Chapter Four
Lisa Y. Drexel
Life's Quagmires, and a Slayer's Regrets
Double Destiny II
Chapter Four
Life's Quagmires, and a Slayer's Regrets
"Pet, we need to get up," Spike whispered against my ear.
Ignoring him, I tightened my hold around his waist, reveling in security the coolness his skin gave me.
It was like coming home.
For the past ten years, I have felt lost-almost as if there had been a part of me missing. And in a sense, there was: my slayer part. Oh sure, I still went out nightly and did my thing, but it was different. In some ways when I would slay, I felt like I did when I was young girl when I would snatch a hot cookie off the baking sheet when my mother's back was turned. Sure, my mom knew I was going to do it, and when she saw the empty spot where the cookie had been prior to warming my stomach-she knew where it went...but it was still illicit. I wasn't supposed to steal those cookies until she had given me the okay anymore than I should be slaying now that I'm Immortal.
Even though Whistler had expected this out of me, and told Connor to as well, in reality I was supposed to have left that life behind. Immortals are a paranoid bunch-they have rules that they expect every Immortal to live by. It's understandable; as humans with just a lengthened life-expectancy, if our secret were get out, I have no doubt that humankind would not be as kind to Immortals as I was to Whistler when I had first met him. Demons were not a surprise to me, and Angel had taught me that not all demons were evil, so it was easy for me to accept what my slayer-sense was telling me when I had met him-that he wasn't evil. Most humans don't have that experience to go back to. They have no idea about the other world that lives in the darkness and preys on their weakness.
And they shouldn't. That's the job of the Watchers and Slayers'-to worry-not your normal Joe Blow that goes to the office five days a week and works over 40 hours a week. And to be honest, it is likely that same Joe Blow has met demons before-and just didn't know it. They're all over the place. The more benevolent ones have nearly enmeshed themselves completely into our society. If they can pass for human, they do it.
And why not? If they're contributing members of society and pay their taxes-why shouldn't they live in the world in which they happen to occupy?
But just the possibility of immortality is a whole 'nother ballgame. It's like a Pandora's box ready to be opened. The secret of longevity-that special gene that enables a human being to theoretically live forever. Just imagine what humankind would do if they found out that immortality was possible. A modern-day witch hunt would be one of the more pleasant outcomes. What would the Initiative have done if they found out Immortals? I cringed everytime I thought about it.
Therein lies the problem.
Every time I go out and slay, I risk betraying my race. At least that's the way most Immortals see it. Methos has always had hated it. Joe has worried incessantly about me for the past seven years since he found out who I was prior to my life as an Immortal. Although Duncan might admire my persistence in continuing to answer my calling, he still believes to this day that I was risking too much by slaying.
All it would take is one reporter catching me at the wrong time, and all the world's secrets would be thrown into the light.
And yet, I can't stop myself. It is who I am, and I've been the only one in the past decade, until Spike, who understood that.
Everything about him and me together seemed to confirm who I was now, and who I had been before. Just laying there in his arms, inhaling his smoke and copper tainted scent could send me spiraling back to a time when my life had been so much simpler.
I opened my eyes and found him staring down at me-his dark blue eyes filled with love, worry and concern. When was the last time I had been with someone that loved me that much?
Angel.
What was it they said about your first? That it defines you, if you let it. That it molds who you are and who you're to become?
Angel was that for me. His cool strength...his continual presence in my life-whether he was by my side in Sunnydale or in LA-I still felt his love no matter where I was. He was the reason I jumped into Riley's bed without much of a thought. He was the reason I had become something so foreign that I had even been a stranger to myself during my freshman year in college.
Everything I did for those three years after I had moved to Sunnydale had been influenced by Angel-one way or another.
Even meeting Spike, and the strange twisty-turny curves our relationship had taken had been defined by Angel...Angelus was Spike's sire...Spike blamed me for being the one that triggered the happiness clause in Angel's curse. Spike losing Dru to her 'daddy's' attentions. Our truce, the Gem of Amara, the chip, the second truce...
Everything.
And yet, somehow in that quagmire of betrayal, hatred, and respect-something happened. Our relationship became something more than our mutual hatred of Angelus or our desire to keep the world from ending...it became about us. And when that happened, Spike was no longer a part of Angel in my mind-he was just Spike.
Once that happened, everything else was almost happenstance. Which was a good thing, or I would've never been able to see past all the baggage that Spike's presence in my life had brought. I couldn't have allowed myself to be with him-like this.
