Chapter Eighteen
Anne went into the house to let Molly go before Mark brought Spike in. She didn’t want to freak out the babysitter by bringing in a badly injured body wrapped in a blanket. As soon as she was gone, Mark brought the still unconscious vampire into the house, and took him back to Anne’s room, while she went into the kitchen to prepare him some blood.
“I’m going to go get Willow,” Mark said, striding out of the house. Anne stood in front of the microwave, her body trembling as her mind finally convinced her of how close she had really come to losing him. Her eyes drifted closed as she fought the wave of tears that burned behind her eyes, and she forced back the nausea that threatened to choke her. She hadn’t felt this desperate since that day so long ago, when she watched Angel get sucked into Hell.
The ding of the microwave broke her from her thoughts. She pulled the mug out and went towards her room, pausing to look in on Matt. He was thankfully still sound asleep. She didn’t know if, in her current state of mind, she could deal with him and take care of Spike at the same time. Smiling gently at the sight of the curly brown hair peeking out from under the duster, she pulled the door to.
She sucked in a breath when she entered her room, the sight of Spike’s pale, motionless body familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The blood covering his skin and clothes made him look too much like the casualty of a car accident. She moved over to the bed, and placed the mug on the nightstand, then went to the bathroom to get a basin of water, a washcloth, and the first aid kit. Taking them back to her room, she went in search of the scissors, using them to cut his jeans off. Her chin trembled as the extent of his injuries became even more obvious. Three puncture wounds marred his torso, a grisly map of where the crossbow bolts had gone. Luckily, they were starting to close. Several angry burns traversed his stomach and chest. His knee also sported a puncture wound. Blood intermingled with his bright hair, giving it an odd punk look. She knew there was more damage to his back, but she decided to deal with the front first.
Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, she dipped the cloth in the basin and brought it to his skin, gently washing the wounds clean. By the time she was done, the water was tinged pink, and the washcloth was ready for the trash. He hadn’t moved through her ministrations, and she was starting to get worried. It was so hard to tell when something was wrong with vampires. With no heartbeat, and the total lack of breathing, she couldn’t determine what to do. She blinked back tears again as she set to work on bandaging him up. She refused to think of Xander, or what Willow might be doing. She couldn’t. She might have understood Willow’s motives, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
When she was done, she gently rolled him over to deal with the entry wound in his shoulder, and the burns that she found there, as well as the knife wound on his lower back. He groaned a little as she eased him back when she was done.
“Spike?” she whispered, brushing her fingers over his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and she smiled. “Spike?”
“Kitten?” he gasped, opening his eyes to pin her with the blue orbs. Pain clouded them, but she saw his relief, and the love that was beneath.
“Hi. I was starting to worry,” she admitted softly. He brought a hand up to cup her face, to prove to himself that she was real, and not some vision created by the devil to torment him.
“Told you I’d never leave,” he said with a smile. Her own lips quirked in response, the tears that had been fighting to break free finally falling. “Sh, kitten.” He pulled her against his chest, heedless of his injuries. It felt so good to hold her, to know she was real, and alright. She was thinking along the same lines as her arm wrapped around his waist, mindful of his injuries. After a few minutes, she calmed, raising her head to look down at him. Her eyes were swollen, and her nose was red from crying. Spike couldn’t remember her looking more beautiful.
“I love you,” she said, leaning in to brush her lips softly across his.
“I love you, too.” He pulled her down for a longer, deeper kiss, passion flaring between them. She pulled back when he tried to roll them, his growl of pain cutting through the haze of want.
“We can’t. You’re hurt.”
“Hmpf. Never so hurt that I can’t make love to my woman.” He growled once more when he tried to shift, and she raised her eyebrow.
“Wanna try that again, Fang boy?” His eyes narrowed into slits.
“Watch it, pet.” A knock on the door stopped what Anne might’ve said.
“Mommy.” Matt’s tiny voice drifted through the wood.
“Hold on, honey,” she called, going in search of something to put on Spike to cover the worst of his wounds, so as not to scare the boy any further. Once he was dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, she went over to the door to let him in.
“Daddy!” the boy cried, scrambling up onto the bed to throw himself into his father’s arms.
“Honey, be careful. . .” Anne started, only to be waved off by the vampire. She smiled as Spike wrapped his son in his arms, and went to join them on the bed. She snuggled on the vampire’s side, her heart swelling with joy that everybody was all right.
“Did that bad man hurt you?” Matt asked, his eyes owlish.
“Don’t you worry about that, poppet. I’m fine,” Spike lied smoothly, easing the child.
