Under lock and key.
The night is clear as Buffy Summers looks out over her hometown Sunnydale. She knows what's lurks out there, killing and maiming. For she is the Slayer, The one girl chosen to fight the vampires, demons and... wait. That was before. This is now.
She turns back into her bluestone mansion, her beautiful blond hair sweeping behind her. She descends the stairs as her younger sister Dawn comes up the fetch her. The young girl steps back, allowing her to pass, an admiring smile on her face.
"You look beautiful today Buffy. As usual." She compliments her older sister. Buffy smiles kindly and walks away. Dawn follows her obediently.
A dark shape looms in the window. Outside Spike cocks his head at the unusually pleasant exchange.
"Something's not right Peaches. Kudos to you." He comments to his grandsire, perched next to him. Angel growls, and jumps down the tree landing fangs bared up at Spike.
"Get down here ." He commands, his voice harsh.
I land shaking and crazed in a room. I am aware of the cold air passing over my body, though I don't feel it. Where am I? My head jerks up as I survey the room. I know this place. 300 years ago I lived -and died- here. My mansion. I'm home. I reflect on the time spent away from here. "What did you do this summer Angel?" I hear someone ask in my head. I reply snarkily. "Lived in Hell for 3 centuries. You?" I giggle hysterically. I hear the front door slam.
"Oi, naked mate! Where'd you come fro- ...Angel?" The bleached idiot is lifting me and hugging me. mmm, I forgot how I liked hugging. The only person who hugged me in hell was a gremlin called Frank. He was literally made from fire. You can see why I didn't enjoy hell.
"William?" I purr, wrapping my arms around him in response. But he's letting go of me, a smirk on his face.
"Your naked, Peaches." He comments. I always said it. My childe was the master of stating the obvious. "I heard you were dead. Something about the apocalypse going bonkers. I mean, I assumed it did, eh? I mean earths still here right? But a demon told me you'd been sucked into hell or some such nonsense. So I came back here. Always liked this mansion, figured if you were dead, it would be empty... but its not, and here you are lying starkers in the middle of the floor. Is this a new sort of self torture, coz its probably your most origin-"
"I was in hell Spike." I groan, cutting him off. He laughs uproariously. I hold up my hand to cut him off, I feel a major headache coming on. "How long have I been gone?"
"Ooooooooh..." Hums Spike for what seems like forever. "5 months maybe?"
"Oh. 5 months. That's not long. That's not 300 years." I muse.
"Oh, that's astute mate." He says sarcastically, and puts on a high-pitched voice to mimic me. "5 months isn't 3 hundred years."
I close my eyes and groan. "Boy, I was gone 300 years. Where's Drusilla?" I ask, changing the subject. He hangs his head, and if I'm not mistaken, when he answers me, I swear he's crying.
"Germany. With Carlos the Chaos demon. Mister Carlos 'I have 5 cars and two of them are porches.' Mister Carlos 'I own a multimillion dollar co-op, and I can buy more shiny things for you then Spike can possibly steal.' I'm telling you Peaches, my way has more style."
I try and decipher a story from the long mimic-a-thon, and eventually decide on,
"She dumped you then?" He nods. Hey, right in one. Gossip wasn't really a topic of conversation in Hell. I was just trying not to listen to the Cher blazing over the loudspeakers.
The two Vampires stand outside in the rain, looking through the window into the Summers Mansion dining room. The small droplets run down the crystal-like glass. A huge fire blazes inside, and a bright candelabra hangs from the ceiling basking the ornate room in warm light, and conveniently blocking and view from within to the figures outside.
Buffy sits at the head of the table quietly eating her dinner. Her mother sits opposite her, and Dawn and her Father sit on the two long sides.
Buffy looks up at the servant standing next to her. "Tell Heather that this is delicious, please?" She requests to him, her voice quiet and soft. He nods curtly and heads to the kitchen.
"How was school Honey?" Her mother asks as she lifts a spoonful of soup to her lips.
"Good Mum." She replies. Her voice is kind, but cold, lacking in affection on the second word.
"How did that Essay go?" He father adds.
Buffy sounds bored when she answers. "A+"
Her parents nod. "As usual!" They declare proudly. Dawn looks up at Buffy, jealously etched on her features, but when her eyes meet Buffy's, her face softens.
"Well done!" She declares, neglecting to mention her 'lousy' A-.
"Thanks Dawnie." She laughs, but once again, the second word, the name, the usually affectionate nickname lacks, warmth.
She thanks the servant as he brings out the second course.
