shadowscast | Fic update: That Good Night (8 of ?)

It's 3 a.m. and I have a chapter for you!

Why yes, my sleep schedule is completely out of whack. But hey, it's a lovely hour for posting fic!

Thanks, as always, to

yourlibrarian for beta-reading and more.

The details:

Title: That Good Night (part 8 of ?)
Rating: Still not sure. Definitely R; may go to NC-17.
Continuity info: This is the sixth story in the Fragments 'verse, fitting in immediately after "Before the Time of Dawn." This story is set a couple years post-NFA.
Summary: Spike is human and he's having problems. Meanwhile, Willow has just had a baby; Xander and Spike have traveled to Sao Paulo to see her, and so has Buffy.
Warnings: My posting schedule will probably continue to be erratic! If that's going to frustrate you hugely, 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'd rather not say what comes of it (though if you're terribly worried, ask me privately).

This update is about 3400 words; the total length now stands at about 25,700.

Previous parts are [here].

In case you need to refresh your memory: Previously in the Fragments!verse...

Spike and Xander had just returned from the year 1999 (where they had rescued the Sisterhood of Jhe, saved the world, and had awkward encounters with the teenaged Scoobies) when they found out that Willow was having complications in childbirth and that her life was in danger. They rushed to Sao Paulo to see her. So did Buffy—who arrived at the airport at the same time as them, leading to an awkward initial reunion between her and Spike.

They were all greatly relieved to find that Willow was okay after all and that she and Kennedy were now mothers of a baby girl named Tara. Buffy and Xander were quite surprised to find out that Oz was the biological father and that he lived with Willow and Kennedy; Spike wasn't surprised at all, having found out all that several months previously when Willow and Kennedy took care of him after an illness.

The next evening, while everyone else was occupied elsewhere, Buffy asked Spike to go out on patrol with her. He initially refused, since he wasn't feeling well, but changed his mind when Buffy explained that she was investigating the mysterious deaths of local children. Out on patrol, Buffy quickly revealed her not-very-hidden agenda by asking Spike why he'd hidden his resurrection from her. They talked it out, and things seemed to be working out pretty well, until Spike thought he saw Dru in a crowd. Then the night went from bad to worse: they were caught in torrential rain, they got mugged, and Spike got shot in the arm. In the aftermath, Buffy tried to kiss Spike, which certainly made for an awkward moment for both of them. Meanwhile, Spike was finding it harder and harder to hide the fact that he was getting sick. Finally Buffy and Spike had to fight three child-vampires; Buffy couldn't bring herself to dust a vampire who looked like a six-year-old girl, so Spike did it for her. Having helped her, Spike finally admitted to Buffy that he needed help in turn.

They made it home, but Spike was very much worse for the wear. Xander didn't react well to the story of the night's adventures, and things were strained between him and Buffy—but with Oz around to keep everyone focused on the priorities, they got Spike warmed up and dried off. Xander wanted to take him to the hospital to get his bullet wound stitched up, but Oz revealed that he had sufficient medical training to do the stitches himself. He fixed Spike up while Spike and Buffy discussed their encounter with the child-vamps. Finally Spike's weariness overcame him and he fainted; Xander and Oz carried him to bed.

Later in the evening, Oz drew Xander aside and explained a bit more of his own recent history, including his apprenticeship with a local Spiritist healer. Based on his training and enhanced senses, Oz suspected that Spike had a serious undiagnosed illness. He advised that Spike should see a doctor as soon as possible.

That night, Spike dreamed of Drusilla.

And now the story continues...

Chapter 8

In a mixing bowl stir together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Buffy looked up from the cookbook. "Okay," she addressed the empty kitchen. "If I were baking powder, where would I be?"

She opened cupboards at random until she found one packed with baking stuff, and then started taking things out and putting them down on the counter. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, exactly. How do you say 'baking powder' in Portuguese?

Eventually she found a can of white powder that looked about right. Hopefully it wasn't, like, cornstarch or something. What would that even do to pancakes? She had no idea. Baking wasn't exactly at the top of her resume.

This was probably a stupid idea. There was no way the kind of screw-up she'd managed last night could be fixed with pancakes—even fluffy, golden melt-in-your mouth pancakes, which these ones were not going to be. But, well, she had to try.

