ANOTHER DOOR OPENS
by perletwo
"When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us." - Alexander Graham Bell
****May 12, 2002****
Buffy stood in the bathroom, holding a dustrag and a dusty box of tampons in one hand and a spray bottle of cleaning fluid in the other. She was staring aimlessly into space in that pose when Dawn found her.
"Um, Buff?" Her head jerked in the direction of the doorway, startled out of her reverie. "Didn't mean to scare you there. But it's only an hour 'til the funeral, and some of us need to get ready. What're you doing in here anyway?"
"Wha - oh. Cleaning the bathroom. I thought, there'll probably be people coming to the house after...and it was something to do...but I, I guess I lost my train of thought."
"Yeah. Lotta that goin' around this morning." Dawn sniffled behind her hand, and Buffy looked closely at her sister. Dawn's eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she looked exhausted.
"Dawn, did you sleep at all?" she asked softly, and the teen shook her head. Buffy quickly stashed the cleaning stuff on the counter and crossed the room to wrap her sister up in a hug.
"Baby, I know it's hard. But...if it helps any...I *am* getting better than I was. Really I am. At least my trains of thought're actually leaving the station these days." She pulled back and took Dawn's chin in her hand, forcing her to look her sister in the eye. "I know when I first came back I was zoned out like that pretty much all the time, and I know it was pretty scary. And I know you leaned on Tara a lot. But I-I think I'm strong enough to let you lean on me now when you have to, Dawn."
Dawn sobbed once, squeezing her sister tightly. Then she broke away and bolted to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Buffy sighed helplessly, wondering if she'd ever understand how to handle a teenager. Not for the first time that day, she wished her mom was here.
On patrol that evening, Buffy found Willow standing alone in the cemetery. Before her was a very new, very plain headstone inscribed: TARA McCLAY/ 1977-2002/ BLESSED BE/.
"It was a beautiful service," she said quietly, coming up behind her old friend.
"Yeah. Tara'd've liked it, I think." Willow reached out to brush her fingers over the new carvings. "Is this how you've felt since we brought you back, Buffy?" She turned to look at her friend through watery eyes.
"This like how?"
"Like nothing in the world makes sense anymore. Like nothing we do matters, or makes any difference." Her breath hitched, and a few tears spilled. "Empty."
"Yeah...a lot like that, Will. You want to know why I went to Spike? Because he *got* that, better than anybody. He got how big what happened to me was, and how - shattering - it was. Giles got it some, I think because he's grieved before, but he didn't understand about - about after - as much as Spike did." She lay a hand on Willow's hunched shoulder. "The rest of you were just so proud of pulling it off...I couldn't tell you."
"I'm sorry. Not that I brought you back. I'll *never* be sorry about that, Buffy, I love you too much to be sorry no matter what anyone says," she said, voice hoarse. "But I'm sorry I didn't let you open up to me about that. You needed your best friend, and instead you got Spike."
"Also got Tara," Buffy smiled. "She helped me a lot with this stuff too. Spike and I found out his chip didn't read me as human anymore, and I asked her to help me find out why. I thought I'd come back wrong...but she said I was just me, a little raw on the cellular level but still Buffy. I was so shocked...it all came spilling out about me and Spike...and she said it was okay if I loved him, and it was okay if I didn't. She made me feel...steadier."
Willow smiled. "Yeah. She was good at that." She looked back down at the grave, mumbled, "She never told me..."
"I'm sure she would have," Buffy said gently.
"You know what I regret most of all?" Buffy shook her head. "That Tara never got to have a child. I mean, when you love like we did you kind of accept that it's not likely to happen without extraordinary measures...and neither of us was ready..."
Willow's voice trailed off, and she sniffled. "But any child of hers would've been so beautiful...and she'd've made such an incredible mother...you only have to see how she was with Dawn to see that..." Buffy jumped as if startled, and the motion broke Willow out of her reverie. "What? Is it trouble? A beastie?"
"No! No, Will, I-I just - I just remembered something, that's all. No problem." She pulled her friend into a warm hug. "I-I'm gonna leave you to it, but keep this with you and be careful, okay?" She handed her friend a stake, kissed her cheek and started off.