And that, in retrospect, was probably one of the best things that could've ever happened to me, him or us.
Well that, and being Immortal.
If I hadn't been in the position that I was in now, I also would never have accepted those shades of grays that kept dumping on me with impetuousness'-especially when it came to Spike. For an evil vampire, there wasn't actually much evil in him. He was a mixture of both-good and evil, light and dark-just like me. Maybe I had more light in me than him, but still we are both guided by love-and that can't be anything but a good thing in my book.
My stomach fluttered as I buried my face into the crook of his shoulder. I didn't want to let him go...to get up and face the craziness that was my life outside this room. Leaving this room meant me dealing with not only Joe, but Methos-and his painful glances that were almost guaranteed to be thrown my way. I had made my choice, and it wasn't him...
And it was going to hurt the ancient Immortal, and I was loath to do that.
"I don't want to," I mumbled against his cool skin.
His soft chuckle filled my senses. "Neither do I, pet...but I don't see much of choice in the matter."
I groaned softly as I shook my head in denial. I wanted to stay there-in this bed-where Spike had made love to me for the first and second time. I wanted to stay there-where I knew everything was all right, and soak in all the love he gave me.
And love me, Spike did.
My stomach fluttered with the memory of him slowly taking each piece of my clothing off. His pale skin almost glowing in the dim candlelight as he had shed his own clothes. How he kissed every inch of my skin all the while whispering his love for me and how much he ached inside when he had thought I had been dead.
How suddenly his world seemed right, when for nearly 200 years he had felt lost in the confusion of love, hatred, right, wrong, violence and tenderness. How it all seemed to make sense now that he had finally seen who I was meant to be. That everything that had happened to him molded him into becoming a vampire that was meant to stand side-by-side an Immortal Slayer until the end of time.
And God, I felt the truth in his words-their poignancy slicing into my soul and heart with every thrust of his body, and nip of his fangs. When his teeth finally cut into my skin-over scarred remains of Angel's love for me, I finally felt whole...
My skin was flushed with the memories as I began to pepper soft kisses across his collarbone. A soft growl filled my ears, and I heard myself laughing quietly as I rolled over onto my back, pulling his languid body on top of mine.
Three times, I thought to myself as his mouth crashed into mine. I needed this third time before I had to face the overwhelming problems of the day, and my life.
Soon I would have to face not only Methos' sad golden eyes, but the anger and betrayal of all my old friends...
Soon, I would have no time for whispered affirmations and loving caresses, because once again my fate was threatened...
And finally, once again, I would turn to the only people I ever trusted with my life-like I had done so many times in the past. Although a part of me balked at even considering the idea of turning to anyone other than a fellow Immortal for this mess I found myself in, a larger part of me felt oddly at peace with the whole idea.
It was truly like coming home again-in more ways than one.
I just wish I knew if that were a good or bad thing, because at this point, I had no idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nine hours later - midday
Over the Atlantic Ocean
Even before I could stop myself, I sighed.
Again.
It must've been about the millionth time if I could take the glares I received as any indication. I gave both men a stare of my own, and then leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes.
They were acting like children, and frankly, I was getting sick of it.
It was bad enough being hunted by every watcher on the face of the earth, but to have to deal with two pouting, immortal men was enough to send me to the nuthouse.
Any other time, I would've thought the situation was humorous. But now, all I felt was impatience and irritation. Even if it was, in a sense, my fault that Methos and Spike were now involved in their own little Cold War.
I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. I mean, Methos and I have had a long, but complicated relationship...and I knew he was in love with me. I just couldn't give him what he wanted.
I wasn't ready.
And Spike knew this as well-even if we hadn't talked it over. He had always been real perceptive, and even though I welcomed the vampire into my heart, he had to sense my reluctance to completely let go of the ancient Immortal.
I just couldn't do it. Other than my mentor, Connor, Methos had been my lifeline in my crazy life for far longer than anyone else ever had been. He gave me a sense of security in my Immortality that I never had before he and I became close.
He helped me accept that part of myself.
I wished that there were something I could do to help him. But it was futile-I knew that. I had had my heart broken enough to know that only time would heal its sharp, painful pieces. Besides Spike, the only consolation I had was the knowledge that Methos possessed that one thing-time-in vast quantities.
Even Joe had talked to me about him-pulling me aside while Spike and Methos talked of strategy-reassuring me that in the end, I had to follow my heart. Maybe the elder watcher could see the guilt and fear in my eyes, or maybe he just knew me better than I had thought-I don't know. But when I felt the older mortal's arms wrap tightly around my body, I couldn't stop the tears that slipped down my cheeks.
