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It was evening, but not late, when Buffy heard the soft knock of yet another hand on her front door. Without even looking, she knew it was some new potential, some lost teenager following a poor-man’s Star of Bethlehem to her little makeshift girls dorm. She looked around for Dawn, but her sister was in the kitchen. Spike caught her eye, sympathy and mischief, and she shook her head before striding to the door, ignoring one of her mother’s leftover, half-dead plants in a pot near the stairs—ignoring everything that was half-dead and beyond her control.
“Buffy,” the vampire suddenly warned, his voice strange, in that too-late instant before she opened up her house.
So she was alert, already lifting up on the balls of her feet, shoulders ready to crouch, when she saw an older woman kinda dressed like a hippy standing on her porch.
With a mental wince, Buffy reminded herself she was no longer young enough to call the woman “older.” It was more a maturity there, without all the gray hair and wrinkles. In fact, her hair was a sort of soft berry-orange-red that didn’t look dyed, and her pink skin was smooth and glowing, like a little girl’s. It was her earth-brown eyes, looking so very much straight into Buffy’s, that suggested she was some sort of neighborhood grandmother. And she was smiling, just a bit but very kindly, the sort of up-turned lips that came when someone offered their niece sugar cookies.
“Hello?” Buffy offered.
“Hello,” the woman said with a nod, voice old with meaning and childlike in tune at the same time. “I am Haven Lithe.”
“You’re a what?”
“It’s her name, pet.”
At Spike’s voice and emergence into Buffy’s peripheral vision, the woman’s eyes flicked to him with a sparkle of almost-banked hunger. The Slayer came back up in pre-crouch as the vampire stepped back.
The woman giggle/chuckled, her soft green blouse and skirt catching a little in a porch breeze, and Buffy had the feeling the woman should be ringing faintly, like wind chimes.
“May I come in?” the woman asked.
“I dunno,” Buffy said, stepping back a bit herself while Spike continued to retreat out of eyesight. “Do you need me to invite you in?”
The woman seemed to consider this, eyebrows raised. “Well, technically, no. But I don’t want to be rude.”
“Let her in, Buffy,” Spike said softly. She turned to see he’d backed up as far as he could go while still staying in the room. “Her kind don’t hurt anyone.”
“What kind is that?” a new voice asked, and despite being in her socks Dawn managed to be clomping down the stairs, eyes bright with curiosity. Buffy noticed several potentials descending behind her along with a few coming in from the kitchen, all staring, even those who still kept eating their cereal.
“Niblet, you need to get the watcher. Say it’s a Lithe.”
“I’ll go,” Vi said, shooting back into the kitchen.
Turning back, Buffy saw a highly amused woman still standing on her porch. The Slayer frowned and stepped back.
“Please, come in.”
Softly, still smiling, the Lithe stepped over the threshold. Buffy watched her look around the now-crowded room before those red-brown eyes settled almost predatorily on Spike, who, Buffy turned to see as she closed the door, was looking increasingly freaked out. Not scared, just—
“What could you want here?” he asked.
“Just a little quality time,” the Lithe said. And now there was a faint sound of bells, coming, Buffy realized, from her silver earrings.
“Good lord!”
“Prime Watcher Rupert Giles,” the Lithe said with a respectful bow of her head.
“Prime what?” Xander asked. Buffy looked at him, the bandage over his eye and his beige jacket, then found herself staring at Willow, dressed in some dark shirt and standing at his side with eyes that hadn’t been that big since high school.
“I didn’t think there were any of you left,” Giles said, reaching to polish his glasses before stopping himself, one hand stuck in his pocket.
“There are as many of us as ever. We just don’t tend to hang around hellmouths.”
“No, I imagine not.”
With a nod at Buffy, the Lithe walked further into the room as Giles came to meet her, offering up her hand. “Haven Lithe,” she said.
With a sort of easy gallantry Buffy couldn’t help finding, well, charming, Giles took her hand and sort of shook it while bowing over it.
“So,” Amanda said. “You guys know each other?”