Ow. I hurt. Every where. That stupid Demon really gave me a run for my money. A... Rormarth Demon, was it? Something about empathy, Giles said. And curses. And creation. What the...? I pluck something from my hair. Eew a tooth! Sharp pointy Rormarth Demon tooth. I place it on my dresser. It looks pretty clean, and a memento is a memento. I hear mum and Dawn watching TV downstairs. The 7:30 report. It must just be starting. Id join them, but since I came back from LA its been all weird. And Id rather just be up here. I've removed everything that reminds me of Angel, but everywhere else I find things that do. People on TV. Adverts for Christmas decorations. "Get your Baubles, Cherubs, Holly and Angels NOW!" Bring on the tears. I pick up the tooth again, and for some unbeknownst reason feel compelled to stab myself with it. The blood drips down my arm and I stare at it.
"My life is so weird. Its normal to find a tooth in my hair. I wish I wasn't the slayer. I wish I had a perfect, normal, not slayer life." And as the first drop of blood hit the ground I felt the world lift under my feet, and a voice whisper.
"All wishes come with consequences."
And then she was here.
"Angel, what's going on?" Spike whined to his Sire as they walked back to their wreck of a mansion.
"Too much to cover in one breath." Angel replies, facing forwards, chin in the air.
"You don't breath." Spike says, as he jogs to keep up with Angels massive strides.
"A Good point." Angel concedes.
Spike sighs. "Why is Buffy rich? Why do her parents love her? And each other? And, weirdest of all, why is she doing well in school?"
" A Good question." Angel answers.
Spike growls. "Got an answer?"
Angel stops dead in his tracks.
"A Good one."
We leave flipping Sunnydale, and what happens? A chaos demon. A lousy stinkin' chaos demon. A lousy stinkin' park bench. Like they're sodding teenagers. And Carlos is a tool anyway. He makes this big show of being from Rio... Its all a lie, the poser. He's from bloody Sydney! I know! 75 years back, met him there when he still was running a junkyard. And now he's saying he worked as a singer in Rio all his life.
Where was I? Right. I come back to flipping Sunnydale, and Angel is freaking ordering me around. All mysterious, like... "Something's not right..." or "Something big's coming, I feel it in my room temperature blood."
So bout a week after he's naked on my mansion floor, (he insists its his mansion, but I pay the rent. Okay, I eat the dept collectors. Same thing.) We are sitting down in the evening, a glass of blood and Passions on the TV, and he says he wants to see Buffy.
He actually wants to see the bird who sent him to hell!
So I say all like, "Lets just watch TV peaches, if she killed you she cant love you that much!" So he's all going off about,
"She does love me... I have a soul... Tortured... blah redemption blah..." So you know me, I'm sick of this. I get up and loom all over him right, and he doesn't move, doesn't fucking flinch, so I'm glaring down at him, and he's all like:
"Back off my idiot childe!" So I'm getting pissed, he cant call me an idiot... that's childe abuse or something... do you think I could get family services onto him, that'd be great. "Counselling for abused and used vampires." "Has your Sire ever hit you?"
Anyway, I'm vamped out now. I'm not going out in this weather, to lurk outside some chits house, and watch Angel while he "Watches over her" otherwise known as "Stalking!".
So I look down at him, and growl something along those lines, and do you know what he does? He bloody pouts! My Neanderthal (I wonder if there are any Neanderthal vampires...) Sire is sticking out his lower lip and AIMING it at me. And we all know it... I act tough all the time, but deep down I'm pathetic. A bugger for all things sappy.
I bloody bawled during Titanic... and Love Actually. I think I even felt a tear well up for Toy Story. So think hulking pre-historic fore headed vampire pouts at me, and what do I do? The idiot I am, I freaking kiss him. I actually straddle him on this old antique armchair, and snog the bastard. He starts it good'n proper though. Like, he's the first to shove his tongue into my mouth. I mean to bite it, I really do in a 'fuck off you pouf' way, but I end up sucking it briefly before plunging my tongue into his tasty O-Neg filled mouth. So here we are sitting on this couch, I'm practically grinding into him, (and let me assure you, he's responding in full!) for a good 20 minutes, I even trail down his neck with SOFT kisses, (I know he likes that stuff, the faggot.) before sucking hungrily on his pulsing jugular, and once we're done, and I've missed Passions, you know what he says?
"Can we go see Buffy now?"
"So...?" Spike pleaded, hours later.
"So what?" Angel replied as the walked back into the Mansion.
Spike flopped into the comfy chair, one leg hung over the side. "So why is Buffy like she is?"
"Oh right." his sire said, and grinned knowingly. "Altered reality."
"Alternate reality?" Spike groaned. "Oh god no."
"No, altered reality. Like... If I found a vengeance demon, and made a wish, that may create an alternate reality, that lay on top of this one. Or certain spells may do the same thing. But this is an altered reality. Its not as powerful, so only the people who will notice the changes are affected. Buffy's family and friends, maybe the people at Census. Usually I would have been changed, but I was dead. Where were you? Germany?" Spike nodded in response. "You were probably out of its range. And its not like your that important to Buffy anyway. That points towards a feral demon. No human qualities. Their power would only affect one smallish country at most."
