"Ghosts", Chapter 2

<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN">TITLE: Ghosts 2/?

AUTHOR: jodyorjen

RATING: NC-17

SPOILERS: AU Season 7, containing vague rumors and speculation.

DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. GO team! Theirs, not mine.

DEDICATION: For Kimi, Chris, Mint, Isabelle and Mountain William, for sending feedback on Chapter 1.

AUTHOR"S NOTE: Angst, baby, with a bullet. Lyrics from “I Only Have Eyes for You”. “Unchained Melody” and “Fell In Love With a Girl” used without permission.

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask my permission first, just so I know where it’s headed. All of my stories may be found at http://www.willingslave.com

Buffy carried a load of laundry down the basement stairs and loaded it into the washing machine. She flipped on the radio, then poured a capful of detergent and dumped it in, slamming the lid and pulling the dial. The machine rocked into action, whirring as it filled with water.

“It’s Friday night in Sunnydale,” the announcer said smoothly. “This one’s for all you lovers out there.” Buffy opened the dryer and pulled out the clean clothes, piling them on a card table. She began to fold underwear and stack them in the wicker basket. Slow music began to play. “My love must be a kind of blind love, “ a smooth voice sang. “I can't see anyone but you.”

Buffy stilled, a pair of satin panties twisted in her hand. “Are the stars out tonight? I don't know if it's cloudy or bright, I only have eyes for you, dear,” the song continued. Her mind filled with images: Angel’s head bending to hers; the sneer of his lips as Angelus; the flare of his coat as he walked away from her. She realized her heart was thumping madly in her chest.

She reached out and punched a button on her radio. “From Greg to Cindy, with love,” said a bright voice. Buffy went back to her task, getting the laundry done. “From Linda to Chuck, who loves you just as much as when he married you twenty years ago today.” Buffy smiled as she grabbed a handful of hangers and began hanging up blouses and tops. Slow lush chords began to play.

“Oh, my love, my darling, I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time . . .” Buffy smiled and began to sing along as she plugged in the iron and set up the board. She grabbed the mister and set it down, setting a cotton shirt on the board. She smoothed out the wrinkles carefully, her brow furrowing in concentration.

“Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me,” Buffy sang. "I'll be coming home, wait for me!" Footfalls came down the stairs, and Buffy looked up to see Xander. He still wore his date clothes, his long bangs flopping into his eyes.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” she said, setting down her iron. One hand flew up to her messily pigtailed head, the other smoothing down the baggy sweatshirt she wore.

“I’m sorry to just barge in,” he said sincerely. “But I just really wanted to talk to you, and I figured if I called, you’d just hang up on me.”

She sighed and shook her head. “No, Xander…”

He stepped forward in front of her. “Look, Buffy. I know I acted like an asshole. I had no right to attack you, to question you about Spike. You’d already told me that it was none of my business-“

“Just like it was totally none of mine that you date,” she retorted, looking in his eyes. “Your private life has nothing to do with me. I’m just-“ She faltered, her hand closing around a can of spray starch.

“Just what?” he asked.

“Jealous,” she blurted out.

“You’re jealous?” he said incredulously.

“Well, not exactly. More like- someone stole my purse, and then I saw someone carrying it around town, and I was like, “hey, that’s mine, I want it back.”

“So you feel about me, the way you do about your purse?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yes!” she said excitedly. “Exactly. The really good one, the one my dad sent me from that really fancy shop in Paris, not the denim one I use all the time.”

Xander stared at her. “Do you love me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “You know-“

He moved towards her and covered her mouth with his. She stiffened, and then stilled into the embrace, her hands tightening around his waist.

*****

“You’re certain?” Giles said seriously. “You’re completely sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes!” Anya said. She stalked across the library and climbed up the ladder.

“I don’t understand. I thought you’d want to return to Sunnydale,” said Giles. “I know you’re not happy here.”

“I’m not happy anywhere,” Anya said, pulling books down form the shelf. “I hurt, okay? I’m really messed up inside.”

Giles cleared his throat. “In time, this will pass. You should return home, to your friends.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Anya said angrily. “I have Xander’s friends. There’s no one back there for me. No one who really cares.” Her voice cracked and she shook her head. “I have work to do here. I have a purpose.”

“Willow needs to return home,” said Giles. “But I hate to think of leaving you here alone.”

“You’ve done it before,” Anya volleyed back. “This is your modus operandi. Abandonment is your thing.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered. “I have a responsibility to Willow. She’s not making any progress with the coven; she’s closed herself off from their healing. The poor girl is out of sync with life, completely disconnected.”

“You’re not giving her time to heal, Giles,” Anya said angrily. “You’re tired of dealing with her, and with me.”

“That’s not true,” he said seriously. “There’s nothing I’d rather do, than just stay here with you.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Just- fuck off and go pack your things.”