“By reputation.” The Lithe smiled, though maybe it was just a continuation of the last smile. Buffy thought the whole thing should be getting eerie by now, but instead she sort of wanted a hug. “Prime Watchers are far rarer than Lithes, after all.”
“And what’s a Prime Watcher, anyway?” Xander demanded and Buffy stepped closer without getting into striking range. It was great Giles was being all friendly, but Spike hadn’t moved a muscle, even to breathe.
“It’s an obsolete term,” Giles said, looking down.
“It shouldn’t be.” The Lithe directed a sort of glowy respect at the Englishman. “Only one watcher in a century, if that, manages to get their slayer to the legal drinking age.”
“What kind of mystic cut-off is that?” Anya demanded.
“It’s actually more to do with, um, moon cycles,” Giles protested weakly, drawing soft snorts from both the Lithe and Spike.
“Where are my manners?” The cliché just seemed to leap out of Buffy’s mouth like an anxious toad, and wasn’t that a lovely image? “Please, uh, sit down.”
The Lithe moved—sort of floated over like a cloud, really—to the sofa while everyone arranged themselves on the furniture and floor around her, except for Spike, who was still propping up the wall. She smiled at them all separately, acknowledging, “Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris, Faith LeHane, Anya Jenkins, Andrew Wells, Amanda—”
“Not to butt too rudely into the roll call,” Spike said. “But you never answered my question.”
“I did so,” the Lithe said with a little girly/elderly pout. “I said I wanted some quality of your time.”
“With us?” Buffy asked.
“Well, you’re all very nice, and I haven’t seen such a collection of heroes since everyone in armor was looking for a certain chalice, but actually I’m talking about Spike’s time in particular.”
“Spike’s?” asked Xander and Giles together in open disbelief. Buffy turned reflexively, cringing at the insult the vampire was doubtlessly going to throw back, only to see him ignoring the men altogether, eyes fixed on the Lithe.
His voice actually shook a bit as he asked, “What would my time be worth to someone like you?”
“All right, seriously,” Dawn said, flicking her hair in annoyance. “Would someone please tell me what a Lithe is?”
“Well, I am,” the visitor said with a trace of hurt. “And it’s a name, if you please, not a thing.”
“The Lithe family goes back in time as far as anyone can remember,” Giles said. “They are—rather, they make…” He trailed off while everyone, including their visitor, listened with open curiosity. “They make places, retreats, areas of spiritual refreshment, areas to gather strength, meeting places outside of time, other places for debate, for rest, including safe havens.”
“You’re here to make a safe place, and you need Spike’s help?” The question had no mockery, coming from Dawn.
Lithe shrugged again. “It’s more like I’m gathering ingredients.”
“Oh!” Anya said. “Vampire toes are said to be quite powerful in protection spells!”
“What?” Dawn squeaked.
Buffy glared at the woman/thing/whatever. “There will be no gathering of toes!”
Lithe raised her hands, looking alarmed. “I assure you I only want some of Spike’s time, as in spending a little time with him, not draining off his years, or toe years, or anything.”
“And where do you want this time to be spent?” Buffy wasn’t letting this Woodstock hussy take her best weapon anywhere.
“Right here is fine.” The smile returned as Lithe looked across the room at Spike and patted the sofa next to her. “Won’t you come sit down?”
“Why?” he asked in that quiet way that sounded like he might be thinking of ripping someone’s head off.
Lithe sighed a little. “Spike, I’m just asking. If you don’t want to help me, I’ll leave. And I think you know that.”
“Anybody touch her yet?” Spike demanded. “She’s not the First in disguise or anything?”
“I shook her hand,” Giles said, a little insulted someone so observant didn’t notice.
Buffy reached over and poked Lithe’s shoulder. God, that shirt was soft. Lithe smiled at her fondly.
“Seems solid to me,” the Slayer said.
With a little shake, Spike finally separated from the wall and, rather slowly, walked over to take the place indicated on the sofa. Lithe’s smile turned warm and affectionate. Buffy frowned, but then realized she didn’t mind, didn’t feel the inappropriate possessiveness of someone checking out her vampire, mostly because the smile had no checking-out qualities.
