In
His Shadow (cont)
Author’s Note: This section contains dialogue from “The Gift”
written by Joss Whedon. These words are his. I am
just borrowing.
Chapter 8: Reunion
A battered streetlamp provided the only illumination in the
old, abandoned building, its yellow haze filtering through a smashed window to
glitter across the broken glass that littered the floor. The building's lone
occupant disrupted that light, his body throwing shadows across the dusty room
as he paced restlessly. He listened to the glass fragments crunch under his
boots, marginally calmed by the grating sound.
Spike was nervous, and that made him angry. Why should he be
nervous? He was the one that held Angel's potential happiness in his hands. Yeah,
he thought, but that won't do you a sodding bit of
good if the poof turns you into a pile of dust before you can even speak, now
will it? And he could think of a dozen reasons why Angel might do just
that, not the least of which being that Hairboy would
know that he'd been with Buffy. Well, maybe he could convince him her scent on
his coat was from a recent fight, rather than a shag.
Yeah, right, and he was the queen Mum.
Spike wanted to smoke, but that would disrupt the rhythm of
his pacing, so he had to decide which would be more calming. Finally opting for
the smoking, he halted, leaning against a support pole near the broken window. No
need to deprive myself of the night air, he reasoned. One advantage of
being a vampire, smoking didn't hurt your sense of smell. Though considering
the neighborhood, perhaps that might have been a good thing. Withdrawing a
cigarette from his tattered pack, he raised the flame of his silver lighter to
the tip. He sighed as he exhaled smoke and contemplated the darkness of the
warehouse, letting it distracted him only for a moment. Maybe this was
a mistake, he thought, then raised his head. Too late now though.
Angel was there. Spike could feel him.
"I hope you're planning to hear me out, before you do
anything rash," he said.
"I don't know what you could possibly have to say,
Spike. This must be some sort of trick. You'd never suggest doing this for me
otherwise. You..." Stopping abruptly, Angel stiffened, his hands clenching
into fists by his sides.
Oh, yeah, he knows.
Spike threw his cigarette down dramatically, making sure it flared in the dark
as it descended.
"Yeah, figured you'd be able
to tell. Suppose now you want to fight
first."
"First? If we fight, that's the only thing we'll be
doing," Angel growled. "What did you do to her, Spike?"
He began a slow, circling pace around the younger vampire.
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. No one ever
does," Spike said, his expression mimicking that of a martyr. He kept a
discreet, but wary eye on his grandsire. "So let's get this over with. You
can beat the shit out of me so you can feel all manly, then we can get down to
business. Doing minimum permanent damage would be to your benefit,
however."
"I'd rather kill you."
"Yeah, but then you won't get your cure, now will
you?" He gave Angel a smirk. "Unless that isn't what you really want.
Maybe you like that little clause in your curse. Gives you a good excuse to
walk away from her and still feel like you're the wronged party." Spike
pointed at him for emphasis and flashed him a smug look.
In response, Angel threw a punch, but his anger made it easy
for Spike to grab his wrist before the punch could connect.
"Ooh, what's the matter? Did I hit a nerve?" Spike
taunted him, and then grabbed Angel's other wrist, stopping the next strike as
well.
"I left, because I loved her enough to let her have a
life." Angel said through clenched teeth.
Spike could see the rage there behind his rival’s eyes, kept
in check only to deny him the satisfaction of claiming he was right.
"You were the one who pointed out we couldn't be
friends, remember?" Angel yanked both his hands out of Spike's grasp and
returned them to his sides, fists balled.
"If you really loved her, you would've made it
work."
Angel pushed him away a few feet, out of his personal space.
"You have no idea what love is Spike. What kind of sacrifice it
takes..."
"Don't I?" Spike's eyes flared and threatened to
turn gold. "I love that woman more than you ever will! I would do anything for her. I'd give my whole damn
life just for the chance of her love, but you're the one she loves. Nothing I do can change that. That's why
I'm here. That's why I'm doing this. For her! Not you."
Momentarily abandoning all plans of attack, Angel stared at
him in disbelief. If Spike had said that he was going to dance down the street
in a pink tutu, Angel couldn't have been more surprised. Actually, the tutu
sounded much more probable. He barked out a snorted laugh, just one, as he
searched Spike's blue eyes for any indication of deceit. He couldn't find any.
"Spike, you can't be serious? This makes no
sense."
"Never claimed it did.
Since when has love made sense?"
"You're telling me you love her? You love Buffy?"
"That's what I just got bloody through explaining to
you, you git. Weren't you paying attention?"
"Oh, I heard you. It's just... Spike you hate Buffy.
You've been trying to kill her for years."
"Past tense, mate.
Long time ago. Been in love with her
going on almost two years now. Couldn't kill her for a
year before that." He pointed to his head. "Got
a government chip in my noggin. It sends electric shocks to my brain if
I try to hurt a human. Can't kill anyone except demons.
That's been for three years now."
"Why'd you let the government..."
"I didn't let. They just did. Had no
choice in that. Fought it a long time, I did. Tried to
get it out. Gave up after a while." Spike
sighed heavily. "It's a bloody pain though. Sometimes the bad guys are
human, then I'm useless to the Slayer."
"So now you're telling me that you help Buffy? What do
you do? Go around killing vampires and demons?" Angel asked, his voice
dripping with skepticism.
"Yeah, I help. Or I did. Don't think she'll let me
anymore. Things got complicated."
"Why doesn't that surprise me? And why should I trust
this story that you've got a chip in your head, and even if you do, that you
wouldn't kill Buffy the first chance you had to get it out."
Spike sighed again. "The first part is easy. We go back
to your work, and I'll show you how it works. Doesn't take
much. Believe me, the blasted thing's sensitive. And the second, I don't
need the chip out to kill Buffy. Already could do that if I wanted. Some wonky side effect of her being brought back from the dead.
Don't want to kill her. If you need proof, I'll get you
"Spike this is crazy, and..."
"Look, what do you want to do? Do you want to go back
to your place and sort this out, or do you want to fight? Standing here bloody
talking is not one of the choices. It accomplishes shit."
"Oh, you're wrong about that, but we can continue
talking back at the hotel," Angel said. "But first..." With
inhuman speed, he boxed Spike on the side of the head. Hard.
Spike stumbled from the blow and looked angrily at his
grandsire. "Hey!" he objected.
"That's for touching Buffy," Angel told him.
"Be glad I don't kill you for it. Though how you talked her into
it..."
"I didn't talk her into anything. It was her idea. I'm
in love with the woman. You
really expected me to say, 'gee, Buffy, maybe we better not do this?'"
Spike asked him with a badly done country accent and a look that asked him if
he was crazy.
Angel glared at him.
"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist. She used me
good and proper, told me I was dirt, and dumped me. Oh, after she told me she
did want me, but she'd never love me, so it was killing her. Guess that was
somehow my fault." Spike
grumbled the last part, but his voice picked up again. He was on a roll.
"Worst part was, somehow in her mind, now she couldn't even be associated
with me anymore." He put his hands up and shrugged his shoulders before
gesturing to the door and continued as he started walking. "I mean,
where'd that come from? Before we started shagging we patrolled all the time
together. The rest of the bloody Scoobies knew that.
I was always at her house even before then to look after Dawn. Then suddenly
she can't even be seen talking like friends with me?" He scoffed.
"It's just Spike. He'll be there if we need him, otherwise treat him like
a dog. Never mind that he worked beside us all summer, killing the nasties..."
Angel would have stopped him, but it was like a train wreck
or a sideshow. He couldn't take his gaze away from the spectacle unfolding. Not
even Spike was this good at making up such an elaborate story.
Spike stopped his tirade as he came to his motorcycle, and
looked at Angel. "You got your car? If so, we'll have to
break and meet up at your place."
After letting the motorcycle catch his attention for a
moment, Angel looked at Spike. "And they said I was strange for driving a
convertible."
Spike shrugged. "Got it off of a demon I killed."
Smiling evilly and raising his eyebrows, he added, "Besides, the Slayer
liked it."
Angel shot him a murderous look but knew that's what Spike
was hoping for and stopped himself. He decided to goad
him back instead. Besides he could always kill him later. "So you really
helped Buffy's friends while she was gone?" He made sure to make it sound
like he thought it sweet.
Spike looked like he'd been caught. So Brood Boy had been
paying attention to his little tirade. He might as well come out and admit he
was a bloody poofter if he agreed, but lying would
make him look like he was making everything up. Damn Angel. He always did know
how to get to him. "Phh, I had to kill
something, right. Demons gotta kill. Might as well do it with help. 'M not
exactly popular with the demons these days. 'Sides, if I wasn't a good
little dog, they'd never let me see the Little Bit."
Angel raised his eyebrows in question. "Little
Bit?"
"Dawn, you git. I happen to like the girl. Just
like her Mum. That woman made a nice cuppa. Now are
you gonna ride with me or not?"
"I've got my car, though I've got to admit, that's a
nice ride."
"Hands off."
It'll be yours soon enough, he thought somewhat bitterly, then swallowed
his venom. He had to remember who this was for, who it always was for. Buffy.
"Hyperion Hotel," Angel told him.
Spike nodded and mounted the bike. He sped away loudly into
the night without looking back.
"Damn nice ride," Angel said as he watched him
leave.
*********
Entering the lobby with Spike in tow, Angel said "hey, Cordy," to Cordelia as he
crossed the floor. Spike noted that Angel didn't find it at all odd that she
was up at this time of night.
Cordelia
looked up briefly from the invoices she was sorting through, her gaze taking in
both vampires before returning to the bills. "Angel," she sighed.
"What's Spike doing here? I mean I know we help the hopeless, but I think
that's taking charity a little too far."
Spike gave her a winning smile. "That was funny. I see
you haven't lost your wit." He turned to Angel. "See, that's how you
make a joke. You should teach him sometime." The last remark he directed
back to Cordelia, his smile still radiating charm.
