Numb and Number: Chapter Eight

[jesterladyfic]

Chapter Eight

Oz wasn’t quite sure how they made it back to Buffy’s apartment. What he did know was that Willow didn’t stop crying and Giles wore a look of shock and guilt. But Spike…well, Spike hadn’t said a word to anyone and wouldn’t let anyone else touch Buffy’s body that he’d placed on her bed and then he'd slammed the door behind him and not left her room.

Giles had sunk down to the table and buried his head in his hands for a couple of hours, but then he
straightened up and unpacked his books with an almost fanatical need to know.

Oz had received a crossbow bolt in his leg and he let Wesley attend to it while Willow sat staring at the
bedroom where Spike and Buffy lay, silent tears streaming down her face. There was a look in her eyes that Oz didn’t like, although he wasn’t sure what he could do about it.

That was the scene that Angel returned upon.

***

Angel was alone. He’d left Connor up north just in case he was still in danger, though Angel was pretty certain that it was Buffy and the rest who were in the most danger. Lilah had used Connor to draw Angel away from Buffy, he was sure of it. He hurried up the stairs, hoping he could still help. But he could smell the death on the air.

Wesley opened the door to Angel’s insistent knocking. One look at Wesley’s tired face and Angel knew who
was gone. A heavy weight of guilt settled on his shoulders and he sank down to the kitchen table. But not for long,
because Spike sensed his presence and came striding out of the bedroom door with blood, her blood, everywhere,
and the hardest expression Angel had ever seen in his grandson’s eyes.

“There aren’t enough words that I can call you, you sodding wanker!” Spike spit out. “Why did you leave? Do
you get kicks out of it, leaving those who need you most?”

Angel stood up. His own anger burned against himself and wanted to lash out at the fury it saw in Spike.

“It wasn’t fun. It’s never fun coming back and seeing the devastation. I had to go, Spike. Buffy understood
that.”

“Don’t you say her name!” Spike said warningly, ice in every syllable.

“I wasn’t there, Spike, but you were,” Angel continued, egged on by Spike’s anger. “Why didn’t you stop it?
Aren’t you her champion, her hero? Why is it my responsibility all of a sudden to take care of your Slayer? Why
didn’t you save her?”

Spike stood straight, but the words obviously lashed across him like a whip.

“Stop it!” Willow screamed at them, the tears still flowing. “How can you when she’s in there! The blame,
there’s plenty of blame-“ She turned away and Oz opened his arms to her. She hesitated a moment, but then went
to them. He looked back at the vampires.

“She’s right. Buffy died for us. It was her decision and whether or not anyone could’ve stopped it isn’t the
issue. Let’s bury her in peace.”

“Then kill that thing,” Willow said determinedly against his chest. Oz’s expression tightened, but he said
nothing.

Giles still hadn’t looked up from his books and Wesley went back to finishing the dressing on Oz’s leg.

Spike’s eyes glittered for a moment, but he backed away and spoke without looking at Angel.

“She always wanted you here. But I want you bloody gone. Go take care of your precious Connor.” Angel felt it was wrong to take orders from Spike, but he couldn’t have remained anyway.

“I want to see her,” he said quietly.

Spike growled at him.

“You’d need more than what you’ve got to get through to her.”

“Spike!” Wesley’s voice rang through the room. “Let him go. He loved her too.” Spike looked like he wanted to hit Wesley. But he stood aside and let Angel walk into the room.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he told him.

Angel didn’t take five minutes. He couldn’t even look at her. Spike had cleaned the blood away and pulled a sheet up to her chest, but Buffy’s form was too still to be alive.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Angel said. “I should’ve been here, but I guess all I’m good for is leaving you.”

He wished she’d open her eyes and call him a name or make a lame pun, but she did neither and Angel walked out of the room.

He walked straight to the door and would’ve just left, but Wesley stood up and gave him a gripping hug.

“You will be needed, Angel,” he said softly.

Angel nodded silently.

“You can always call me if you need me,” he said, handing Wesley a scrap of paper with his number on it and
left to go back to Connor and try and keep him safe.

***

The next few days were hell for all of them. Wesley thought that they would all fall apart. Spike didn’t leave Buffy’s side and Wesley went to him and asked him if he could arrange for a funeral. Spike agreed with a curt nod and then continued to ignore the world.

It was very odd to be arranging for Buffy’s final send off. Wesley never thought he’d be in the position, but none
of the others were in the right mindset to even think about it.

For some slightly irrational reason, Wesley felt completely responsible for Buffy’s death. He’d involved her by
Spike’s and Angel’s desperate attempts to keep him safe. Now she was dead and it looked like the world was going to die along with her, because this ragged band of emotionally numb vagabonds was going to have no effect on Illyria, lesser though her powers may be.

Wesley finished the funeral arrangements and then changed the dressing on Oz’s leg. Once that task was
done, he girded up to face an even more daunting one. That of confronting Spike with the details. But upon opening
the bedroom door, Wesley found Spike loading up on weapons.

“Spike, don’t!” he said sharply. “Getting yourself killed will not bring her back.”

Spike growled fiercely and slammed Wesley against the wall.

“Not the point, yeah? She’s got to pay.”

