Chapter 1
Make It Go Away

Make it go away, cause I am weakened
This is more than one should have to take.
If you do this for me, then I will promise,
I’ll make it go away for you someday.
--Holly Cole

   Willow stared at nothing in particular. She lay on the floor of
what had lately become known as The Spare Bedroom,
largely because calling it Tara’s room tended to make her
sob uncontrollably.
   The sun fell through the uncurtained window onto her feet.
Every once in a while, something poked through the haze of
pain around her head to tell her that her toes were getting
sunburnt. That was all; the house was completely empty at
the moment. Buffy was at work, and Xander...
   Oh, and there we go again. Tears surged behind her eyes,
demanding release. Xander whom she loved, Xander who
loved her. Except that every time she thought about him, it
made her think about Tara. And every time she thought about
Tara...
   “Xander?”
   She thought it had hurt when Oz had left; the suddenness of
it, the betrayal, the months of freefall. That was nothing
compared to this. Tara had disappeared in a flash after
committing a far worse betrayal than Oz’s. And the freefall
was worse, because...
   “Hey, Xander? Anyone home?”
   The fact that someone was speaking finally registered.
Willow sat up and got to her feet, her back complaining as
she did.
   “Hello?”
   “Willow?”
   She wiped her eyes and stepped out into the hallway. At
the foot of the stairs, Xander’s Uncle Rory was waiting. He
wore a white suit jacket over a hawaiian shirt with a matching
Panama hat.
   “Hey, kid. You seen whatsisface anywhere?”
   “N-no,” Willow replied. “I don’t...he’s not at work.”
   “Yeah. Okay. If you...” He paused, studying her face. “You
okay?”
   “Oh, yeah. Sure. Fine. When I see him...”
   “Could you tell him we’re leaving at six tomorrow morning?”
   “Leaving?” Willow blinked. “Where are you going?”
   “Didn’t he tell you? We’re gonna do Vegas for the big
holiday weekend!” Rory grinned, doffing the hat.
   “Really,” Willow said unenthusiastically. “Sounds like fun.”
   “You’re thrilled. I can tell.” Rory hesitated before continuing.
“You’re welcome to come if you want.”
   “I...no, that’s okay.”
   “You sure? Xander told me about what happened. The bits
that made sense sounded pretty bad.”
   “No, I’m fine. Really. But hey, maybe I’ll see you tonight,
huh?”
   “Absolutely. See you tonight.”
   Willow nodded and turned away, leaving Rory to walk off, a
bit uncomfortable. Upstairs, Willow lay back down on the
floor, in the spot where Tara’s bed had once stood.

   “Ahhhh,” Buffy said, putting the top on the coffee cup.
“Congratulations, Mr. Harris, you are the lucky recipient of my
final cup of coffee.”
   “Great,” Xander replied, reaching out for the cup, which
Buffy held just out of reach. He stood facing Buffy, who was
behind the counter at the Coffee Bean.
   “Savor it,” Buffy continued, “for it is filled with the taste of my
financial independence.”
   “That’s wonderful. Really.”
   “Every bean was ground with love.”
   “I’m sure it was.”
   “The whipped cream carries the aura of my joy.”
   “Right.”
   “The caramel topping—“
   “Give me the goddamn coffee before I destroy you, Buffy.”
   “Jeez,” Buffy muttered, handing him the cup. “Late night at
the flesh peddler’s?”
   “Two bachelorette parties and a group from the dental
hygienist convention,” Xander said. He took a long sip from
the cup. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
   “Well, after today, they’re gonna be looking for a new
barrista,” Buffy said. She pulled off her apron and tossed it
under the counter.
   “A British lawyer?”
   “A coffee guy. Or...and I hesitate to bring this up...”
   “Then don’t.”
   “Xander, I’m sure you could get in.” The two of them walked
out into the morning sunshine. “All you’d need to do is retake
the SATs. You’d definitely qualify for a student loan.”
   “How do you figure? I make a pretty penny shakin’ my
groove thing on a professional basis.”
   “Yeah, but it’d make a great sob story for the financial aid
guy! Young man, broken home, has to work as a stripper to
make ends meet.”
   “You make my life sound so TV-movie.”
   “It’s a gift.”
   “Yeah, well, thanks for the gift, but I don’t think so. Besides,
if I started going to UCSD, Willow and I would trip over each
other more than we already do.”
   “And that would be bad in what way?”
   As they rounded the corner, Willow, coming from the other
direction, bumped right into Xander. The coffee fell from his
hand, spattering on the ground.
   “Oh, God!” Willow cried. “I’m—uh—I was just—“
   “Yeah,” Xander said. “Me too.”
   “Right. So I—“
   “Yeah.”
   Buffy looked from Willow to Xander. The two of them
looked extremely nervous.
   “Rory was looking for you,” Willow said. “You’re leaving at
six tomorrow.”
   “Okay. Cool.”
   “Right. Uh...I gotta go.”
   “Okay. See you later.”
   “Yeah.” Willow walked a few steps away, then turned
around and walked back. “Hi, Buffy.”
   “Uh...hi?” Buffy asked.
   “Right. Okay. I gotta—“ She turned again, walking away.
Buffy blinked and turned to Xander, who was staring after
Willow.
   “What the HELL was that?” she asked.
   “That was number 53 in a series of awkward moments,”
Xander muttered. “Collect them all.”