"I'm afraid that would also fall under the hopeless
category," Cordelia teased. "And why again
are you here?"
"Must be unpaid invoices," Angel explained,
indicating the papers Cordelia held with a movement
of his head. "They always make her a bit testy. Not much you can generally
do about it."
Sidling up to her, Spike tilted his head to look her over
from what he seemed to think was an interesting viewpoint. "Why, Cordelia, you look simply smashing once again. I love the hair."
Cordelia
smiled back, her mood brightening considerably. "Thanks. At least you
noticed. It took those guys weeks to notice I'd even changed it."
"Damn crime, that is," Spike commented, noticing
she didn't catch herself and say "Hey!" like the last time he
complimented her. Nor did he sense the trepidation that she showed last time
they met. This is going to be fun, he thought. When his smile turned
slightly evil, she frowned at him.
"What?" she asked, her tone more annoyed than
anything else. "Do I have something in my teeth?"
He reached out in a flash and grabbed her, vamping out, and
moved towards her neck as if to bite her. He let go before his fangs even touched
her and put his hands to his head in anticipation of the pain to come.
"Hey!" Cordelia
exclaimed. "Watch it, Fang Face!"
Angel moved forward, but oddly enough, Spike noted that once
he let go of the woman, Angel seemed to be moving to keep him safe, rather than
Cordelia.
"Wait a mo'," Spike said. "That's not
right." He pinched Cordelia on the arm.
"Ow!" Cordelia said, punching him hard on the arm in return.
"What are you doing, you freak? Angel what's the deal here? Are you going
to do something about this?"
Shaking his head almost comically, Spike looked at Angel.
"I swear there's a chip in my head. It's bloody supposed to activate when
I hurt a human. It can't have stopped working! Not now." A little note of
panic laced his voice.
Angel was looking at him, trying hard to suppress his
amusement.
"Angel, what is he blathering about and can I zap him or what?" Cordelia
asked in annoyance.
"No," Angel almost smiled, and then he forced
himself to be a little more serious. "No, Cordy,
he's got my cure. And what this was all about... he says that he's
harmless to humans, because he's got a chip in his head. I didn't entirely
believe him, so he was trying to use you as a guinea pig."
"That's right, and I'm telling the truth," Spike
said. "Don't know what's bloody wrong," he said, but he could tell
something was up by the amusement on Angel's face and his eyebrows lowered just
a little.
"And you said this 'chip' works on humans," Cordelia asked.
"Right.
Only doesn't go off if there's demon there..."
"Well, that's your problem, you moron," Cordelia told him, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
Spike looked at her as if she was daft.
"Duh!" she told him pointing to herself. "Part demon." To demonstrate her point, she put
down her invoices and brought some light to her fingertips.
"Cordelia, Sweetheart, don't
char anything else in the room. Angel did a good enough job with that, and I
really don't want to have to redecorate again," Lorne said as he glided
into the lobby.
As if the sight of Cordelia with
some obviously strange changes wasn't surprising enough, the appearance of the
demon with the bold fashion sense threatened to break Spike's grasp of reality.
Looking at Angel slightly agape, he asked, "Did I just fall into an
alternate dimension? Is anyone here even remotely normal? And lastly," he
added, indicating Cordelia with a movement of his
hand passing over her form, "what the hell happened to the
cheerleader?"
Cordelia
rolled her eyes. "I have to tell this story again?"
"Oh, like you don't love being the all-powerful
one?" Lorne chided her.
Cordelia
ignored him and turned to Spike. "I inherited visions. They hurt. They
were killing me. I could either lose the visions and
become a famous and wealthy actress - the only catches being Angel would go
insane, Wesley would lose an arm, and potential bad might occur without
wonderful me to save the world - or I could become part demon so... I'm part
demon. No big deal."
With a turn and a snort, she moved back into the office, taking
her invoices with her. Almost immediately she poked her head back out.
"Oh, and if you really don't have Angel's cure, or if you harm him in any
way, I can obliterate you so fast you won't even see it coming." A smile
crossed her lips, but somehow it brought a chill down Spike's spine.
"Well, right, then," Spike said, turning back to
Angel.
Angel shrugged a little sheepishly. "Cordy's a dangerous woman. I wouldn't tempt
her."
Spike just nodded once before saying, "Well, speaking
of dangerous, who's the fashion rebel with the killer ensemble, here? That
could blind a bloke at forty paces."
Lorne's tangerine suit and bright yellow shirt did have
almost a glow of their own. The demon didn’t seem to notice though; he stood
there as if he was the height of fashion, his smile and facial expression
showing nothing but complete ease with his whereabouts.
"Well not all of us can pull off the black leather look
that you seem to have down pretty well," Lorne said. "I'm
Lorne."
"Well, obviously demon, so no help there," Spike
said as he searched the lobby. The next potential victim he saw didn't even
seem to notice him. The large, dark-haired man with the impossibly blue eyes
went strait into the office and put his arms around Cordelia.
"Let me guess, not human either," Spike said to Angel.
"That's the Groosalug, and
he's half demon."
"Isn't anyone around here human?" Spike asked.
"Well Fred and Gunn, but they're out on
assignment."
"You're not looking for dinner are you?" Lorne
asked, 'because I don't think Angel would allow that."
"No," Spike said, strangely offended. "I was
trying to show Brood Boy, here, that I've got a chip in my head that makes it
so I can't hurt humans, but I can't find any bloody humans to test it on.
Where's Harris when you need a head to smack?"
"You get that urge, too, huh?" Angel asked him.
Spike snorted. "Doesn't give me a bloody break, and
makes Buffy's life harder, he does. She's so worried he's gonna
find out about us." Spike shook his head.
Lorne cleared his throat. "Hey, listen Blue Eyes, there
is another way."
"He's not gonna like
it," Cordelia singsonged
from the office. She was gathering up her purse and jacket.
"What? What am I not gonna
like?" Spike asked suspiciously.
"I can read your intentions. And your
destiny," Lorne supplied.
"But..." Spike prompted.
"You have to sing first," Cordelia
supplied.
"No, no, and no. No more singing," Spike stated
vehemently. "That went to hell enough last time. Bloody
singing demon."
"A singing demon?"
Lorne asked, intrigued.
Angel snorted. "And this was scary?"
Cordelia
came into the room carrying her purse and jacket, Groo
beside her. "Did he sing like Angel? 'cuz that would be scary."
"Hey, I don't sing that badly," Angel complained.
"The Gelled One sings?" Spike asked with an evil
smile. "I'll do it if he does."
"No!" Cordelia objected.
"I mean there has to be another way. You don't have to sing much,"
she said to Spike, her eyes begging him.
Sighing, Spike looked at the green demon. "So you're
not all evil like that other bloke? 'Cuz he was..."
"What did he do?" Lorne looked genuinely
interested. "I mean if there are evil singing demons, I need to know. Gives the rest of us a bad reputation."
"Came out of some hell
dimension because of a talisman. Made people sing stuff.
Spill their secrets when they shouldn't. Then there was the whole bursting into
flames thing. Almost lost the Slayer..."
"Buffy burst into flames?" Angel asked, obviously
alarmed.
Spike shook his head. "I didn't let her. Stopped her 'fore she did. But that's kinda
what started this whole thing with her and me."
"Because you saved her," Angel said.
"No, the singing.
I told her stuff I didn't want her to know right then. Changed
our relationship. She was kinda relying on me
at the time. Stuff she couldn't tell her friends, and..." He shook his
head. "I don't want to bloody talk about this," he said suddenly.
"It's not important."
"I think it might be," Lorne told him. "Sing
me a few bars of what you sang to her,"
"What? No! It was personal."
"Just a few lines, and it'll
be all over. I can tell you everything you want to know, and assure Angelcakes here that you're telling the truth. Come on, if
Angel can sing Barry Manillow..."
Spike raised an eyebrow at his grandsire.
"Go on," Lorne encouraged him. "Just look at
me. Pretend they aren't even there."
"I'm doing this for her..." he muttered before
singing, "I died so many years ago, but you make me feel like it isn't so,
and why you've come to be with me, I think I finally know..." he stopped,
glared at Lorne, and crossed his arms.
Cordelia
exhaled. "Why is it the evil ones that can sing?" she asked the sky.
"Come on Groo. We better get food, I have a
feeling it's going to be a long night."
"Are you going to get chicken wings?" Spike asked,
his momentary embarrassment forgotten at the prospect of spicy wings.
"Chinese," Cordelia
answered.
"Ooh, that's good too, pick me up some kung pow chicken."
"But you're a vampire," Cordelia
snorted. "You don't eat food."
"I do, too. I eat all the time," Spike said,
offended.
Lorne cleared his throat. "He's especially fond of
those onion things that look like a flower."
"Bloody brilliant those are," Spike agreed,
nodding. "Hey!" he added, looking at Lorne.
"Gotta say, Blue eyes, you're
the strangest vampire I've come across, not including Angelcakes
here."
"Oh, now I want to stay," Cordelia
said.
"Can't, honey, you know that. This is for him, and in this case for Angel. Who under this unique
circumstance can stay."
"But then we will not know if there is evil to
fight," the Groosalug said.
"Don't worry, I'll pry it out of Angel later," Cordelia said to Groo as she
walked with him towards the door.
"No you won't!" Spike yelled in her direction, but
Cordelia was almost out the door and ignored him.
Suddenly not so sure he wanted Angel to hear his secrets,
Spike gave Lorne a worried look.
"Did you tell him?" the green demon asked Spike.
"Tell him what? About Buffy? Didn't really have to."
"No. About your plans, Sweet Cheeks?
About what you intend to do for him?"
A venomous scowl preceded the response. "My name is
Spike. And no, I haven't told him yet."
"Don't you think it's time you did?"
"Tell me what?" Angel asked. A concerned
expression crossed his face, and his eyes showed suspicion.
"Was working up to it.
