.
"Vampire Slayer," Edith said, shaking her head in disbelief as they resumed their earlier conversation. A pile of mending occupied her hands, small needle darting stitches that Buffy could never hope to emulate.
"When my knee is better, come out with me one night and I'll show you. My friends-" She swallowed, a lump of homesickness forming. "My friends used to come with me all the time," she said in a quieter voice.
Edith furrowed her brow. "I thought it was supposed to be a secret?"
"It was. Just – they found out, like you, and, well, they're cool about it."
"Cool?"
It was Buffy's turn for brow furrowage. "Um… they're good about it. Don't tell anyone, help out. Good friends. Like you."
Edith blushed. "And so you fought this vampire last night and lost?"
"Sheeah, if I'd lost I'd be dead now." Edith blanched. "But! Didn't! Obviously. Spike's never been able to beat me. Of course, I've never been able to beat him either until now …" At her companion's confused expression, Buffy said, "I know Spike. In the future."
"These vampires, they have long lives?"
Buffy spent some time explaining about vampires to Edith. "And normally, evil. Very, very evil. Spike, though…"
"I have seen his work with my own two eyes. Are you suggesting this vampire-?"
"Oh, he's evil," Buffy assured her. "He's on a whole 'prove I'm evil' kick right now. But in the future, when I know him? He's… changing. Which is incredibly hard to believe on a good day, never mind after getting shoved into the past to watch a 'highlights of just how evil Spike is' reel." Edith blinked, trying to follow along. "And vampires just don't change. They're not good. Spike… he's always been different." Buffy didn't realize she was smiling as she spoke. "He risked his life for me and my sister so many times in those last few weeks…"
"You care about him," Edith said flatly, setting the mending aside and leaning forward to level her gaze on the Slayer.
"What? No!" Care about him? That's crazy talk. "I just… don't hate him anymore. And now, being here, I'm not sure what to do. If I'm supposed to kill him or… let him be."
Edith considered this, twirling an escaped curl about her finger and letting it bounce back into place. "That would change the future, would it not?"
"Yeah. And maybe not just the part where Spike is in it, but everything. Like, maybe I wouldn't be called. Or even born! So, kinda not sure what's expected of me here."
"It is a dilemma," Edith agreed.
"And one I need to solve before I go crazy worrying about it." She looked out at the darkening sky. "I need to get back and check on him. I, uh, have him chained up at the moment, while I decide."
Edith's eyes grew round. "Could I-?"
Buffy shook her head violently. "No way. I don't want you anywhere near him. He's evil – even if he's not, and I know that makes zero sense. But if he gets free – if he knows there's somebody he can hurt to get to me – you wouldn't be safe." Not if he's trying to live up to the legacy of Angelus.
"Oh."
"Yeah. I don't want you meeting him. But next time I go on a real patrol, I'll take you along, okay? It'll be a date."
Edith nodded, smiling. "Very well." She plucked at Buffy's sleeve. "Please. Be careful."
"I'll be full caution-girl, don't you worry."
"Buffy? Perhaps we could go back to pretending that you are Anne. So that I may understand what you are saying."
Buffy grinned. "You and Giles both."
Spike was halfway to free when she returned, and he struggled harder, trying to unwrap himself.
"God, what I wouldn't give for the Initiative and their handy little bits of electronic wizardry right now," Buffy muttered as she spun the chains back around him, tighter than ever. "Then I could just let you be a free-range vamp without all the worry."
Spike bucked, fighting her. "Bloody hell, woman, you're cutting off my circulation!"
"You don't have any-"
Buffy froze, wigged.
Her panic deepened when Spike grumbled, "Well, it pinches."
With a final twist, she backed away, thinking hard. Was she meant to change him after all? The sense of déjà vu, the overwhelming coincidence of Spike using the same phrases as when he'd approached her for help before… Buffy half-expected an arrow to go whizzing past at any moment.
If there was one thing she didn't believe in, it was coincidence. She'd never wished for Giles as hard as she did at that moment.
Other phrases flitted through her mind.
Anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I couldn't live, her being in that much pain.
Now might be a good time for something heroic.
'Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight.
I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's…
Monster. Man.
Which was the real him?
"Look, if you're just going to come by and stare at me in slack-jawed fascination, I'd rather you didn't if it's all the same to you."
"You want me to leave you alone? I know you, Spike. You'd chew off your own arms out of boredom down here. There's not even a television."
"Better alone than having loony conversations with you! Television… bloody hell are you on about," he muttered. "Could just let me go. How 'bout if I promise to be a good little vamp," he smirked. "Not kill anymore." He licked his lips hungrily even as he said this, pink tongue poking out and then retreating.
