CHAPTER 5

It surprised him that he had so many goodbyes to make. Even his taciturn landlady looked sorry to hear that he was leaving. He’d told Giles and Anya he needed the two weeks to make his decision, but they all knew what it would be. He needed the time to set things in order so he could return to Sunnydale.

All the guides from the Sunday night tours took the tour together on his last night. The tourists hadn’t known what they were in for, or quite what they were getting as the three took turns trying to outdo one another with tall tales of real and imagined supernatural threats. Spike kept a sardonic half-smile on his face and an abstracted, amused air about himself, suppressing the emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. He’d miss them all, and he was touched by the efforts they had gone to for him. He had fallen out of the habit of making friends during his hundred or so years of killing, and was surprised to realise that he’d made some so easily. It made the prospect of his unfeted return to Sunnydale seem bleaker somehow, to be leaving friends and returning to a place where he’d never been wanted. Useful, sometimes, but never wanted.

He gave each of the guides a self-defence kit he’d assembled. Each contained holy water (Spike was fully aware of the irony of a vampire buying holy water with money he had earned legitimately), a silver cross, and a stake he’d carved. It wasn’t much, but maybe it would save one of them one day. They would miss him, and for more than his fighting abilities; he believed that, and wrapped the belief around himself like a cocoon. Briefly, he wondered whether he was doing the wrong thing. He had friends here, family too. In London, he loved and was loved. In Sunnydale, there was Buffy. And Dawn.

There was no choice, really. Even before he considered the rest of them. If there was a chance either of the girls needed him, he would go without a second thought.

The lads at the meat plant threw him a party on his last night. A few beers and a round of cooling fish and chips later, they presented him with a parcel “from all of us, to take with you to California.” He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he opened it to reveal half a dozen bottles of tanning lotion and a giant beach towel emblazoned with the Union Jack.

***

The following evening, he boarded the train to Bath for his meeting with Giles and Anya. This time, Anya was there before him, in tweed no less. She’d always liked to dress the part; he wondered whether she’d drag out a grass skirt if she visited New Guinea. If she did, he hoped someone would save the photos for him.

“Spike,” she said with a bright smile when he entered the flat. “Are you ready to return to Sunnydale and take on your new role in the exciting world of retail?”

He shook his head. “Not quite yet, love. It’s Willow’s leave pass weekend; got to meet up with her tomorrow night. Then Sunday I’ve got plans; but Monday I’m all yours.” He started to leer reflexively, then thought better of it, his expression freezing somewhere between teasing lust and embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he muttered, only to be met with odd looks from both Giles and Anya. An awkward silence filled the room.

Anya smiled. “I told you he would help us, Giles.”

“I’m doing this for Willow, right.” The words burst from Spike. “I’ve been somewhere similar; never had any help trying to change. It’s hard, and it’s lonely.” He looked steadily at Giles. “But I won’t be your tattletale.”

Giles raised a hand but Spike continued. “I’ll watch what she’s up to, and I’ll call you if you’re needed. I’ll even let you know how she is.” He glanced at Anya, smiling apologetically. “Had a run in with a spot of spying myself. It caused a lot of pain and bother and I don’t care to inflict that on anyone else, let alone the witch. I’d be happy to help you out in the shop, lo- Anya.” He bit the reflexive endearment off just in time before continuing, “And I’d be grateful for a place to stay, but I’m nobody’s stoolie.”

Giles stood. “No one’s asking you to do that, Spike. We can’t be Willow’s keepers, but neither can we ignore her tremendous potential to do harm. It’s only five months since she nearly destroyed the world; our responsibility to humanity has to go beyond her privacy as an individual.”

Spike ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. “I get that. Even though I’ve never been one for the moral dilemmas. I’ll keep you up to date on her state of mind, and I’ll tell you if I think she’s slipping, or if anything else seems odd. But that’s it. No following her around, no searches. Girl’s got to have a little privacy left to her.”

Anya frowned. “But she can’t be trusted.” She turned to the Watcher. “Giles, you know what was in her mind. She’s a danger to everyone around her.” She frowned, hands clenched in her lap. “I don’t want her to destroy the world. I like it here.”

Giles reached out to cover Anya’s hands with one of his own.

“I’m sure it will be all right, Anya,” he reassured. “I was wrong to leave Sunnydale when I did. I knew Willow had used dangerous magics, but I was so engrossed in what had happened to Buffy that I never stopped to think about the rest of you.” He patted her hand gently, then reached up to remove his glasses and wipe them absently.

Spike grinned ruefully. “You weren’t the only one consumed with Buffy,” he commented.

Giles shook his head, rolling his eyes before he segued to a less unpalatable subject.

“If you do this, Spike, I will need to hear from you every week about Willow’s progress. I’ll trust you to tell me what I need to know. I’m sure you understand what the consequences could be.”

Spike nodded. “It’s a deal then.”

Anya smiled.

“So, what’s it to be?” he asked her. “You going to pop me over there or is it the witch express?”