He has to believe me first. 'bout what I'm telling him.
'bout the chip and Buffy."
"I can assure him about the chip," Lorne said as
he turned to Angel. "It's in there alright. Tiny little bugger, but it
packs quite the wallop. It hasn't had too much to do in the last few months
thought, has it?"
Spike looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Not sure I
know what you mean."
"I mean that you've gotten used to it. You don't test
it much anymore. There was that one incident, but you really weren't that mad
when it turned out the chip was fine. I believe you said something about her
having something wrong with her, not you.” A raised eyebrow accompanied his
statement.
"Didn't mean it that way. 'S not
natural, this." He pointed to his head.
"No it isn't," Lorne agreed. "But you are
unusual all by yourself, Blondie... er, Spike,"
he amended. He ducked his head slightly. "Okay this is gonna
be a little painful. Not as bad as when I did this with Cordelia
and flew across the room but..."
"What are you gonna do?"
Spike took a step back and eyed Lorne suspiciously.
"You want to convince Angel your feelings are genuine.
Well, we're gonna relive some. You
and me."
"Don't want you in my bloody head..." Spike
started to object, but Lorne reached out and placed his hands on either side of
the vampire's forehead before he could finish his tirade. Some light flared
from his green-skinned fingers and Spike's eyes went wide for a moment as some
sort of connection was established between them. At the barest level of
detection, an almost thrumming vibration rose and subsided. Then Lorne started
speaking.
"The weapons are in the chest over by the TV. I'll grab
the stuff upstairs.
Spike replied easily, the scene vividly coming into his
memory. "Uh, Buffy... if you want to just hand them over the
threshold..." Despite Lorne's contact with his head, Spike still moved
slightly, his hand gestures punctuating his words. Angel watched in
fascination. He'd never seen his friend do this before.
Lorne continued with his role. "Come in, Spike."
Spike continued as well,
completely involved in his memory and oblivious to his surroundings.
"Hm, Presto. No
barrier." A pause followed and an expression Angel couldn't entirely
recognize. Gratitude came closest. He could almost imagine the scene the two
were playing out in front of him. "Um, we won't bother with the small
stuff. A couple of axes should hold off Glory's mates while you take on the
lady herself."
"We aren't all going to make it, you know?"
"Yeah.
Always knew I'd go down fighting."
The slight hitch in his voice and the look in his eyes told
Angel that Spike hadn't been joking in his belief that he might die.
Lorne's tone was equally somber. "I'm counting on you. To protect her."
"'til the end of the world.
Even if that happens to be tonight."
Angel heard the emotion in his voice, the seriousness of
Spike's promise.
"I'll be a minute," Lorne responded.
Spike's face twitched and he grimaced before returning to
the replay of his memories. "I know you'll never love me. I know I’m a
monster. But you treat me like a man and that's... Go get your stuff. I'll be
here."
Spike closed his eyes and panted a bit, but Lorne didn't
break the contact between them. There was a slight shifting in the air, the
thrumming returning for a moment, and somehow Angel knew this was a different
memory now.
Lorne began speaking. "Well, what do you know? It's
just about that time."
Angel could tell by the menacing tone of his friend's voice
that he was no longer playing Buffy. This appeared to be a much different
character.
"Doesn't a fella stay dead
when you kill 'em?"
Spike's tone was different as well. Gone was the gentle,
emotion-laced voice of the previous scene. It now carried an edge, a slight
desperation that might go unnoticed by someone who didn't know him as well as Angel
did.
"Look who's talking?"
"Come on, Doc. Let's you and me have a go."
Spike's shoulder movement and body language told Angel that
this was a confrontation.
Lorne's character was cool, detached. "I, ah, do have a
prior engagement."
"This won't take long."
"No, I don't imagine it will."
Spike's body jerked and he let out a strangled yell. Then
his face became determined, his breath coming in unneeded pants. "You
don't come near the girl, Doc."
"I don't smell a soul anywhere on you. Why do you even
care?"
"I made a promise to a lady."
"Oh?" A pause accompanied by jerky movements.
"Then I'll send the lady your regrets."
The look that came over Spike's face then almost broke
Angel's heart. He could only guess that the girl Spike spoke of was Dawn. That
would explain the utter horror and desperation reflected in the blue eyes as he
pleadingly said, "No." And then he screamed.
Spike closed his eyes again and his face twisted a little.
Neither Lorne nor Spike moved for a moment, but then Spike's eyes flew open. A
look of disbelief crossed his features before they crumpled into anguish. His
hands moved to cover his face, and he sobbed.
Lorne let the contact break as Spike fell to his knees and
continued crying pitifully. The green demon looked at Angel, tears in his eyes.
"There was..." he cleared his throat. ”There
was going to be one more scene, but I think he's had enough." He shrugged,
waiting a moment while the vampire sobbed before adding apologetically,
"He'd relived that one so many times I didn't think it would be so raw
when I saw it flash briefly during his reading."
"I'm bloody right here," Spike ground out through
gritted teeth, adding, "you poncy bastard."
He wiped fiercely at his tear stained cheeks.
"What was that?" Angel asked Lorne. "Was
it... Buffy?" He sounded slightly disbelieving.
Lorne nodded softly. "Well first in that last scene, it
was a young girl named Dawn. The last was Buf..."
Spike suddenly leaped from his knees and grabbed Lorne by
the lapels. "Don't you ever," he growled. "How could you do that
to me?" His voice was still choked with emotion.
"I felt I had to. Angel had to see."
"Did it have to be that? Couldn't it have been..."
"Don't you think it's time you stopped blaming
yourself, Spike?"
Spike released him with a snarl. "You don't know a
thing. She counted on me to protect Dawn! If I'd a done that..."
"You weren't the only one there that night," Lorne
interrupted him. "There were others on that doomed mission. And doomed it
was. Did you ever stop to think that it was meant to be? That the powers had
that planned all along?"
Spike shook his head. "No. It was my fault. My fault
she had to die, and my fault that she's unhappy now."
Lorne gave him a sly smile. "Because you were the one
that tore her out of heaven, brought her back to life to claw her way out of
her coffin..."
"I had nothing to do with that!"
"My point exactly," Lorne said. "Why do you
think it was you she wanted to be with when she came back? You understood. Even that first night. You were the one that held her
bleeding hands and told her you knew what it was like to claw your way out of
your own coffin. You knew she needed time. Time to just be.
No expectations. You gave her all you could, Spike. You're a vampire after all.
What more could anyone ask of you?"
Spike snorted bitterly. "It wasn't enough."
"Didn't say you were perfect," Lorne told him with
a smirk. "You did help in the train wreck that followed between the two of
you. I'm just letting you know that you weren't the only one to blame, Spike.
There's plenty to go around. You're the one here now, trying to do something
for her."
"Yeah, but if I'd kept my promise..."
"Because after Buffy died, you skipped town and left
all those bad memories behind you."
"I didn't leave," Spike corrected him. "I
stayed and took care of Dawn." He exhaled and rolled his eyes. "I get
it. I stayed so you think I kept my promise. It's not as simple as that."
"It never is. What would have happened if Buffy hadn't
figured out she could sacrifice herself? Would she
have thrown Dawn in the portal to save the world?"
Spike stared at him. "She's a bloody hero, but they
couldn't expect her to..."
"And that's what she said that night. That she would do
whatever she had to to protect Dawn, isn't it?"
Spike nodded softly. "Said the last thing Dawn would
see was Buffy protecting her, but...
Lorne interrupted him. "And that's why Buffy told you
that she depended on you to protect Dawn. Because if it came down to it, you
would have stood by Buffy’s side, protecting Dawn while the world ended around
you, if that was the way Buffy wanted it to be." He looked directly into
Spike's eyes. "Because Buffy knew the last thing she would've seen was you protecting her."
"Bloody right," Spike said softly, his voice a
little raspy. "I would've done anything she wanted." He looked away
from Lorne's intense gaze, and shook his head. "How did I let it all go so
wrong? When did I become so bloody selfish again?"
Lorne sighed. "Sometimes things happen, Spike. We can't
always make the right choice. It's not in our nature. And you know it's not in
yours. That's why you're here. That's why you want to do this. So you won't
make so many more wrong choices." His gaze moved to Angel. "I think
it's time you explain to Angel what you intend to do."
Spike looked at his dark-haired rival, not expecting to see
the surprise in his brown eyes. Somehow he knew that Angel believed in his love
for Buffy, and he had Lorne to thank for that. Maybe later.
Right now he had something else he had to do. "Angel," Spike began
solemnly, "there's a small problem with the spell to fix the
curse..."
Chapter 9: Of Demons and Men
Spike watched Angel’s mouth gape slightly and his eyebrows
raise enough to rival his hair. He’d seen this expression before, very
recently, on
“Are you crazy?” Yup that was it. Well, close enough anyway.
This time Spike had a nicely planned answer, one that was at
least mostly truthful and likely much safer than telling Angel the real reason
he was doing this. Besides mostly truthful was still pretty good, considering.
He was a vampire after all. “‘m not crazy. And, yeah,
before you ask, I know what it means. I’ve got to do this, though.”
“Why, Spike? Why would you be willing to do this?” Angel
looked truly concerned.
“Lots of reasons.
The first being that I love her. Second, as your
green demon said, it will keep me from making so many wrong choices.” That’s
close enough to the truth, Spike thought. Third, I have issues with Angelus
and would love to get rid of him. And lastly, I love her.”
“You said that one already,” Angel pointed out.
“Yeah, but I thought it should count as two.”
Angel smiled a little at that. “I guess it should.” He
sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not sure you’re ready
for this. Having a soul isn’t easy. Not a day goes by that it doesn’t hurt.”
His eyes probed Spike, searching for more.
Damn, he was going to have to tell the truth. He exhaled. “I
understand pain. I had 147 days of it this past summer.” Angel opened his
mouth, but Spike stopped him, with a raised hand. “But it would be worse...” He
closed his eyes and let his hand fall back to his side. “It would be worse if I
hurt her. Really hurt her. I’d never forgive myself.”