Xander came into the kitchen just as Buffy was combining the dry ingredients.

"Hi," he said, hesitating in the doorway like he was considering walking back out again. Just like he had last night—and this time Oz wasn't here to do the talking.

"Good morning," she said, so brightly she almost made herself cringe. God, she sounded like the Buffybot. "I made coffee," she said, trying for something a little more subdued. Contrite, maybe. "You, uh, look like you could use some."

"I didn't get a lot of sleep." It didn't quite come out as an accusation, but it skirted the edge. He padded into the kitchen and took a clean mug from the drainer by the sink.

"Oz left a little while ago for the clinic," she said. "I'm making pancakes." She was talking too fast. She felt so...nervous. And it was weird being nervous around Xander, weird and bad and wrong.

It's not like she'd meant to kiss Spike. It had happened totally by accident. Mostly.

Anyway, she definitely hadn't planned on throwing herself at Spike when she'd asked him to go out on patrol with her. She'd just wanted to hear whatever lame justification he'd come up with for letting her think he was gone for so long. She'd wanted...okay, she'd wanted a chance to yell at him, actually. So definitely not planning on the kissage.

She cracked an egg over the bowl, and half the shell immediately fell into the mix. "Shit." Xander turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. She quickly considered whether it would be more embarrassing to let him see her trying to fish the eggshells out of the batter, or to just pretend nothing had happened and serve crunchy pancakes. Okay, stupid question. She grabbed a fork and started fishing. Her cheeks were burning.

"Did Oz say when he'd be getting back?" Xander asked.

"Pretty soon. He talked to Kennedy on the phone before he left—Willow and...and Tara are getting discharged this morning."

Xander leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee. His expression had softened a little. "Kinda weird, huh. Saying 'Willow and Tara' again."

She nodded. "Majorly weird. But good!" She was doing the too-perky thing again. Dammit. She felt like she was walking on eggshells. Whereas in fact she was trying to fish eggshells out of her pancake mix, which at least gave her an excuse to break eye contact again. She gave up on the fork and went in with her fingers.

"Yeah," Xander said. "It's good."

Aaaaand awkward silence. Buffy brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes—and realized she'd just left a smear of flour across her own forehead. "She made good pancakes. Tara, I mean."

"She did." Xander took another sip of coffee.

Was he still mad at her? It was hard to tell. He was probably still mad at her. She'd almost gotten his boyfriend killed last night. God, had she ever screwed up.

Xander used to be easier than this to read, she was sure of it. Then he'd come back from Africa all dark and quiet, and refused to talk to anyone for months. And then he'd started dating Spike.

It shouldn't come as a big shocker that she was still trying to adjust to that. She'd thought she knew how things stood. Spike loved her, Xander hated Spike, Spike was dead. And then all of a sudden Spike's alive, really alive, and nobody's told her, least of all him, and he and Xander are living with each other and she's hearing about it from Rona.

In a way, she hadn't really believed it until last night. Not until Spike had backed away from her stupid kiss. Not until she'd seen Xander's panic when she brought Spike home.

Which brought her back to the reason she was standing here trying to make guilt-appeasing pancakes.

"Um, listen," she said, hugging the bowl of batter in front of her. "Xander? I wanted to say sorry. For last night."

"Sorry," he repeated, lowering his mug and kind of staring at her.

It wasn't a very encouraging start. He was definitely still mad at her. She picked up the spoon again and started beating the batter. "How's Spike doing?" she asked, still working hard at conveying the whole I'm really sorry! vibe.

God, she'd never been very good at apologies.

"How do you think?" Xander said. "You saw him last night."

She nodded, whipping the batter a little faster. "It was kind of scary."

"Kind of?" The way he kept repeating what she said was starting to grate. "Buffy, do you have any idea how serious this is?"

Okay. Now he was pissing her off. Why couldn't he just accept an apology? "Well, yeah. I mean, in case you haven't noticed, I've been doing the life-or-death thing since I was fifteen."

"Right. You're strong and experienced and you have superpowers—so tell me why exactly you needed Spike to go along with you last night?"