“Where did he go?” Fear flickered across the young face, causing Anne to tear up again.
“Don’t worry about that, honey. He won’t be able to hurt us again,” she told him, running her hand over his soft curls. Her eyes caught Spike’s and she mouthed ‘Willow’ to him. As he started to nod his understanding, all three hissed in air as a wave passed over them. A flash of red light passed through their eyes and tiny moans of near pain passed from their lips. After a couple of seconds, they blinked, everything returning to normal again.
Anne smiled as she looked down at her men.
“Daddy, d’you prawmiss to be carfull when you drive?” Matt asked his father, a stern look on his face. Spike mock saluted him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
“Absolutely,” he said, a smile curling his lips.
“Yeah, buddy. You need to remember, that just cause you’re undead, doesn’t mean you’re immortal.” Anne scolded, giggling at his annoyed expression.
“How was I supposed to know that the bleedin’ deer was going to jump out at me?” he defended himself. “Ugly bastard too.” Anne smacked his arm lightly, a reproachful look on her face.
“Language,” she scolded.
“Sorry,” Spike mumbled, scowling.
“Daddy, don’ do that. Your face will stick,” Matt said with a giggle.
“Oh, really?” Spike said, vamping. The boy squealed with delight at the sight of his father’s vampiric face.
“Can’t be much worse than this, now can it?” Matthew giggled hysterically at the funny faces his father was making, all the while in his demonic visage. Anne joined in, her own heart light that the accident hadn’t taken him from them. Even though Spike looked like he had gone a couple of rounds with a pissed off lumber truck, the DeSoto had escaped unscathed. Spike pridefully said something about things being made to last back then. The rest of the day was spent, just the three of them, huddling on the bed together, laughter filling the room.
~*~*~
Fighting back tears, Willow undid the buttons of Xander’s shirt, hissing when she saw the bruises marring his chest. Buffy had been wild when she had attacked, defending her family with the ferocity of any mother bear. Placing her hands on his chest, she whispered the healing spell, her body starting to glow once more. As she spoke, the bruises began to fade, and the open cuts closed. When all the damage had been repaired, she stopped, and leaned back to wait.
A loud groan escaped the brunette’s lips as he shifted, his eyes fluttering open.
“Will?” he gasped, pushing himself into a sitting position. She knew the moment that memory returned to him, as his shoulders began to shake. Torn between anger and the need to comfort, Willow sat there while he cried. “What the hell is the matter with me?” he asked the air. Turning to face her, she flinched as she looked into the guilt ravaged eyes of her friend. “How could I do that to that little boy? To Buffy?”
“To Spike,” Willow added, anger winning for a brief instant. “I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore, Xander. I don’t know you,” she said. He closed his eyes, and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I don’t know, either. I really don’t. Oh God, how they must hate me.” Pain laced his words and he started to shudder again. He shook it off, and looked back at her. “What I did to that little boy. I’m no better than any vampire,” he mumbled, misery written on his face. This is what drinking did. It made you ignore logic and rationality. He’d seen it enough, growing up, how could he have forgotten?
“I hope that you’ve finally learned something from this. Because, you’ve ruined any chance you had at getting back into her life. You terrorized a four year old little boy, Xander. You shot his father in front of him.” Her voice rose with each word, his head dipping lower as she spoke. “There’s no fixing this. You’ve burned your bridges, I hope you’re happy,” she finished, silent tears tracking down her face. He looked up at her then, the stark anguish in his dark orbs making her heart break.
“You can fix it,” he whispered. Her eyes widened a fraction, her brain not catching his meaning. He just continued to stare at her, not blinking or moving, and not clarifying himself.
“What do you think I can do, Xander?” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “There’s nothing I can say that will smooth this over. You were wrong.”
“I know. I don’t want you to say anything,” he said, raising himself up onto his knees. “Make them forget. Make ME forget,” he whispered, his face imploring. Green eyes widened at his plea.
“What?” she asked, not quite sure she had heard him.
“It hurts too much. Make me forget.” She stared at him in disbelief, her head shaking no. She studied his face, not really believing what he was asking her. She saw so much pain in his eyes, she nearly choked from it. She could heal his body, but she couldn’t heal his heart.
“I can’t,” she gasped. He leaned forward and gripped her shoulders, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“Please.” She knocked his hands away, backing away on her knees.
“What you’re asking me to do, is wrong. It’s an abuse of magic. . .”
“Why?” he interrupted. “I’m asking you to. You’re not sneaking around behind my back, or anything.” He reached for her again, only to be evaded. “Wipe it all out, Will. The Hellmouth, demons, Buffy.”