"So basically, what your telling me," Spike summarized, "is that this difference between the types of realities is really convenient, and its up to us to save Buffy, and get the slayer back on her feet?"
"Um...yeah, basically."
Dawn is smiling at me, mum and dad are holding hands and greeting me at the door. What's wrong with this picture? I want to ask why, WHY they're being so weird, but I can't bring myself to. Instead I say, "Hello. How are you all?" They smile and reply in that same, serene voice,
"Fantastic honey, come in, come in." I step inside me door. Its still my door, but its set on blue stone, I didn't notice till now, I guess I'm a little fumble wumbled. As I step over my thresh-hold I realise this isn't my house. Well, some aspects are the same. Pieces of furniture, general layout, photographs, but its all massive, and imposing and... perfect. But cold. And empty. And lonely.
'What the hell is happening?' Is what I want to say, but all that comes out is,
"Did everyone have a good day?"
They nod, and reply they did, and you know what the worst is? I don't care. I frankly could care less what sort of a day they had. They're my family, and all I want is for dinner to be ready.
"So Forehead, are you gunna talk to 'er, or just perve on her all night?" Spike hissed from the bottom of the tree Angel was perched in. He sighed and looked down.
"I'm not perving William, I'm-"
"Stalking? That right Liam?" Spike teased, curling his tongue behind his teeth.
"No, I'm watching over her." Angel replied turning his attention back to the window.
"Right right..." the more juvenile vampire teased turning his attention away from the house. "Just finish up quickly."
"Fine." Angel hissed, and knocked on Buffy's window.
She pulled the window up and he climbed inside, standing, fidgeting near the wall.
"Angel. Hi." Buffy said to him, smiling kindly.
"Buffy?" He asked, she nodded, of course.
"Of course." Came her polite reply, along with a short laugh.
"What's wrong with you?" He asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and staring into her eyes. She blinked up at him.
"Nothings wrong. Every thing is of the good. Excuse me, I'm meeting Willow and Xander for movies."
Angel took a step back, looking around the room for some reason why Buffy wouldn't be at all shocked to see the boyfriend who she last saw while plunging a sword into his stomach.
"Buffy... I died." He stammered, not sure what to say to her. She just laughed.
"Ha ha. Very funny."
"Buffy who do you think I am?" He was compelled to ask.
"You Angel..." Buffy replied slowly and clearly. "my ex-boyfriend who goes to college."
"Right. Just clearing that up. Do you still love me?" He sighed, preparing to leave.
"Your a nice enough guy." Was all she said, and he turned and exited again through the window. Spike was waiting at the bottom of the tree.
"How is she?" He queried.
"Its bad." Angel said, as he began walking away.
He glanced at his Swiss watch. 7:30.
From behind him a voice calls,
"Angel, Wait!"
I pull up the window and he climbs inside. Angel. I want to faint. It seems like the proper reaction. My body doesn't agree. I want to scream.
"Angel you died, I killed you!" Is all I can think of saying, but when I open my mouth, all I do is smile and say,
"Angel. Hi."
He looks dumbstruck, of course he does. He stutters silently and mouths,
"Buffy?"
I nod slowly, and this time my body listens. I laugh dryly and say,
"Of course."
"What's wrong with you?" He asks, voice worried as he places his strong hands on my shoulders. I want to scream, I want to yell, I don't know! Everything's changed! but all I say in this stupid body, that looks so much like me, but keeps me prisoner and controls everything I say, is,
"Nothings wrong. Every thing is of the good. Excuse me, I'm meeting Willow and Xander for movies."
Oh. Right. Movies. Right. Friends. Lonely, and controlled, and with friends who increasingly seem so much more distant.
Angel steps away from me and looks around my room. Maybe for some small reminder of the girl I had been, The girl he loved. Well Mr Gordo is on my bed, and smiling photos of me and my friends and family are on the dresser. There is even one photo, in a cemetery, at night of me and a smiling Angel. I always kept that photo, because it reminded me of my life so well, because behind the happy couple, there is one fledgling vampire sneaking up to kill us. That's how my life always went. But not anymore.
"Buffy... I died." He stammers. Preaching to the choir here Angel! I want to say something snarky like "Well duh", but, while my voice is still snarky when I speak all I say is, "Ha ha. Very funny.".
"Buffy who do you think I am?" He asks. Slowly and clearly I explain. "You angel. Your my vampire ex boyfriend who I killed."
Okay. That's not quite what comes out.
"You Angel..." I replied slowly and clearly. "my ex-boyfriend who goes to college."
I think I might be getting closer...
It looks like he's about to leave, as he mumbles,
"Right. Just clearing that up." But he turns quickly and looks me right in the eyes. "Do you still love me?"
