Disclaimer: I would like to live in the Buffyverse but then I would be a fictional character created by Joss Whedon and other people would use me in fanfiction. Sounds like a crack!fic
Chapter 7
Spike didn't come home soon.
We were all set for him. We converted the basement into an apartment with an outside entrance, and bricked over the stairwell inside. Once he arrived, we intended to clear out all the things we had stored down there.
We confirmed that a vampire invited into the basement could not enter the rest of the house. The way we figured it out was squicky, but it was all in the name of science. Or magic. Or something.
Billy got to take credit for the idea. We tasered a zompire and brought it home. When it came to, I stood at the door to the new apartment and did my best easy prey impression. It followed me through the door and into the basement without any problem. Phase one was complete. Then I escaped past it, and waited at our front door. This time, when the zompire rushed me, it bounced right off the mystical barrier. Billy shot it with a crossbow bolt straight to the heart, and it dusted.
Our theory was confirmed. Spike could live in the basement without us having to worry. Until then, the kids were only allowed to go in the basement during the day. They turned it into a clubhouse, so at least the space was used.
Several months had passed, and now I was starting to worry. I spent half my time angry that he was being so typically annoying, and half the time worried that something had happened to him.
I scoured the internet looking for stories about livestock being attacked, hoping for a clue to his whereabouts. I called most of large animal vets in a 500 mile radius, giving them a cock-and-bull story about a research paper, asking them to contact me if they treated any livestock with neck wounds and blood loss. Nobody called me.
I began to hound Willow and George for answers again. They had none.
On the 147th day since we'd last seen him, I refused to leave the house. On the 149th, I finally gave in. I suppose the PTB only found it funny once.
When I wasn't alternating between begging the PTB to send Spike back to me and cursing them for the misery they had caused, I pondered what might happen if Spike ever did show up.
Before now, I hadn't really thought about it. I had been too preoccupied with following the next step in getting our lives ready for him. But what did that really mean? What kind of role would Spike play in our lives?
As long as he remained 'challenged' as we liked to call it, it was simple. He'd live with us, we'd take care of him, and we'd search for a way to cure him.
It was the curing him that was problematic. Challenged, I figured it would be like keeping a pet. Ok, so that was... all kinds of strange... and how horrible a person was I to be thinking like that? But. He wouldn't be any threat to my marriage, and so there was nothing to worry about. At least, that was what I hoped. A small part of me thought that it would be easier on us all if Spike were never cured. I could have my cake and eat it too, no hard choices needed.
Because if Spike returned to himself... how I could I keep away from him? Our relationship had had so many false starts, bad timings, and almost connections over the years. Could I bear to let him go?
My mind dwelled on the missed opportunities that abounded through the years. Exhibit A: I had started to realize the extent of his devotion when he withstood Glory. I was learning how trustworthy he could be. Something might have happened there. But I died.
Exhibit B: The second time around, I learned how comforting he could be. I messed up whatever friendship we had by sleeping with him and hating him and myself for it. Maybe we could have moved forward from there, but then he tried to hurt (rape) me, and left town.
Exhibit C: He came back with a soul and I learned to love him for real. He died in a pillar of fire.
I could go on.
How about he came back to life, but chose not to let me know. I've never forgiven him for that. Two years wasted there. I finally (finally!) saw him again, and well, let's just say that Angel came between us. So Spike left. By the time we'd both settled in San Francisco, our hearts were too torn up to let each other know how we felt. It took a completely unexpected event, which almost led to the biggest heartache of all, to finally get us in a real relationship.
And, oh boy, was it beautiful. How could I not fight for us?
On the other hand, how the hell could I leave Bob? I couldn't.
I wondered briefly how Bob would feel about polygamy. Or, as I found out when I looked it up, the right term was polyandry. One woman, many men. Spike would do it, rather than give me up... Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I did what Buffy does best. I decided to ignore the whole issue, because hey, it was all a pile of what-ifs anyhow. I certainly couldn't choose to run away with Spike if I didn't even know where he was. In the meantime, I made sure to pay more attention to Bob, and only worry about Spike when I was alone. Even then it felt like cheating.