“Me!” she cut him off, agony lancing her heart.
“You’re better off without me.” She shook her head, vehemently denying his words. He moved forward again, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb gathering the moisture sliding along her skin. “Let me go. You have the opportunity to have a great life. Take it, and don’t look back. I’m sorry, for everything.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead, fighting the ache tearing at his chest.
“Xander. . .” his name was barely a whisper as she pulled back to look at his face.
“You can fix this, Will. Make it better. For that little boy. For me.”
“What am I supposed to do without my best friend?” she whimpered.
“You have a new best friend now.” She was crying in earnest, her heart shattering in her chest. He had been the only constant in her life, the only one who cared when her parents didn’t. “Please, Willow.” The look of steely resolve on his handsome face was what finally pushed her over to his side. Surging forward, she wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear life.
“I love you,” she whispered, sobs shaking her slim frame. His arms tightened around her waist, his own sobs breaking free. She sat back, running her hands and eyes over his unshaven face, trying to imprint everything about him into her memory.
“I love you, too, Will. Always.” He moved away from her, avoiding the hands still reaching for him. “Do it, Will. Before Mark comes back. Then, you hold onto him, and you never let him go.” His face twisted in agony as he broke into fresh tears.
Still crying herself, Willow pulled her bag to her, and pulled out her supplies with shaking hands.
~*~*~
A half an hour later, Mark found her, sitting in the middle of the old barn, arms wrapped around her knees as she cried. Saying nothing, he walked to her and gathered her up in his arms, gently rocking her. Tremors wracked through her as she began to speak, telling him in a hitching voice what Xander had wanted, what she had done.
He cradled her in his lap, a strong hand running down her back as he talked. They were the only two who knew the truth now. She had wiped the memory of Xander Harris from everybody that knew him, just like he had wanted. Except for hers and Mark’s. She needed to keep him alive in her mind, because, technically, he was dead to her now. And she had needed Mark to remember, as well. So she wouldn’t go crazy from it.
The Indian just sat, his mind turning in a million different directions at once. He wasn’t sure about the ethics of what Willow had done, or the cowardess of what Xander had wanted. He was sure that he was thankful that Matt would have no memory of the events. Shaking the thoughts away, he looked down at the grief stricken woman in his arms. Her pain tore at his heart, and he knew that he would stand by her. He wasn’t judgmental by nature, and he didn’t feel the need to start now. Not when she looked so tiny and broken in his arms.
“I love you, Willow,” he said softly, brushing a kiss across her hair. She shifted in his lap, until she was straddling his lean hips. Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him, expressing all the love she felt with the press of her lips against his.
“I know what I did has a lot of hazy moral implications. I don’t practice magic to abuse it. But, in this situation, I think it was best, for all of them. He was in so much pain, and Matt. . .” She trailed off, resting her forehead against his. “Please, don’t ever doubt me. I will never do anything like this again. I swear to you. I love you, Mark, please believe me.”
“Hush, now,” he whispered. “I know. I understand. I do,” he said when she looked at him doubtfully. “You’re my world now, Willow.” His throat threatened to close with the force of emotion he was feeling. Her large, luminescent green eyes searched his face, the last vestiges of doubt dissipating under the black eyes filled with love. She thought of what Xander had said to her, before she performed the spell.
“Grab hold of him, Will. And don’t let go.”
With a smile, she kissed him again, then settled back to look at him.
“I think you have something in your pocket for me,” she said, giggling through her still flowing tears at the look on his face. He blinked and pursed his lips, fighting his own wave of tears. He didn’t ask how she knew about the ring. He just shifted his hips and reached into his pocket, pulling out the little velvet box. They both stared down at it for a long minute, each thinking about the ways their lives were going to change once it was opened.
With a pounding heart, and suddenly sweaty hands, Mark opened the box, and turned it towards her. The dim light glinted off the simple, round diamond set in a gold band. Willow sucked in a deep breath when she saw it, tears of joy replacing her tears of grief.
“Willow,” Mark started, stopping to clear his throat. “Will you do me the extreme honor, of becoming my wife?” he asked, holding his breath. She looked at the ring, then back up at him, feeling as if all the answers to all of the questions she’d had about them had been given with that one question. Giving him a wide, watery smile, she shook her head yes, laughter bubbling for her chest. Mark released the breath with a whoosh, and with a shaking hand, pulled the ring from it’s resting place. He slipped it onto her slim finger with ease, their eyes locking as it slid into place.
“Perfect fit,” he whispered, piercing her to her soul with his deep, black gaze.
“I know.”