I want to say yes, I do. But I cant. And this time, its not just my body saying it. I don't love him. I don't love Mum, Dawn, Dad, Willow, Xander or Giles. No matter how much they mean to me, no matter how much I used to love them. Now, I just couldn't care less. And Its killing me.
"Your a nice enough guy." Is all I can say, and its true. And he leaves. Fair enough.
I turn and drop onto my bed, and look up at the ceiling. Except, its not my ceiling. Or it is my ceiling. As in, its not my ceiling now, the ceiling I was under a minute ago, but my old ceiling, of my old house. I sit bolt upright, and stare around the room. Its my old room. In the blink of an eye, its the way it was. My daggy old dresser, my nsync posters, my thin framed single bed. I can hear Dawn whining down stairs, and mum flushing the old toilet, that clogs up making this sound like "rakka takka tkakka tkakkakka...flooghp". I never, not ONCE thought I'd miss that sound. But I was wrong. Oh god was I wrong. I run over to the window and haul it open, cracking the frame. Obviously my slayer mojo is up and running fast as ever.
Leaning full bodied out the window, tears pouring suddenly down my face I cry out.
"Angel, Wait!"
I know he's coming before I see him, and when I see him its like someone riding into the distance in a movie, minus the horse, and the distance and the riding. right, booyah. He's 'galloping' towards me, all picturesque, and if he had long hair, it would be billowing behind him. He's moving at speeds only a vampire can, and only a pretty fast vampire at that. And only a pretty fast desperate vampire at that, at that. It feels like falling in love all over. I jump out of my window, and land in his arms.
"Oh I do love you Angel!" I sob, before kissing him desperately. He's crying now too, and its good, because I didn't want to be the only one contributing to the now sopping chins and shirts. He holds me like I could vanish at any moment, and I cling to his strong shoulders, nails anchoring me down as we cry into each others mouths. Now we pull apart, leaning our foreheads against each others noses just touching, and we start to giggle. Just softly, and quietly and we know that its over now, and we are safe, and full, and... Spike?
"Don't mean to spoil the Kodak moment peaches, but..." Says bleach-boy, and nods to my house. My head whips around and I see it... growing. In less than a second its Summers mansion again, and in another second I don't feel the love anymore. I don't feel full or safe or complete, hell, I don't even feel Spike! I just hop down from Angels arms, and look at him apologetically. Its all I can do. I turn and walk back to my home. My mind is crying out to stay, explain, but all I can do is pull open the back door and slink in quietly. I sigh, and grab my coat, leaving the house the front way now, and walking down the road to Willows house.
"Angelus is such a Nancy-boy..." Spike says wandering over to Buffy's bed, and sitting on the end. He seems to sit still forever. Not moving, not speaking. Then he turns his head and gazes at her, blue eyes piercing her green. It seems to explode in colour inside both of their eyes. They both blink, and lock gazes again. "Nancy." He repeats. "But! I'm not a Nancy boy. No sir. See, you've whipped him, you have. He's all about the 'Cant hurt the innocent. Cant kill the innocent. Must return ALL library books by the due date. Even if your only up to chapter 3.' But you know what I think. I think he's just trying to impress you. And I don't want that. Because he's boring now. He used to be fun, he used to HAVE fun. And its your fault he don't anymore. And while we're talking about you. Your not innocent. I can kill you. And then He wont have to worry about it." Buffy scooted up to the end of her bed, grappling at the dresser next to her, that seemed a mile away, for a cross, a stake, some holy water, ANYTHING. But he grabbed her wrist and planted soft kisses along her finger tips. "Now now, pet. Don't worry. You wont die. You, me and Angelus. Terrorizing Sunnydale, killing and maiming the innocent, raping and pillaging, (Vikings us three!) and of course; finishing all our books, who gives a fuck about the fine." He pulled her closer and she stumbled up the bed towards him, shaking uncontrollably, but unable to move. "So, shush precious. Its for the best. Its best for all of us. In the name of evil. In the name of death. In the name of FUN!" And at this he slid into his demon face, and buried his teeth in her neck. They fell back on the bed, the warmth from her body flowing into his, her heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears, his brain, his heart. Thumpa thump. Thumpa thump. As her smooth tangy blood rushed down his throat, each pulse of her heart sending more and more, he could feel his body warming, and hers in his arms slowly cooling. Thumpa... thump... thump..a ... thump... Her heart rate slowed, but on the last beat before it stopped completely he drew away, retracting his fangs from her neck, and plunging them into his own wrist, which he brought to her parted lips and tipped her head back forcing his half-life down her throat. She gulped unsteadily at first, but growing more and more insistent and she sucked and shook his wrist, trying to get as much nourishment as she could. When she was finally satiated, she lay back on the pillows and looked up at the roof, a thin smirk marring her lips, now parted again, purely by the push of the fangs descending from where her old canines were.