Bob is sitting next to me on the couch, his eyes suddenly very intense. He slides off the couch, onto the floor, on one knee. I'm not expecting it, but I realize what's coming.
My mind flashes back to the only other proposal I've ever received. Spike on one knee, that ugly skull ring proffered like a huge diamond. Magically induced or not, it been the happiest day of my life.
At least until Spike had given me another ring, this time right after I'd moved onto his ship with him. He'd been so bashful. "Buffy," he'd begun, his voice all rumbly and intense like it got when his emotions were overwhelming him. "I know I don't deserve it, and hell, I know it doesn't mean anything out there in the real world, but I'd be honored if you would wear this". He'd produced a beautiful ring: a simple gold band, intricately carved.
That ring is still on my ring finger.
I look at it, then raise my eyes to Bob. He's taking a big risk. He doesn't know how I'll answer. Neither do I.
"I know this is out of the blue, but I can't hold back anymore". He produces his own ring, beautiful, elegant. "Buffy, will you marry me?"
My thoughts turn inward. In another life, I would accept in a heartbeat. How about in this one?
Billy will be six soon. In one more year, I could have Spike declared legally dead. If he were, you know, alive in the first place. I know logically that Spike is dead. It's silly to hold out hope for his return now.
And yet, his ring remains on my finger. To accept Bob's means to take Spike's off. Bob knows this.
It's the first time he's ever pushed me for more than I was willing to give him.
From the beginning, Bob has always just been there, silently offering himself up without asking anything in return. Sometime after Billy's first birthday, even I could no longer remain oblivious to how he felt about me. He hadn't pushed for more though, and I hadn't offered. I had been too wound up in my grief for Spike, plus my ever-convoluted feelings for Angel.
So our friendship just was. It had been nice. When Angel had done his big skedaddle, I had had more free time on my hands. I found myself gravitating toward spending it with Bob. He was everything you could want in a male friend. Loyal, stable, kind, thoughtful, understanding. He didn't feel the need to protect me, and he didn't feel threatened by the fact that I could kick his ass with both hands and a leg tied behind my back. And that's the way it still is.
Our respective jobs bring us into contact all the time. It was almost inevitable for things to develop. There has never been an official start to our relationship, but we spend most of our free time together, turn to each other for comfort, and wind up exclusively in each other's beds.
Marriage wouldn't be that much different. Except that it would mean I'm giving up on Spike.
Spike had trusted Bob, maybe even loved him in that manly, brotherly way of best friends. He would approve. And Spike would want me to live my life. Spike had been all about living life. He wouldn't want to see me like this, waiting on a chance so slim it was non-existent.
I look into Bob's face, so earnest and hopeful. I love him. I really do. Billy loves him too. The answer is obvious.
I slip off Spike's ring, and Bob's takes its place. We kiss, deeply, and with more than a hint of passion. I know I'm making the right choice.
So why do I feel like I'm cheating on Spike?
I stared at the calendar. The little squares didn't rearrange themselves to say anything different, no matter how hard I glared at them.
It had been one year. One year today since Spike had blown into our lives and blown back out again, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.
The sense of expectation had left us all. We no longer ran out at night to investigate every noise in our yard. We'd stopped talking about 'when Spike gets here'. The basement cum playhouse was a shambles of kid stuff. I suspected nobody else but me would even mark this anniversary.
To my surprise, only Annie didn't remember, but in a six year old's mind, a year is an eternity. The sniffy vampire that had scared her was long forgotten.
Billy was the first to say something. He came to me with a homework problem, and it mutated into more. "Where is he, Mom? Why hasn't he found us yet?"
"I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe he isn't as aware as we'd hoped". I didn't dare voice my concerns about him being hurt or worse.
It might have been better if Spike's demise were the reason for his absence, though. Billy took Spike's failure to come for him as a personal rejection, even though it was illogical. Kids are never logical when it comes to hurting feelings. If we had known that Spike was dead, we could have moved on, but instead we were all stuck in limbo, spinning in circles and waiting.
Bob brought it up later, in bed. "You ok, then?" he asked.
"Yeah," I murmured. "It's just... you know...".
"I do," he agreed.