"Is he going to be all right?" I asked Joe, knowing that the watcher was one of the few people who truly knew Methos. Well, at least as much as Methos let anyone really know him. It wasn't the first time I had asked Joe for advice in dealing with the ancient Immortal, and I was no fool in believing that it would be the last as well. Methos was a complex individual-filled with contradictions and sharp turns all over the place. He never failed to surprise me in the past seven years, and as I've gotten older, I've come to appreciate that trait more and more.
Sometimes Methos' left turns were the only excitement I had in my otherwise normal, dare I say, even boring existence.
The watcher's eyes dropped as he stared at the ground, clenching his jaw. I could feel Joe's weariness-it was nearly tangible in the air. None of us had gotten much sleep in the past day or so, but for the most part all Spike and I had done was worry, whereas Joe was gathering his troops-preparing them for battle against CoW. Methos' helped him a bit, but it had been over twelve years since the ancient Immortal had been a watcher, so all he could do was offer Joe his advice. And it wasn't an easy thing-waging war, but I had no doubt that Joe would do all right. He was soldier-through and through-and he was an honorable man, who fought for what he believed in.
I just hated the idea that this war was being fought because of me. If it just were about me-Buffy-the Immortal, I wouldn't have bothered to ask for help. But it wasn't just about me...it was about the future of the world. It was also about freedom and lines that were drawn over a thousand years ago being erased. The foundation of Immortal watchers was non-interference, and what CoW was asking them to do was sacriledge.
I may be Immortal, but I'm a slayer as well. The Powers wanted me free, and who else but CoW would have the arrogance to believe that they knew what was more right than the PTBs?
Joe finally lifted his head, his tired blue eyes meeting mine, and nodded once. "Buffy, he'll be okay. Just give him time," he told me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I think the worst thing about this is that he did this to himself, and he knows it. He may act like a spoiled child for a while. Or he may even surprise both of us and drudge up that enormous amount of maturity that I know he keeps locked away most of the time and be easy to deal with it," Joe added with a slight grin. "But whatever he does, he'll survive. Because that's what he is-above all else-a survivor."
I nodded in agreement and gave the man a small smile. "I'm going to miss you, Joe Dawson," I told the man who, in some ways, reminded me of my watcher in Sunnydale. Like Giles, Joe loved me like a daughter-something I've found myself needing most of my life. It's funny, for all those years before I found out I had been adopted, I always wondered what had I done to deserve my father's distance from me. He didn't actually abandon me, but as I got older, he did pull back from me emotionally-leaving me always yearning for more from the men in my life.
Joe helped fill in that gap in my life after I had left Sunnydale.
"Hey, I'll see you again...you can count on it!"
I wiped my eyes dry and shrugged. "Are you sure about that?" I asked, still feeling unsure. "I may have to go into hiding for the next century or two."
Joe shook his head. "Nah, we'll get this taken care of. There are not a lot of people I know that are very happy with what has happened. And most of them don't have a clue about what's really going on. After I fill them in, I doubt there'll be many Immortal Watchers too keen on giving the slayer watchers what they want. You've got to remember, Buffy...we have the power and money, they just have some knowledge that yes, might have been useful in the past and answers in the future, but I think the Immortal Watchers will eventually be the ones calling the shots."
I let out a sigh of relief and hugged him one more time-taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart-memorizing the gentle way his arms held me. Why did it feel like I had seen the last of him?
Because, I snapped at myself, CoW is ruthless and you'd be a fool to believe that they'd see Joe's protest as anything other than an act of treason.
And CoW never dealt with treason very well.
It always went back to Cow, didn't it? No matter how assured Joe was-no matter how much he believed in what he was doing-I still wasn't convinced that anything other pain and death was going to come out of this battle. Joe may've been right in human terms; Immortal watchers did hold the pocket book, and CoW definitely needed the cash, but CoW never thought in human terms. They were a magical organization based on destiny, birthright and doctorines that upheld their belief that CoW was in the right, and always had been.
CoW's very existence was founded on the idea that they knew what was right when it came to slayers, vampires and demons. There was no way that they would allow some mortal establishment to dictate their policy. They might even appear to relent in their search for me, but in truth, I doubted if they would ever give up. At least not until the ones that called the shots at the Council of Watchers were no longer in power.
