shadowscast

Remember how I said that the bit I'd posted before wasn't the whole first chapter? Here's the rest of the first chapter.

I have a beta reader now, the fantastic and wonderful

yourlibrarian. Yay! But I'm afraid that the pace at which this story comes out will continue to be very slow: probably one post every couple weeks, but I can't even guarantee that.

Needless to say, I'm tremendously grateful for all the support and feedback I got for the first post!

So here's the next bit....

Title: That Good Night (part 1b of ?)
Rating: Still not sure. Definitely R; may go to NC-17.
Summary: This is the sixth story in the Fragments 'verse, set immediately after "Before the Time of Dawn." Spike is human and he's having problems. Meanwhile, Willow is giving birth and everyone's worried about her.
Warnings: As I said before, this thing is going to be posted very slowly! If that's going to frustrate you terribly, you should probably wait until it's complete. Also, it's going to be dark. Possibly kinda depressing. Definitely angsty, h/c with lots of hurt. Character death will most definitely be threatened, and I'm not prepared to say what comes of it.

This update is about 1400 words; the total length now stands at about 2900.

Continued from [here]:
Before Xander had any time at all to process the implications, Buffy was ducking under the cordon containing her line, dragging her absurdly large wheeled suitcase across the intervening linoleum and throwing her arms around Xander in a bone-crunching hug.

"Oh God, Xander," she said, "I'm so glad to see you. Have you heard anything? I tried calling Kennedy as soon as I landed, but I guess she's got her cell turned off in the hospital—"

"Same here," he said, letting his chin rest on the top of her head for a moment, holding her tight. It was the first time he'd seen her in nearly a year. "I mean, I tried, no answer."

"God, I'm scared," she said in a tiny voice, tight like she was holding herself back from the edge of crying.

"Me too, Buff. Me too."

Their hug was cut short by a frowning security guard, who tapped Buffy's shoulder and said something in gruff Spanish—no, Xander reminded himself, probably Portuguese.

"Um, sorry?" Buffy said, turning around. "Uh, habla inglés?"

The guard shook his head impatiently, said something else—in Spanish this time, Xander was pretty sure—and gestured towards the other line.

"He says you have to go back in your own line," Spike said. From Buffy's startled expression, she hadn't noticed Spike until that moment. "Hang on," Spike added, and then addressed the guard—in Spanish? Portuguese? Xander wasn't sure. When he finished, the guard nodded, still frowning, said something quickly to Buffy that had a sound of "I'll let you off this one time," and walked away.

Buffy and Spike looked at each other warily. Spike spoke first, a quiet "Hello, Buffy."

"Spike." She crossed her arms in a protective gesture. "I can't deal with this right now. So can we just ... not?"

"Not sure what you mean, pet." Spike was using a strangely gentle tone of voice.

"I mean—" she waved her hand vaguely, indicating the space between them, "—everything. Could we just pretend for now that we're, like, old friends from high school and nothing weird's ever happened between us?"

"Okay," Spike said, sounding cautious. "We can do that."

Then there were a few moments of tense silence. The line advanced another two feet.

Xander cleared his throat. "Hey Spike," he said, a little too brightly, "I didn't know you spoke Portuguese."

"Spent a few years in Brazil, here and there," Spike said, his eyes still locked on Buffy's. "Dru loved the place."

Buffy flinched at the name of Spike's old lover. Xander wasn't sure whether Spike had been aiming for that effect, or whether he was suddenly nostalgic or just too tired to think straight. This had to be a serious head trip for both Spike and Buffy—it was their first meeting since Spike had burned up in the Hellmouth. Even for Xander, it was awkward. He and Buffy had been quietly and unofficially estranged since he'd started dating Spike. It didn't seem important now, compared to Willow, but it was still hard to figure out what to say now that they'd got past the hugging.

"So, Buffy," Xander tried, giving the small talk one more shot, "did you fly straight from Rome?"

She shook her head, finally looking back to Xander. "I was in New York, remember?"

"Oh, right. How'd that go?"

She shrugged. "Made the rounds of the demon bars, knocked some heads together, got some info. Looks like we might have a problem next fall in Borneo, but Angel's on it."