Angel growled low in his throat as he figured out Spike’s
meaning.
Even though he was expecting that response, for some reason
it made Spike angry. When he opened his eyes they showed fire. “Oh, come on
now. I’ve bloody tried. Do you know how hard it is? How frustrating? I’ve been
trying for over a year, and still...”
As Angel’s growl stopped, he nodded softly. “Yes, I do know
how hard it is. I’m surprised you can even do it at all.” After contemplating
him a moment, Angel’s expression became one of resignation. “And if you really
want to do this, then... I’ll try to help you through it as best I can.”
Spike nodded. “That’s all I ask. Well, I do have one more
request.”
Angel raised his eyebrows. “Which is?”
He suddenly looked down sheepishly. “Um, If you could go
back to Sunnydale at least one day a month...”
“I hope to go more than that,” Angel interrupted.
Spike looked at him. “...to spend a day with Dawn.” He tried
not to look embarrassed.
Angel considered teasing him about the request, because it
would be so easy. And likely fun. But after looking at
his hopeful face, he couldn’t. By asking, Spike was letting himself be
vulnerable in front of him. Angelus had crushed him too many times in similar
situations. He couldn’t do that to him now.
“I can’t not go back to see her,” Spike was continuing.
“She’s had too many men in her life leave her and...”
Angel put a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”
Spike nodded. “Good.” He took a breath and squared his
shoulders. “I think I’d like to get some rest. It’s been a bugger of a week.”
Angel led him upstairs and showed him to a room. “We’ll talk
some more tomorrow.” Spike just nodded and closed the door.
Alone with his thoughts, Spike let out a rush of air he
didn’t need. That had gone more smoothly than he’d hoped. He had worried that
Angel might be wary of giving up his inner demon and accepting him instead.
Strange that he hadn’t been. Almost as strange as the fact that he’d rather be
a demon for Angel than for the William whose body he
inhabited and whose memories he shared. He guessed that he and his grandsire
each had a part of themselves that they didn’t like. Those parts just happened
to be different.
As his thoughts began to drift into unsettling territory,
such as would his own personality be lost when he merged, Spike decided to
distract himself by getting ready for bed. Too late to turn
back now anyway. He lay on the bed with his back against the headboard,
not bothering to get undressed or slide under the covers. He wasn’t ready to be
comfortable here. This wasn’t his crypt. It wasn’t home - yet. Gazing around
the room at the old-fashioned decor, he snorted. What else could he have
expected from his grandsire? Though that peach-colored lamp with the little
fringes on it? That just had to be the green demon’s doing. Not even Angel’s
tastes were that poncy. Shaking his head, Spike
turned out the light, laid his head on the pillow, and waited for sleep to
come.
When Angel descended the stairs, Lorne was waiting for him.
“Did he explain everything?” the green demon asked.
Angel nodded. “But I’m not sure I’ll ever understand it.
He’s a vampire. That’s not the kind of demon that would willingly take on the
burden he’s planning on taking.”
“He’s unusual as I said. And he’s trying hard not to lose
the fight.”
“Spike mentioned that it was difficult.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Lorne said. “The emotions
raging in that boy sometimes threaten to tear him apart.”
“He always was passionate, impulsive,” Angel agreed. “And as
usual, I’m not sure he’s ready for what he’s getting himself into.”
“Probably not,” Lorne agreed. “But he wants to do it. He
feels he has to do it. That much I did see. My readings never lie.” Lorne shook
his head a little. “Though the remorse was unexpected.
I’ve read vampires before, and not including you, I’ve never seen so much guilt
in one.”
“Remorse?”
It wasn’t an emotion Angel had ever associated with Spike before. Unless it was
a fleeting twinge for snapping at Drusilla.
“It was definitely there. He really did blame himself for
Buffy’s death even though he tried to prevent it. If not for his promise and
the little girl, I’m not sure he would have made it through the summer.”
“He really loves Buffy that much?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“No, that’s good, because he’s going to need it.” Angel knew
that more than anyone. Defeating Angelus wasn’t going to be easy. Neither would
surviving the remorse the soul would cause. He might
feel it for Buffy now, but the guilt that came from causing so many deaths was
an entirely different kind of pain. Angel knew Spike would need his love if he
ever hoped to survive it.
*********
Gnash smiled at his new toy. He took the amulet Spike had
recently acquired for him and placed it around the statue’s neck. After
incanting a few words, he waited impatiently, gazing into the large eyes of the
odd bust. He snorted when nothing seemed to happen. Infuriating legends: one
never could be too sure which were real and which were only
myth. He opened his toothy mouth to try again, but stopped as a light
started to shimmer in the statue’s eyes.
He rubbed his hands together. “Well what do you know? You
were just a little rusty,” he said to the bronze monstrosity. This would make
things so much easier. Now he could spy on others without having to actually
travel to where they were. “Hmm, who to check up on first?” he asked no one in
particular. As the answer came to him, his smile widened. Of course. There was a certain
traitorous vampire who should soon be bringing Angelus back into play. If he hadn’t done so already. Gnash had wanted be a fly on
the wall to see that. And now he had the chance. As long as the delay to find
the statue hadn’t made him miss it, that is. Taking a breath to calm his
excitement, the demon said the words that would give him a window on Spike and
hopefully let him see how his plan was progressing.
When the scene coalesced, the smile soon disappeared from
the demon’s lips. He listened as Spike explained to Angel how he intended to
get around the problem with the spell. Gnash’s
carefully planned spell. “How did he find out?” The demon felt rage and a
desire to wreak bloody revenge on the vampire, but he knew Spike was out of
reach unless he went there and that... well, that wasn’t his way. He didn’t get
directly involved. That was for other demons, lesser demons. His roar of
frustration almost made him miss the sudden appearance of the odd woman in his
room.
“I’m the demon Anyanka here to
help you in your quest for vengeance,” the woman intoned with little enthusiasm
and an expression even more bland. If that was even possible.
Staring at her in confusion, the rage fizzling from him like
a candle flame being snuffed out with wet fingers, Gnash was speechless. The
woman, however, gave him no time to recover before her entire attitude changed
abruptly.
“What the hell! You’re not a woman. And you’re a demon.” She
looked around his home. “A demon who does magic, and
therefore doesn’t need me.” She placed her hands on her hips, somehow making
the mundane gesture seem intimidating. “Are you deliberately trying to waste my
time, because I do have a shop to run?”
Gnash wrinkled his leathery brow. “I didn’t mean to.” He
hadn’t called a vengeance demon, had he? Sometimes the ever present magic that
was part of him did have unexpected consequences.
The woman threw her hands up and then let them slap against
her skirt-clad thighs. “Oh, sure men never mean to. They make it seem like they’re being nice by letting you
do it. ‘Do it however you want, Honey.’ Then they never even consider telling
you otherwise until it’s much too late. So they chicken out instead, but you’ve
already made all the plans and preparations, so instead you look like the idiot
while he’s off somewhere tra la la.”
She looked at him with contempt. “Well don’t look at me. Do your own stupid
vengeance!”
Before Gnash could even breathe, she had vanished. He’d never
seen a more confusing or irritating woman. He should have zapped that demon
where she stood for talking to him like that. At least he should have, but all
he could do was smile. What a woman. He could think about that one all the rest
of the night. Turning to the statue, a smirk still on his face, he chanted the
words to put the spell to sleep. Revenge could wait until tomorrow.
*********
Anger.
Humiliation. He still felt it even now, a day
later. It wouldn’t let him sleep.
He sighed. Maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe it was time
for something simpler. Dead was dead, no matter how someone got that way. Buffy
might be strong, but she wasn’t Superman. At the thought, an evil smile crossed
his lips. No, she wasn’t Superman. Her body wasn’t impervious, she wasn’t
faster than a speeding bullet, and he didn’t even need kryptonite. Opening a
desk drawer,
Except... he didn’t have any bullets. He double-checked all
the drawers just to be sure, and then yelling in frustration at the ceiling, he
made himself a promise. Tomorrow he would have them. And tomorrow the Slayer
would die.
*********
Across town,
Her lover had been so affected by their visit to Spike’s
earlier that day; it had tugged at
Gently touching a lock of the golden hair beside her,
*********
Gnash gazed into the eyes of the bronze statue and found the
scene had changed little from earlier that day. After a pleasant night of
contemplating the strange woman demon that had visited him and her parting words
“Do your own stupid vengeance,” Gnash had decided to try doing just that. Spike
had been asleep, however, as had the vampire Angel, so the demon had spent the
rest of the waning morning using his new toy to spy on others of interest. Now
as afternoon set in, Spike still slept - the lazy creature - and Angel had just
woken. Deciding not to let that deter him, Gnash decided he’d look in on some
of the other potential players in his little scheme.
The demon watched the Slayer and her sister leave their home,
and would likely have followed their progress if something moving in the
backyard hadn’t caught his eye. It moved clumsily and with no stealth, and
after watching a little longer, Gnash recognized that it was a human male. The
frustration and anxiety etched in the man’s facial expressions and body
movements seemed almost palpable. Gnash rubbed his hands in anticipation. This
human was definitely up to no good. What an interesting place to start.
*********
Buffy felt content. And she still rode a high from having
put a stop to
“That’s not a hot fudge sundae.”
“Very observant of you,” Dawn retorted with a smug smile.
“You were supposed to be getting a hot fudge sundae,” Buffy
complained, adding a big sister pout. “The calories are only guilt-free if you
get one too.”
Dawn smiled in satisfaction. “I decided on this instead.”
She scooped a few bites of ice cream out of a tall glass and into her mouth,
savoring the taste, before she used the spoon to mix the rest vigorously.
“And ‘this’ is?” Buffy prompted.
“A root beer float,” Dawn told her before she took a sip,
letting the froth get on her lips then licking it off.