   A punk band called the Badass Perpetrators was on the
Bronze's stage, doing horrible things to a Beatles tune. Rory
and Giles shared a look of mutual sympathy; they were
seated around a table with the rest of the gang, taking part in
an extremely muted sendoff party. Willow looked miserable.
Xander looked anxious. Buffy, sitting between them, looked
uncomfortable.
   "So," Giles said, trying to get the conversation started.
"Rory. What, er, what are you going to do in Vegas?"
   "Oh, back to the professional gambling gig," Rory replied.
"Poker, a little blackjack. I'm not bad when I'm not on the
sauce."
   "Ah." There was a long moment of quiet. "And you're going
along, Xander?"
   "Yeah."
   "That's right," Rory said after a moment. "You should have
seen him work the tables last time. Remember we came
back from that club and you'd gotten rid of almost all your
singles?"
   "Uh..." Xander noticed Buffy and Willow's eyes on him. "No,
no, I don't remember that."
   "Aw, you remember, you'd given 'em all to that redhead
stripper."
   "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Xander turned to
Willow, who was, to his relief, smirking. "I have no idea what
he's talking about!"
   "How much did he give up?" Buffy asked, laughing.
   "Something like a hundred bucks."
   "I'm honored," Willow said.
   "Look, really, I don't know what he's--"
   "Anyway," Rory interrupted. "He takes his last ten bucks
and goes to the blackjack table. Now, he's half in the bag,
understand. I don't know how he did it, but he doubled the
money he gave to that stripper in no time."
  "When did I--" Xander blinked. "Did I keep screaming 'I'm in
the zone!' every five minutes?"
   "That was it."
   "Ohhhh, yeah," Xander said, nodding. "I do remember
this."
   "Easily the most amazing streak I've ever witnessed," Rory
said, smiling proudly at Xander. "Then he hits the gift shop
and spends damn near all his cash again."
   "Was that where you got my shirt?" Willow asked.
   "I guess so."
   "Awww," she said, smiling. "I didn't know it was a lucky
shirt. I'll have to wear it...more..." She trailed off. She listened;
the band had left the stage and a song was playing on the
sound system.
   Make it go away or make it better
   Isn't that what love's supposed to do?
   Make it go away or make it better
   'Cause I would do either one for you
   "I...uh...excuse me." She was out of her seat and headed
for the bathroom before anyone could see her cry.
   "What happened?" Giles asked.
   "Uh...this song," Buffy said. "I remember, she and Tara
used to dance to it."
   "Oh, for cryin' out loud..." Xander stood up. "I'd better go--"
   "You'd really better not," Buffy said, getting up. "I think
you're kinda part of the problem at the moment, Xander."
   "Part of--part of the problem?! Are you kidding? What
the hell--"
   "Just let me handle this right now, okay?"
   Xander fumed for a moment, then sat back down. "Fine."