I resolved then and there to let it go. Spike would come or he wouldn't, but in the meantime I had a life to live and a husband to love. I'd grown distant from Bob over the past year. I hadn't meant to, but it had still happened. That was going to change tonight.
All day today, I had kept glancing at the date on my phone. I couldn't remember why it seemed so familiar. Had I missed somebody's birthday? I checked my calendar, and didn't see anything important marked.
I called Bob from work and asked him if we had plans for tonight. Maybe we were supposed to go out and I'd forgotten.
"No, but we're low on milk. Do you want to get it or do you want me to?"
Obviously that wasn't it either. The feeling persisted while I shopped for groceries. I came home and put them away, then helped the kids with their homework.
"Did you have a good day?" I prompted. "Anything exciting?" Maybe it had something to do with school. Their replies didn't solve the mystery.
Later that evening, I remembered that I wanted to ask Dave if he would water the plants while we were gone on vacation next week. I went out our back door and around to the side, where the entrance to Dave's apartment was. He'd been a good tenant over the last few months. I was glad he was living in our (Spike's) apartment.
Suddenly it hit me. Today was the two year anniversary of the last time I'd seen Spike.
I realized with a guilty start that it had been over three years since that day in Colorado. I'd completely forgotten. We'd moved on, settled back into our lives, and given up hope of ever seeing Spike again.
I spent the night sobbing my eyes out, convinced that Spike was truly gone.
Billy hadn't forgetten about his father, though. When he'd turned fifteen, he'd taken to dressing almost exclusively in black jeans and t-shirts. He was a good kid, and we didn't say anything, even though I knew why he was doing it. It turned out he'd wanted us to say something
I was chopping the vegetables for dinner when the back door banged open and Billy strode in. I looked up, took in his bleached and slicked back hair, and almost fainted. A strangled gasp escaped me. Bob turned around from where he'd been rummaging in the fridge and surveyed the scene. I was standing with my hand over my mouth, breathing heavily, and Billy was glaring at us defiantly. Realizing just how shaken I was, he strode over to Billy, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and hauled him out into the living room.
Billy could have easily shaken Bob off, but he didn't. He knew he'd crossed a line. He'd wanted to cross it, but he was still scared of what he'd done. I didn't think he'd known how upset I would be.
I gathered my wits and went into the living room. Bob was standing with his arms crossed, glaring at Billy. He so rarely ever got angry, I knew that Billy's actions must have hurt him, but whether for my sake or his own, I didn't know. Billy himself was sitting on the couch, head down between his hands. How many times had I seen Spike in this same pose? I noticed he'd even painted his fingernails black. The sense of familiarity shocked me all over again.
I whimpered, and Billy looked up. "Mom!" he cried, as he stared at me with anguished eyes. Normally Billy's resemblance to Spike was comforting, but this was too much. The blue eyes swimming with pain brought back every lost moment, crushing me with despair that I'd managed to bury. "Mom... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just - I thought - I didn't think! But... But... you've forgotten him!" he wept.
I went to him then, wrapping him in my arms and rocking him like he was still the little boy I'd carried. "No, baby, no. Your father is not forgotten. He'll always be here," I said, with my hand over my heart. "It's just that we have to honor him by living our lives," I continued, catching my husband's eye. "Life goes on, and sometimes you have to let go. It's one of the hardest lessons for a person to learn".
Billy's tear-streaked face contemplated this. "Is this wrong?" he asked hesitantly, touching his hair.
I took a deep breath. "It shocked me, is all. If you feel that mimicking your father's sense of... style... is going to help you to honor him right now, then go for it. If you're just doing it to make sure we don't forget him, or to rebel, then it's not the right reason, no".
"If I wore my hair like this, you'd be ok then?" he pressed.
"It hurts," I admitted. "It hurts to see you look so much like your father and know that he has missed so much of your life. It hurts to be reminded so viscerally that he's not here. But if it makes you feel connected to him, then I'll deal. It's just hair," I finished with a little laugh. "Although I do prefer your natural hair," I added.
Billy turned to Bob. "Dad? I'm sorry," he apologized.
Bob came over and squatted down in front of him, looking into his face. "I'm only angry because you hurt your mother," he said. "You're trying to figure out who you are. I get it. Just try to keep the casualties to a minimum, ok?" Billy grinned and hugged him tight.