Buffy caught the look in her sister’s eyes and knew there
was more to this than Dawn was telling. Her sister had one of those secret
smiles that came from a memory you hesitated to share, because half the fun
came from it being yours alone. At least for a little while.
Taking another bite of her sundae, Buffy smiled at her sister. “I didn’t know
you liked root beer floats.”
Dawn took another sip, closing her eyes briefly as she
swallowed. She smiled warmly back at Buffy. “Oh I do, but a friend recently
reminded me just how good they are.”
Buffy was itching to know, but she wouldn’t ask. She didn’t
want to do anything to break this spell, this moment of shared happiness. So
she’d let Dawn have her secret for a while. That’s what big sisters did.
*********
“There’s a much more subtle and satisfying way to do this,
you know.”
Chapter 10: Alliances
Finally the demon turned black, cold eyes in his
direction. “Water?” His odd host asked him, and
surprisingly, his talloned hand held a glass of
water.
Nodding and reaching carefully to accept the glass,
“You were going to kill the Slayer with this,” he stated,
his tone suggesting he wasn’t expecting
“Vampire?”
“Yes. Spike. I have plans for him. And the Slayer. Though now that he is aware of my little
deceit, I will need help to salvage the situation.
That is where you come in, my boy. What is your name, anyway?”
“
“Well,
*********
Spike roared down the highway on his motorcycle, relishing
the feeling of the wind in his hair. He effortlessly avoided the cars, his
vampire reflexes making the task simple. The freedom almost made him forget the
Desoto. The better gas mileage didn’t hurt either.
As soon as the sun had set, he and Angel had decided to take
both the bike and the convertible. That way, Spike had reasoned, the bike could remain in Sunnydale
while the car went back to
Spike tried not to frown at the thought. He had broken down
earlier that afternoon and asked Angel whether he minded him taking his demon’s
place. He’d managed to fall asleep the night before, but the lingering thought
greeted him when he awoke the next afternoon, and he had to ask. Anxiously
Spike had waited for the answer, worried the question
might make Angel change his mind. It hadn’t. Angel assured him that he held no
sentimental attachments to the creature that had done so much harm, especially
to the people he cared about. Spike nodded, satisfied, and assured Angel he had
no sentimental attachments to the man that had been William the Bloody awful
poet and certainly wouldn’t want him taking over. “That ponce
would be of no help to Buffy,” he’d told him. “She has the Scoobies
for research.”
As if he could outrun his own thoughts, Spike sped up to
pass a car. The greeting from the “Welcome to Sunnydale”
sign couldn’t come quick enough for him, and when he reached home, he hoped
that the witches were well on their way to gathering all the necessary items
for the spell. He was going to need all the energy he had just to keep it
together enough to get this thing done. Spike couldn’t wait for it to be over.
Although he supposed the showdown with Angelus would be satisfying. Any
thoughts that Angelus might defeat him were kept on the periphery. That wasn’t
an option. Besides he had a good reason to win. Whereas Angelus had only hate
and rage, Spike had the best reasons of all. He had Buffy and Dawn. If that
wasn’t reason enough, he didn’t know what was.
*********
The next morning found Buffy in amazingly good spirits,
still happy from her previous afternoon’s visit to the ice cream parlor with
Dawn. She could feel her body energized from her first good night of sleep in a
long while. Or maybe it was a lingering sugar rush. The thought of sugar
brought on minor guilt as the memory of a rather large and tasty ice cream
sundae reared its head. Cereal, fruit and orange juice were definitely on the
menu for breakfast this morning.
She yawned as she stretched, finally throwing the covers
back. At least it was Sunday, meaning no work for her, but definite homework
for Dawn. This little twist of fate usually left the television remote
legitimately in her hands. Of course that would only be for the afternoon. A
major patrol was on the menu for tonight, a consequence of her having done only
a cursory sweep the previous evening, but in a way,
she was looking forward to patrol. Although she had to admit, it wasn’t as much
fun as it had been in the past. There was no denying she missed patrolling with
Spike, or at least she missed it before things got so complicated. Buffy shook
her head - no thinking about the annoying vampire right now. That was a
sure-fire way to make her mood turn gloomy. Throwing on her comfy robe, she
bypassed the bathroom, deciding that breakfast would come first this morning.
Her shower could wait just this once.
Downstairs, her plans for breakfast were already going awry
as she watched Dawn pour the last of the milk into a bowl of cocoa puffs. Buffy
silenced her mental “grr”, deciding that yogurt would
do nicely, and hey, it already contained fruit, so no need to do any extra
slicing. She poked her head in the refrigerator; her gaze falling on the empty
place where she knew the yogurt had been yesterday. Sure enough, an inspection
of the trash revealed a discarded yogurt cup. Okay, she thought, note
to self - either hide the yogurt or don’t be the last one up on shopping day.
Dawn must have noticed her plight, because she turned a
sheepish look in her direction. “You want some of my cereal?”
“I think I reached my sugar quota for the weekend yesterday,
but thank you.” She fished the bread off the counter and noted the two sad
heels that were left in the package. As she plopped them into the toaster, she
sighed and raised her eyes skyward. “Now you’re just trying to piss me off, but
I’m not gonna let you.”
“Having conversations with imaginary people?” Dawn asked
snidely.
“Pretty close,” Buffy retorted back, giving her sister a
meaningful glance.
Dawn snorted. At one point in time, such a comment might
have gotten a rise out of the younger Summers, but not
anymore. Dawn was definitely growing up. “Well, at least an imaginary someone
might find what you have to say interesting.”
Grinning into the refrigerator, Buffy took out the margarine
spread, noting happily that at least that
wasn’t empty. The same could barely be said of the orange juice. She took the
carton out, intending to drink it straight from the container. Hey if there was
only a little left, and she was going to finish it, no need to dirty a glass.
Buffy put it almost defiantly on the counter, daring Dawn to question her
manners, but again her sister didn’t take the bait. She’d make sure to gulp it
loudly in that case. The plan amused her as she buttered her sad toast.
Dawn obviously saw the grin. “Why do you look all serial
killer all of a sudden?”
Buffy just smiled more broadly and took a loud gulp of the
orange juice.
“Eeww, pig much,” Dawn exclaimed.
Buffy kept herself from laughing with difficulty, because
having juice up her nose had not been part of the plan, but as she extended the
juice container to Dawn and asked, “why did you want some?” she had to giggle.
“No, thank you. Geez, and I thought Spike had horrendous eating habits.”
Not even that little reminder of Spike could cause Buffy to
stop giggling. Besides, it was likely a comment that came from Dawn’s summer
spent with the vampire. Buffy had to admit, from what she had heard, Spike had kept that part of his promise to look after
Dawn. She put down the juice and took a bite of toast. “No one else’s eating
habits could be that bad. Spike thinks flowery onion things and beer are two of
the basic food groups.”
“And spicy chicken wings,” Dawn added with a smile. “And you
wouldn’t believe what he does with them either.”
“So not falling for that bait,” Buffy said. “This toast is
almost enough in itself to make me lose my appetite.” It was a miracle she had
almost finished choking the bland stuff down.
The door opened and Anya came in
without the pretense of knocking. “I saw a Kunthar
demon late last night. You may want to go get it tonight. That breed can cause
a lot of damage rather quickly if it decides it’s hungry. Or
horny.”
Dawn almost spit her mouthful of cocoa puffs. Buffy looked
skyward again. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“Is she having conversations with imaginary people?” Anya asked. “Because that would be
disturbing and inappropriate.”
Dawn shrugged, “I already asked that question. The jury’s
still out on that.”
Buffy sighed and threw the remains of her toast in the
trash. No television today. “Guess I better research this Kunthar
demon, huh?” So much for her lazy Sunday.
*********
“Here, it’s all I’ve got.”
Angel took the cold glass of blood Spike offered him,
sniffing it before he gulped it down. Spike crumbled some burba
weed in his own before doing the same.
They had spent the afternoon resting in Spike’s crypt. He
had insisted they stay there in case the witches needed to get a hold of him,
rejecting the idea of staying at the mansion. They couldn’t tell the witches in
person that they had changed residences, Spike had explained, because he didn’t
want to take the chance of Buffy finding out about Angel until they were sure
that the spell was a certainty. Angel had a suspicion that there was more to it
than that.
“Pig’s blood, Spike?
Wouldn’t have thought you’d go that route.”
Spike scoffed. “What, didn’t think I could?”
“More like I didn’t think you would.”
“No reason to tempt myself. Why torture myself with what I
can’t have? Don’t know how you can stand to do it.”
“Your chip only fires if you bite, right? Bagged blood
shouldn’t…”
“I’m around these people often enough, don’t need to see
them as food.” He almost grumbled the last part.
Angel stared at him for a moment until it finally dawned on
him. His tone reflecting his stunned expression, he said, “You’d be afraid
you’d bite her. You haven’t, right?” His tone was menacing.
“Course I haven’t bloody bitten her. She’d stake me on the
spot.”
Angel shook his head; his expression letting the younger
vamp know that they both knew it was a lie. In a moment of passion, Spike
could have his fangs in her neck before she even knew what was happening.
And Angel knew well enough that in such a moment, she was unlikely to object.
He shook his head. “How do you do it, Spike? How do you restrain yourself?”
“It’s easy, mate,” Spike said, but he didn’t keep eye
contact.
“No, it’s not. It’s not easy at all.” Angel’s rough voice
held a hint of reverence that made the younger man meet his gaze. “You really
do love her.”
“Wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t, you git.”
“No. I guess you wouldn’t.”
Suddenly putting down his mug, Spike looked at Angel, his
expression shifting to full alert.
“What?” Angel asked. He didn’t sense any demons in the
vicinity.
“Bloody hell,” was the answer. “Have to get you out of
sight.”
Spike rushed over and removed the barrier covering the hole
to the second level. “Down there, and be quiet. She can’t know you’re here.”