Xander's shoulders tensed at the sound of Angel's name. He still wasn't over the shock of finding out that Spike and Angel had been—was lovers the right word? Probably not, but trying to think of a better one was likely to break Xander's brain. Anyway, thinking about that led to remembering the rage he'd felt under the Thesulac's influence (yeah, blame it all on the Thesulac said a sarcastic little voice deep inside, and he shushed it). Spike's bruised mouth was enough of a reminder of that; Xander really didn't want to get into a conversation about what Angel was up to these days.

Lacking any encouragement from Xander, Buffy lapsed back into silence. Xander was too fucking tired to try the conversation thing again. So they all stood together, waiting, shuffling forward occasionally, with Buffy and Spike conspicuously keeping to opposite sides of Xander now and avoiding each other's eyes. The minutes crept by. The line in front of them shrank to eight people, then five.

"Xander," Spike said, suddenly, quietly. "I think I need to ... sit ..."

His face was almost white, and even as he reached a hand out towards Xander his knees sagged and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Shit." Xander caught him under the shoulders and looked around urgently. "Buffy, your suitcase."

Her eyes were wide, but she saw immediately what Xander meant. She pushed her big red Samsonite suitcase right up behind Spike, and Xander lowered him down onto it. Spike wasn't quite unconscious; he crossed his arms over his knees and rested his head on them.

Buffy looked shaken. "What's going on?"

Simultaneously, the man standing behind them in line asked, in heavily accented English, "Is everything all right? Do you want me to go get help for your friend?"

"Be all right in a minute," Spike said weakly, the words muffled from being spoken into his own lap.

"Um, I think he's okay, thanks," Xander said, speaking to the man behind them first. He kept a worried hand on the back of Spike's neck, ready to catch him again if he toppled over. His skin was clammy. "It's been a really long trip, he's just tired." Then, more quietly to Buffy, "We came here straight from dealing with that thing in Sunnydale. Didn't even have time to nap in between."

"Sunnydale," she repeated, slowly. "I heard you were—I don't know the details, though, Giles was being all tight-lippy about it. Did you really go ... back?"

He gave a tight nod. "All the way. It was ... intense."

Spike lifted his head and looked at Buffy. "You nearly made a right mess of things, pet, but Dawn got it all sorted."

Buffy frowned, but before she could say anything the customs agent up front called out something and waved to them. The last group left in front of them had been processed.

"Right," Spike said, and made a move to push himself to his feet. Xander went to help him, but Buffy got there first. She walked with Spike to the inspection desk, subtly supporting him, leaving Xander to trail behind them with her fifty-pound suitcase.

He knew it shouldn't piss him off. Buffy was just being helpful. Hell, she was being fantastic, considering all the shit she and Spike had unresolved between them. And besides, she was a better height for Spike to lean on. So. He definitely wasn't burning with resentment and desperate jealousy.

They made it through customs with no real hassles. There was an awkward moment when Xander forgot his own birth date—which was kind of ironic considering Spike was the one who had a fake one on his passport—but the customs agent was unfazed by exhausted, confused travelers. Outside the airport they caught a cab and left it to Spike to give the driver the name of the clinic where Willow was. Then Xander blinked, and next thing he knew they were stopped and Spike was shaking his arm while Buffy paid the driver. Which was good, that she did, because all of Xander's money was in dollars and Euros.

Xander kept an eye on Spike as they all got out of the cab and headed into the clinic, but he seemed to be fine. Being the only one who spoke any Portuguese, he went to reception and got directions for them.

"She's here," he confirmed, returning to Buffy and Xander. "Third floor."

In the elevator, Spike's hand closed around Xander's and squeezed. Xander stared straight ahead at the doors until they opened again, noting in an abstract way that he felt like throwing up.

They walked out into a spacious foyer containing a nurses' station and a small waiting area. Spike headed for the duty nurse to ask about Willow, and Xander's eye drifted blankly over the room. The bench-style seats in the waiting area looked well-padded and comfortable. A red-haired guy sat on one of them with his head ducked down, fingering what looked like some kind of rosary.

It was like it had been with Buffy in the airport—it took a long, dazed moment before Xander's brain even told him the redhead looked familiar.

This time, though, it was Buffy who found her tongue first. She took a step towards the guy and said, in a tone of stunned amazement, "Oz? What are you doing here?"

Continued in Chapter Two