"Spike?"
Buffy whirled at the sound of the voice, and found Clem standing in the doorway of the crypt. She stood inspecting the glasses in Spike's makeshift kitchen, a small paper bag folded up in her hand. "Oh. Hi there. He's not here, maybe you should try Willie's."
"No, I don't think he'll be there, Slayer," Clem said, stepping fully into the crypt. "He's left town. When I saw the light on I was hoping he'd come to his senses, but - guess I was just being silly."
"Left?" Buffy's voice was flat, disinterested. "Yeah, that figures, I guess..." She gave a shrill, mirthless laugh that startled the gentle demon. "He finally does what I always wanted and he picks the worst possible time...Is he coming back?"
Clem hesitated, turning the memory of Spike's desperate rage and vows of murder on the Slayer's head over in his mind. "...Yeah, I think he'll probably be back eventually. He left most of his stuff here."
"Oh. That's all right then," she said vaguely, focused on the contents of the bins of glasses Spike had left.
"Slayer? Are you all right?" Clem asked, unnerved by her strange behavior.
She turned to look at him. "One of my best friends died Tuesday," she said. "Tara - you met her at my birthday. We buried her this morning."
"Oh. Oh my," Clem said. "What time?"
"10 this morning, we -"
"No no," he interrupted. "What time Tuesday. Did she die."
"Um, I guess - I was outside and the sun was just going down, so - call it 8 p.m. or so?" Buffy looked puzzled. "Why?"
"Oh my. Oh my - Slayer, he didn't know," Clem said forlornly. "I was with him when he left. It was about 7:30 Tuesday night. He was probably already out of town - I'm sure if he'd known - Slayer?"
Buffy was swaying dizzily, and Clem hurried to steady her. "I'm okay. I'm okay now, Clem. But I'd really like to be alone if you don't mind."
Nodding, the demon made his way out the door, looking back worriedly over his shoulder at her before shutting her into the crypt alone.
Sorting through the glasses one last time, Buffy finally plucked a cut-glass goblet up by the stem. {{Trust Spike not to have any plain old tumblers or plastic cups,}} she thought drily.
Then she took the glass and the bag down the rabbit hole, undressed and carried them into Spike's makeshift bathing area.
Twenty minutes later, she climbed back upstairs and and curled up in Spike's favorite armchair, resting her cheek on the edge of the chair back and breathing in the faint remnants of his scent. Tears trembled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill.
In her mind she replayed the last time she'd seen Spike, the night Tara died. The night he tried to force himself on her in the bathroom. Willow's words to her - {{I'm sorry I didn't let you open up to me about that}} - echoed through her mind and mixed with Spike's voice, matching notes of strained sorrow in their voices forming a harmony line.
{{*I* needed something! I just wanted it to *stop!*}}
She'd been so busy nursing her grudges against the two of them, she hadn't let herself see the stresses that were grinding them down, she thought. She hadn't let them open up to her, any more than she'd opened up to Willow about the trauma of her resurrection.
She'd been injured, that night. He hadn't seen it. She'd been so busy resenting him for not seeing it that she hadn't let herself see the stricken look on his face when he realized what he'd done.
{{I love you. I know you love me. All you have to do is let yourself feel it.}} She shivered at the memory and turned the small object she was holding around in her hands. {{I'll make you feel it.}}
{{Never got to have a child...She'd've made such an incredible mother...all you have to do is see how she was with Dawn to know that...}}
Another memory swam to the surface. The day Riley came back, new little wife in tow.
{{Tell me you love me.}}
{{I love you.}} Eyes shining.
{{Tell me you want me.}}
{{I always want you. In point of fact -}}
{{Shut up.}}
Melting into his embrace for the last time...
The tears began to flow down her cheeks. {{Funny how one little thing is all it takes to make you see everything differently,}} she thought, looking again with watery eyes at the little plastic wand in her hand.
It wasn't her imagination. The test stick still showed a plus sign at the end.
WRITTEN MOTHER'S DAY 2002