Giles face tightened in anger. “Anya-“

“Go away,” she replied. “Like you always do.”

Exasperated, Giles left and walked down the corridor, exiting into the garden. Willow sat on a marble bench, staring into space. “Willow,” he said gently. He sat down next to her, resting his hand on her knee.

She turned and looked at him, her expression blank. “Giles.”

“That’s right,” he said encouragingly. She turned away again. “We’re leaving tonight. We’re going back to California.” She didn’t respond at all. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“We’re going home,” she said quietly. She plucked a rose from the bush and put it to her nose. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply.

“I’m going to pack our bags,” Giles said.

“I’ll come help,” she said, opening her eyes. She turned and smiled at him. “I’m glad we’re going home.” She closed her fingers around his hand, and he smiled.

****

Faith yawned loudly as she opened the door to the bathroom. She rubbed her eyes as she turned on the shower, stepping inside. She flipped the switch on the shower radio and turned it on. “KROQ 106.7, L.A.’s finest rock and roll,” said the announcer. She poured a handful of shampoo in her palm and rubbed it into her hair.

Raucous chords began to play through the tinny speaker. “Fell in love with a girl,” the song began. “Fell in love once and almost completely. She's in love with the world but sometimes these feelings can be so misleading.” Faith sang along, leaning over to rinse her long hair. She soaped up her body, sliding her hands over her skin. She rinsed herself off and stepped out of the shower, slipping on a terry robe. She uncapped the little bottle of hotel lotion and rubbed it into her elbows.

“Don’t!” she heard a voice call out. She frowned and shut off the radio. “No!”

Faith opened the bathroom door and stepped into the other bedroom. The injured vampire was thrashing on the bed, the sheets twisted all around him. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said, going to him.

“Let me go home!” he cried.

Faith ran her hands over his shoulders, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Hie eyes opened as his hand tightened on her wrist. “I need to get to Charing Cross.”

“Just relax,” she said, her other hand pulling open the drawer and grabbing a syringe. He flailed his arm, and she went flying, crashing to the floor. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, as she rose to her feet. Her head swam. She looked down at her arm, seeing the syringe dangling from the crook of her elbow. “Oh, shit,” she said, as her knees wobbled.

A strong arm reached out and caught her. She felt a gentle tug as the needle was removed from her arm. “Just rest now, Dru,” he said. “Just lie here next to me.” Faith’s eyes closed as she rolled toward the vampire. The last thing she felt was someone holding her close.

****

“You’re weirded out,” Xander said flatly.

“No, I’m fine,” Buffy said, vigorously scrubbing the plate that she held.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” he asked. “Ever since we kissed, you’ve been avoiding me, or acting strange.” She pushed down on the sink faucet and turned to face him. “I love you,” he said sincerely.

She bit her lip. “I love you, too. It’s just-“

“Just what?” he asked.

“I don’t trust myself,” she said. “My instincts suck. I’m the relationship kiss of death.”

“But this is different,” he said, taking her hands. “We’ve been friends a long time. We know each other. This is a natural progression, evolution. It’s the next step.”

“But if it doesn’t work, then we lose the friendship,” she said. ‘I’ve lost so much, and I just don’t want to lose you too.”

“It has to work,” he said intently. “We both deserve this, deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t know if it feels right,” she said. “The way I feel about you, I don’t know if it’s real love, or a crush, or convenience.”

“It’s real love,” he said adamantly. “Just let me show you. Trust in me, Buffy. Trust in us.” She looked up at him tentatively, her face clouded with uncertainty. She kissed him, lightly, gently, and he cupped her face eagerly.

The phone rang and they broke apart. Buffy picked up the handset. “Hello?” She listened. “You’re where? Oh my God!” she shrieked. “No, that’s great. That’s better than great. We’ll see you soon.” Buffy hung up the phone and turned to Xander. “Giles and Willow are coming home! They just landed in L.A.”

****

Faith dreamed. She walked down a shadowed street, flickering gas lights the only illumination. The air smelled of shit and smoke, and filthy snow crunched under her feet. She walked up the wide stone steps to and entered a tall rowhouse. The foyer was large and quiet, the carpet a vivid scarlet, and it continued up the sweeping staircase. She climbed the wide steps, following the dim sound of sobbing.

She walked through an open doorway and saw a shuddering form, chained at the ankle to a metal bed. Thin white shoulders were covered with bruises and lash marks, punctuated by weeping burns rimmed with ash. A thin woman with trailing dark hair walked in, dressed in a flowing gown, her pale ankles flashing as she walked. “William,” she said, her voice sweet as birdsong.

“Please no,” he cried out. He raised his battered and swollen face, revealing the tracks of tears. “Leave me alone!” He pulled at his restraints desperately, telegraphing his panic at her presence.

