Ch-ch-changes - Epilogue
What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love, and Understanding...DISCLAIMER: The song lyrics belong to Nick Lowe, as sung by my hero Declan McManus (aka Elvis Costello), who rules all that Joss does not. And there's a wee quote from Julian of Norwich.
NOTES AND SUMMARY: The night after the ending of Ch-ch-changes; consider this the very last act of the last episode of the Giles&Spikeverse Completely-AU-by-Now Season 6. Many thanks: to Klytaimnestra, who reminded me after Part 4 that not all plotlines had been wrapped up; to a Spikes Salvation list member (whose name I didn't get) who answered my Buffy's-closet question; and to Lesley, who confirmed what I knew about David Beckham, footy star who really is injured. [Heal fast, Becks.]The moon was shining. Still.
Buffy smiled to herself as she pulled plates out of the cabinet. And it was so amazing: a dear friend had been murdered; a best friend had betrayed herself and them and barely been brought back; yet she could still smile. Of course, her lover and her Watcher had returned (and as 'best mates', how epically wig-inducing was that), and last night they'd saved the world again. Together. So that the moon could shine in a cloudless sky.
"Would you like me to take those somewhere? I would be happy to help," said an over-precise voice from behind her. Well, the Anyanka problem remained. She turned to see the vengeance demon smiling at her. Buffy shook off the flash-image of the demon cuddled around Spike (HER Spike, always) and the accompanying surge of curled-fingers rage. She also resolutely shook off the disturbing image of Giles and Anya, hands entwined, coming up the front walk. 'Cause, eww.
Dawn spun into the kitchen just at that moment, thank God. "Xander says he's not coming downstairs after all, because he's going to watch with Willow? And I'm going to take his burger up to him when it's done. He fixed your closet, though, and you can put your clothes back whenever." She danced past Anya and Buffy, collecting the plates from Buffy's hands as she twirled, and went outside to the porch.
"Something broke in your closet? How is that possible?" Anya asked.
Buffy swallowed the true-but-not-to-be-spoken-aloud answer, which involved the finale of Spike's welcome-home festivities: the sliding doors, the clothes-rod and a couple of scarves, the smooth-rough sliding of another kind, and misapplied Slayer-strength at a critical moment. Instead, she blushed. "Sadly, we will never know. But at least now it's fixed."
Clem and Dawn came through the back door, squabbling amiably."No, Dawn, YOU have to make the patties. I mean, look," Clem said, holding up his loose-skinned hands. Buffy had to admit he had a point. "Oh, Buffy, Anya, hello! The fire's almost ready; I managed to get the grill to work at last."
The Summers family hadn't used the grill since Dad... she broke off the thought. "Thanks, Clem." He patted her, then went over to supervise Dawn's work at the kitchen island. Buffy smiled again-- it was becoming a habit, once she'd been afraid she'd lost forever-- and drifted over to the kitchen window. Anya joined her, and together they looked out at a perfectly arranged landscape.
If it were a picture, Buffy would call it 'The lords of the back yard, lit by the moon and two incredibly tacky bamboo torches.' Spike and Giles were ensconced in Adirondack chairs out on the lawn, sprawled out in their matching black jeans and boots (oh God, when did Giles get Docs and why wear them now, no, don't think) and with a spooky synchronicity in the way they lifted their bottles of beer and drank. Apparently they were arguing about something, then Spike dived over the side of his chair toward the boombox he'd earlier 'liberated' from Dawn's room. Giles laughed loud, the sound chiming through the window.
"I'm so glad it's all fixed," Anya said. Buffy looked sideways, took a breath, then squeezed the vengeance demon's shoulder. Yes, she was glad too. So much had needed to be fixed.
***
"There's no way to fix his foot before the Cup, mate. You're a tweed-for-brains fool, we're doomed."
"Tosser, you don't know the full power of Beckham. He'll be scoring for us in the first round, I promise you."
"Is Becks some kind of demon then? 'Cause I'm thinkin' only a vamp or a Slayer or some preternaturally enhanced being is gonna come back from that kind of injury in time."
"And you call yourself an Englishman. Beckham SHALL be back, and everyone shall be well--"
"'And all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.' Yeah right, wanker."
"You laugh now, you ignorant little piss artist, but mark my words. 'Cause what's so funny about peace, love and understanding? Nothing."
"Peace, love, understanding, and an England win in the final."
"They're all one."
"You're always right, Dad. Except when you're a tragically misguided git, which now that I think of it is most of the bloody time. Say, do you think we should go help Buffy and Anya and all with the domestic duty?"
"God, no. Haven't finished my lager."
"Right. Hmm, now that you've mentioned it, let me find that song. We should practice it for the next time we find ourselves in the Underground."
"I'm never busking with you again. Never. Unless I get the guitar."
"You got it last time, you steaming piece of... Oh right. Okay, here goes..."
***
"As I walk through this wicked world, Searchin' for light in the darkness of insanity..." the male, English voices below harmonized with the music faintly heard from the boombox. Xander slammed shut the bedroom window, but he could still hear them. "I ask myself, is all hope lost? Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?..."
He hoped he hadn't woken Willow. He just couldn't bear to listen to those two assholes any more, thinking they were so cool, acting so... righteous. How could Buffy be fooled? Sure, Giles had once been one of them, but clearly (if not literally) he'd turned. Changed, and not for the better. It was all Spike's fault, and damned if he shouldn't have staked Captain Peroxide before the chip had come out.
A niggling sense of unease, of behaving wrong, tugged at his conscience, and so he stopped at that. Instead he turned to look at Willow, so beautiful, so pale, still asleep on the white pillow. He remembered other times, a hospital room--
Then her eyes opened, her gaze fastened on his. She smiled; his heart warmed, losing the chill which had slowed it for months. His best friend was back. "Oh, Will, you scared me to death."
"My little Xander." Her words were soft, loving. Smiling, he sat down in the chair by her bedside, then she said, "Sleep now." He toppled over, his head on her pillow, his hand loose on the sheet.
She got up and went to the window. The moon was still shining, the night sky cloudless. Spigos had not done as promised. Of course, Buffy and the others had stopped him and his servants. They saved the world, but let true love die.
Then Dawn tapped, a barely audible knuckle-strike, on the door. "Xander? How do you want your burger?"
Willow thought, breathed, then said in Xander's hushed sick-room voice, "I'm not hungry, Dawnster, thanks anyway. I'll be down soon." On the other side of the door Dawn hummed an affirmative, and her steps retreated down the hall.
Willow opened the window, took in the night air. Wafting from below came male, English voices: "So where are the strong? And who are the trusted?..."
She lifted her hand to the moon, still shining, and traced its shape in the air. Then she covered it with her hand. The night grew darker, although not dark enough. Okay, so it didn't happen this time. Didn't mean it never would.
Warm feminine laughs from below chimed with the men, singing, "Cause every time I feel it slippin' away, Just makes me wanna cry, What's so funny 'bout peace love and understanding...."
Yes, it all could be fixed. Eventually.