“She can’t ever pay. There’s nothing that could be done that would make this better. Nothing, Spike.”
Wesley’s voice carried conviction, but Spike only let go of him and continued packing his sharp, pointy objects. “Do
you think killing Knox did a thing to make me feel better?” Wesley demanded of Spike. “No, it made me feel worse,
because then there truly was nothing I could do. Nothing else to avenge, nothing but the dreadful feeling that I’d done this to her and couldn’t ever face it.” Tears started to fall down his cheeks, but he didn’t care. “So I fell into myself and became nothing. And now because of that another girl is dead. There is nothing to be gained or lost or proved by going after her, Spike. Buffy will still be dead. Just like Fred.”

Wesley turned away, overcome, and Spike’s mental resolution was breached. He stood, watching Wesley break down, and even through his own tears, Wesley could see fury boiling within Spike, while Buffy’s body lay lifeless beside them. The fury came to a point and Spike grabbed the dresser and flung it at the wall, screaming as he did so. Wesley did nothing.

“I should’ve come sooner!” Spike yelled. “Why didn’t I bloody come sooner? I was a coward! I was no better
than the useless, yet grandly heroic Angel. I made the decision.” He sank down onto the bed and took Buffy’s cold
hand in his. “And I made the wrong one.”

Wesley stood watching silently, his tears still flowing, but now under control.

“I’m sorry, love,” Spike whispered. “I can only save you in my dreams.”

“She died in your arms,” Wesley whispered softly, speaking to himself as much as Spike. “What could be
better than that?”

Spike looked up, the anger still smoldering, but grief hovered there as well.

“You felt this, Wes, I know you felt this. But this is the second time I’ve watched Buffy die because of my
sodding incompetence. She should never have had to die. This was our battle. Angel should’ve listened to me and
Giles should’ve never let this happen.”

And so saying, Spike rose with purpose and strode into the other room. Wesley followed apprehensively.

Giles was sitting encased in his books and barely noticed Spike until an arm clenched him around the throat and thrust him against the wall.

“So, Watcher, books are more important than her! Your high and mighty judgments, your moral code. But you could’ve stopped this from the beginning and you bloody didn’t. Tell me, was it fun sending us in there with your grand little spells that don’t actually work and letting her die!”

Giles couldn’t talk with Spike’s hand cutting off his air. His eyes were hard and he didn’t struggle. Wesley ran forward and tried to pry Spike away, but it took Oz coming forward and helping before it was accomplished.

Giles sank to the floor and looked up at them all with haunted eyes.

“I realize my faults. I know my blame, Spike. I have been trying to figure out where I went wrong with our
spell. You should let me continue.”

“That way you can blame it all on something else, yeah,” Spike said scathingly and walked back in to be with Buffy. Giles’ eyes shone bright with tears but they did not fall. His face was hard with regret and guilt, but he bent over his books again and didn't look back up. Wesley looked helplessly at Oz. What chance, indeed, did they have against Illyria now?

***

Willow had been huddled in a corner for a day now. Oz really didn’t think it was right for him to be the one to talk to her, but he felt like someone should. So he simply sat down beside her and didn’t say anything. But she started to talk, almost like she couldn't stop herself.

“I could’ve done something, you know? I didn’t nearly destroy the world for nothing. There’s power in this girl,
power that saved Buffy’s life once before. I’m pretty much unstoppable. I could’ve whizzed that sword away or
maybe made the binding harder. Or stopped the spell I was doing and did one that saved her.” Oz still didn’t say
anything. “Just panic!” she screeched at him after a moment.

She turned to look at him and saw that his eyes were full of tears. She didn’t scream anymore but a few
minutes later her eyebrows rose in shock as she realized something.

“Oh, Dawn, oh. Who’s going to tell Dawn? How will we tell Dawn? Xander, where is he? We have to find him,
he has to know! He’d want to know. Maybe her dad should know. She can’t be buried by her mom this time. No
more resurrection spells.”

Willow buried her head in her hands. They sat that way for a few hours at least. Oz, a silent presence by her
side.

“When the funeral is over,” Willow said slowly, her voice suddenly calculating, “I will study. I am going to make
her suffer and she will know my wrath. Because I have wrath.”

Oz’s heart leapt within him in alarm, but he suppressed the urge to say anything. Now was not the time, but
he was very afraid.


***

The day before the funeral Giles found or deduced the answers he was looking for. He sat at the table with bloodshot eyes and glasses in hand.

“She knew,” was all he could say at first. “Illyria has had that spell used against her before and she was willing
to sacrifice her powers of time manipulation and dimension traveling if it meant that she killed our chief fighter and
drew off another one.”

“She played us, good and simple,” Spike said dully. His fury had ebbed, leaving him numb with grief. He didn’t
say much anymore. Giles almost would rather Spike try to kill him again.

“Yes, she did,” Giles said gently. “I fear she knows more about ourselves than we think. She has every
advantage. We shall have to be more cautious in the future and not do what she expects us to.”

“I expect to get my revenge,” Willow said softly. “She won’t know what hit her when I am there, I promise you.”
Willow’s eyes were hard now. Giles’ head shot to her quickly.

“She has already stood against you and withstood your power, Willow,” he said sharply. “Now would not be a
good time for a repeat when we need you. Remember what you learned at the coven!”

Willow laughed quietly.

“The coven was weak. I’ve grown since then. Didn’t I change the world? But don’t worry, Giles, didn’t you
notice I didn’t go on any rampages this time? I know when to be cautious.”

Giles was not satisfied, but he was too ashamed of his own actions to reply any further.

“What now?” Oz asked.

“We let her rest in peace,” Spike answered, his eyes burning.