Gesturing frantically, he urged him down the hole and covered it mostly over, leaving only a small space for Angel to put his hands
through and shove the barrier later.
Angel could hear Spike practically running to the other side
of his crypt and opening something, and then the telltale rummage of weapons.
From his position on the ladder, he sensed her just as the door slammed open.
“Spike!” called the familiar voice. Angel could hear Buffy
enter without reservation. “I know you’re here.”
There was quiet for a moment, marred only by Buffy’s
measured breathing.
Then Spike broke it. “Still haven’t learned to knock, have
you, Slayer?”
“The subtlety of it would be lost on you, Spike.”
“Maybe.
What d’you need?” His voice was tinged with innuendo,
but not as strongly as was his usual, Angel knew.
“Stop that. I told you I’m not sleeping with you anymore.”
“Yeah, yeah, got that memo.
I’m evil. I’m dirt. You were only using me. That about cover it?”
“Look, I care. I just can’t...”
Spike interrupted. “‘Sides, our sex-life might’ve been
imaginative, Slayer, but I don’t recall heavy weaponry being involved.”
“Why are you holding a battle axe?” she asked as if she had
just noticed it.
“Well, you’re here. There are generally two reasons for
that. Since shagging’s out, I assumed there’s
trouble.”
“Well, okay, yeah but...” She gave an exasperated sigh. “You
are such a...”
“Pig, asshole, evil soulless-thing...”
Angel heard the punch from the ladder.
“Ow! Would you quit it with the
nose already? And I thought you said there wasn’t going to be any...” Spike’s
tone was suggestive. His eyebrows were no doubt wagging.
Oh, now he’s just asking for it,
Angel thought.
“Oh, there’s not,” Buffy said with false sweetness. “Doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you a little.”
“You always did like that almost as much, pet, and I’d love
to have a go. I’d even let you do all the manhandling, but... the reason you
came? Don’t we have some nasty that needs killing?”
“Yes,” she answered, and Angel imagined he could hear her
teeth gritting. “Are you gonna help or not?”
“Let’s go,” Spike answered. “I’m ready to get my hands on something tonight... Hey!”
“Didn’t touch the nose,” Buffy said sweetly.
“You know, you can be a right bitch when you want to,
Slayer.” Somehow he didn’t sound deterred by it. More intrigued. Or reverent.
“Part of the job description.”
Staying on the ladder until he heard the door close, Angel
pushed the barrier aside and came up from below. After waiting a moment, he
followed the pair out into the night. Trailing the couple quietly, Angel
watched them walk through the cemetery. They were close enough to touch, but
not in actual contact. Spike remained just a step behind, smirking in amusement
at Buffy’s obvious irritation. When she turned to him, he feigned innocence and
tilted his head in attention.
“It’s a Kunthar demon,” she told
him.
“Really.
I haven’t seen one of those in ages. Nasty buggers.”
She faced forward again. “Yeah, hence the reason you’re
here. Maybe you could let it eat you, get it full and lethargic so I could kill
it more easily.”
“Kunthar demons only eat the
living, love,” he replied in all seriousness. “Guess you’ll have to let it…”
but he stopped short as she turned on him, her eyes narrowed and fierce.
“I told you not to call me that.”
Spike sniffed. “Sorry.” His tone and expression were
genuine, and somehow that seemed to make her more irritated, as if she hadn’t
expected that response and now had no recourse but to accept it.
She exhaled loudly. “Just pay attention.”
He nodded, his posture changing as
he attuned himself to his surroundings, and it seemed to cause a reaction. He
touched Buffy’s arm only a moment after she turned around, but Angel noted that
she didn’t retaliate. Instead she pulled a stake and scanned the area. Spike
set down his battleaxe against a tombstone and pulled his own stake from his
duster.
“How many you figure?” Spike asked in a voice Angel had to
strain to hear. He moved closer to the two, fear creeping into his body. He
sensed at least a half dozen.
“Seven, maybe eight,” Buffy answered. “Ready?”
“Got your back, Slayer.”
Buffy nodded as the vampires emerged from behind a nearby
crypt.
Clenching his fists in frustration, Angel barely restrained himself from jumping into the fray. Frustration was soon
replaced by interest, however, as he watched the action unfold.
Buffy staked one of the vampires immediately. The rest took
that as a warning and spread out to surround the two.
“Slayer,” one growled.
“That’s me,” she replied, smiling. “How’d you guess? My sparkling personality?” She dodged a swing and kicked
back at the vampire’s partner behind her, catching him in the kneecap. “Or
maybe the stake gave it away?” She held the stake out as if showing it to him.
It penetrated the heart of a vampire that Spike shoved in her direction.
As his former partner exploded
into dust around him, the vampire addressing her actually looked impressed for
a moment. Then he lunged again. “What are you
two? A frigging circus act?”
“More like a tag team,” Buffy answered with a grunt as she
sent him flying towards Spike with a two-booted kick to his side.
Spike’s fist connected with the side of the vampire’s jaw
with a crunch. “Maybe that’ll shut you up.”
The vamp shook his head to clear it. “Spike,” he growled.
“Still the Slayer’s lapdog, I see.”
“Worse things to be.”
Spike looked over the vamp’s shoulder, and seeing another coming, decided to
end this one quickly. He aimed a sidekick to the leg of his would-be taunter, and then plunged his stake into the downed vamp.
Smiling with evil satisfaction, he said “like dust.” His face practically
glowing with glee, he turned to the two vampires closing in. “Step up mates if
you’ve got the stones.”
“Traitor,” one spat.
“Oh, I’m hurt,” Spike replied with great sarcasm.
“Oh, you will be,” the other said.
That second vampire turned out to be much stronger than he
looked, and Angel began to worry that Spike was in trouble. Spike didn’t appear
to be worried, not even changing to game face until well into his scuffle.
Blood marred his forehead as he finally staked the vamp that had called him
traitor. The final enemy tackled him.
“Stop playing around, Spike,” Buffy told him. She, too, was
down to one vampire who similarly wasn’t going easily.
Spike got in a few more obviously unnecessary punches before
staking his last foe. Standing up, he brushed the ashes from his duster. Angel
expected him to rush to Buffy’s aide, but instead, morphinig
back to his human face, he leaned casually against a nearby monument and took
out a cigarette.
Snorting in disgust, Angel focused on Buffy’s battle, now
winding down. He didn’t like the way Spike was watching Buffy as she fought the
final vamp. There was admiration on his face, but more so, there was lust. And
his former lover looked… like she was having fun. Angel wasn’t sure if he
should be relieved or disturbed.
Spike finished his cigarette and discarded it carelessly.
Almost as if that was a signal, a blow from Buffy sent the vampire in Spike’s
direction. He caught the vamp by the arms, holding him still, and Angel knew
Spike could have easily cracked the vamp’s neck or staked him, but he only held
him in place and waited for Buffy. She walked over slowly, and drove the stake
into the horrified vampire’s heart.
Smirking at her through the settling ashes, Spike asked, “was it good for you?”
Buffy shoved him up against the monument. Hard.
“No, Spike. This is.” She kissed him ferociously, and Angel practically
growled. As quickly as it started though, Buffy ended it, pushing herself away.
“No!”
Spike wasn’t as willing to let go at first. His hands
gripped her arms. “Come on, Slayer. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can’t.”
Spike held on until Buffy pushed at him forcefully and said
his name in icy reprimand and warning.
Taking an unnecessary breath, Spike worked his jaw and
nodded. “Right then. Come on.” He slipped into
fighting stance.
“What are you doing?” Buffy asked.
“Neither one of us is done,” Spike answered smoothly.
Angel watched as Buffy glared at him and exhaled in disgust.
“You know I’m right.” He smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Come
on, Slayer, you know you want to dance.”
“I don’t have time for this, Spike. I have to find the Kunthar demon.”
Spike continued his grin, but it was more suggestive. “Perfect then. Kunthar demons are
attracted to adrenaline. They can smell it a mile away.” He gave her a playful
leer. “Your Slayer pheromones should attract him in no time.”
Buffy wrinkled her nose and lip. “You’re disgusting.”
Spikes eyes danced. “Well, you’re the Slayer. Do something
about it. Hit me.”
It took a moment, but Buffy’s face changed, looking almost
shocked. “Oh my God… even back then… when you said that… you…”
“You just now figuring that out,
pet?”
She struck, but he caught her hand and the blow that
followed, and then turned her around, putting her back into his chest. In
response, her foot connected with his and her head smacked into his chin.
Grunting, he broke his hold and resumed his fighting stance. He smiled at her
as she turned back around and almost snarled at him.
“God, I love how you look when you fight,” he told her. “So full of fire. So alive.”
She hit him again; looking as if she wished her fists could
wipe the words away, nullify them. Begrudgingly, Angel had to agree with Spike.
Buffy’s eyes were fire, and her whole body thrummed with life and energy.
“No, you’re the one who gets off on it,” Buffy said.
Spike just smiled, getting in a blow himself that made Angel
want to throttle him. “Well, yeah. Vampire,” he purred. “What’s your…”
“Don’t you dare say it,” she spat as her fist connected with
his jaw. “This is so not going to end that
way. Never again.”
“But it was such a memorable night, Slayer.”
Buffy’s smile turned, and Angel’s stomach dropped. He knew
that expression, the one she wore when she felt trapped, the one that meant she
was about to use words to lash out. “Yeah, it was… for you.”
Angel watched Spike’s face crumble. He never was good at
hiding his feelings. Buffy swallowed, her lips turning a little as if she was
no longer sure she wanted the result her words had wrought. Spike shook his
head slightly. “Don’t,” he almost pleaded. “Just go…”
Buffy could barely get her throat to work. “Spike…”
The Kunthar demon’s roar startled
everyone, its approach overshadowed by the intensity of the unfolding drama.