“Settle, sweeting,” she said, sitting down on the bed. “If you’re naughty, I’ll have to fetch Daddy.”

Immediately he stilled, his fear palpable. ”Please, please let me go home. I want to go home.”

“This is your home,” she said, smiling angelically. Quick as a whip, her hand darted out across his face, leaving red claw marks down the side of his face. He screamed, tears rolling down his cheek.

“Why do you hurt me?” he asked in an anguished voice. “Whatever I do, you hurt me.”

“I hurt you because I love you,” she said, surprised. She leaned forward and licked the blood off his cheek. “Pain means that I see you. Pain means that you’re not a ghost, prowling the ether.” She wiggled her fingers, indicating the supernatural plane.

“You’re insane,” he exclaimed. “I hate you, you bloody bitch, you filthy nutter!”

She smiled wickedly, ripping her nails across his throat. “Naughty, naughty boy!” she said. “Bad names are not allowed.” He clutched his throat, blood dripping beneath his fingers. “Take it back,” she said slowly.

He closed his eyes, shuddering. “I take it back,” he croaked.

She clapped her hands and smiled widely, her eyes alight. “Now tell me that you love me.”

He gritted his teeth, his eyes murderous. “I- love you.”

She backhanded him, and his head jerked back. “Not that way.”

Pushed to his limits, the man snapped. He moved one hand from his throat and made a tight fist, plowing it heavily into her face. She flew across the room, smashing into a porcelain pitcher and a fern on a wooden stand. She lay on the floor, dazed, then smiled. She touched her cheek, already turning a livid shade of purple. “There’s my boy,” she said admiringly. “My lethal prince.” He grinned at her, exultant in his triumph.

Faith walked past the two of them, turning the crystal knob on the door. She walked down a long hallway, finding a white paneled door at the end. She pushed it open, and stepped inside. She entered her parents’ bedroom in the house she’d grown up in. Her mom and dad were in their bathroom, the door open wide. She crept closer, past their big bed with its fluffy down comforter and the lacy bassinet. She peered inside, and saw her baby sister sleeping, her rosebud mouth sucking in her sleep.

“I can’t believe that you’re doing this to us,” her mother cried. She wore a pink nightgown, her breasts swaying under the thin silk.

“I’m not doing anything,” her father said bitterly. He tied his tie, looking at himself in the mirror.

“I know what you’re up to,” her mother hissed. She ran a hand through her bedraggled hair. “No one has a business meeting at nine at night.”

He turned to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Fine, you want to do it the mean way, we’ll do it the mean way.” He shoved her, and she slammed into the enclosed shower, the glass shuddering. “I’m going to fuck someone else, someone who is skinny, who doesn’t bitch and moan, or smell like spoiled milk.”

“I just had a baby!” she cried, cradling her elbow. “Your baby.”

“Because you deceived me,” he sneered. “You knew I didn’t want any more children. Faith’s finally old enough not to be a pain in the ass every second, and you pop out another mewling, sniveling baby to suck up more of my money and the rest of your looks.”

“I thought you loved me,” Faith’s mother sobbed. “I thought you loved our family.”

“I love what you were, not what you are,” he said coldly. He opened the medicine cabinet and slapped on some cologne. “You disgust me, with your fat and your inane conversation and your constant clinging.” He turned off the light and left, shrouding her in darkness.

“Don’t go, Charles,” she begged, grabbing his arm. He turned around and slapped her, and she fell down. He walked past Faith without noticing her.

Faith’s mom got up and stumbled after him, her hand falling on his shoulder. He turned and grabbed her throat, choking her with both hands. “I wish you would just die,” he said furiously. “You’re not the woman I love, the woman I married, not anymore.” She grasped at his hands and succeeded at backing away, choking. He hit her in the nose, and it spurted blood, dripping down to her chin.

Faith backed away, scared, and ran into the bassinet. It was the baby’s fault, she thought. Before she came, Daddy had been happy. My Daddy had loved my mommy and me. If I got rid of the baby, everything would be fine. She was a bad, bad baby. She picked her up from the cradle and her head dangled backwards. The baby began to cry, and her parents turned to look.

“She made you mean, Daddy,” Faith said. “She cast a spell, and made you a monster. But I know how to undo it.”

“No, Faith!” her mother screamed, as she watched her oldest child shake her baby as hard as she could.

Faith jerked awake, her entire body trembling. A hand gently ran over her hair. She turned her head and looked into the disfigured face of the vampire. “You’re William,” she said, her head swimming.

“And you’re Faith,” he said, his eyes soft. He stroked her hair, and Faith closed her eyes.

“Not anymore,” she said. “I’m retired.” He laughed gently as she slipped back into sleep.

****

The man in the white chef's hat smiled at the camera. “Aren't we having fun?" he asked, grinning.

"No!" Buffy yelled.