Within a few weeks, Billy settled on a style he liked. He left his hair loose and curly, and only touched up the tips, for a frosted look. He branched out from black, coming up with a style all his own. He was gorgeous, athletic, witty, and sweet. I suspected the only reason we didn't have to fend off girls with a baseball bat was his overwhelming shyness around the opposite sex.
Willow had called and invited herself to stay at house for a few days. We hadn't seen her for over two years, since she'd been living in Africa. To say I was excited would have been an understatement.
We greeted each other at the door with high pitched squeals that would have done Dawn proud. Willow followed me in, then stopped suddenly, staring at Billy. "Whoa!" she exclaimed. "That's kinda freaky!" He blushed. "Oh, oh, in a good way," she added quickly.
"He's a handsome bugger, isn't he?" I said to cover the awkwardness.
"You've got that right!" she replied gratefully.
We settled in, catching up. Willow had us laughing all through dinner with stories about cultural misunderstandings between her coven of American witches and Zulu shamans. Her work was satisfying to her, I could tell. I was glad.
Annie remained as fascinated with Willow and witchcraft as ever. She took every opportunity to be as close to Willow as possible. When her idol offered to teach her a simple spell, she almost peed her pants with excitement. She reminded me a lot of Dawn at that age, just as excitable and clumsy as her aunt had been.
I finally got the kids settled in for the night. Bob bid us goodnight, knowing we wanted to gossip in private. I gave him a wink and mouthed, "Thanks honey," as he kissed Willow on the cheek and headed up the stairs.
"So Wills, what's the news? I can tell it's something big. Spill!"
Willow took both my hands in hers and said all in one breath, "We'!"
I laughed. "Come again?"
"We've figured out a way to touch other dimensions. We can't, you know, like open portals and go through or anything, but we can sense them!"
"And this is good, I'm guessing," I teased her.
She batted me on the shoulder. "Yes silly. It means we can do pretty much anything now! Well, anything magical that we could have done in the past. There are some really complex spells that require ingredients from other dimensions and of course we still can't do those, and things that require crossing dimensions like resurrection spells are out, but, and I'm babbling now!" she finished in a gasp.
"That's great Will! So, does this change the status of Slayers being called?" I asked. "Or vampires siring zompires?"
"No. Those are still trans-dimensional events that require a mystically physical crossing of some kind. And we still can't get any new demons except the kind that already live and breed on Earth".
"Well that's a relief," I said.
Willow frowned a bit. "Yeah... the only aspect of magic still missing is the trans-dimensional kind, but that's the biggy Buffy. That's the one that changed Earth the most. It's also the one that would have negative consequences, like the things you mentioned, but those bad things are minor compared to the good we'd achieve".
"Would it really be good? Because I don't know about you, but I've been enjoying these non-Hellmouthy, non-apocalypsy years".
Her frown deepened. "Well, who knows if it will ever happen anyhow," she said dismissively. I didn't think we'd ever agree on this, and dropped it too.
Willow's face lit up again, "But, Buffy, I forgot to tell you the best part! I can do locator spells now, and not only that, I figured out this way to do bloodline specific locator spells too!"
"Yay!" I said with confusion.
She saw I didn't get it. "See, what I can do is take a drop of someone's blood, and with a locator spell, it'll show me anybody living, anywhere in the world, who is a direct single generation relative of that person".
"Who now?" I said, still not following.
Willow was patience in the extreme. "Ok, look, I take a drop of my blood, and with the spell, it can show me where my parents are - except they're dead - and show my siblings - but you know I don't have any of those - and show my children - and well I guess I'm not a good example".
She took a breath and started again. "I could take a drop of Bob's blood, and with the spell, it would show me his parents in Florida, it would find his brother in Texas, and it would locate Annie right here in San Francisco, because they all share his blood, and they're all closely related to him".
"Hey, that's cool," I answered, finally understanding. "But we already know where all Bob's family is. We don't have to find them. Oooh, maybe we could find Xander's dad and see where he ran off to with that ho bag. It would make his mom happy".
"No doofus," she smacked me. "We can find Billy's bloodline. As long as he's alive, we can find Spike".