I had a feeling whatever happened in the immediate future, CoW would always be a thorn in my side-now that they knew I was Immortal. They believed it was their right to control my life-it was their destiny. And unless something drastic happened like my final death or their destruction, I was skeptical of any real change-no matter how sincere CoW appeared to be.
Groaning, I shook my head and turned to see Spike leaning towards me. Seconds later, his lips caressed my cheek-sending a pleasant shiver across my skin.
"Hey," I whispered, as I laid my head on his shoulder.
"Are you okay, pet?"
I shrugged. I never could lie to Spike. "Just thinking," I answered. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, considering I was getting tired of watching you two glare at one another," I told the vampire as I picked up his hand and held it in mine. I looked up and met his embarrassed gaze, and gave him a small smile. "So, are you going to cool it for awhile?" I asked him.
He nodded, his mouth opening in a huge yawn. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna catch some shut-eye. All this flying is wearing me out," he told me as he lifted the bar that separated our two seats.
"Sounds like a good idea to me," I said as he laid down on the bench, resting his head on my lap. "Sweet dreams," I whispered right before kissing his cheek.
"Thanks pet," he said, yawning again.
Within minutes, he had fallen into a deep, motionless sleep.
There was a part of me that wished I could follow him, but when I looked up and met Methos' silent plead, I knew it wasn't an option.
I needed to talk to Methos first-he deserved at least that much, if not a lot more.
Sighing, I gently lifted Spike's head off my legs and slipped out from underneath him, placing him back on the seat. Once standing, I took a deep breath, inwardly preparing myself for the conversation that was soon to follow, and made my way over towards the other end of the plane, where Methos was sitting.
This was not going to be easy.
We'd been in the air for five hours, and although we were in a private jet-the accommodations were wonderful, it was still a plane.
And I was still exhausted.
After pouring myself a glass of wine, I pulled a bar stool around and sat down across from the dark-haired Immortal, and waited for nearly five minutes for him to speak.
"Do you love him, Buffy?"
Although I shouldn't have been surprised by his question, I still was. It hurt. It hurt to look at him, and to know that I was, in turn, hurting him by not choosing him. And most of all it hurt hearing him question my feeling for Spike. I knew I didn't have the best track record in the past ten years when it came to romance. Matter of fact, it was pretty dismal-the whole keeping sex and emotions separate thing wasn't something I could hold up and wave in righteous indignation as I claimed that my feelings for Spike were genuine. But still, now that I had finally committed myself emotionally, a part of me just expected that Methos could see that as well.
What a fool, I thought to myself as I looked up to see him waiting for my answer. Although he deserved an honest answer, a part of me was loath to give it. I didn't want to hurt him, and that was exactly what would happen as soon as I told him.
Why did things have to work out this way?
Why did Methos have to be so damned stubborn and headstrong?
If he had only accepted me for who I was all those years ago, we would have never been in this position to begin with. I would've jumped at the chance to be in a relationship with him if I had felt that he had given me a chance.
Well, maybe that wasn't totally true. It would've taken awhile for me to begin to trust in myself once again, but if I had felt secure enough in myself, it would have happened a long time ago.
But Methos made a choice a long time ago when he discouraged my slayer part, and here was the end result. And now, a decade later, I have finally found someone that will love me completely and fully-regardless of who I was or who I am right now. Or maybe even because of it. I don't know. But I do know, that Spike loves me-all of me, and that's an incredible feeling. One that, to be honest, I've never had before. Angel came the closest, but when his alter-self came into play, a part of me realized that it had never been the real honest truth. If it had, Angelus would've loved me as well.
And he didn't. I can't even begin to describe what Angelus felt for me-and there's no way I could ever rationalize it or paint it into something that looked a bit kinder or gentler than it really was. Angelus hated me. He hated me, despised me, loathed me-maybe lusted after me-but he never was capable of loving anyone-especially me-the one human put on this Earth to kill vampires, and demons like him.
But Spike can, and does love me. And has since before my second death.
Incredible.
My mortal enemy. The vampire that got away, and kept getting away and getting away, I added, inwardly chuckling. That should've clued me in way earlier than it did. We couldn't kill each other. Why was that? Well, other than the obvious-that I was basically un-killable by that time-but that still doesn't explain why I had never dusted Spike.
What it did mean was that I enjoyed him-his presence in my life. Whether it was to knock me on my ass all the while spitting out harsh truths that no one else would dare utter to me or those uneasy alliances we had formed in those years.