She picked up the remote and rewound her cooking video. The chef set down his spoon and picked up a small bowl of oregano. Buffy watched as it miraculously flew from the large pan back into the Pyrex dish. She pressed play. "Three tablespoons of Parmesan," he said.

Buffy picked up her recipe card from the counter and scanned it. "Damn it," she muttered. She picked up her portable phone and dialed a number.

"What now, Buff?" Xander asked.

"Three tablespoons of Parmesan," she said.

"Shaved or in a shaker?" he asked.

“What's the difference?" she asked.

"One looks like yellow dust and the other looks like white chunks," he said helpfully.

"He didn't say," Buffy said. "What am I going to do?" she asked, her voice rising.

"Rewind the video again," Xander said patiently, " and tell me what the Parmesan looks like when Mr. Pasta talks about it."

Buffy did as he asked. "It looks like chunks," she reported.

"Okay, that's shaved Parmesan," he said. "Anything else before I hit the checkout line?"

"We're out of diet soda," she said.

"Okay, I'll pick some up," he said.

"Thanks," she said, and hung up.

She pressed play. “Alternate the layers of noodles, sauce, meat and cheese until the dish is filled," the chef explained. She ended with a layer of plain tomato sauce. "And now you have a perfect lasagna, crowned with a layer of whole milk mozzarella," he said. She stopped the video and hit redial on the phone.

"What else?" Xander answered.

"I ran out of mozzarella," she explained. "I must have gone overboard on the layers."

"I'll get some more," he said. “Don't worry, I'm sure it will turn out great."

"I hope so," she said nervously.

"Okay, I'm in the line again, so let's run through this one more time. What are you serving?"

"Lasagna, green salad, Italian bread, and tiramisu," she said.

"I have the tiramisu in the cart, the lasagna is nearly ready, I'm holding the bread, and Dawn was supposed to make the salad," Xander said. “Is the salad done?"

Buffy opened the refrigerator door and checked. A wooden bowl sat on the shelf, filled with cut vegetables. "Go on the salad."

"Do you have dressing?" Xander asked.

Buffy rummaged around in the fridge. “I don’t see any,” she said.

“I’ll get some too.”

“This isn’t going well at all,” Buffy said. “This is just a disaster.”

Xander paused. “I think I’ll get some wine,” he suggested. “You sound like you could really use a drink.”

****

Faith was soaring into the clear blue sky. She was flying, flying high. Her body was flooded with intense, warm pleasure. She opened her eyes and stared up at a white ceiling. Something was on top of her. She turned her head and realized what it was: William, lying on her, feeding from her neck.

She wrapped her arms around him and flipped him over. He pulled his mouth away and looked up at her, his eyes glazed. “The blood of a Slayer,” he said thickly. “You’re a Slayer!”

“You drank from me,” she said woozily, her mind hazy with blood loss and morphine. “With your pointy fangs.”

“Your blood is so sweet,” he moaned. He licked her neck, sucking at the stream of blood that flowed from the small wounds.

She moaned. “Christ, that feels intense,” she said. She rested her hand on the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

“You should kill me,” he whispered. “I bit you, while you were defenseless.”

“I should,” she said. “I really should.” She stroked the back of his neck and he opened his mouth wide. She cried out as he sank his fangs into her neck again. “But it feels so good.”

****

Buffy looked in the mirror, fastening a gold locket around her neck. She adjusted the sleeves on her white peasant top and smoothed down her hair. She heard the front door slam shut and ran downstairs. “Are they here yet?” Dawn asked eagerly, setting down her backpack.

“No, thankfully,” Buffy replied. “I’m running a little behind schedule.”

The sisters walked into the kitchen, and Dawn saw the unbaked lasagna sitting on the counter. “Oh no,” Dawn said, crestfallen. “Dinner’s not even remotely ready yet.”

“Xander will be back any minute,” Buffy said reassuringly. The doorbell rang and Dawn ran to answer it. The door opened and revealed Giles and Willow standing in the doorway.

“Hi!” Dawn exclaimed, throwing her arms around them both. “Are you okay now?” she asked Willow seriously.

“I’m doing a lot better,” the witch said somberly. “I’m still-“ She paused and swallowed. “I’m kind of tired.”

Buffy embraced her, holding her tightly. She looked at her worriedly. “I’m sure it’s just jet leg,” she assured her friend. “You need to eat something other than airline food.”

“I’m really not hungry,” Willow replied. “I want to go to sleep.” Willow picked up her suitcase and started up the stairs.

“We moved you into Buffy’s old room,” Dawn called. Willow turned on the stairs and looked at her. “We thought you might like to- be in a different place.”

“Thanks,” she replied, and continued up the stairs. The door closed softly behind her.

“She’s not better at all, is she?” Dawn asked Giles. He looked away, avoiding her gaze.

-TBC-

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