“Willow!”  Buffy pulled her friend into a hug, only letting go when Willow squeaked out, “Breathe…Need to breathe.”—Sheepishly Buffy let go and stepped back—“Look at you, all hot tamale girl.  You look amazing!  I totally forgot clothes actually came in more colors than black and well, black.”  Buffy pinched a section of her bulky, black sweater, holding it out for inspection before letting it go with a grimace. 

Willow, with her cute pixie-bob haircut, the barest hint of makeup and her outfit of designer jeans and form-fitting turquoise top, was the epitome of the classy twenty-seven year old, woman-of-the-world she was.  Next to her, Buffy felt frumpy and like a kid playing dress-up in her shapeless, baggy clothes, slopping ponytail and lack of makeup. 

When did I become the wall-flower and Willow the girl to watch?  Buffy shook off these disparaging thoughts.  This was no time for insecurities and pettiness. 

Willow shouldered the strap of her carry-on and after the pair collecting the rest of her luggage, headed toward the exit.  On route to Buffy’s flat the conversations between them was kept light, mainly sticking to their respective day-to-day lives, new interests, even the weather.  By the time they arrived, they made a mad dash inside to avoid one of London’s many infamous rainstorms. 

Buffy showed Willow around her roomy yet spartanly furnished place before leading her to the guest room.  “So, um, I’ll let you get settled.  Maybe later we can get a bite to eat or something. Okay, so…” Buffy turned to leave, but Willow’s gently placed hand on Buffy’s forearm stopped her.       

“Buffy, wait.  Tell me again what’s going on.  I don’t remember much, half asleep and all, but I vaguely remember something about Spike being alive.  Well, not alive, but you know, not dusty.  All I know for sure was you needed me, so here I am.”  Willow led Buffy over to the bed and sat down, bringing Buffy with her.  They faced one another, their knees touching.    

Over the years Buffy tried being more open with her feelings, especially with those she loved.  After too-many-to-count unpleasant experiences, it finally sunk in—secrets equaled bad.  Like creating Grand Canyon sized rifts between her and her love ones, and on a few occasions, almost permanently ending relationships bad.  True, sharing was good in theory but in practice it was way more complicated.  This time, for far more reasons than not, no matter how difficult, this needed to be done. 

“Well, the other day Andrew spilled the beans that Spike had shown up in LA after I saw him go all blaze of glory in the Hellmouth.  I just thought, well, I hoped since you’re the only one of the witchy-persuasion that was close enough to Spike, you could tell me for sure.” 

Buffy rehashed Andrew’s confession and her less-than-friendly reaction, and then spent five minutes alone on how Andrew preferred snick doodles to chocolate chip ‘I’m-a-jerk-please-forgive-me’ guilt cookies.  Followed by her heart-to-heart with Giles, and ending with all her conflicted thoughts and feelings on the matter since.  Willow listened and never interrupted, and by the time Buffy was done she was emotionally drained, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. 

“Will, it’s just, it’s been over six years.  Six years of Spike being gone.  It hasn’t been easy.  Actually, things pretty much sucked beyond the telling, but I’ve managed.  Then bam!  Andrew lets this Saber-toothed sized cat out of the bag and it threw me for a big loop.  I’m talking Full Throttle™ loop-d-loop.  Not some kiddy roller coaster Dawn always throws up on.” Buffy blew her nose into a tattered and worn tissue then sniffled.    

“Buffy, whatever you need, I’m here.  You know that.  So I take it you want me to see if Spike’s soul is bound to this plane of existence or not?  Just like we did for Angel?” Willow handed Buffy another tissue. 

“Yeah, that was pretty much my plan.” 

Five years back, after hearing of Angel’s battle with the Circle of the Black Thorn, Buffy needed to know what happened to him.  She asked Willow and the Coven for help.  They cast a locator spell in search for Angel’s soul and confirmed her worse fear, he hadn’t made it through.  The news hurt.  Really hurt.  He was her first love and had always held a special place in her heart.  His death was especially difficult after losing Spike less than a year before. 

Or so she thought.     

“Of course, anything you need.  Tomorrow I’ll meet with the Coven and we’ll locate Spike’s soul.”—Willow stood—“Now we have some serious catching up to do in the form of London’s night-life before tomorrow’s soul-searching.  Chop-chop!”  Willow pulled Buffy up from the bed, spun her around and pushed her to the open door.

“Thanks Will.”  Buffy turned back toward Willow and smiled. 

“Anytime.”—Willow pulled Buffy into a brief hug—“Now, get!” Willow slapped Buffy on the butt and giggled.  Buffy’s gasped mock outrage then headed to her room to get ready for a night out with one of her oldest friends.  For the first time in a long time feeling like things were truly looking up.             

 

 

~*~

 

The next morning, Giles greeted Buffy and Willow in the foyer of the rebuilt Watcher’s Counsel.  With a glance at his watch, he then cast a disapproving glance at them before turning and heading down the hallway.  A chastised Buffy and Willow silently followed.  Giles opened his office door and stepped aside letting them pass before firmly closing the door and facing them. 

“Ladies running on São Paulo time, I see.”  Giles crossed his arms.

