, easy. I know it's easy to feel confused. But I can help."

 

Spike offered no resistance as Willow gently guided him to rest across her lap as he had the first time Willow had eased his troubled sleep. She cupped her palm against the side of his face and felt calm and healing flow from her into him. In a matter of moments, Spike had relaxed and was drifting off. Before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness, he murmured against her knee, "Sorry...about your witch."

 

Willow bit her lip as a tear spilled down her cheek.

 

This was really the only thing she had left of her Tara. Tara had been her lifeline, even if Willow had been too foolish to realize it. There had been so much compassion in her, and so freely offered to those who needed it.

 

So it was the least that Willow could do in Tara's memory, to offer the same compassion to the broken vampire who huddled across her lap.

 

With such thoughts in her mind, Willow allowed her eyes to slip shut until sleep overtook her.

 

And so witch and vampire slept, for a few precious hours, enshaded in forgetfulness divine.

 

 

THE END

 

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