A Serendipitous Beginning
by
Lisa Y. Drexel
Chapter Three
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Everything Changes Now
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Seeing a broken Spike was not something Xander ever wanted to witness.
In the eight years he had known the vampire—first as an evil witty demon, then a year later, as a souled one, he had observed Spike in his many faces: hopelessly in love, heartbroken, angry, disabled—but never broken.
The vampire that was curled up on the floor under the window was just that—broken.
And if that hadn't been enough to crack Xander's own fragile control, the broken, dead body of his best friend on the couch would surely do the trick.
Why did Spike bring Willow's body back to his house, yet leave Buffy's at the Bronze?
The Slayerette sighed and went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of bloodwine out of the refrigerator. With that in hand, he kneeled down in front of Spike and gently shook his shoulder.
"Spike."
The vampire looked up and Xander had to bite the inside of his cheek not to back away at the sight of yellow, inhuman eyes that met his. Instead, he carefully handed him the bottle of bloodwine, forcing himself not to flinch when his cool fingers touched his.
Spike took it, oblivious of the red streaks decorating his otherwise pale countenance and ripped the cork out with his fangs.
He drained the bottle in less than a minute and handed it back to Xander.
"Need another one?"
He nodded. "But no—no wine. In the back. It's labeled Spike's Special," the vampire said, his voice so low it was wavering on growling.
Xander turned and nodded to Oz to go and get and it. The werewolf disappeared into the kitchen.
"Why did you bring Willow back here?"
Spike shook his head and reached for the bottle Oz was holding. The werewolf handed it to him and then nervously glanced at Willow's form.
"Yeah Spike, why?" Oz asked quietly.
The vampire's eyes shut as he struggled to control himself. "Because she's a bloody Immortal or at least will be as soon as she revives."
Xander heard his wife suck in a deep breath. "That's why Angelus killed her," she whispered as she kneeled in front of Willow's body. "Amy, we need to clean her up."
The witch numbly nodded and reached for Willow's dead hand. "I'll meet you in the spare bedroom."
Cordelia nodded and watched as Amy transported herself and Willow out of the room.
"Oh Jesus," Oz said as he fell back into a char. "You're saying that he knew?"
Spike pulled himself off the floor and grabbed the now nearly empty bottle of fermented blood and uncaringly flopped down on the soiled couch. "Yeah, the wanker knew. Mike and Richie told him back in St. Louis when Peaches and Willow were searching for me."
"But to kill her?" Oz asked. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Sure it does," Xander snapped, feeling the horror of the evening settle on top of him. "Angelus is back and I'll bet he wants to kill anyone who has the power to bring soul-boy back. And Willow, she's a threat on two fronts. Not only does she know the curse, but her Immortality itself is a threat." He turned to Spike, his mind churning as he tried to remember Spike's words nearly six years before. "What was it you said about Mike? That you found a demon's dream come true in her? Blood freely given. Better blood than you'd ever had before and best of all, the well never dried."
The vampire nodded. "I'm sure Angelus looks at me and thinks I'm whipped. Bloody hell, I know I'm not the same vampire I was when I first came here with Dru. But my soul didn't change me near as much as being in that wheelchair and having to live with that pillock for five months."
Xander nodded sympathetically. Of all the demons and uglies that they as a group faced in the past nine years, no one instilled as much horror and terror into the group as Angelus did. Not the Judge, Acalthla, or even the Master.
Nope, Angelus had the prize in that category. And even though Xander knew why, it didn't make it any easier to deal with; Angelus knew everyone—almost intimately—and used that knowledge to instill terror and his own perverse sense of fun—causing countless nightmares to follow for years afterwards.
"Giles and Joyce are here," Oz announced softly as he opened the front door and waved them in.
Joyce stepped inside first and Xander immediately noticed that her face was still red and blotchy from crying. But, like her daughter, she still possessed a quiet, inner strength that seemed to radiate a sense of calm that affected everything around her. When Joyce was like this—Xander would find himself wanting to run over and hid behind her skirts, just like a small child would when under the protection of his mother.
That's what Joyce had—that mother lioness aura—the same one that Buffy possessed.
Giles, on the other hand, appeared devastated. Xander hoped it wasn't an indication of things to come because he really needed the Watcher to be strong.
Hell, they all needed Giles to be strong.
Joyce let go of her husband's hand as her eyes landed on Spike.
She immediately walked over and sat down across from him on the coffee table.
"Spike?"
The vampire raised his head, obviously unaware of the red streaks of dried blood tears that painted his pale, marble appearance. His face was still vamped and Xander wasn't surprised. He knew enough about vampires to suspect that Spike didn't even realize it; the pain and agony of the night was too fresh and intense for him to control his vampiric state.
"Oh Joyce," he moaned, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. It was so fast—I couldn't—I didn't even get a chance to try!"
He suddenly pushed back from her gentle touch and pulled his body over the side of the couch and went into the kitchen. Xander heard the refrigerator door open and slam shut.