The beast was huge, almost ten feet long excluding the tail, and broad with a
muscular, scaly chest. It lurched forward on four powerful legs, its huge
dragon muzzle full of razor sharp teeth swaying back and forth as it took in
its surroundings through feral, yellow eyes. It didn’t take long for the
demon to focus on what it likely suspected was easy prey. It never had a
chance.
Spike turned all his rage and frustration on the
unsuspecting monster, rushing at it immediately with his previously discarded
battleaxe. His roar rivaled that of the beast as he struck, burying the blade
in its chest. The demon batted him with his head, and Spike lost his grip on
the handle as he flew into a grave marker. He was up quickly, joining Buffy
again as she rolled and grabbed the battleaxe. She threw it back to Spike, the
vampire catching it on the run as he launched himself onto the monster’s back.
Buffy played distraction until he situated himself between the beast’s shoulder
blades. Teeth snapped the air beside her.
“Buffy!” Spike yelled. He desperately swung his battleaxe
over his head and buried it in the dragon’s brain. He was thrown off, landing painfully on his side, but the damage was
already done. It didn’t take the pair long to finish the wounded beast, Buffy
using her stake, Spike using his strength and rage. The demon almost fell on
Buffy as it died, but Spike tackled her to push her out of the way. Rolling off
of her immediately, he lay, snarling as his broken rib throbbed, and blood
soaked the side of his shirt. Sensing Buffy standing over him, Spike kept his
eyes closed.
“Spike, are you hurt?”
He growled in response. “Bloody Hell, Slayer! Course I’m
hurt. Never concerned you before.”
“That’s not…”
“Go home, Buffy. Just leave me alone.”
He opened his gold eyes as she attempted to reach for him.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Fine,” she said, and turned her back on him.
Spike watched her back and her slight limp as she
disappeared into the cemetery.
*********
He was hurt, and Angel had no idea how to lessen the pain.
The physical wounds he could clean and bind, and they
would heal. The other wounds, the ones etched into the once again blue eyes and
tensed jaw, were not so easy to fix. At least not without reopening scars of
his own. He could tell Spike that he understood, but for the other man to
believe him, it would mean reliving the reasons why he understood so well, and
Angel was not so sure he was ready to make that sacrifice.
“Bet you enjoyed that,” Spike said softly. His eyes were
closed now, but that only made the hurt a little less evident.
Angel knelt on the ground beside him, and Spike opened his
eyes again in response.
“I’ll be alright. Been hurt much worse
than this, mate.”
Angel had the feeling Spike didn’t just mean physically. He
sighed. Damn my instincts, he thought. Despite the soul, or maybe
because of it, he felt the need to help Spike. Angelus never had been a very
nurturing sire, so maybe his guilt was making him feel this compassion. Looking
at Spike, he wanted to see only an evil demon, but he didn’t. He saw a
beautiful, passionate creature, capable of love and deep feeling, and he
understood why Angelus had so wanted to break him at times. He wanted to do
just the opposite.
His dark eyebrows knitting in confusion, Spike looked at
him. “Why are you looking at me like you want to kiss me or something?”
And then the spell is broken,
Angel thought, but he couldn’t help the smile breaching the corners of his
mouth.
In response, Spike continued, his tone reflecting that he
was feeling a little better. “’Cuz I probably
couldn’t stop you in my current state, but a little warning might be nice.”
“Never did know when to shut your mouth, did you William?”
Spike sneered at the nickname, then
made a sound of protest as Angel reached hands beneath him to lift him up. “Hey now! I don’t need to be coddled.” He made a half-hearted
attempt to bat at Angel’s hands, grunting when he jarred his wounded ribs.
“Just stay still, and let me help,” Angel told him sternly,
then softened his tone. “You might not get such a chance again.”
Spike grunted. “What’s gotten you all mother hen like all of
a sudden?”
“Maybe making up for past neglects,” Angel replied as he
lifted him as gently as he could, feeling a little stir of pride as Spike let
him without further protest and feeling a little guilt as the other man tried
unsuccessfully to hide how much being moved discomforted him. With steady slow
steps, Angel carried Spike back to his crypt, intending to heal at least the
physical wounds. It was the least he could do for him.
Chapter 11: Memories Shared
and Questions Asked
The pre-dawn air was becoming heavy with dew as Angel
shakily opened the door to Spike’s crypt while balancing said vampire in his
arms. Even though he was sure he had jarred him, his burden didn’t make any
noise. Thank goodness for vampire pride, Angel thought. He wasn’t up to
hearing Spike complain right now. Sighing in relief, he entered and placed him
carefully down on the strangely decorated sarcophagus that served as his bed.
Tentatively Spike sat up so Angel could tend to him, raising
his hand to point, but then he groaned and thought better of it. “First aid
stuff over next to the statue over there.”
“You get hurt that often?” Angel asked.
“Yeah, but the stuff was more for Buffy. Though her lot
doesn’t let me take care of her much anymore.” His expression turned bitter,
and Angel guessed he was recalling a memory of such an occasion. Spike went
quiet again as Angel retrieved the medical supplies.
He hadn’t intended to tell Spike that he knew loving Buffy
wasn’t always easy. That conversation would likely open up old and
best-forgotten memories. Now, though, Angel was starting to reconsider. It
would at least pass the time. Besides, if he thought about it, it was likely
that Spike would know all his secrets soon enough anyway if their plan worked.
With resignation, Angel raised his eyes to Spike as he
arranged the needed bandages and tape. “I’ve seen Buffy like this before
myself,” he supplied.
Spike’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “Like what?”
“Angry at the world.
Confused.”
Spike tilted his head. “Can’t be like this. Being dead did
this to her. Or more precisely - the bringing her back did this to her.”
Angel looked at him, then cleared
his throat. “I was here when she died the first time.” He looked down and
fussed with the bandages, amazed that the memory was still so vivid. “I
couldn’t do anything to save her.” As he said it, Angel realized he was sharing
another memory they had in common. Both of them had seen Buffy die. When he
looked up, he was surprised to see compassion in Spike’s eyes.
Spike sniffed. “Didn’t know that, mate.”
Angel nodded. “The Master bit her, then
drowned her. I couldn’t save her. Xander brought her
back to life, but the psychological damage was done.” He brought the supplies
over and sat them next to Spike. Indicating a pair of scissors in his hand, he
gestured to Spike’s shirt. “I’m going to have to cut that.”
Spike nodded and shrugged out of his duster with a grunt,
letting it fall behind him on the sarcophagus. “What happened?” he asked as
Angel cut the material of the T-shirt.
“Buffy came back after summer vacation changed. She treated
everyone she cared about badly.” He removed the cut pieces of Spike’s shirt,
glad that his actions allowed him to keep his eyes from the other man.
Spike snorted. “Whatever she did, she probably didn’t mean
it, mate.”
Angel smiled at his attempt to make him feel better when he
should have been gloating, but he ignored the subtle dig for more information.
Distancing himself, he crossed the room to grab some candles. “Maybe not, but
it hurt just the same.” The uninvited memory of Buffy dancing with Xander, making him jealous, then
telling him she’d moved on to the living crept into Angel’s conscious. He’d
momentarily forgotten how much the insult had hurt him. He didn’t elaborate,
but the pain must have shown involuntarily on his face, because Spike’s
eyebrows knitted in confusion.
“She actually did something mean to you?"
Angel didn't answer, but should have known that was a
mistake where Spike was concerned.
"But with you it was something more, huh? Because of what you are?" A
definite smirk there.
Angel's expression darkened in response, giving
the answer away. Damn his lucky guesses, he thought.
Spike's mouth quirked. "Never imagined that, mate. You being
all soul-having and all.”
Angel sighed. As usual, Spike got the general idea without
having to be told the details. He often was a pain in the ass that way.
When his answer came, it came reluctantly. “She was still in a bad place.
She needed closure, I guess, and I just reminded her of what happened.” He
moved the television, stand and all, closer and put the candles down on top of
it. The candle holders banged the television a little too roughly.
“Her finding closure usually entails her beating the shit
out of something,” Spike mused with a smirk as he moved his arm back a little
so the other man could see his injury. He seemed to be content to change the
subject and quit while he was ahead.
Gladly taking the presented opportunity, Angel looked up at
him and returned the smirk. “The master’s bones. Why
what did she beat the shit out of in your case?” He found a bottle of whiskey
and soaked a cloth to clean Spike’s wounds.
“Nothing at first.
She tried to cope, but it was hard. She couldn’t let herself be mad at who deserved
it, cuz if she was, they’d find out her little
secret. And that made her get mad at herself for being
mad at them.” Spike sighed, then grunted a little as Angel dabbed at his wounds
with the alcohol-laden cloth.
“What secret?”
“Heaven?”
Spike prompted. When Angel shook his head, Spike rolled his eyes. “God she
didn’t even tell you. I never should have kept that damn secret. Maybe things
wouldn’t have gotten so bad.”
Angel’s look became cross and his tone harsh. “Spike, what
are you talking about?”
“She was in Heaven, mate, or some heavenly dimension anyway,
and when they brought her back they pulled her out of it, and here was like
hell to her after that. I tried to help her deal with it, and we were even
friends until...” He shook his head. “I tried, but I bloody wanted her so much,
and once I had her I couldn’t give her up. I tried to help her then in other
ways. Well, sort of anyway. Ow!”
Angel looked at him sharply. “Sorry.” He didn’t even sound
convincing to himself. He started cleaning up the wound to Spike’s forehead
instead. Less chance of harm there.
“Yeah, yeah.
I’m a bad, rude man. So what does everyone expect? ‘Sides she was no picnic
either. Once she started jumping my bones to take out her frustration, I went
from her friend to a soulless, evil thing. Just another good
excuse to beat the shit out of me.”
Angel looked down at him with a smirk. “So the answer to my
original question of what she beat up in this case was you, I guess.”
“Hah bloody hah,” Spike said. “Wasn’t so
funny when it took me a week to heal from one episode.”
