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Shadows of a Brighter Day by Eowyn315
 
Healing Hearts
 
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Chapter 3: Healing Hearts

“Who’s that man, Mommy?”

Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but found she didn’t have the words. Who was Spike now? What was he to her? Former lover? Friend?

She finally settled on, “Someone I knew from a long time ago.” She sighed, looking her daughter in the eye. “Someone I love very much.”

“But why –”

“I’ll explain it better in the morning, okay? You should’ve been in bed hours ago, Joy,” Buffy scolded the girl in her arms. “I think somebody’s falling down on the job.” She opened the door to her daughter’s bedroom to find Xander curled up on the edge of the pink-frilled twin bed, fast asleep. Exchanging a look with Joy, Buffy crept to the side of the bed. “Xander?” she said, gently shaking his shoulder. “Xander, wake up.”

“Huh? Wha?” Xander blinked, his bionic eye taking a moment longer to focus than his real one. “Buff.”

Buffy gestured to the empty place next to him. “Guess who’s not in bed right now.”

He groaned, sitting up and running a hand through his dark hair, prematurely flecked with gray. “She wouldn’t go to sleep by herself.”

“She tricked you,” Buffy pointed out as she tucked Joy back into bed. “She knew you’d fall asleep as soon as you laid down. She probably wore you out playing first, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Xander admitted. “And I fall for it every time. See, this is why I tell Becca we can’t have children. Leave me in charge, and they’ll be wearing their underwear on their heads and eating too much junk food.”

Buffy glared at him. “Did you give her junk food?”

He paused, eyes shifting uncomfortably. “No.”

“Liar.” Shaking her head in amusement and exasperation, she gave Joy one last kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie. Go to sleep this time, please.” Turning back to Xander, she said, “That’s not important right now. Come on.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the bedroom.

Buffy was pretty sure that parading Xander through the house past Spike was not the best way to start whatever conversation he wanted to have, but she only had one door, so she might as well face the situation head-on. Besides, she was too keyed up to care about little things like that. Her whole world had turned upside down with Spike’s sudden reappearance. Everything she’d spent years repressing was suddenly bubbling up to the surface, and there were too many things she needed to say to him, all bouncing around inside her until she thought she’d be sick from the anticipation. She towed Xander through the apartment like a little kid who’d spotted Santa in the mall, practically bounding into the living room.

“You’ll never believe who’s… here.” She stopped cold, trailing off as she took in the empty room and the front door standing slightly ajar, and her heart plummeted to the ground.

“No… no no no, oh God…” Buffy covered her mouth with her hands, cutting off her panicked murmuring. Her chest tightened until she had trouble breathing, her breath coming in sharp gasps. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the back of the sofa until her knuckles turned white, fighting against the urge to let her knees give out and follow her heart to the floor, as part of her wondered if it hadn’t been a dream, if he’d really been there at all.

“Buffy, what?” Xander came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Spike,” she whispered. “I saw him tonight, on patrol. He – he came back with me, but now he’s – gone.”

“Spike,” he repeated, taking a deep breath. “Wow. I mean… wow. Didn’t expect…”

“I know.”

“Go,” he said suddenly, causing her to turn her wide, brimming eyes on him curiously. “Buffy – run. Find him.”

Buffy started to protest, but he cut her off. “I know. Not exactly the guy you’d expect this from. But I’ve seen you, what you’ve been like without him – he’s the one, Buffy. This is your chance. You gotta get him back.”

She glanced back down the hallway to where her baby was asleep. Xander followed her gaze. “Go,” he repeated. “I’ll watch Joy. I’ll take her over to my place and bring her back in the morning.”

She nodded and headed to the door, then stopped. She ran back and threw her arms around Xander’s neck briefly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before running out again. Xander sighed, grabbing his jacket off the chair and going to collect his charge.

It was an odd feeling, not being jealous of Spike. But after so many years, he couldn’t drum up enough hate to be mad at the guy. Spike was gone from their lives, had been for a long time. If anyone had asked him, back when his hometown was more than a hole in the ground, if Spike being gone was a bad thing, Xander would’ve laughed in their faces. He’d spent years loathing the persistent vampire – a mixture of righteous anger at that which was evil; misplaced vengeance for the vampires, especially Angelus, who had killed and terrorized his friends; and, though he was ashamed to admit it now, jealousy and inadequacy that Buffy would choose Spike over him. It seemed silly now, how long he’d obsessed over the Slayer. It wasn’t until he’d lost Anya – really lost her, in the Hellmouth, not just his stupid wedding-that-wasn’t fiasco – that he’d realized how much time he’d wasted, subconsciously wanting Buffy when all he ever needed was right by his side. He’d let Anya slip away, and now he’d never have another chance.

So, he understood how Buffy felt when she stared at that big crater they’d left behind, could feel her tears as his own when she finally broke down, a few nights later, after the shock had worn off. Spike had been her Anya, and neither of them knew it until it was too late.

It had nearly destroyed her, losing Spike, and there were days when only Xander’s matching grief could console her. As they all began to pull together, rebuilding the Council and gathering the newly empowered Slayers, Buffy and Xander rebuilt the friendship that had become so fractured the last few years in Sunnydale. She began to talk to him, spilling her secrets and memories as easily as her tears, painting a picture of Spike that Xander had never considered before. Spike had been a friend to her – sometimes her only friend, when the rest of them had been wrapped up in their own lives and personal crises. He hadn’t judged her, or asked anything of her, except that she love him back.

It was ironic, Xander thought, that it wasn’t until after he was gone that Spike had become a real person to him. Someone with wants, needs, hopes, fears. Someone who could be hurt, who felt the sting of angry barbs and bruising punches. Someone who only wanted what anyone would want, to matter to someone else, to be loved by someone else.

He’d volunteered to go to Africa, to seek out Slayers there, but also to seek something to help him understand the vampire who would fight to regain his soul, to change, to be a better man. He never really found what he was looking for, and then Buffy’s grieving at Spike’s second death had called him back to Europe permanently.

But he supposed he had the vampire to thank, for Africa was where he’d found Becca. A farm girl in South Africa, tales of whose extraordinary strength led him to her village. He’d brought her to London to be trained with the other new Slayers, not knowing the path they’d take, not realizing, at the time, that his grief could someday be put to rest enough to love another. He hadn’t thought it possible – and still, though they’d lived together for six years, he refused all talk of marriage, as though the ritual itself were the source of his problems – yet, his heart had healed.

Buffy’s never had.

She never envied him his newfound happiness, and he took it as a sign that she still valued his friendship when she retired to London, choosing to live just a few blocks from him. And when the baby came, he was right there to help her out, any way he could.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, waking the girl with a gentle shake. “Wanna sleep over at Uncle Xander’s tonight?”

She murmured something unintelligible, half asleep, so Xander scooped her up, wrapping a blanket around her instead of bothering with trying to get her limp form maneuvered into her little winter coat. He grabbed the overnight bag Buffy always kept packed in case of emergencies – they never knew when Mom might have to rush out after a demon, leaving Joy in the care of Uncle Xander for a day or two – and headed back to his own house, where his beautiful wife – in practice, if not in name – waited for him.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he whispered to the little girl in his arms. “Mommy’ll be back. She’s just gotta take care of something tonight.”
 
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