"That was quick pet..." Spike said, leaning over her, his body humming and glowing in her eyes. He seemed to move both slower and faster at the same time, in beat with some sort of eternal, universal rhythm. He bent down and kissed her, his lips warm against hers, heated by her own life force, and she could feel every small molecule of texture on them, and taste everything that had passed through them, from roast chicken as a young child, to her own blood, such a predominantly powerful taste. But then everything faded to black and she sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes at the morning sun streaming in from her high panelled window, and yawned. One thought passed through her head as she rose from her bed. 'I better warn the librarian about not loaning any books to a bleach blonde punk.'
Spike jerked awake in the mansion panting for unneeded air as he recalled the recent dream. "Oh fuck." He grumbled, realising it wasn't real, and flopped back into his pillows moodily.
"Morning all!" Buffy greeted, as she descended the spiral stairs to her dining room. "Or… morning Dad." She corrected, as she saw Hank was sitting alone at the table, reading the paper. He glanced up for a second, and furrowed his brow.
"Geez Buff, honey, put some proper clothes on, you look like a total whore." He scolded, leering at her.
As Buffy yanked the chair from the table, angered by his words, she felt the back splinter in her grip. Luckily her father didn't see, and she sat down, served by Willis, the youngest servant. He placed a bowl of fruit salad before her, and poured her a cup of coffee. He smiled down at her, and she looked away under his gaze, afraid her whore-ish clothes were attracting the wrong sort of attention. Willis stood, and apologized, before returning to the kitchen.
"Buffy." Hank began, tone firm once more. "Don't flirt with the staff. Its unseemly. You are better than them. We better than them." He downed his coffee and briskly exited the room.
Ashamed, Buffy lowered her gaze to the weet-bix before her. There was a small spill of milk on the side, staining the old table cloth, and her OJ was wobbling precariously on a not so steady coaster. Buffy blinked and rubbed her eyes, and before her again was the gourmet fruit salad with yogurt and honey, along with her organic home-brewed coffee, standing on the smooth varnished oak dining table.
A lot can change in the blink of an eye.
I turn to my childe, sprawled moodily on the couch. He's been sitting there all morning, barely acknowledging my presence.
"Spike!" I bark. He looks up, but glances away again straight away. I'd almost think he looked guilty if Spike was capable of that feeling. "What's wrong with you this morning?"
He sighs and looks up at me. Yes… Id be about 90 sure that's guilt.
"I had a dream…" He mumbles, and rolls over so his heads in the pillow. Spike is the master at ignoring people if he wants to. He just sits there, head in some surface or other, not needing to breath, until they go away. It sounds stupid, but it's a tried and true technique. Tried on me. A lot.
Luckily though, I'm now the master of getting him to stop ignoring me. I spent years trying to find a way to get him to look at me again. Everything from sex, to blood, to booze. But just fairly recently I found the one and only way to get his face out of that pillow.
"Spiiike…." I coo softly. "If you don't look at me and stop drooling into the valour cushion, I'm going to have to cut our cable…" I know he's considering his options right now. He should know what that means, but my boy has been known to be a little bit slow, so I spell it out for him. "That means no more Passions, Days of our lives, Top of the pops, re-runs of Monty Python…" He sits bolt upright now.
"Okay okay!" He squawks, not ready to lose his precious day time TV.
"What was your dream?" I ask, sitting next to him.
"I killed Buffy…" He confesses.
"So? You've been dreaming that for years." And he has. Since he met her, he's been killing her in his dreams. Once or twice before he met her too. Once or twice before I met her. Once or twice before she was born. Creeps me out a little come to mention it.
"No no, I've killed her before." He explains. "I've never sired her before." He pauses and looks up at me, more guilt still etched on his angled face. "And I've never wanted her so bad before, either."
…Have you ever felt the world stop spinning for a moment, and everything goes cold, and black and white, and nothings real except for a slight twitch in your temple? And then everything speeds up again, and you have a sudden urge to stab someone with a dead mobile phone?… Well I have.
"What the bloody hell did you do that for?!" He yells, pulling the Nokia from his shoulder, and smashing it on the ground. I shrug, feeling better.
"Touch her, and that phone's a stake. And your shoulder's your heart. And your body is dust." I explain calmly, and return to my bedroom. Just before I enter though, I glance at him. "But just do something for me quickly, will you Will?"
For the past 3 days since Angel visited, Buffy waits patiently by her clock from 7:25 on. Every night, just as the seconds tick onto 7:30, everything is as it should be. For one minute. One WHOLE minute. 60 full seconds. 1/60th of an hour. No matter how she says or thinks it, it's not a long time. But as soon as that minute arrives, she's at pique strength again, and Dawn is annoying again, and the house is middle class again, and her fathers in Mexico with his secretary.
