Changing Sides

Author's Note: Thoughts are indicated by . This is my first fanfic, so be kind. Enjoy!

Part Three

One month later

Buffy stood on the Rosenburgs’ porch, hesitant to ring the bell. She hadn’t seen Willow much since the night Spike died, but that was not of Buffy’s choosing. Willow had isolated herself from her friends and even her family. The Slayer was helpless to assist her friend in her recovery. Buffy was about to leave the porch when the door opened.

"Buffy! How are you?" Joan Rosenburg smiled at the blonde.

"Fine. How is Willow?"

Joan’s cheerful demeanor disappeared. "I don’t know how to help her, Buffy. All she does is play the piano, morning, noon, and night. She barely speaks to us at all."

"Can I see her?" she asked. Joan nodded and stepped aside to let Buffy in.

"She’s in the living room," Joan said quietly. "I don’t know what to do anymore, Buffy. She won’t talk about what happened and she won’t let us comfort her. I’m at a loss."

"I’ll see what I can do," she replied. Buffy entered the living room, observing the redhead at the piano. She looked pinched, drawn, and much thinner than the last time Buffy had seen her. Willow rested against the piano, playing a song with one hand.

"Do you recognize it?" Joan had followed Buffy and put her hand on the Slayer’s shoulder. "She plays it over and over again. Just that song." Willow seemed unaware of their conversation, or even of the two of them. "Nothing, no words, just music. I can’t place it, though. She took lessons as a child, but I don’t remember her instructor ever teaching her that. Do you know where she learned it?"

"I think so," Buffy whispered. "I’ve heard her play it before."

Buffy didn’t voice this thought. She shrugged at Joan and proceeded to sit next to Willow on the piano bench. Joan watched the two of them for a moment, then left them alone.

"Spike taught you this, didn’t he?"

"Yes."

Buffy touched Willow’s hands, not enough to interrupt the song, but the act startled Willow into silence. Buffy grasped friend’s wrists, holding her away from the keys. For the first time Buffy noticed what was around Willow’s shoulders.

"That’s Spike’s jacket." She ran her fingers over the slick black leather. "You kept it."

"You have yours, and I have mine. Both from our undead lovers." Willow motioned to the coat Buffy wore. Spike’s jacket was slimmer and longer than Angel’s; Willow’s small body fit nicely into it, while the Slayer’s seemed to swim in her boyfriend’s coat.

"Willow, can I ask you something?" The only response Buffy got was a dull stare. She took a deep breath and went on. "What did Spike do to you?"

"He made me fall in love," she whispered, shaking off Buffy’s hands. She returned to playing Chopin, closing the discussion. But Buffy was not about to let it go so quickly.

"You were in love with him?" She was aghast.

"I still am."

"But why? He wasn’t like Angel; he didn’t have a soul."

Willow slammed down on the keys, making Buffy jump. "Angel killed Spike for no reason," she yelled, showing more emotion in a few moments than she had in the past few weeks. "It didn’t matter whether or not Spike had a soul. He was still more compassionate and caring than your precious boyfriend. How would you feel if someone you trusted staked Angel? You would feel the same way I do." Her tone carried a slight hint of malice.

"Willow, Angel helped me find you. You would be a vampire now if we hadn’t come. I thought what I was doing was for the best. I still think what I did was for the best."

"It wasn’t, Buffy," she said softly. "I wish he was still alive. Or that I was dead. I want to be with him, Buffy. I miss him so much."

"But you know that he would have killed you, or turned you into a vampire? You were ready to let yourself become a demon?"

"If it meant I could be with Spike, then, yes, I was ready. We were going to leave Sunnydale, and then he would make me immortal."

"You were going to become a vampire because you wanted to live forever? God, I thought you, of all people, would be the last to become like Ford." Buffy felt absolutely nauseous.

Willow laughed, but there was no humor in it. "He was delusional." Buffy’s stunned expression clearly asked: And you aren’t? Willow ignored the look and explained. "Immortality was just something I knew would happen once Spike changed me. I could have cared less about it, except it would mean I would be with him, always. That’s all."

Buffy tried to understand, to see it from Willow’s point of view, but she simply could not. A Slayer’s worst fear was to join the undead, yet Willow had been about to do it with a song in her heart. Buffy couldn’t even comprehend the idea. No way.

There was something else nagging at Buffy. She couldn’t get out of her head, no matter how unnatural it sounded. She hated it ask it, fearing the answer, but she had to.

"When we were in the flat and Spike and I were fighting," Willow shut her eyes tightly against the memory, "he said that he was your...lover. Did he mean that as in he was your boyfriend, or in the, um, literal sense?"

"The literal sense." Willow was totally calm in answering, but Buffy was appalled. She sat in a silent daze, staring at the person she thought she knew. The redhead had dropped so many bombs during the visit that Buffy was utterly shell-shocked. Willow smiled slightly, remembering her night with Spike. "You know, even though he didn’t breathe, he made the sweetest sound while he slept. It was so adorable."

Buffy thought, bewildered.

"I don’t even know what to say to that, Willow," Buffy finally said. The hacker glanced at Buffy quickly, then returned her attentions to the piano, as if to say: I don’t really care.

The Slayer’s eyes grew wide as another thought struck her. "Will, were you...careful with Spike?"

Her friend’s former naiveté flashed across her face. Trying to grasp Buffy’s meaning, it clicked and she finally understood. "Oh. If you mean protection, no."

Willow played a few more notes, then trailed off and met Buffy’s gaze. "Sometimes, I’ll be alone," she whispered, "and I’ll think I feel him. Just his presence, as if he’s watching over me. Sometimes I feel as though he’s partially with me."

Buffy took Willow’s small hand and placed it over the redhead’s flat abdomen. "Could he be?"

Willow looked down at her stomach and stared. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and laughed softly with amazement and surprise. And utter delight.

"I suppose he could be. Perhaps."

The End

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