Giles cleared his throat. “Um, neither actually,” he replied. “Anya can’t teleport others, only herself. I forgot you wouldn’t know that. You’ll be flying – it’s business class, and I’ve warned the airline that you have a strong sunlight allergy and cannot be exposed to any ultraviolet rays. They assure me they’ve dealt with the same problem many times.” He broke off, a quizzical look on his face. “I suspect I should be more bothered by that particular piece of news. Seems vampires are finally catching up with the times.”

Spike grinned. Less at the joke, more at the business class ticket. Free booze, fancy food and the comfort to stretch his legs. It didn’t get much better. “I’ll be there,” he replied. “So, have you told anyone I’ll be back?”

“You mean Buffy?” Anya asked in her usual direct manner. “No; Giles thought you might not want her to know just yet. Of course, I don’t know how that will work out,” she continued, “since Giles gave her a key to the shop and she comes and goes as she likes. So she will probably see you accidentally anyway.” She paused, considering. “I don’t think she really likes surprises.”

“I know she’ll find out pretty quick, but I’d just as soon keep it quiet for now, thanks,” Spike replied. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to tell her he was back, or when it had progressed from if to how although that was probably around the time he’d agreed to work at what was effectively her second home. At any rate, he was certain he could do it better than Anyanka.

“You go up to London much, Rupert?” he asked casually.

Giles looked surprised. “Every fortnight or so. I consult occasionally at the British Museum, and the Watchers’ Council have a library there that I try to visit fairly regularly. Why?”

“Got someone I’d like you to keep an eye on, if you don’t mind. My great-niece, if you can believe it. She’s a feisty old bird, but she gets lonely. It’d be a relief to know someone was looking in on her.”

Spike rarely wished he had a camera, but the stunned look on Giles’ face really needed to be captured for posterity. He grinned.

“Tell you what, drive me back to London tomorrow and I’ll take you to meet her. We can take her out for dinner before I have to meet Willow.”

***

Dinner with Nancy went surprisingly well. With the exception, perhaps, of her asking Anya and Giles how long they had been a couple.

Giles had looked flustered, and Anya had explained, “Oh no. We’re not a couple. We only thought we were engaged and shared passionate kisses when Willow cast her forgetting spell, but then it wore off and I was engaged to Xander again. But he lacked the courage to tell me he didn’t want to get married and had only proposed because the world was ending, so he ran away from our wedding when a man I had formerly cursed showed him inaccurate visions of our unhappy future lives. Then I had badly timed comfort sex with Spike to help me feel better. But Xander and his friends all saw it on some spy cameras and were filled with moral outrage.” She looked at Giles, biting her lip. “That was an inappropriate level of detail, wasn’t it?”

Giles grinned at her. “As the only person here born after 1924, I really don’t feel qualified to pass judgement.”

Nancy twinkled at them both. “Personally, I always thought eavesdroppers deserve whatever they get to hear, my dear – or see, in this case.”

Later, when Giles and Anya had gone to fetch the car, she turned to Spike.

“I don’t know when I’ve seen a pair of young people so clearly suited to one another,” she whispered.

He laughed and kissed her. “You promise you’ll write to me?”

“Of course, Uncle Will. I always try to be a dutiful niece.”

He shook his head. “Incorrigible minx is more like it, love. And did you see the looks the waiter kept giving you every time you’d call me that?”

Old people weren’t supposed to grin. It was an expression typically lost some time in one’s forties, along with the wide-eyed stare of innocence. Somehow, Nancy had retained both, and demonstrated them in quick succession. “It’s a sign of respect, Uncle Will.”

“You’re not too old to put across my knee, missy,” he quipped back. “Well you are, actually. And I’ve got this bloody chip stopping me. But if I didn’t, and you were seventy years younger, I’d box your ears for you. Or tan your hide or … something nasty.”

Nancy looked at him with an affectionate smile. “I hope you were more convincing when you were evil.”

***

He met Willow where they had parted, in Trafalgar Square. She was full of stories of what she had learned to do, and how close she felt her powers were to being restored. She spoke a little about life with the coven, outlining her daily ritual and explaining the meditation and concentration exercises they had her working on, but lapsed into silence when he began to probe.

“This’ll be the only time we can catch up like this, love,” he said apologetically. “I won’t be able to meet up with you here again.”

She looked up, glaring at him in anger that instantly faded to hurt. “Why?”

“I’m heading back there. Can’t keep away, it seems.”

She frowned. “Back to Sunnydale? Will Buffy even want to see you?”

“I don’t know, but here’s what I reckon. If I stay clear of her, she needn’t ever know I’m back. But I can be there in case she needs me, rather than stuck here.”

Willow frowned thoughtfully. “Good luck,” she said. “I’d steer clear of Xander if I were you.”

He laughed. “No fear of that. And I don’t think you’ll get any arguments from him either. Think I’ll be keeping mostly to myself, although Anya’s promised me a job at the Magic Box. That’ll be the best way to reach me now.”

Willow looked at him strangely. “You’re going back to Sunnydale to work at the Magic Box, but you don’t think you’ll be seeing Xander or Buffy? I hope that invisibility thing works out for you, Spike.”