She had a feeling that admitting she'd mostly just wanted an excuse to talk to him wouldn't go over so well. She didn't like the way Xander's jaw had gone all tight. "I don't speak Portuguese. I needed him to translate for me."

"Kennedy and Oz are both fluent. You could've asked one of them to go with you."

"It didn't seem like a big deal! We used to patrol together all the time—"

"Yeah, when he was a vampire," he interrupted her. "Don't you get it? Everything's different now."

"Okay, yes, Spike's human! I got the memo." Her batter-beating was so violent now that the mixture was slopping over the sides of the bowl. She slammed it down on the table before the mess could get any worse. "I mean, literally, I got the memo. Apparently nobody thought it was important enough to tell me in person."

"Are we in eighth grade? It doesn't matter how you found out!" Xander's tone was edging towards shouting. "I'm sorry you felt like you were left out of the loop, but don't take it out on Spike!"

Buffy stared at him. "What do you mean, 'take it out on Spike'?! It's not like I was trying to get him hurt. I did everything I could to protect him!"

Xander shook his head as if in disbelief. "You took him on a two-hour walk through a bunch of slums in the pouring rain! He was robbed, shot, and attacked by vampires!"

She winced. In retrospect, the whole patrol thing had been a pretty bad idea. "But I got him home okay."

"No, you didn't! He's not okay! Were you here last night?"

"It was a tiny gunshot wound! He said himself it was just a scratch!"

"Jesus, Buffy, I'm not talking about the gunshot wound! He's sick! He was already sick when he went out with you! You—you dragged him around in the rain until he—fuck, he could barely walk by the time you brought him back!"

Half the stuff Xander was saying wasn't fair, and the other half just struck too close to home. Buffy pushed away the memory of Spike refusing to go out when she first asked him, the memory of him coughing uncontrollably after talking to the boys with their cigarettes. "I didn't know he was sick, Xander! He didn't tell me. He agreed to go out with me! How am I supposed to know stuff if nobody tells me?!"

"Oh, I don't know—maybe by paying attention?!"

"I was!" Buffy felt herself crumpling under Xander's rage. She was going to cry. Dammit. She couldn't deal with Xander being mad at her like this. "I—he said he was okay." Her voice went high-pitched at the end despite her best efforts to control it. She spun around before Xander could see her tears welling up, and gripped the edge of the table.

"He says that." Xander had gone quiet again—quiet and somehow cold in a way that made Buffy's neck prickle. "It's pretty much a lie." She heard him putting his mug down on the counter and walking quickly out of the room.

There was a sob welling up in her throat but she fought it back down. Her fingers tightened on the table, her nails scraping across the wood so hard she was distracted for a moment with the worry that she'd dented Willow and Kennedy's furniture. But she hadn't, so that was all right, and the shift of focus let her pull herself together enough to grab the bowl and spoon again and get back to work on the pancakes.

***

"Oh, Buffy, you didn't have to do all this! This is fantastic!"

Buffy smiled at Willow's enthusiasm, and if her smile was a little wan, well, nobody noticed. "I thought you could probably use a home-cooked meal by now."

"Hang on, honey, let me get you a better chair." Kennedy gave Willow a quick peck on the cheek and rushed off.

Oz was the one with the baby in his arms. Tara was wrapped up in a yellow blanket; from where Buffy stood only the top of her little round head was visible, pink with wisps of auburn hair.

"Looks good," Oz said. "Hey, are Xander and Spike up yet?"

"No," Buffy said. "Um, I mean, Xander was. But he went back to bed I guess." To avoid any further questions on that particular topic, she went to the fridge and started pulling out juice containers. They had, like, five different ones.

By then Kennedy was back, carrying a straight-backed armchair with a padded seat and back. "Here, this'll be more comfortable," she said to Willow, putting it in the place of one of the regular kitchen chairs and then offering Willow a hand sitting down.

"Thanks, sweetie." Willow accepted Kennedy's help and then looked at Oz. "Let's see if Tara wants some breakfast of her own before I have mine."

Buffy watched Oz hand Tara down to Willow. He had such a gentle, peaceful expression on his face; so did Willow, and so did Kennedy, in the background.