“So what sort of time of mine do you want?” Spike asked. “I know you don’t want to fight, and I’m no good at gardening. Unless it’s ground-up bones, I don’t know squat about fertilizer.”
Lithe laughed a little, fond and indulgent. “I promise I have that part covered. And seriously, Miracle-Gro is the devil.”
“This makes no sense,” Giles said, finally polishing his glasses. “The Lithe family members are almost a pure good.”
“Almost?” Lithe looked a little hurt again.
“You’re all about creation and replenishment. It’s rumored one of you helped birth Paradise.”
“That’s more than a rumor, Prime Watcher.”
“And vampires are demons bent on the worst possible destruction, hybrids of humans and hell spawn that prey on vulnerabilities, empowered by pure evil and immune to all decency!” Giles ducked his head slightly with a glance at Spike. “No offense.”
“Oh, none taken!”
“I only mean, what sort of ingredient could a vampire’s time be for you?”
Before Lithe could answer, Spike startled with a sudden thought. “Hey, this isn’t some atonement deal is it?” He shot Lithe a look of suspicious disgust. “If you’re looking for that, you should be scoutin' out Captain Hairgel.”
Lithe waved a dismissive hand. “I have no need of Angelus’ time, I assure you.”
Spike looked mollified while Buffy felt the need to object: “He’s Angel now.”
“Until what? He loses his soul again to a vicious sneeze?” Lithe asked.
Spike perked up. “Hey, never thought I’d actually like one of you lot.” When Giles and Willow frowned at him, he ducked his own head a bit. “Not like any of them ever so much as talked to my kind before, is it?”
Lithe laughed, gentle and soft and fond. Maybe Buffy did mind her looking at Spike.
“No one who thinks of a soul as a curse is going to be able to help me,” Lithe explained.
“Oh!” Vi said from her perch on the arm of a chair. “Is that why you’re here, his soul?”
“Well.” She seemed to think it over. “The soul doesn’t hurt, but it wasn’t necessary.”
“No?” Giles asked.
She shook her head, earring bells chiming ever so softly.
“So, what is it you want me to do then, while you’re spending time with me?” Spike asked.
“Just sit with me and think about, you know, something.” Lithe smiled again, but then it grew wider and more affectionate than before. Buffy saw nothing in there she could even pretend to object to, but she still put her hand on Spike’s black-clad shoulder.
“I’m not leaving you with him.”
“Slayer—”
“I’m not.”
“And I have no need for you to do so,” Lithe said, looking around to include everyone in the room. “Although, I warn you, this will be a little dull from your point of view.”
“How long is this going to take?” Buffy asked.
“A few hours. Maybe a day.”
“A day? Just sitting here with Spike? We don’t have that kind of time right now.”
Lithe smiled at her now. “You will find that you do.”
Buffy opened her mouth sharply, but suddenly Spike’s hand covered the one she had on his shoulder.
“Luv, if she says we’re all right, we’re all right.”
“But the First isn’t going to just wait!”
Lithe leaned back a little. “The First is not my concern.”
“How can you say that?” Willow demanded before Buffy could. “The First is everyone’s concern!” Tossing back her red hair with indignant fire in her eyes, she gestured toward Lithe. “I can feel power in you like nothing I’ve ever felt! You could help us fight him!”
Lithe tilted her head. “I don’t fight.”
“Well, that’s convenient for you!” Kennedy said, taking Willow’s hand.
“It’s more a matter of the job description.”
Several voices objected before Spike snapped out, “Birds! Enough squawking! You’ve asking a bloody field of daffodils to take up assault rifles.”
“I’m hardly just a field of daffodils,” Lithe muttered in the resultant silence, but her tone made it clear she was pleased.
“Look, Watcher or Prime Watcher or whatever you are,” Spike snarled. “Explain it to them in simple words. I only heard the fairy tale in a demon language.”
Giles looked a little intimidated, but Lithe just smiled at him thoughtfully. Buffy was beginning to wonder just how many smiley-expressions her visitor had.