Every evening she plans to do something special. Find someway to escape this prison. Call Angel… (Does he have a phone?) contact Xander or Willow or Giles… (But could they really fix this in one short minute?).
So every time, these three evenings, she just sits, and watches her room. And listens to the sounds of her old life. Or sometimes breaks something, just to test her slayer strength.
But every night the minute is over too soon. And she's left sitting on the silken four poster bed she's dreamed of having since she was 5.
But tonight is different. Just as the clock hits 7:29 and 50 seconds, Spike appears at the window. Knocking furiously. 7 seconds pass as Buffy stares blankly at him, but as the clock clicks into place, she feels the power surge through her, and the room shift around her. She sees Spike wobble as the balcony he had firm purchase on becomes a not so firm slanted roof. He grips the window sill, and waits for her to invite him in. Which she begrudgingly does.
When he is inside, smoothing back him hair and straightening his jacket, she punches him.
"Oi! What did you do that for?!" He exclaims, rubbing his pale cheek.
"I always like punching you, Spike. And It was also revenge for a dream I had the other night…" He cocks an eyebrow at her, but lets go of it. She continues, not noticing." What are you doing here?"
"Messaging." He replies. "For angel. He's been up in his room researching your… condition? For days now. He told me to come tell you, that he'll save you, he's working on it, and do you have any information that might help?"
She glances at the clock. 30 seconds left.
"It was a demon. Big ugly-"
"Gunna have to be more specific than that love." Spike interrupted.
25 seconds…
"Rormarth! That was it. Rormarth demon. Look it up."
19 seconds…
"Oh, and Spike?" She called as he turned to leave.
"Yeah Slayer?"
"Tell Angel I love him."
"Will do." He sighed, looking strangely crestfallen. He shook his head. "See ya."
With that Spike turned to go.
10 seconds.
As he reached the window though, he seemed to pause, then he quickly turned around, and in a movement so fast, Buffy didn't even see it, He was kissing her.
7 seconds… 6 seconds… 5 seconds…
Then, with a rather loud and overly dramatic "Shmaaack!" He pulled away, and jumped out the window. As he slid down the roof pane, he glanced back and blew her a kiss.
3 seconds…
"Strange guy…" Buffy muttered, and descended the stairs to watch Casablanca, movie of the week with her Mother, Father and Sister, then engage in a rousing game of monopoly. Which she would win. As usual.
"She says she loves you!" I call, wandering into the mansion, shrugging off my duster and plonking myself down on his couch. He rushes out of his study, books in hand.
"What did you find out?" Other than what flavour lip gloss your sort of girlfriend wears? Nothing. Nothing at all. Wait, there was something wasn't there?
"Demon." I grunt, opening the mini fridge.
"Yes Spike, we already guessed that." He says in that 'I'm pretending to be patient with you, but I'm really so frustrated, horny and pissed off, that if you don't help me, god save you there better not be another Nokia lying around' voice. I hate that voice. Anyway, what's he saying now?"
"I did a little… okay a lot of research, and there are two types of dimension altering demons." On those last three words I mimic my mouth along with him, and he gives me a glare so pissed, that I'm honestly surprised he's not dehydrated.
"There are two clans." He continues. "The sckaabs, (Double a, as in…. aaaargh my eye.) and the Marths. (Single a, as in ah! Ow! My eye my eye!)"
"What text book have you been reading Peaches?" I ask, cocking my ever sexy eyebrow. It has a scar. Cant get much cooler than that. I had to magically cut it again when the original cut started healing. That gash was not going ANYWHERE!
"Um, the Presio Chronicles, translated version." He replied sheepishly.
"Presians? Weren't they that mob that thought eye-less-ness was a higher state of being?"
"Yes they were William. Much like you think that scar on your eyebrow is a higher state of being." He replies sharply, obviously wanting to get on with his story. Good luck with that.
"Its not a higher state of being love, Its just really fucking cool." I drawl.
"Your full of it." He mutters regarding the book again. Before he can say anything though, I casually point out, while inspecting my fingernails…
"My scar is to me, what the tree or flower tattoo on your shoulder is…"
He looks up abruptly. Knew it'd work.
"It's not a tree." He stammers defensively. "It doesn't look like a tree…"
"Bloody poncy is what it looks like…"
He's craning his neck over his shoulder now, trying to see past the collar of his pansy-ass blue shirt.
"It doesn't look anything like a tree…" He's muttering, before he sighs and faces me. "you were trying to get me distracted."
"Who me? Couldn't be!" I say slowly and clearly, smirking.
"Spike, the demon. Did its name end in Sckaab or Marth?"
"Probably Marth." I reply, nodding my head
"Probabl-" He begins angrily, then sighs, realising I'm playing him. "Okay, that's bad."
