l'androise blanc

Chapter One: The Dark Half

Dawn threw a piece of wood to Alex, who caught it deftly. He spun and, driven by pure instinct, staked the vampire through the heart as the creature rushed at him. Alex and Dawn stared in open-mouthed disbelief as the vampire dissolved into a cloud of dark grey dust before their eyes.

Willow lay in a small heap on the ground nearby, her face inches from Tara's. She felt a familiar warmth tingle through her as the blonde brushed an errant strand of rust-colored hair from Willow's face. Now Willow knew there had to be something to the sense of closeness she felt toward the other girl. She leaned closer as Tara smiled gently at her. Even more than finding a way out of the odd predicament they were in, Willow wanted so much to kiss her.

Pain shot through Alex's body after the initial endorphin rush of staking the vampire wore off. He groaned and walked forward, the heel of his dusty beige work boot coming down on something small and hard, a crunching sound audible through the tunnel.

As the head of it broke off, the smashed bit of crystal emitted a pale green light.

Alex looked down at what his foot struck, and, in a wave of dizziness, everything rushed back to him. Xander. I'm Xander Harris, he realized, panic and relief washing over him as all his memories flooded back.

Willow scrambled away from Tara, who was now shooting daggers at her, clearly no longer interested in receiving a kiss from her estranged girlfriend. She looked toward the crystal, saw half still black and intact, the other half a glittery white sand powdering the dirt. She hastily clambered to the remains, surreptitiously pocketing the unharmed dark shard in the recesses of Xander's jacket, which still hung loosely from her shoulders.

***

At the Magic Box, Giles abruptly stopped kissing Anya. Their eyes grew wide, and Anya whipped away from him. She felt a flurry of regret, not only for thinking she was anyone's fiancée but Xander's, but for the few remaining fantasies of doing more with Giles than just kissing that flitted through her head.

Giles immediately cleared his throat, picked up a broom, and began busying himself with cleaning up the debris left behind from Anya's misguided attempts at spellcasting.

***

On the street outside, Randy held a vampire by the arms as Joan proceeded to kick and punch him, sending him sprawling to the grass.

"Don't mess with Joan the vampire slayer!" she announced proudly, sending a shaft of broken fence post through his chest.

"Vampire slayer?" Randy asked, bemused.

Joan shrugged. "I think that's what I am," she said innocently. "I think I'm supposed to fight them, it's my duty or something." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Randy more intently. "I'm supposed to fight you," she amended.

"Yeah, but, I'm…"

"Noble?" Joan sniffed. "Prove it!" She started to stalk off, back in the direction of the magic shop, when a stocky creature in a pinstripe suit with the head of a shark materialized from behind a tree.

"Well, well, well, Spike," he said to Randy, his mouth a cavernous maw of sharp, glinting teeth made for tearing up sea-bound carcasses, "look, hey, you don't have to worry about the debt. If I knew you felt that strongly about it, I wouldn't have bothered to send my boys after you." The creature held out fin-hands in supplication. "They're just kittens, after all."

Randy glanced at Joan with worry in his cat-yellow eyes. His vampire visage was still in place, though he appeared to her more bewildered than menacing. He turned his attention to the shark.

"Um, right, then," Randy said, squaring his shoulders and affecting a swagger. "That's what I do to my enemies, mate, so, uh, shove off before I have a go at you."

The shark beat a hasty retreat, and Randy looked back at Joan.

His features softened into his human countenance, huge dark blue eyes now sparkling. Joan gaped at him.

"Wow! That was cool!" she said, clearly impressed.

Randy grinned. "I guess I can be intimidating when I need to be," he remarked. A remnant of excitement lingered from Joan straddling him on the dewy grass only minutes earlier. For the first time that night, he realized how beautiful she was, ashy blond hair floating like a halo around her, skin glowing in the pale moonlight. He tried to shrug off the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her soundly, celebrating their victory against the band of vampires.

"No, no, your face! Can you make it go back and forth whenever you want?" she asked excitedly.

Randy put a tentative hand up to his forehead, and realized the angry bumps had now smoothed out. "Huh, I don't know." He frowned hard, tried to will his vamp side to come back out, but to no avail. "Guess not, maybe it's got something to do with getting in a spot of violence, aggression and whatnot." He grinned, which Joan cursed herself for finding charming. "You like it, though?" he teased, walking toward her.

Joan folded her arms in front of her chest defiantly. "No, it's gross and creepy. You look all demonic and scary like that."

His grin only grew wider. "Yeah, but, how 'bout like this?" he asked. "How d'you like me when I'm all normal boy-next-door?" He had no idea what he looked like, but he suspected his appearance wasn't too shabby, even if his natty little tweed suit was a bit too proper.

Joan giggled. "Randy, you are so not boy-next-door material. First, hello, you're a vampire, even if you are all noble or have a soul or whatever the hell you think you are, and second, the hair is so Billy Idol --"

"Billy Idol?" Randy asked, confused. "What's Billy Idol got to do with my hair?"