“Willow is right,” Giles started, then held up a hand. “I mean, the power Lithes have is like nothing we’ve been close to before, or will be again. They’re beyond magic. They’re creation. They’re origin. They’re completely unbound by the laws of, well, engagement. They can be part of nothing that leads to death, anyone’s death. They give only life.”
Serious as he had ever been, he met Willow’s puzzled eyes. “If she wanted to, she could bring Tara here now, completely without consequence, completely herself.”
Kennedy frowned while Willow made a soft, wounded noise, and Buffy realized her watcher had turned toward her.
“Or Joyce,” he said softly. “Or anyone, really, even people who haven’t lived yet, or in ways they haven’t lived. Lithes give all of themselves into giving all that can be given, and they take that power to make pockets out of time, out of space, to nurture others, to let warriors rest, to let champions lay down their arms for a time, to let innocents avoid the evils of the world to prevent simple slaughter. They make places of perfect peace.”
“I hear Havens are also particularly good at waterfalls,” Anya said, earning a flattered smile. “And that really long grass.”
“And all that,” Vi said, looking at the black-clad figure who’d inspired more than a few of her nightmares, “wants to spend some time with…him?”
“I’m just as lost as you are about it, slayer-lite.” He looked over at Lithe. “But it’s not like I’m going to say no, is it?”
Another smile, bright and happy, and Lithe turned on the sofa, facing him. He mirrored her action, drawing up a left knee on the cushion, and then blinked when Lithe’s clothes drained out to an empty, featureless white that reminded Buffy of a blank canvas.
“Do you want me to…change?” Spike asked, looking uncomfortable all of the sudden in his typical black jeans-T-shirt-boots ensemble.
Lithe just shook her head as those child-pink hands settled on the upholstery between her and Spike, who cautiously put his hands in hers. Lithe closed her eyes with a soft breath, and after a moment Spike did the same.
Everything went so silent and still that about twenty seconds later someone expelled a breath and startled the whole room, with the exception of the couple on the couch. Several more breaths were ejected, and Buffy realized she’d been holding her own.
Being more quiet about it, she got her own breathing back into rhythm and looked around. Now that Lithe was all “spending time” with Spike, she could assess the situation, which her slayer senses were telling her had gotten weird.
Really weird.
“Whoa,” Faith said, reminding Buffy she was there. “I think my ears popped.”
“It’s so quiet,” Willow said, walking to the front door, which she tried to open. “Hey!”
“Are we trapped in here again?” Xander asked in alarm.
“Oh, my God,” said a potential whose name Buffy couldn’t remember, staring out the front window. “There’s nothing going on out there.” She looked back at them with wide blue eyes.
Linda? Buffy wondered. Lydia?
“I mean, there’s nothing. No traffic, no people moving around.”
“No birds singing,” Rona said, looking out a side window. “No crickets, no nothing. The leaves aren’t even moving.”
“We’re in a time pocket,” Giles said, standing at Willow’s side and looking out the glass of the front door. Most everyone just looked at him. “We’re outside of time’s influence. Time has frozen all around us, probably removing us from the entire world.” He looked toward the sofa. “I should have realized she’d do this when she said the First wouldn’t be a problem.”
Buffy made herself not get caught up in staring at Spike and his little hand-holding buddy again. She and Xander and pretty much everyone else looked outside. It might just as well have been a photograph or a stage backdrop. She thought she could see dust suspended in the air.
“No wonder she doesn’t fight,” Xander said. Realizing he was now the object of everyone’s attention, he shrugged. “Think about it. No offense, and I know this ruins any manly credibility I have left, but the battle that’s coming terrifies us all down to our non-gladiator socks.”
“I think I’m just more just basically scared than terrified, honey,” Anya said.
“Well, I’m not offended,” Faith said. “We’re gonna fight the big bad here, and it’s not even something we can touch. But I don’t get why you wouldn’t want her help.”
“I’m there with her,” Robin Wood said.