Angel looked at him with amazement, not imagining Buffy
would inflict so much damage. He knew how quickly vampires usually healed, and
considering that knowledge, he could only imagine the extent of the injuries.
“You must have done something to her?”
“Yeah,” Spike said. “Made the mistake of
calling her ‘my girl.’”
Stepping back to get the bandages, Angel looked down on him,
memories stirred that Spike couldn’t possibly know. Memories of when he had
called Buffy his girl and she had replied always. He realized he was probably
giving Spike an odd look.
Spike snorted. “Well not entirely. It went back farther than
that. She just finally exploded. I just happened to be the unlucky bloke in her
path.” He shrugged. “I forgave her as always.”
Angel shook his head. “You should really do something about
those masochistic tendencies, William.” Spike tried to object but Angel said, “shush. I gotta check that the bones
are right before I bind them.” He put his hands on Spikes ribs, feeling for the
cracked ones and making sure they weren’t too out of place. He pointedly
ignored Spike’s glare. Glancing down as he felt the last set of ribs, he
noticed a mark just above the waist of Spike’s low-cut jeans, right at the top
of his hipbone. A discolored scar that likely should have faded by now. “What’s
this and why hasn’t it faded? A scar shouldn’t stay.”
“None of your business,” Spike snapped. He put his hand over
the mark, rubbing at it roughly and mostly on impulse.
“Well that explains why it hasn’t disappeared,” Angel said
to him. “Why would you want...” he trailed off as he noticed the shape of the
mark. It looked vaguely like teeth, but not those of a demon. They were small
teeth. Buffy’s teeth, Angel’s mind supplied. He suddenly felt sadness for
Spike, wondering how long he had been keeping the mark there, trying to keep
one last reminder of her with him. Probably weeks. His
look softened. “So she bites, huh?”
Spike smirked. “Yeah. Just hard
enough to make it hurt right.” He sniffed and cocked his head. “Are you gonna put that bandage on me or stare at my chest all day?”
Not so subtle hint received,
Angel thought, Spike is done sharing for today. He shook his head
and started none too gently wrapping the bandage around the other man’s sides,
not even trying to suppress his grin at Spike’s mutter of “ow!
Watch it, you git.” Nope, no guilt
at all.
*********
The sound of tape sealing a box brought
“Spike should be back from
“Will we do it tonight?”
“Tomorrow night. The moon is better and we can be sure to
rest ahead of time.”
*********
When
“Oh,” she said as she saw Angel who seemed to be similarly
surprised to see her. His hair was mussed as if he had been sleeping which by
all appearances he had been. On the sarcophagus. Next to Spike. “Oh,”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Not bloody likely.” He groaned as he
sat up, and
“Yeah, only sleeping,” Angel mumbled.
“What happened?”
“Kunthar
demon. Buffy and I killed it.” He looked at his bedmate with an
amused expression on his face. Angel seemed to be looking around like he wanted
to flee. “We already saw you check your hair, Gel Boy, and yeah it’s all messed
up.”
“Yes, can we hug you now?”
“If that was the case, he would’ve been dead years ago,”
Spike snarked.
“Spike,”
Willow missed the lifted eyebrow he gave Tara in return,
because she had made her way across the crypt to give a now standing Angel an
enthusiastic hug. Then she pulled back to look him over. “So you’re actually gonna do this, huh?”
“If you two say it can be done, yes,” Angel replied.
“You actually want that in your head?” she teased with a
jerk of her thumb in Spike’s direction.
“Hey now.
Now who’s not being nice?” Spike said to
“Well if you had a choice between him and Angelus...” Angel
said.
“Good point,”
“But I didn’t,” Spike said.
“Only because your chip went off.”
“Well, yeah, but...” He actually looked chagrinned. “But we
had a nice talk after. Made you feel better.”
“When are we going to do the spell itself?” Angel asked.
“Tomorrow night,”
Spike looked like he was making a mental tabulation of what
he had to do, and then he nodded. “I’ll be ready. So, what does this spell
entail?”
*********
They’d spent all afternoon going over the spell, and now
Spike was restless. He left Angel to his own devices with a warning to stay
away from any places Buffy might be. He would talk with her, he assured his
grandsire, because that was all they needed was the two of them mucking things
up before his soul was anchored in place. That comment had earned him a smack
on the back of the head, but the look on Angel’s face had been worth it.
Now as he was coming to Buffy’s house though, Spike’s
confidence was starting to fray. They hadn’t parted on such good terms so why
would he be coming to see her? Thinking of a suitable alibi rather quickly, he
felt some confidence return, proud of himself for thinking on the fly. As he
reached the porch he almost lost it all again as he came face to face with her
standing on the top of the stairs. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth was set
in a frown. She did not look happy to see him.
“What do you want, Spike?”
“Um, wanted to make sure you were alright. Saw you limpin’ out of the graveyard after we fought that demon.
You heal okay?”
She sighed and softened her tone a bit. “I’m fine. Slayer
healing is part of the package, but you know that so...” She was looking
expectantly at him.
Damn, he thought.
He looked down. “Buffy I have a very important question to ask you so...”
“No I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Do you still love Angel?”
“What?” Buffy almost sputtered, obviously not expecting
that. “How is that any of your business?”
Spike looked up, a fire in his eyes. “Just answer the
question. I think it’s not too much to ask. If you could be together... if
there was no curse, would you do it?”
“Spike, why are you asking me
this?”
“I need to know, Buffy. Then I won’t bother you anymore.”
Buffy sighed. “Angel and I live in different worlds now...”
“Sod that. Shouldn’t make a difference.
If you love him...”
“I do love him,” Buffy answered softly.
Spike smiled sadly. “See now, was that so bloody hard?” He
turned and sauntered off into the darkness, leaving a very confused Buffy in
his wake.
********
Huh? Buffy
thought. What the Hell? And then huh? again
for good measure. “What was that all about?” she whispered to herself. That had
to be the weirdest conversation she and Spike had ever had. Even
including the one about decorating her room. She hadn’t heard him even
say Angel’s name that she could recall since the time of
*********
He’d wanted to tell her everything, but he couldn’t. At
least he’d found out what he needed to know. The rest he’d tell her in a note.
She couldn’t ask so many bleeding questions that way anyhow. It took long
enough just to get one answer from her. He could only imagine how long an
entire conversation explaining the intricacies of the spell and why it had to
be done the way they were doing it would take. By the time he was done, if they
hadn’t killed each other that is, he’d be too late to do the spell. No, this
was better. And if he told himself that enough times maybe he’d believe it.
He already had a plan - go home, spend some time with Angel
so he wouldn’t get suspicious, let him know Buffy was willing - okay so he was fudging
a little on that one - then write the note. He’d deliver it tomorrow afternoon
when she was at work, and Dawn was at school. Slipping through the tunnels
should be easy enough. His duster would keep him from burning up during the
short jaunt to her house and in her bedroom window. She should get the note
just as it was happening, so maybe, technically she’d know beforehand. Okay, it
was a stretch, but it was all he had.
No one was as surprised as Spike when his plan went off
perfectly the next afternoon. He guessed there was always a first time.
*********
She entered the front door like a blur of youthful energy,
unceremoniously dumping her bag on the floor beside the couch. A strange noise
from upstairs got her attention. What was that, she thought, and then
listened to make sure she wasn’t hearing things. Nope,
there it was again. Kneeling beside her bag, she pulled out a stake, and then
made her way upstairs. A few quick steps later and she was
outside the bedroom door where the distinct odor of slightly singed vampire met
her nostrils. Opening the door quickly, she burst in, “Spike what are you doing
here in...”
An empty bedroom greeted her. She sniffed again. The smell
was still there though receding now, replaced by the fresh air seeping in through
the open window. Then she saw it - a note laid out carefully on the bed.
Curious, she picked it up, reading it in one long rush.
Buffy,
I know I should have told you all this
in person, but it isn’t like we really talk to each other anymore like we used
to. We would end up shouting and saying things we don’t really mean. More
importantly, I might lose my nerve. This is better.
I want you to know that I do love you,
and even though you may want me to, I would never leave you unless I had to.
You are my life, Buffy, and the thought of what I might do to try to keep you
in it scares me. I’d never want to hurt you that way, but at the same time, I
can’t give you up. So I have come to a solution that will benefit us both. I
went to see a demon, and he gave me something that should make you happy - a
way to bind Angel’s soul. No happiness clause. The two of you can be together
however you want. Love each other as you should have been able to.
Of course there is a price of sorts. In
order for the spell to work, the “cage” that keeps the demon in check will be
weakened, maybe giving Angelus a chance to break free at times. That can’t be
allowed to happen, so Angel and I have made an agreement. With the help of a
spell, I will kill Angelus and take his place. Angel must have a demon so his
body can stay alive so to speak. If that demon is me, there will be no danger,
because I already love you, and the soul will prevent me from ever wanting to
hurt you. Don’t worry. Angel will be in control. It will be him you are with.
But I’ll still be there whenever you need me. And I’ll still be able to love
you. Even if it is only in his shadow, that will be more than enough.
By the time you return, the spell
should be done. I’ll miss my old body (and perhaps you might too), but I’ll be
okay. Enjoy your life now, Slayer. I want that for you. Take care of Dawn and
give her my love. Hopefully someday she’ll understand.
Yours always,
Spike
“Oh my God,” she whispered to herself as she realized the
last time she’d seen him had been his goodbye. The note floated back onto the
bed. How could he do this to me? Her eyes narrowed. I bet I know
where he is. I’m gonna find him and kick his undead
ass. Stuffing the stake in the back of her jeans, she practically flew down
the stairs, not bothering to shut the bedroom door. The front door was flung
open, then pictures on the wall shook as the door
slammed shut only a second later. With little thought about the approaching
sunset, Dawn ran towards the graveyard.
No, she didn’t understand at all, and Spike was damn sure gonna explain it to her.
TBC