Joan ignored him and pushed on. "And third, again, vampire! Which is such a big one it deserves repeating!"

Randy rolled his eyes. "Fine, you're the boss, Joan, or probably are, at any rate." Getting this bird to admit any warm fuzzies probably isn't going to be easy, Randy thought. She's a tough little cookie… but, then again, I'd wager I am, too.

He bowed to her with mock gallantry. "Shall we return to the home base, then, blondie?" he asked.

Joan smiled and shook her head as they proceeded down the sidewalk. "Yeah, speaking of 'blondie,' seriously, think about laying off the bleach."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Randy asked, but Joan merely giggled.

Spike, he thought as they walked together. That thing had called me Spike. Weird.

***

When Joan and Randy returned to the magic shop, they found Giles setting chairs upright and Anya furiously scrubbing counters that didn't look like they actually needed scrubbing.

At the sight of them, Giles rushed to Joan's side and clasped her in a suffocating hug. "Buffy, are you okay?" he asked.

"Buffy?" she mumbled against the lapel of his jacket.

"Dad, what happened in here?" Randy asked, noting the books scattered haphazardly about the floor. "You and your trollop here get up to something naughty?" He held up a hand to Giles. "On second thought, I don't think I want to know."

Giles released Joan and looked at Randy. "What the bloody -- Spike? Didn't you and Buffy…"

The blank expressions on their faces answered his unspoken question. "Oh, dear lord, you two didn't get your memories back."

"But you did?" Randy asked. "Well, hey, Pops, fill us in!"

"First of all, Spike, I am not your father," Giles informed him with a shudder.

"Thank God," Randy said with resounding relief.

"You're Spike," Anya chimed in. "You're a --"

"Vampire," Joan said. "We figured that much out already."

Giles smirked at Randy. "Implying that I'm old, I'll have you know you're old enough to be my father several times over."

"Okay, okay, can we just skip ahead to telling us what the hell is going on?" Joan asked impatiently.

Giles took a deep breath and looked down at the girl. She really was so young. Physical strength and skills aside, she was so fragile right now. She'd been through so much in the past few months, and this amnesia could be a chance for her. He could choose not to tell her, he realized. He could save her from her duties, call the council, see if there was any way…

But it was a dream, of course. Whether she remembered it or not, Giles knew he had to tell Buffy the truth.

***

Giles spent the next half hour patiently giving Buffy and Spike the Reader's Digest version of their identities, with Anya filling in a few minor details along the way.

"See?!" Buffy said triumphantly. "I told you! Vampire slayer!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Still think it's a pretty silly job title. And what kind of a name is 'Buffy'?"

"Gee, I don't know, Spike," Buffy retorted. She turned to Giles. "Tell me again why I'm not supposed to stake him?"

Giles sighed, glaring at Spike. "Sometimes I'm not so sure myself."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Spike cried indignantly. "I'm harmless, right? You said so yourself, some kind of micro-whatsit in my noggin. I'm one of the good guys now."

"Vampires aren't good," Buffy countered, but thought to herself that she probably shouldn't rush to judgment. When you got past his attitude, he was actually kind of hot, she noticed. In a totally irritating way, of course.

Spike's face shifted for a split second as he considered Buffy's creamy neck and the delicacies that coursed through her veins, then struggled to compose himself. Wouldn't score any points with her getting all fangy, he decided.

"Obviously, we've fallen victim to some sort of spell, and it's not completely worn off," Anya said, joining the others around the table in the corner of the shop.

"Anything else you have to add to the sodding soap opera that seems to be our lives, Pops?" Spike asked.

"I told you, I'm not --" Giles began.

"We should find the others," Buffy interrupted.

"Oh, God, Xander!" Anya cried. "He could be hurt or maimed or bleeding copiously from all his fun places!" Terror stood out plainly on her pretty face, and Giles absentmindedly patted her shoulder in comfort.

"I'm sure he's fine," he assured her, then, realizing he was touching her, pulled his hand away quickly.

Spike chuckled. "So, you were makin' eyes at the wrong fellow, then, eh?" he asked Anya.

Anya looked down guiltily at the floor, and Spike broke into a heartier laugh. He jabbed Giles playfully in the arm. "Way to go, old man, shaggin' another bloke's intended!"

"Th-there was no, er, that is, nothing… no 'shagging' was…" Giles stammered, his face flushing.

The bell above the door jingled, and Xander and Dawn rushed into the room. Giles gave Spike one last angry stare, then proceeded to nervously polish his glasses.

"Alex!" Buffy called. "Dawn! Where's the… other girls?" she asked, trying to recall their names. "Willow… and…"

"Tara," Dawn supplied.

Xander regarded Buffy oddly. "Let's stick with Xander, remember, Buff? Not Alex, Xander."