He felt Giles eye's on him and turned while holding up three fingers, knowing what the Watcher was asking him; how much so far? How many until they had a drunken and devastated vampire on their hands with the only two people who could possibly control him not available.
Buffy and Mike.
But Joyce seemed undeterred as she rushed to follow him into the kitchen. Although Xander didn't follow them, he heard what she said all the same.
"Don't you dare, Spike! God damnit, quit it! Cry. Mourn. Even get mad, but don't you dare start blaming yourself for something we all knew was just a matter of time: Buffy was going to die!"
Her heard the vampire moan and suck in an unneeded ragged breath. "But not tonight. Bloody hell, she didn't have to die tonight!"
Xander couldn't help but agree with the blond vampire. Yes, they all knew that slayer's lives were on a mystical timetable—ready to end at any given moment. But that didn't mean that Xander didn't secretly believe that Buffy would beat the odds—like she had done so many other times. Her unorthodox methods had earned her added years to her shortened lifespan.
Years that he was sure everyone was hoping would turn into decades.
It just wasn't so.
Xander sighed and leaned against the bookcase that doubled as a room divider separating the kitchen from the living room and ran his hands through his hair. He was exhausted and worried about Cordelia as well as Willow and Spike. He even felt weight of Angel's loss as it settled on his heart. Like Spike, it had taken nearly the whole time since the vampire had been rescued by Willow from Hell, for Xander to begin to trust him again, and now that he had, the vampire was gone. Sure, he knew that Angel could return; they had the curse as well as Willow's Immortality—but something told Xander that Angelus wouldn't be too keen on allowing soul-boy to be on top, so to speak, and inwardly feared that Angel was gone forever this time.
God, he hoped not.
Especially for Willow's sake.
His best friend was no longer the shy, computer nerd of their childhood, but her heart was still as vulnerable as it had been when they were fifteen. And she had given Angel her heart long ago—probably before he had lost his soul the first time and now Angelus held it in his cold demon hands like a cat ready play with its food.
And if Angelus' previous actions were any indications on how vindictive and cruel he could be, Willow and the rest of them by proxy, were not in for a good time. Xander could only hope that Spike's present vampiric state, with the addition of Vachon, Mike and Richie, would be enough to be able to not only protect themselves but to somehow capture and contain Angelus.
*Yeah, and my wish list isn't too big, is it?* he said to himself as he watched Amy stick her head out of the bedroom door.
"Xan, get Giles. She's awake!"
He turned towards the watcher only to see the elder man rush passed him and make his way down the hallway. Xander followed, only peripherally aware of Oz right on his heels.
As he stepped into the bedroom, he saw Willow sobbing on Cordelia's chest. "Wh-what happened? Angel? Where's Angel? Where's Buffy?"
He started to move forward only to be pushed aside none-too-gently by Spike. Biting his lip against the caustic comment dying to slip out, he watched the vampire make his way over to the bed where Cordelia and Willow sat.
The vampire held out his hand for Willow and Xander watched his best friend pull herself out of Cordelia's arms and reach for it.
It was then that Xander noticed that for the first time since the craziness of the evening had begun, that his vampiric visage was gone.
"Spike? Where's Angel? Or Buffy—" she asked as she shakily stood, clasping Spike's hand so tightly that Xander noticed her fingers were turning white.
"Willow—" Cordelia began.
"Where's my clothes? What the hell is going on here?"
Spike grabbed her other hand and pulled her in front of him. She finally looked up and gasped loudly. She freed one hand and lifted it to his face, tracing the red stains caused by his blood tears. "You're crying...?" A look of horror crossed her face. "Oh my Goddess—" Her knees buckled and he caught her easily. She wrapped her arms around him and moaned into his chest. "He's gone, isn't he?"
Spike nodded, dipping his head to muffle his sob in her hair. "I'm sorry, pet."
"And Buffy?"
He just nodded again. Grimacing, he looked over her head and his eyes landed on Xander. The vampire tipped his head towards the door and Xander nodded. He then reached for Cordelia, who, once Willow pulled away from her, had got up from the bed and went over to stand next Xander. Together turned towards the door, knowing that the rest of them would follow. Everyone understood that Spike was what Willow needed now.
Within a minute, the six of them were back in the living room, silently staring at one another. Partially in shock—partially from exhaustion. Xander pulled Cordelia tightly against him and rested his hands on her abdomen, silently praying that everything was alright. He watched as Joyce spied the blood-stained couch and sigh heavily. Xander saw her control begin to wane and noticed that whatever self-induced stupor that Giles had been residing in, disappear as soon as he realized that Joyce needed him. He walked over and put his arm around her and then turned to Oz. "Oz, see if he's got any coffee or tea, will you? And Amy, can you go and get a couple of towels from the bathroom so we can cover this up?"
"Sure thing, Giles," Amy said quietly and disappeared down the hallway.