“Seriously?” Xander looked around at puzzled expressions. “Think about what it would mean if she decided to do us all a favor. This place.” He opened flannel-clad arms out to the room, looking around with his good eye. “She could do this forever. Keep us all happy and safe and separate. Then if we got bored she could just fill this place with people we’ve lost. Tara, Joyce, Cordelia, and not just how they were but how we want them to be. We could all die of happy old age here.
“And sure.” He shrugged. “It’d be a little cramped, but it would be—don’t you see? We’d never have to face the First, never have to help the world again, ever.”
“Sounds nice, actually,” Vi said, but Buffy could tell she was getting the point.
“Xander’s right,” Giles said. “This kind of resting place isn’t meant to be forever. Rest turns into stagnation. And while we’d all be safe, everyone outside this little bubble is going to face the First anyway. Staying here would be the ultimate act of selfishness.”
Looking around at all the time somewhat ashamed faces, Buffy let herself share a little truth: “It’s still a tempting idea.”
“Of course it is,” her watcher said, walking over to touch her shoulder softly, his eyes warm. “Extremely so.”
Buffy smiled and resisted the unexpected urge to go for a hug. She saw Robin’s face and knew he was thinking of his mother.
“Which is why,” Giles continued, turning to the room, “I think we should enjoy this respite as much as we can.”
“How do you figure?” Faith asked.
“Well, think about it. For the first time since, well, ever, none of us is in the slightest bit of danger, and most of us are severely sleep deprived.”
“I don’t think I can sleep right now,” Dawn said.
“Then don’t sleep. Read a book.”
“What?”
“A fun book.”
Dawn looked at him blankly.
“Oh, my God!” Vi said. “A hot bath! I call dibs!” She ran up the stairs before anyone could answer.
“Well, with time being all complete stop, the TV won’t get a signal,” Xander said, then looked over at a glowing table lamp. “How is electricity getting in here?”
“I don’t care,” Andrew said, rushing forward. “I’ve got The Two Towers on DVD, extended edition!”
Buffy watched the rest basically scatter, some to bed to sleep, some to the kitchen, which was soon producing yummy smells, some just to sit quietly and let their shoulders inch down. Two of the potentials were evidently into macramé, and Buffy found herself definitely not paying attention to an ensuing discussion about ropes and knots and repeating a sennit.
Dawn ended up at the dining table, writing in her journal, while Giles sat next to her, reading something and drinking a pot of tea. For herself, Buffy ended up staying in her armchair, letting weariness overtake her even as she kept an eye on the couch couple. When she felt herself slipping into sleep, for once, she just let it come to her without guilt.
***
There was literally no way to tell how long she slept before the dream came. She braced herself, walking down a sort of path in the woods, and waited for a demon or vampire or soul-sucking roommate to leap out at her.
Eventually, she realized this was more a memory than a dream, which explained why she was shorter and wearing extremely cute little sneakers. After a bend in the path, she was at a cabin, a rustic place in Curry Village the whole family had stayed at during their last successful vacation. Looking up, she saw Half Dome and Yosemite Falls. The cliff faces took her breath away. This was how beautiful the earth could get when it tried.
“Buffy! Dawn!” her mother yelled, right before the woman herself came out of the cabin door. She smiled at Buffy, who again braced herself to endure the torment of seeing Joyce smiling and alive. But there wasn’t pain in what she felt, just contentment. The trip really had gone very well, except when Dawn had gotten all cranky during a hike and ended up puking on Buffy’s aforementioned sneakers. But that wouldn’t happen until tomorrow. Right now, it was perfect.
Later in the dream, when absolutely nothing had come out to try to kill them all and her stomach was a little over-full with marshmallows and chocolate, she snuggled down into her warm bed and felt what only a child can manage, like everything was great and was always going to stay great.
Considering she woke up at that point, Buffy expected some wave of disappointment or overwhelming fear. But instead her eyes opened to a scene of peace and companionship. Spike and Lithe were exactly as they had been, and she was beginning to suspect neither was even bothering to breathe at this point. A rested-looking Giles came up to her with a cup of coffee and a look of simple pleasure as he murmured, “Excellent timing.”