   "Will?" Buffy walked into the bathroom and started
checking the stalls. "Willow?"
   "Down at the end," Willow said, her voice wet with tears.
   "Are you okay?" Buffy asked. She walked to the last stall,
which was closed.
   "I hate this," Willow said. "This is such...this is such crap!"
   "Hey, watch your language."
   "I'm serious!" Willow blew her nose. "I mean, I wasn't nearly
this pathetic when Oz left."
   Buffy thought it was debatable, but kept her mouth shut.
   "She lied to me," Willow continued. "Our whole relationship
was a lie. I mean, I put myself out on the limb for her! I risked
societal rejection!"
   "That's true," Buffy said.
   "I mean, look how you reacted," Willow said, sniffling.
   "Hey!"
   "My mom barely spoke to me for a week after she found
out. And for what?"
   They were quiet for a moment.
   "You know what?" Buffy said. "What's your schedule like
this weekend?"
   "Uh...I'm not working..."
   "Then let's take a road trip."
   "You mean...like a girls-only road trip?"
   "Sure! Just the two of us. We'll go to Knott's Berry Farm or
Magic Mountain or something."
   Willow was quiet, considering it. "That sounds good," she
said finally.
   "Great! Then tomorrow we'll hit the road."
   "Great!"
   Buffy waited for a moment.
   "Uh...are you coming out now?"
   "Well, I'm kinda in the middle of something."
   Buffy blinked. "While you were talking to me?!"
   "You rushed in before I could--"
   "Oh, ew!" Buffy cried. "Just come out when you're done,
all right?"

   Spike took a long last drag from his cigarette and flicked
the dog-end into the street. He waited until he was passing
the bouncer to exhale, snickering as the man wheezed.
"Bloody California," he muttered. He was sick to death and
unlife of the place. Especially Sunnydale. Too much sun, too
many people he couldn't drink, and too damn much of the
Slayer. No doubt he'd find her inside, too. Asking for help
from the Slayer. This'd be a low point if I didn't have to do it
all the bloody time.
   Yes, there she was, nattering away to her posse of comic
relief. Look at her, with her blonde hair and perfect body
and amazing legs. God, I hate her. She's probably awful in
bed.
   She looked up and saw him, giving him the stink- eye. He
sneered back and walked up to their table, suddenly in the
mood to dish out some attitude.
   "Well, good evening, kids. Oh, and you, Rupert."
   “Go away," Buffy, Giles and Xander said almost in unison.
   "Oh, that's very nice," Spike said with a smirk. "And here I
was just about to congratulate you for taking out that hydra
last week. Bloody cheek, I swear." He noticed the other man
at the table, who was looking at him confusedly. Spike
blinked. "Oi, squire, anyone ever tell you you're the spittin'
image of Bruce Campb--"
   "Did you want something, Spike?" Buffy said between
clenched teeth. "Or is this just free-floating snottiness?"
   "Actually, I wanted to ask a favor."
   "No."
   "You haven't even heard it yet!"
   "Doesn't matter. The answer is no."
   "I need a ride out of town."
   "N--" She stopped. "Why?"
   "Be honest with you, I need a change of scenery." Spike
shrugged. "This podunk can't interest me much longer.
'sides, I'd like to get somewhere where this damn chip isn't
common knowledge."
   "Aww, poor baby," Xander said. "Why the hell would we
help you?"
   "Goodness of your hearts?"
   "Try again."
   "Cash?"
   "Xander..." Giles leaned towards him. "I don't suppose
you'd have room for him in your car, would you?"
   "What?! Are you nuts?"
   "It would get him out of Sunnydale," Buffy added.
   Xander considered that. "Rory, you mind if he comes
along?"
   "That depends," Rory said. "Who is he?"
   "Oops--manners." Spike extended his hand. "Spike.
William the Bloody to my victims."
   "Pleased to--" Rory froze, mid-shake, feeling the cool of
Spike’s hand. "You're a vampire?"
   "Don't worry," Buffy said. "He's got a chip in his head. No
bitey for Spikey."
   "That's right, tell the world," Spike snarled.
   "Here's the deal, Spike," Xander said. "We're goin' to
Vegas tomorrow morning. A hundred bucks up front, plus
gas and meals. And you ride in the trunk."
   "Well, you make a deal like that, how can I bloody refuse--"
   "Yes or no?"
   "Fine," Spike sneered. "When do we leave?"