I can still remember him sitting there-all prim and proper-talking to my mother in our living room while I was on the phone with Willow during that Acathla ordeal. My mom always liked Spike. Even though she knew what he was, she couldn't seem to help herself.
Another clue just waiting for me to puzzle over if I had bothered to look closely at my life. My mother had always been a bit ditzy, but at the same time, she had an incredible knack for seeing the real person underneath the various masks that they chose to wear at the time. Call it women's intuition, or her own equivalent to my slayer-sense or whatever-but it was uncanny how she almost instantly took to Spike-a soulless vampire that was willing to risk everything for the woman he loved.
Would Methos ever do that? Risk it all for someone else? He has in the past, but with him, it's hard to tell. Methos has always been so reserved. Whether that's the face that he chooses to show the world, or if it's an intrinsic part of his personality, I don't know. Sometimes I think he would-if the person meant enough to him. And other times, I would say, no way. Methos has spent a better part of his five milieu protecting himself. That kind of dogged determination at self-preservation is at odds with the kind of devotion to someone else that Spike...and I have shown.
Which is another reason why it was so easy to allow myself to fall into Spike's arms after all these years. I love like Spike loves. Fully, completely and without reservations.
With that thought, I looked over my wineglass to see Methos watching me-waiting for my answer. Sighing, I nodded slowly.
"Yes, I do," I whispered, a part of me shocked that I had the courage to admit it out loud. Had this always been true? I asked myself. Had a part of myself always been in love with Spike, but had been too blind or too much entrenched in denial to admit it to myself? Taking a deep breath, I continued, "And a part of me probably has been for a long time," I added softly watching his face go slack and expressionless. "I'm sorry, Methos, I never meant for anything of this to become as complicated as it has-"
"Buffy," he interrupted me, grabbing my free hand. After squeezing it, he tugged on it, pulling me out of my chair and around the bar until I was standing in front of him. Passive, I allowed him to lead him-feeling confused, angry and unable to ignore the harsh hot pain that speared my heart.
I just hated this situation.
Everything about it just turned me upside down and inside out. A part of me wondered if I would ever know which way was up after this little adventure back into my past. My life, as simple and as empty as it had been for the past ten years, had been comfortable. Letting Spike, and the rest of Sunnydale back into it was ripping that security away.
I just stood there-staring at his face-watching as he lifted his hand up and caressed my cheek.
*So hot,* I thought to myself, remembering how only a couple of days before how foreign Spike's touch felt on my skin, and how quick I had become accustomed to it. I closed my eyes, feeling my chest tighten once again. *God, this was hard,* I thought as I heard his chair push across the carpet.
Suddenly his hand left my face and his arms wrapped around me-holding me tightly against his lean, hard body. "No, I'm so-" he broke off, gently pulling back.
I opened my eyes and watched him study my face-almost as if he were memorizing it-as he clenched his jaw-his eyes darkening in need. "Oh bloody hell," he whispered right before he his lips smashed down on mine-
And before I could say anything or do anything, he broke off the kiss. I was ashamed to admit it, but a part of me wanted him even more after that. Why hadn't he done that six or seven years ago? Or even six months ago? If he had, would I have welcomed Spike so quickly into my life?
I really didn't know what the answer was.
"After this crisis is over, I think I'm going to leave for a while," he said, turning around towards the bar. He poured himself a nice helping of whisky and stared at the amber liquid in the glass.
I wanted to scream at him-life-even Spike at the moment-for throwing us into this impossible situation.
I didn't want Methos gone from my life, but at the same time, I knew I couldn't ask him to stay. He stayed for Mac, and look what that got him. What would he gain from sticking around with me?
"God, I hate this," I said, shocked at how tired and empty my voice sounded. "I hate that you're hurting-and I wish I wasn't hurting as much as I am!" I whispered harshly, pouring myself a shot of bourbon as well. After drinking down half of it, I looked over to the side and noticed how tired he looked. "He loves me, Methos. All of me. Me being Immortal-it's like icing on the cake to him. And I'm finally feeling comfortable in my own skin-for the first time since I found I was Immortal."
"How do you know you love him?" Methos asked, his voice harsh and acidic. "Didn't you tell me that he tried to kill you-more than once? How can you love him?"
"He's a vampire. That's what vampires do-try to kill slayers. It's in the rulebook somewhere-not that I've ever seen it," I added, chuckling. It was a lame attempt at lightening things up, but I had to give it a try. From the look on his face, Methos wasn't feeling too humorous at the moment. *Oh well,* I thought to myself. "But he also helped me save the world once. If it hadn't been for him, it would've ended in the spring 1998. There's no way I would've been able to take on all three of them. I barely beat Angelus," I admitted.