“Mmm,” she said with a smile. The first sip went down perfectly, adding more warmth to her cozy belly. “A mug of love.”
Giles laughed, then looked around guiltily. There was a puppy pile of Andrew, Anya, and Xander on the floor in front of the TV, but none of them stirred. The screen was showing the DVD menu for a Harry Potter movie, and the soundtrack was playing quietly.
“Dawn’s upstairs sleeping,” he told her.
“Willow?”
“Also upstairs, with, er, Kennedy.” He rolled his shoulders slightly.
Buffy sighed in contentment. “More love up there too.”
Giles looked at her, scold on his tongue, when suddenly he started snickering. She joined in.
“More coffee?” he offered after a moment full of understanding and quite free of awkward feelings.
“Please?” She held up her drained mug of caffeine goodness with a little cream. He took it back into the kitchen with him, the origin of even more yummy smells, and she found herself following. Her body felt limp as a noodle and perfectly ready to take on the world at the same time.
There were more nameless potentials—though she did not need their names to care about them all very much—making pancakes and chatting (not arguing!) about what they would do until time caught up with them again and they could go outside for more milk and cereal. Someone was making breakfast quesadillas, and she dug in while Giles placed another full mug at her elbow and a kiss on her temple before taking a cup of tea into the living room.
“I do love you as a daughter,” he murmured before leaving.
“You’re the father I always wanted,” she said back, not even thinking about it, but meaning it all the same.
“Something smells good,” Dawn said as she entered, scrubbed fresh from a shower and looking just like she should. Buffy reached over and smoothed down her sister’s lovely hair. Dawn leaned into it, smiling.
“Pancakes!” said one of the potentials at the stove. She dished them out, muttering just under her breath, “Don’t seem to be running out of pancake batter.” The girl grinned, though, and went back to the skillet.
Buffy smiled indulgently. They were really such lovely girls. Such lovely…
“What the hell is the matter with me?” she asked aloud.
She looked around at blank stares.
“Seriously. You’re all great! But this is just—”
“Just what?” one of them asked.
“Just too much!” Buffy closed her eyes against the unwelcoming feeling she was being a bully. Something was not right, no matter how lovely she was feeling right now. She pointed at the potential at the stove. “I don’t even know your name! But right now I feel like I could be your friend forever!”
“You do?” The girl looked delighted. “So do I!”
“That’s not the—”
“Friends forever!” an excited and loved—genuinely this time—voice called out in glee, and Buffy turned to catch armfuls of happy Willow. Before she could recover, there were Xander arms around her as well, and Giles beaming away over Xander’s shoulder, and the whole thing just felt like some insane but beautiful Hallmark moment trapped in amber, and everything was just love and luck and light.
“Buffy!” Dawn called from the living room. “I think they’re waking up!”
The whole kitchen crowd spilled out, some still clutching plates of those potentially magic pancakes, and found that Lithe, skirt and blouse a darker green now than when she’d arrived, was blinking and swaying a bit. Spike had fallen back against the couch cushions, obviously asleep, even though he was still breathing.
“Whoo!” Lithe hooted. “Whoo! Whoo!”
“What’s with the whoo-whooing?” Buffy demanded, even though she pretty much just wanted to hug everyone, while everyone else was stumbling into the room to see the show. There were arms around waists, goofy smiles, and glowy outlines.
“I think I’m a little over-full,” Lithe said with a hiccup. She lurched to her feet, looked down at an unconscious Spike, and then evidently tried to focus on things inside the room.
Buffy wanted to say something about Spike and make some sort of threat, but instead she found herself grinning like it was all an inside joke, everyone understanding everything, and maybe there should be champagne or something.
Lithe took an unsteady step from the sofa and almost fell. Xander rushed forward and held her up.
“No falling down when the Xand-man is here!” he announced with cheer.
Lithe looked at him, swaying in his arms, then slapped a hand on his eye bandage.
“Xander!” Willow and Anya shouted.