Buffy just stared at him, and before he had a chance to register what was happening, Anya was planting eager kisses all over his face.

"Oh, thank God!" she said. "I thought you were broken or dead or drained of all your vital fluids!"

"No, I'm all in one piece," he assured her with a smile.

"You mean they're not here?" Dawn asked. "We lost track of them after we left the tunnels, and figured they came back."

"I think Tara's not too happy with Will at the moment," Xander said. "They're probably at the house having a big, uncomfortable argument."

"So, this was Willow's doing, then?" Giles asked.

Xander nodded. "At least from what we could tell. She didn't stick around long enough to debrief us or anything."

"We've got to find her now," Giles announced. "There's a bigger problem at hand than intruding upon a quarrel."

Spike put an arm protectively around Buffy, whose face had grown progressively more troubled as she took in the baffling exchange. He was pleased when she didn't shrink from him, just turned sad eyes to his with the shared camaraderie of their condition. "It'll be all right," he whispered to her.

She nodded. "I hope so," she replied softly.

"Look, eh… Rupert," Spike said. "The little bird and I are still all foggy, but I doubt we're in any immediate danger. Let's give the witch her space for the time being. It's going to be daylight before too long, and I expect if I don't want to get all crisply toasted, I should be making off for my coffin and whatnot. Wherever that is."

"What?" Xander asked, finally figuring out the situation. "You mean Spike didn't get his memory back?"

"Neither did I," Buffy said.

Dawn's eyes widened. She crossed the room and gave her sister a hug.

"It's okay," Buffy assured her. "We'll figure this out. But I guess I'll probably need help getting home."

Dawn frowned. "Maybe I should go on ahead and just peek in on Willow and Tara, if that's where they are."

"I'll go with you," Anya offered.

Xander shot her a look of warning. "Don't say anything rash, An," he advised her.

"Me? Rash?" she asked, offended.

"Anya…" Xander said, his voice edgy.

She sighed. "All right, all right, I promise to be good." She walked toward Dawn. "C'mon, let's go assess the damages," she said.

When the two girls had departed, Xander turned to Spike. "Okay, I guess I can take you to your crypt," he offered reluctantly, leading him toward the door to the shop's basement.

"I'll be at home," Giles said, "and I expect someone to ring me up with a status report by morning." He ambled wearily out the door.

Buffy stood watching everyone leave, seeing that she'd ironically been forgotten in all the commotion. She glanced back and forth from the front door to the basement, then finally proceeded to follow Xander and Spike downstairs.

Hey, a vampire's crypt, she told herself. Why not? Could be interesting. She wondered if Spike really slept in an honest-to-goodness coffin, and if so, wasn't it a little cramped in there?

***

Tara hastily packed a small bag and flew out of the house, not giving Willow a chance to explain. She wasn't sure where she was headed yet, but Willow breaking her promise once again had convinced Tara that she clearly valued her powers over their relationship.

Willow slumped to the floor in the upstairs hall bathroom, tears streaming down her face. She'd screwed up, she knew that, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do without her lover. Her shoulders shook as she began to sob loudly, curling up in a tight little ball on the floor.

She didn't hear the front door open, Dawn and Anya slowly climbing the stairs in search of her. When they reached the second floor hallway, Dawn whispered to Anya to hang back a moment. She crept further down the hall, poking her head into the open door of Willow and Tara's bedroom. It was empty.

Then Dawn heard the sound of Willow crying from behind the closed bathroom door. She frowned sadly. Returning to Anya, she took her arm and led her downstairs.

"So?" Anya asked.

"Tara's gone," Dawn informed her. "And Willow… I think we should leave Willow alone tonight."

Anya knit her brows in frustration. "But why'd she do it? How are we supposed to get Buffy back to normal if we don't know how to break the spell?" Anya started to head back toward the stairs, but Dawn darted to the banister, blocking her path.

"Let's leave her alone tonight," she repeated in measured tones, her voice low and slightly menacing. "Go home, I'll call you and Xander in the morning."

Still looking skeptical of this course of action, Anya finally threw up her hands.

"Fine, okay," she acquiesced. "But I still don't like this."

With Anya gone, Dawn moved to the phone and called the Magic Box, but no one picked up on the other end. Worried, she wondered where her sister was. That's a switch, she thought. Usually you're the one worrying about me.

Having cried herself out, Willow numbly withdrew the crystal from Xander's jacket pocket. It was still black. She couldn't fathom quite what had happened with the spell, but her interest in trying to ferret out the matter just then was spent; she was too tired, too sad, and there would be time enough for logic in the morning. She stood up, opened the bathroom door, and walked in a daze to her bedroom, safely tucking the dark totem in a dresser drawer beneath her socks.

Tomorrow is another day and all that crap, she told herself. She tossed Xander's jacket on a chair and crumpled to the bed, now too big and empty without Tara to share it with.