"Could've been Sckaab now you come to mention it…" I faux-ponder. He rolls his eyes.
"Spike, we are talking about the life of the girl I love and-" His voice changes to one filled with disgust, "You have the hots for. How can you be so flippant?!"
I lean my head back against the chair, and let out a long wounded sigh. I guess he's right. I look up and stare him in the eye.
"Marth." I say. I hate it when I'm the one to give in. He acts superior for ages. There it was! The half smirk! It's half smirk, and half brooding woe. Everything's always half brooding woe with him. But this time he's straight down to business.
"Okay. Damn I was hoping it was the Sckaab. They're tough, but they always travel in groups of two. One dies to cast the curse, all you have to do is kill the other."
"And the Marth?" I ask.
"Well, they're spells are a little weaker. There is always a flaw in them. Something you can work on, to break the spell."
"That's it? An itty-bitty flaw?!"
"Well that's why I was hoping for the Sckaab."
"Is that the flaw?" Spike asks, pointing at a floral, and rather ugly vase.
"What?" Angel says, leaning in front of him to try and see better through the window. "That vase? No. Why would it be?"
"Its hideous." Spike replies, shrugging.
But even as he makes a face of distaste, they see the vase disappear, only to be replaced with a more modest pot, with cheaper flowers in it. But In the blink of an eye it was gone.
"What was that?" Spike yelps, shaking Angels arm. "You did see that, right?"
"Yes yes William…" Angel replies, jogging round the corner of the house. He pokes his head round the corner and beckons to Spike to follow.
"Ssh, Spike. Keep your fat mouth shut for a few minutes." Angel says, staring at a tile on the ground where a weed was rapidly creeping up, and diminishing over and over.
Both vampires glanced around the corner to the back garden, where Buffy and her family were relaxing in the evening air.
They gaze at Buffy's face, which appears to be set in a pained grimace. She would blink occasionally as if to hold back tears.
"Lovely night, don't you think Hank?" Buffy's mother asks her husband amiably.
"That it is Joyce." Hank says, his voice husky.
Spike and Angel move around the hedge blocking them from sight to get a better view of Hank.
"Is there any more Pineapple?" Dawn asks, licking chocolate of her fondue fork. "Ah, don't worry!" She laughs as she reaches forward and snags the last piece.
Buffy places her fork on the table. Chewing much too long on a piece of strawberry.
"Are you alright Buff?" Dawn asks her, swallowing heartily.
"I'm fine." Buffy replies eyes wide.
This is when Spike sees it.
"Oh shit. Angel!" He hisses, pointing.
Angel peers to where Spike's black tipped finger is indicating and recoils.
"The sick bastard!" He growls, retching.
For at the table, under the patio, hidden from his wife and youngest daughters sight, Buffy's father Hank Summer's hand is up his dearest child's skirt. Doing god knows what.
"We gotta do something Peaches!" Spike spits, seething. That's too gross, especially for him. Him who over a hundred years ago was nearly raped by his recently vamped mum. Yeah, so he's still sour. You would be too.
"Yes, but what?" His sire replies, fretting, but trying to think logically.
They both look up, and for all of a second Hank is gone, and the patio is rusted, and the food is just a mediocre fruit salad, and Dawn and Joyce are laughing, and Buffy is looking relieved. But as usual, in the blink of an eye, Hank's hand is back in Buffy's panties, and everything is as it was a second before.
Spike growls deep in his throat. "That's fucking it."
He jumps out of the bushes, game face on, grabs Buffy's hand, and hauls her to her feet, growling and snapping at Hank. Dawn and Joyce scream and run inside, and the bleached vampire lifts his Damsel in Distress into his arms, and bounds back to Angel yelling, "Run you great Pouf!"
The two Vampires and the crying ex-slayer race back to the mansion, ripping the door open and placing Buffy down on Angel's couch. Angel crouches down next to her, soothing her, and Spike runs off to get a blanket… or chains if she tries to run away.
"What-? Angel?" Buffy sobs, hugging her ex-boyfriend. "What is he? The man with the weird forehead?"
Spike descends the stairs, an old doona in his hands and passes it to Angel to wrap Buffy in.
He smiles at her face, human visage on.
"You know full well Slayer." He says soothingly, and whispers into Angel's ear. "Its 25 past 7."
Angel nods, and strokes Buffy's hair. "You do know, Buffy. He's a vampire. Don't worry, you'll be free in five minutes. And we'll take care of everything. Just rest for now."
When the clock ticks onto 7 thirty, Buffy opens her eyes before me and bursts into tears. I want to help her so much, but when I try to talk she cuts me off.
"It's Dad…" She sobs, breath catching.
"We know." I whisper, holding her close to me.