But she was already done now, leaving Xander standing there as though dazed when she made her way to the front door.
“That helped,” Lithe said, evidently to herself, which Buffy found adorable. “But…” She wheeled around, wrapping her fingers around that dying whatever-it-was potted plant by the stairs, and with a sort of heaving rush the plant sprung out in green leaves and pink and gold blossoms, like some Spielberg CGI effect of pure spring. Lithe leaned against the pot’s stand another moment, then stood up with a deep breath.
“That’s a little better.”
“Buffy,” Spike muttered from the couch, shifting restlessly. Buffy went instantly to his side, taking the pale hand with all its silver rings wandering in the air and clutching it firmly. Spike stilled, and his deep blue eyes opened in a sort of post-something (not quite coital) gaze. “Buffy,” he said again.
“Thanks so much, Spike!” Lithe called as she opened the door to an outside that was still as motionless as a photograph. “Don’t forget my promise!”
And then the door closed behind her, and she was gone.
I love her so much, Buffy thought. ‘Bout time she got her ass out of here.
“It is over?” Willow asked, sounding lovingly sad, which Buffy wasn’t sure what that sounded like, but it was sad and loving.
“Not for a few hours yet, witch,” Spike said, sitting up with Buffy’s help, his voice gentle like the epithet were an endearment. “Takes a bit for the times to synch back up again.”
“What the hell?” Xander asked the room as he peeled off his bandage to reveal a completely healthy eye underneath. “What the hell happened?”
“Totally not the way to phrase that question,” Spike said, his eyes dazed and sharp at once.
“What was her promise?” Buffy wanted to know.
“Doesn’t matter.” Spike shrugged, patting his pockets before he went through the ritual of lighting a cigarette. Everyone waited for him to continue, though there was some minor fidgeting. “I won’t remember in a minute.” He looked around. “Nobody will really remember any of it in a bit, not the feeling part, just that she visited, except for maybe the whelp and that plant there.” He nodded toward Xander and the orchid spray.
“I’ll remember what she promised?” Xander asked, still blinking and looking through his returned eye.
“You’ll remember something gave you your eye back, and who, but not how, exactly. We’ll all be too busy in a bit to care, anyway.” Spike flicked off some cigarette ash into a cereal bowl on the coffee table. “Don’t know about the soddin’ flowers.”
“We won’t remember how we feel now?” Giles asked, sounding quite forlorn.
“Not really,” Spike said with a shrug. “Too much advantage for us going into the big battle.”
“So you can tell us for now, then,” Buffy said, standing in front of her vampire and waving away his latest exhale of smoke. “Maybe none of us will remember, but I want to know. What was all this time sharing anyway? What did she want with you?”
Spike shrugged, palmed his fag, and gave her that smile even Lithe hadn’t used.
“She just asked me to close my eyes, pet, and think of you.”
***
Not really all that far away from Sunnydale, except for an eternity or two, a woman clothed in deep green, her hair the color of orange-red berries, was singing a song.
Well, I’d like to visit the moon
In a rocket ship high in the air
Yes, I’d like to visit the moon,
But I don’t think I’d like to live there.
There was a flawless grassy glade and several waterfalls, all lush and sweet, with impeccably sweet clover and honeysuckle and sweet olive. One waterfall was just right for the Japanese legend of how a carp could swim up a waterfall and turn into a dragon, but they were all nice, really. Superior waterfalls.
I’d like to live in the jungle,
Hear the lion’s roar,
Go back in time
And meet a dinosaur.
The roots of her rowan tree were already firmly implanted, and her skin was turning to bark and her hair doing that last little push to berries. With a final breath, she muttered another line about not wanting to live on the moon even as the last of the branches sprouted from her shoulders, and then the rowan tree was overlooking the small river, the grassy banks, the warm sunshine, the riot of flowers (got to be a little violence in there somewhere, considering the source), and the perfect bit of breeze in the air.
Her voice ended, never again to sing, though the brook babbled, and everything was both still and quiet and noisily full of brimming, unstoppable life.
Her haven was ready.
THE END