“Not exactly, late night catching up is all.”  Buffy smiled brightly.  Even though she hadn’t slept a wink and was running on pure adrenaline from the combination of a much-needed girls’ night out and the possibility of finding Spike after all this time, she was flying high and nobody was going to ruin her mood.  Not even Mr. Mopey-pants himself.

“Giles, you know all work and no play makes Jack cranky. Plus, you can’t be mad, I brought you the bestest present eva!  All the way from Brazil!”  Smiling even wider, Buffy held out her hands towards Willow as if she was the grand prize on a game-show.     

“You most certainly have.  Hello, Willow.”  Giles scowled melted as he approached Willow.  The pair hugged with Giles breaking away after several moments and heading to his desk.

“I trust Buffy informed you why she asked for you to come to London on such short notice?” Giles kept his hands busy, absently moving pens and papers from one side of his desk to the other. 

“Yeah, I got the lowdown.  No worries, we’ll find Spike’s soul.  Just think of me as your personal otherworldly GPS.”—Willow smiled and stood—“Well, since we got a late start, I better go see the ladies.  I know there are a few young Wiccas who are just itching to do a soul location spell.  Oh Giles, before I forget.  I found in some hole-in-the wall bookstore a really old codex that’s written in Ottaman or Hindi or some other language I’m not familiar with.  You think you might wanna a look-see?”

“Yes, sounds quite interesting.  Thank you, Willow.”  Giles returned her smile, his eyes twinkling from the prospect.      

 “Cool.  Buffy, I’ll catch you later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be by after you get your magic on.  Thanks again, Willow.  For everything.”  Buffy stood and hugged Willow before she left Giles’ office.  When the door closed, Giles turned his focus on Buffy.

“It’s wonderful to see that you and Willow have reconnected.  I know things were difficult after...”

“Her telling me Angel was gone?  Yeah, I know it wasn’t her fault, but you know, shooting the messenger and all.”—Buffy picked at the fringe of her black shirt, eyes downcast—“Giles, can I ask you a question?” 

“Anything, Buffy, you know that.” 

“Over the years, have I, I mean, do you think, well, I’ve been kinda a shitty friend?”

“Yes.” Giles’ hands stilled.

Buffy’s gaze shot up and fixed with Giles’.  “Geez, don’t hold back or anything.  Tell me how you really feel.” 

“Truth be told, time and time again you’ve taken on preconception notions of a role you’re supposed to play.  Along with this role’s positive qualities, you’ve taken on the negative as well.  One such, you’ve used this role’s responsibilities for an excuse of why you couldn’t be anything more.  The Slayer, Dawn’s guardian and for the better part of two years or so, some sort of tracker, searching the globe for new Slayers, you never allowed yourself to be anything more.  This doesn’t have to be the case, Buffy.  In life, you can be many things to many different people.  You just have to open yourself up for the opportunity.”  Giles rounded his desk and sat next to her on the couch.  He took her hand and drew her gaze.

“I know since your calling your life has been, for the lack of a better term, difficult.  You’ve endured adversities.  Hardships those far stronger than you faltered from.  I don’t envy your life, Buffy.  But I do envy you.  You’ve grown into a beautiful and brave woman who I am tremendously proud of and couldn’t be more so if you were my very own daughter.” 

Buffy launched herself at Giles, holding on tightly.  When her tears ran dry, she pulled away and noticed Giles wiping away the wetness from under his eyes and cheeks. 

“Sorry about the sogginess, Giles.  I think I’ve met my quota for crying.  Like, for the rest of the year.”—She lovingly brushed her hand over the wet spot she left on his shoulder—“Okay, no more tears.  God, I totally sound like the Ozzy Osborne nineties power-ballad.”

“Ah, the Prince of Darkness.  I tend to favor more of his earlier works with Black Sabbath.  Paranoidwas simply brilliant.  Over forty years later, not many riffs can be hummed by any bloke off the street like “Iron Man”.”

Buffy watched Giles getting that re-living his youth-faraway look in his eyes.  Before he went all “Band Candy” and started talking about taking down ‘The Man’ and choice Mary Jane, she quickly brought the subject back at hand.

“Thank you, Giles.  And you’re right.  I’ve been a shitty friend and an even shittier Buffy.  That’s it.  Starting today, things are gonna change.  I need to take care of myself.  Starting with accepting that I can be who and what I want to be.  I can have it all.  Just like Barbie.  I mean seriously, that bitch has everything.  A pink corvette, Malibu Dream House, but she can keep Ken.  You know, he’s kinda lacking in certain important areas.”  Buffy gestured to her lap, giving Giles the ‘you know what I’m talking about’ look.

“Ah, yes.  Quite.  I’m glad things are looking up, Buffy.  You deserve all the happiness.  Well, as much as one can have with the lives we lead.”

“Honestly, I’m not greedy.  I’m really not expecting a “Happily Ever After”.  An All Right Ever After works just fine for me.”—Buffy stood and headed to the door.  With a hand on the knob she paused and turned back—“Thanks for listening, Giles.  It means more than you’ll ever know.”  With that she left, heading toward Willow and the Coven and hopefully, finally knowing the truth about Spike.