"I thought I needed him." She confesses. "I thought my life could never be perfect with out my whole family. I was wrong. I never knew what he was really like. Its been happening for weeks. In front of the family he's so polite." The tone in her voice is seething with anger. This is the strong Buffy I know. But at the same time she's shaking and sobbing, which I guess is normal, given the circumstances. "But as soon as we're alone, he's either horribly mean or- or- or-" She hiccups, voice catching.
"Don't worry, you don't have to say it." I coo, handing her the Milo Spike just passed to me. I'm so glad he's shutting up right now.
"Angel, I cant do this." She says, her voice steady for the first time. She stares me straight in the eyes, and I nod, urging her to drink.
"I'm not going back there." She continues. "I wished for perfection. I wished for a normal life. This isn't perfect, this isn't normal, this is hell." She glances at the huge grandfather clock next to her, counting down her last few seconds.
55...
"I wont go back!" She yells, crying again, but voice angry.
57...
"NO!" She growls at the clock. "I'm not going back to him."
59...
"You cant-"
60...
"Make me… You cant make me! You cant make me!" She cries, as she realises that its 7:31.
"I think you broke the spell, Buffy!" I tell her, and she laughs, gulping down mouthfuls of Milo.
"I did, didn't I?" She says, voice relieved. Better than relieved…
"Beholden." Spike says, watching her. He seems to be glowing just looking at the radiant girl before him. "God Buffy." He chuckles, "you look so…"
"If you say 'effulgent' …" I threaten, voice low and growling, and they both laugh.
"Luminous?" He suggests.
"Lustrous?" She giggles, joining in.
"Incandescent?"
"Splendid?"
"Lambent?"
I laugh, and look at the two of them, and then at my own hand to check I'm glowing as well.
"Resplendent?" I say, and we collapse together on the couch.
She stayed with us for another two days after that. Dunno why. Scared I guess. Scared of her dad, scared the spell was still going.
Point is, best. two. days. of. my. unlife.
Dru said something about her surrounding me. Dru was always right.
It was an outrage really. William the Bloody should not be so easily whupped. I am strong, I am evil, I am… fooling no-one. I'm so easily whupped you could put a whup on me and call me whup boy.
Course, Angelus has me pretty whupped too. So I 'ad to settle for watching Buffy from distance, lest I get painfully stabbed. He hates technology, and he hates me, so he's lately been moving from mobile phones, to DVD players, I-pods, whatever he can find with a practical and efficient use. Bastard.
But back to Buffy. Her and Peaches were so pathetic the whole entire time.
Just friends my sodding arse.
There was so little physical contact between the two of 'em, they might as well been going at it right then 'n' there.
Boys gotta learn about overcompensation. Overcompensation with the angst overcompensation with the mansion.
And Buffy, bless her soul, is just a bint.
A hot fucking sharp tongued sexy bint though.
So three days later we walked her home. Soon as the sun set, we walked up rovello or revolla or ravioli drive, together, Slayer, and Vampire, and Pansy-ass.
Joyce was suitably stoked. More than stoked. Frantically hysterical. Fussing over everything, from Buffy's hair, to mine. Course, she'd assumed Buffy's prolonged absence had been due to some slayer duty thing. Strangely she'd seemed to repress the memories of the last fortnight.
Don't think the Niblet did though. Soon as she came down those stairs I recognised her. Not that I'd ever met her, but I knew her smell. Lemongrass and candied oranges. Very tangy.
So she came down those stairs, and briskly hugged me. 'thanks for bringin' me sis home' and all.
"Thanks for saving her from Dad." She whispered into my ear. Not so clueless that one. I bent don't level with her and vamped out. Know what the chit did? Poked her tongue out at me.
Home at last. Happy endings and tying up loose ends. Kumbayayas and curtain calls. At least that's how it feels.
Mum and Dawn and Angel and for some reason Spike. We sit around the dinner table this evening, eating lasagne and salad. I'd have to call Wills and Xander and Giles later, but for now, I do not want this perfect night to end. Perfect. I mean sure, I have no father to speak of. And sure, my not-a-boyfriend is playing with his salad in such a way its obvious he'd prefer some A negative. And okay, there's a bleached idiot laughing with my mum and sister, guzzling down food as if he were alive at the end of my table, but its not like I haven't grown just a little fond of him over the past few days. This is perfect.
No waiters, terrible grades, so-so food, two of my best friends being dead… and my family being cool with that, me being destined to die by 25...
Could life be any better?
"Bloody hell Angel! Just eat something dammit! Stop being so fucking Poncey!"
"Excuse me mister, Id appreciate you don't use that kind of language in front of my youngest daughter!'
"Shut up, mum, I've heard it before. Any way, Spike's cool enough to swear."
"Thanks little bit! See angel, Some one appreciates me."
"Sorry, miss Summers, excuse my friend, he may be acutely retarded"
Hell no.