Xander moved over to one of the easy chairs and flopped down in it, pulling Cordelia down onto his lap. With his arms tightly wrapped around her, he listened to the familiar sounds of coffee of being made and tried not to think of all the things that he had lost that night.
It only made him less appreciative of things he still had.
And he was never going to make that mistake again.
~~~
"Dead?" Willow whispered. "Really—not just almost?"
Despite everything that had happened that night, Spike almost chuckled outloud at her question. Only on the Hellmouth would such a question ever need to be asked. "Really, Will."
"Why am I not dead then?"
The vampire pulled back and sat down on the bed. He patted a spot next to him and she scrambled up and sat closely next to him, unconsciously taking comfort from his vampiric state—so like Angel's.
"Pet, you're an Immortal," he said quietly, his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
"What? Since when?"
He shrugged. "Since always, I presume."
He glanced over at her, watching as she chewed on her bottom hip. "He knew, didn't he?"
Spike nodded. "Mike told him. That night when she first met you—at Wolf's Bane."
"Did anyone else know?"
"Not until tonight when I told them. Everyone was a bit curious as to why I grabbed an obviously dead Willow out of Angelus' arms, but left Buffy—"
"Because you knew that Buffy really died—" she stopped mid sentence as a sob escaped. "Oh Goddess, Spike, I'm so sorry."
"Oh love, there's nothing to be sorry for," he said as he wrapped his arms around her small, shaking frame. "After all the things you've done for me—I couldn't let that bloody wanker destroy you."
She lifted her head, her green eyes wide and shocked.
"Besides, I promised Mike. And believe me, it was a promise I had no problem keeping," he added softly.
She nodded slowly as she pulled herself out of his arms and rubbed her wet face.
"Immortal, eh?"
He smiled at her.
"That means I can save him, doesn't it?"
He nodded once. "Or you could curse him, then save him."
She bit her lip again and shook her head. "Nope, no more curses. There's a limit," she let out a harsh laugh. "Can you believe that? Apparently a body's not supposed to lose its soul once—much less three times. If I tried cursing him again, I'd destroy both Angel and Angelus. No, I'll have to do this the hard way.
"We'll have to do this the hard way. You're not alone with all this. You have everyone in this house ready to stand with you—to fight for you. As well as Mike, Richie and Vachon."
She turned as a small smile slipped out. "Mike's coming?"
"I talked to her tonight. She and Vachon are flying down as we speak. Richie's taking the human route and booked a seat on the first available flight."
Spike closed his eyes, suddenly feeling so drained that all he wanted to do was slither into his bedroom and crawl under the covers and hide for about a week.
"Spike?"
He looked up to see a very earnest Willow standing next to him by the bed. "She really loved you. You do realize that? I mean, just a couple of days ago, she to-told me that you—you were the love of her life—not Angel. But you."
Spike felt his undead heart clench at her words. *A flame. She was my hot burning flame.* "Thank you. Willow."
The redhead sighed softly as she shuffled her feet and looked downwards. "You know what the hardest part of this is? I really wish I could talk to Angel about Buffy. And Buffy about Angel. I lost both of my best friends tonight...and now, he's out there," she said as looked up and met his eyes.
Spike nodded, ironically feeling the same way. With both Buffy and Angel gone—he felt a hole in his heart that he wondered if it would ever be filled. For the first time in over 100 years, he needed Angel and the son-of-bitch wasn't there. "Bloody hell, I knew I shouldn't have trusted that bloke!"
He felt her eyes bore into his head, but he refused to look up, wanting to revel in his anger. It was easier this way. Anger was always easier than heartache.
"Spike! Angel really worked hard for that trust! Don't blame him for the demon's action. Hell, you can't even blame him for losing his soul. There was some powerful magic at work tonight," she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her stomach suddenly growled loudly, causing her to jump.
"Wh—what was that?"
Spike finally looked up, chuckling softly as he shook his head. After standing up, we went over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants from one of the drawers. He tossed them over to her. "Luv, why don't you finish getting dressed and meet me in the kitchen. You need to get some food in that stomach of yours. Dying takes a lot out of you."
"Oh," she said and glanced down at her bare legs, blushing, much like the same innocent Willow that he had gotten to know so many years before. Her hands touched the hem of the extra large tee-shirt that hung down well past her mid-thigh and made a face. "Okay."
Spike grinned at her unease and opened the bedroom door to leave, only to be stopped by her voice.
"Thank you, Spike," she said so softly that if he hadn't been a vampire, he doubted if he would've heard her.
"You're welcome, pet. We'll just be out there, if you need anything."
"Okay."
Spike closed the door and took a deep, unneeded breath, preparing himself to face the rest of his friends. *Gods, I wish Mike were here,* he thought to himself and almost immediately he heard her reply in his mind.
*We're coming, hun. Flying over Oregon as we speak...*
He sent her a silent thanks and began the short trek to his living room, not at all ready to face a household full of anxious, mourning guests.
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to be continued in Chapter Four - And So it Begins...