   "Whoa," Rory said, peering at his watch. "It's getting late.
I'd better get back while your mom's still up."
   "What?" Xander said, a bit alarmed. "Why?"
   "To...say goodbye?" Rory asked, confused.
   "Oh. Right. Say goodbye. Yeah, I guess we should. Nash
Bridges is almost over, and she's out like a light after that."
   "Right," Rory said, standing. "But first, I gotta do something
unmentionable. Be right back." Spike watched him go from
the bar, muttering something about an uncanny resemblance.
   "We should get going too," Buffy said, "if we're gonna get
an early start."
   "Why? Where are you going?"
   "Me and the Willster are taking a little road trip," Buffy said.
"Giles, are you sure you're gonna be okay alone?"
   "Yes, Buffy," Giles said with strained patience. "I am quite
capable of looking after this town for a couple of days by
myself."
   Buffy stared at him. “You do realize that you’ve just jinxed
yourself.”
   “Yes,” Giles said ruefully. “Yes, I figured that as soon as I
opened my mouth.”
   "So where ya goin'?"
   "Just seeing the sights," Willow said, her eyes refusing to
meet his. "Stuff like that."
   "Uh huh." Xander stood. "Well, have a good time. Or
whatever. Tell Rory I'll see him tomorrow morning, willya?" He
walked away from the table before anyone could respond.

   "Xander!"
   He was halfway back to Scoobys End when he heard
Willow calling him. He turned to her, a little annoyed,
watching her approach.
   "Oh, are you talking to me now? Sure you can handle it?"
   She stopped, a few feet away.
   "I mean, I wouldn't want you to burst into tears at the sound
of my voice or anything," he continued.
   "Well, being really snotty is a step in the right direction,"
Willow replied, her features hardening. She came closer,
and Xander could see that her eyes were wet, which made
him feel extremely tiny.
   "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I just...I don't know how to handle
this."
   "Neither do I," she replied. "I mean, I've never...this has
never...just never."
   "Right."
   "It's too soon for anything."
   "Yeah."
   "But...it's like sometimes I just want to..."
   "Want to what?"
   She turned away, embarassed.
   "Want to what?" Xander asked again.
   "It doesn't matter." Willow turned back to him. "Maybe this
weekend is just what we need, you know? Something to
clear our heads."
   "Sure."
   They looked into each others' eyes for a moment, each
wondering what was going on in the other's head.
   "You sounded kinda freaked about Rory," Willow finally
said.
   "I did?"
   "Did you ask him about the thing?"
   "The he-might-be-my-father thing?"
   "That thing, yes."
   Xander shook his head. "I'll do it this weekend sometime.
I've just had too much on my mind lately."
   "Lot of that going around."
   There was another uncomfortable silence.
   "You wanna walk with me?" Willow asked. "I'm going back
to the house."
   "Uh...yeah, but there's this thing I was gonna pick up from
my folks' place, and..."
   "Right, right. Well...g'night."
   "Yeah. Safe trip."
   They walked off into the night, along different paths, their
problems staring them in the face like an obvious metaphor.

   “This won’t do, you know.”
   The girl grunted noncommittally.
   “This needs to be fixed.”
   Another, even more noncommittal, grunt.
   “And you have to fix it.”
   “I know.”
   They were silent.
   “Now would be good,” the other voice said.
   “All right, all right...” The girl peered at the world. “Ah. Here
we go. Perfect.”

   Sometimes, he remembered things.
   He remembered life and the way he used to live it. He
remembered songs, and conversations, and long drives. But
he had to be careful. If he remembered too long, The Pain
would return.
   And then he couldn’t remember anything.
   He watched the ringmaster through wary eyes. The
ringmaster was tall and undertaker-thin, and his pencil-thin
moustache and Van Dyke beard did nothing to erase the
general aura of evil that poured off the man. He spoke into
the phone, barely intelligible through a thick French accent.
   “Oui. Oui, ee is, ‘ow you say, tres valuable. Oui. Non, I must
ask for twenty.” There was a long pause; then the
ringmaster’s face broke into a smile. “Sapristi! Le news est
tres bon, oui. I will be there tomorrow night, after the noon
matinee.”
   He hung up and turned to the creature in the cage.
   “Well, m’sieur loup-homme, your time wiz us has been
brief, oui? Now, eet ees at le fini...”
   The creature whined and backed away from the front of the
cage. He’d recognized the word “matinee.”
   That word meant The Pain.

Part 2

All of this is copyright Joss Whedon, except the stuff that isn't.