They were glowing with happiness, she realized. All three of them. And it suddenly felt hard for her to swallow, and her eyes started prickling with tears again, and she was pretty sure it was mostly because she was happy for them, but there was a deep-down envy, too. I'll never have that. She pushed the thought away—it was a stupid thought, ungracious and probably not even true. I still might have a normal relationship someday. It could happen. She got busy arranging forks and knives. She'd set out six plates already—leaving places for Xander and Spike, even though she really didn't expect them to show up.

Willow undid the buttons of her shirt and unclipped the front of her bra, and let her nipple brush Tara's cheek until Tara turned her head and latched onto it. Willow giggled, and looked up to meet Buffy's eye. "It tickles a bit," she explained.

"I'll go check if Xander wants breakfast," Oz said.

Buffy wondered if she should warn him that she and Xander weren't exactly on being-in-the-same-room terms at the moment. She opened her mouth, even, about to say something, but Oz had already left. "So who wants pancakes?" she said instead.

"Give me two," Kennedy said, passing her plate over.

The pancakes had turned out okay, all things considered. They were a little flat, maybe, and the first half of the stack was kind of ragged—it had taken Buffy a while to remember the part about greasing the frying pan—but at least they were edible. And syrup made everything better.

"Want a bite?" Kennedy asked Willow. In response Willow turned her head and opened her mouth, eyes twinkling. Kennedy stabbed a small piece with her fork and fed it to Willow.

It was kind of strange how not strange it was to watch Willow breastfeeding her daughter. Does this make us grownups now? Buffy wondered. "Tara's so pretty."

Kennedy grinned. "Yeah, well, just look at her mom."

"I do," Oz said, coming back into the room in time to hear Kennedy's remark. "Every chance I get." He went over and kissed the top of Willow's head.

Willow rolled her eyes up at him and gave him what sounded like a gentle scolding—Buffy wasn't sure, because she said it in Portuguese.

Oz responded in the same language, saying something brief and calm as he took his seat.

Then Kennedy said something, and Buffy caught her own name somewhere in the middle of it—and Xander's.

Xander. He'd followed Oz into the kitchen and was hanging back near the door. "Hey, guys," he said, "Mind speaking English? You're making me paranoid."

"Sorry!" Willow said with a guilty look.

"Hey, don't worry. Welcome home." He went over and looked like he wanted to hug her, but he couldn't quite figure out how to deal with the whole baby situation. He ended up just kissing the top of her head like Oz had done.

"How's Spike?" Willow asked, looking to Oz. From the concern in her voice, Buffy guessed that Willow had been filled in at least a little on last night's misadventure.

"Resting," Oz said. "He's got a low fever and the cold symptoms are worse, but his breathing sounds okay for now."

"You think we should call Dr. Rodrigues?" Kennedy asked. "Make an appointment for him?"

"Already done," Oz said. "She can see him tomorrow at eleven-thirty."

"I'm just going to grab a few things and get back to Spike," Xander said, reaching across the table for one of the bananas Buffy had set in a bowl at the center.

Oz raised an eyebrow. "Why not stay and eat properly? He will be okay on his own for ten minutes. He's pretty much asleep."

Xander's glance darted in Buffy's direction, and she knew he was going to refuse—until Willow spoke up. "Come on, Xander, stay. Buffy made pancakes! And we still have so much to talk about!"

"Okay," he said finally, though he sounded reluctant. "One pancake." Of the two empty chairs, he took the one that wasn't next to Buffy.

"So tell me what it was like being back in Sunnydale!" Willow said. "That must've been so weird. Did you have to use the Lethe's Bramble?"

"Yeah, we did, actually. Dawn cast the spell." Xander reached for the jug of orange juice.

"Dawn?" Willow frowned. "Wouldn't it have been easier for Giles to do it?"

"He didn't think it was safe to do it on himself—" Xander stopped, making a face. "Is this juice okay? It tastes like it's gone off."

"Oh—don't worry, it's fine," Kennedy said. "It's just not as sweet as the American kind."

Xander blinked. "Shit. Spike was complaining about it last night. I thought he was just being cranky."

"Maybe you'd like the pineapple better?" Willow suggested. "I know I do."