"So, he's like me-he can play on whatever side he wants to win. It still doesn't-"
"It's more than that," I said, interrupting him, feeling my face flush in anger. I didn't really understand why it was bothering me, but him questioning my feelings for Spike irked me to no end. Didn't Methos know me better than that? Didn't he know that I would never say I loved someone unless I meant it?
"You want to hear how when I was sixteen years old, I used to lay in bed and wonder what he was like as a human...and dream being loved like he loved Dru?" I asked him, feeling my body tighten in tension. Nothing like dredging up the past, and all those pesky emotions I had buried so long ago, to bring out my ire. "Do you want to hear about after Angel lost his soul, how I would fantasize about Spike-because instinctively I knew that he was suffering as much as I was. And I was right about that too," I added before downing the last of my drink. As I poured another one, I continued. "Almost every night I would patrol-dreading it, because I *knew* that Angelus was just around the corner. And if he didn't kill me, he would taunt me-telling me how awful I was in bed. How much of loser I was. How much he *didn't* love me, but how he did want me to know how grateful he was to me for releasing him from his prison...how he would enjoy showing me his appreciation...how he would play on my love, and attraction, and twist it around until I had no idea what I felt. There were times when I wondered if I really did hate Angelus-and if I didn't really want to just give in to him.
"That's when I would remember Spike...sitting in that mansion, wheelchair-bound, watching Angelus play with Dru in front of Spike-just to hurt him like Angelus was hurting me.
"Sometimes, late at night, when I would lay in bed, I would let my mind go, and found myself fantasizing what it would be like to be made love to by Spike. Because I knew, if he loved me-all of him would have loved me. He was safe...more safe than I ever realized back then," I said. "It was that spring, before I sent Angel to hell, that I discovered my breaking point. If Angelus hadn't tried to awaken that demon and suck the world into hell, I would've eventually turned to Spike...whether it would've been to kill me, or to turn me, to love me or to turn against Dru and Angelus together-it would've been with Spike," I confessed as I stared at the glass on the counter and sighed again. "I really wasn't nearly as surprised at his offer of an alliance as I had acted. I had almost expected it. We never talked about that time again, but I know that's why I was never able to dust him like I was supposed to afterwards. No matter how much he infuriated me...how much I hated him and his words that last year I was in Sunnydale, I wouldn't have been able to do it. We had a bond, forged in pain, and betrayal...and love gone sour. Sometimes those bonds are the hardest ones to break."
I shook my head at the irony, and pushed the pain back that those memories brought. "And finally, he was also one of the only people that would tell me what they thought-without censoring themselves. He did it to hurt me, but the irony of it all of it, is that for some reason, I never could hide from him. I still can't," I added.
"And me?"
"You're where Spike was ten years ago...in this bin of could've-beens. This place in my heart that holds all those possibilities...but not now, Methos." I turned to face him as I grabbed his hands, forcing him to turn towards me. "I don't know what the future will bring-anymore than I knew ten years ago when Whistler showed up at the morgue and told me of my other destiny. I love you-you're my best friend-but right now, it's Spike that I need. And I do love him. I don't think I could ever love you the way you need me to unless I let myself love him. For the first time since I had found out I was Immortal, I feel whole-like I can be both the slayer and the Immortal. If I had chosen you, I wouldn't be whole," I told him before gently pressing my lips against his cheek. "Not for the first time, I wish there were two of me, because I know for sure one of me would have chosen you."
I dropped his hands and turned away-making my way back to Spike-feeling as if I had just let go of another chapter in my life. One, to be honest, that I had never imagined leaving. I could only hope that the future chapters would be less painful than the past ones, but knowing my luck, it just wasn't going to happen.
If there was one thing that's been blaringly obvious in my thirty years of life-as Buffy the normal girl, Buffy the Slayer and Buffy the Immortal-that my life's journey was an especially wild and chaotic ride. Nothing was ever simple.
I just wish if I knew if I liked it that way because after all these years, I'm still feeling strangely ambivalent about it-the good and the bad.
The good-so few and far between had still managed to balance out the bad-but barely. Like standing on the middle of a seesaw-my life had been dangerous, wild, fun and precarious, but never painless.
I was too much of a cynic to believe it would ever really change. My life as a slayer and as an Immortal had taught me that.
And I had the scars to prove it.