"No, that's not—not the point—fuck." Xander hunched his shoulders and clenched his fists in front of his forehead. "Fuck. I wasn't even listening to him."

There was a ripple of change in the mood of the room; Kennedy and Oz exchanged a look, and Willow seemed to sit up a little straighter. Buffy didn't quite get why Xander was wigging out over the juice—but at least she had enough sense not to say anything.

"I'm sure it's not a big deal," Willow said, sounding hesitant. "The OJ isn't that bad. And, I mean, he's from England, and I've lived in England, and let me tell you mister, they have some pretty tasteless food there."

Xander didn't look like he'd heard her. "He doesn't ever tell me what's wrong. And then when he does tell me, I don't even—I should've—what if he told me months ago and I wasn't listening because I didn't want to know?" He sounded like he was breaking down. Buffy was confused and a little scared, and so totally not in a position to do anything about it.

To her relief, Oz stood up and went around the table to put his hand on Xander's back. "Hey," he said quietly. "Let's go for a walk."

Xander stood up in a jerky, chair-scraping stumble. "Yeah. Sure," he said, and left the room without a backwards glance. Oz followed, hesitating just long enough to exchange a look Buffy couldn't interpret with Willow and Kennedy.

Kennedy said something to Willow softly in Portuguese. Willow nodded and replied in the same language.

"Could you not do that?" Buffy asked. Her voice sounded brittle to her own ears. "I'm getting major out-of-the-loop feelings over here."

"Oh, Buffy, I'm sorry," Willow said, biting her lip and looking sincerely contrite. "We were just—we speak Portuguese at home usually now, it's sort of a habit."

"Will, what was Xander talking about?"

Willow half-shrugged, careful not to disturb Tara. "I don't know exactly. Hey, I noticed things between you two this morning are a little, um, tense?"

Buffy grimaced. "I messed up big-time when I took Spike out on patrol last night. Xander's kinda furious at me. We had a fight...count yourself lucky we didn't break any dishes."

"Try not to take it too hard." Willow stroked Tara's head with one finger as she spoke. "He's worried about Spike, and it's making him a little crazy, I think. You know that Spike's been sick a lot since he turned human, right?"

"Sort of." Buffy shrugged, picking up her fork to shove the bits of pancake around on her plate with no intention of eating them. "I'd heard he's been in the hospital a couple times. I...well...I sort of avoided hearing any more than I had to, actually. It still kinda hurt to hear his name."

Kennedy rolled her eyes and said something in Portuguese. Willow punched her in the arm. "Sweetie! Not appropriate."

Buffy prickled. "What was that?" she asked Kennedy.

"Nothing." Kennedy rubbed her arm and shot a rueful look in Willow's direction.

"Anyway. It's not your fault if nobody told you," Willow said to Buffy. "We've all sort of drifted since Sunnydale, haven't we? Now that we have a whole world to take care of instead of just one small town."

Buffy realized her pancakes were dissolving, and she put her fork down. "Is it crazy to miss Sunnydale?"

Willow looked thoughtful for a moment before she replied. "No. No more than it's crazy to miss high school, or being a kid with a mother to look after you." She shifted Tara in her arms; Tara had finished drinking and was yawning now. "But life keeps on changing. Some of the changes are good, some bad. I don't think any of us would ever want to go back—but that's not what you meant, is it?"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not sure what I mean. Willow...can I hold Tara for a little while?"

Willow smiled. "Sure."

Kennedy brought the sleepy baby over and placed her carefully in Buffy's arms. Buffy held her breath. She hadn't held a baby since—well, not since Dawn, actually.

Tara yawned again, and looked up at Buffy. Her eyes were blue, and intelligently alert even in her slow-blinking sleepiness. She felt just right in Buffy's arms—warm and heavy, a little squirmy, almost unbearably precious. "Can I hold her till she falls asleep?" she asked.

"Sure," Kennedy said, giving her some space—and, Buffy realized, perfect trust. "I'll start clearing up breakfast."

Buffy breathed slowly, and mentally pushed away the badness of the morning. There was plenty to worry about later. For now, watching the baby fall asleep, she let herself bask in the deep, instinctive peace.

Continued in Chapter Nine