"And I would trust you why?"
"Thought you trusted me! Believed in me!"
Buffy sighed. "Not you."
"Oh, for the love of all that is unholy, stake me now. Put me out of this sodding misery. At least Dru makes sense even when she is spouting nonsense." His mood brightened. "Hey, speaking of, bet she'll be by sooner or later, come fetch me. What will you do then, eh?"
Buffy had no problem with the idea of staking Drusilla. Probably better not to tell Spike that, though…
"And where is our Queen of the Demented?"
"Hey! You watch your mouth!"
"Yes, yes, dark princess, black beauty, ripe wicked plum, savior from mediocrity, eternal love. I've gotten the memo."
Spike was staring at her again. "Is – is this a trick? How do you know these things? You are stalking me, aren't you!"
"The only stalker in this relationship is you. Look, I told you. I know you. I'm not going to tell you how, so too bad."
"'M not going to take no for an answer."
"Get used to disappointment." Buffy smiled briefly, thinking of how many times her mom had said that to her and Dawn. "Now that you're all snug as a chained up bug in a rug, I'm off." She picked up the blood, grimaced. "It's congealed. But it's all I've got. You want?"
"You'll feed me that pig slop over my dead body!"
Snickering, the Slayer replied, "You are dead, Spike. I'll take that as a no."
"Knew I should've gone with Dru."
"And again I ask, where is she? I've got a stake with her name on it."
"Not telling you a bloody thing!"
"We'll see."
Buffy had to bite back a smile when she returned bright and early the next morning, because boy was Spike talkative. A whole night to himself, unable to move, nothing to do, and he was willing to spill state secrets – had he any.
"…and that's where Drusilla's at. 'Till she gets tired of it and comes round to find me. Then we'll be reversing positions again," he said nodding at the chains.
"You go on believing that if it makes you happy. So… Let me get this straight. If the rest of your psycho little family is off turning all the German soldiers, who are rising unchecked, feasting on their brothers-in-arms… don't you think eventually all these new vamps will make their way over here and start snacking on the British soldiers? The ones you wanted to keep alive and kicking?"
"Huh. Didn't think of that."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Obviously. But then you never were much in the brains department."
"Oi now! You take that back!"
Ignoring his outburst, she said, "I've got to go. But I'll stop by later."
"How was Spike?" Edith asked.
"Bored. I almost feel bad for him. Mister ADHD will be desperate by the time we get back tonight. I mean – Mister needs constant entertainment or he goes crazy," she remembered to explain for her early twentieth century companion.
"And will you be telling Doctor Reynolds about your calling? He suspects you are keeping something from him. Beyond that, it would set his mind at ease to know what these creatures are he has encountered. He is not an ignorant civilian you need to protect."
Buffy was quiet, focusing on navigating the road. When they'd passed the worst of the ruts, she said, "You know him better than me. Do you think he can keep it a secret?"
"Oh, the doctor is a wonderful man! Very loyal, very discreet!"
Risking a glance at her friend, Buffy grinned at the blushing woman. "E-dith is in lo-ove," she sing-songed.
"I am not! I… simply admire his many fine qualities."
Buffy took pity on her. "He does seem like a stand-up guy. If I tell him anything, it'll just be about vampires and Slayers. The time-travel angle is a bit much to take in, I think."
Doctor Reynolds, however, was not in the least bit surprised by Buffy's description of vampires and Slayers. They were sitting in the quiet courtyard to the rear of the tent, enjoying a momentary lull in the day's work. "I don't get it. How do you know all this?"
He cleared his throat. "I have a friend who has… a background in arcane history. He holds a position with a mysterious Council, which he never discusses. I, ah, mentioned our recent events to him in a letter, knowing that he would not scoff at my fanciful descriptions, and he returned my correspondence. His missive was an exercise in the implausible, yet it explained our circumstances in a way that could not be denied."
Buffy's brain hurt, trying to follow along. The man could out-Giles Giles.
"Although George – Sir Wyndam-Pryce – informed me that there was only a potential Slayer in the area, one who had passed the age of being called, not an actual Slayer. How is he mistaken?"
"Wyndam-Pryce. Figures. At least he's not a Travers," Buffy muttered. "I wonder who the potential is?"
"He did not say. But how have you come to be the Slayer?" he repeated.
Buffy sighed. "Fine. I guess I should tell you the rest of the story. But – no sharing with your good buddy on the Watcher's Council. I really want to stay off their radar."
"Radar?"
Was radar not invented yet? She searched for a different expression. "I don't want them to even know I exist. They're not – this Council your friend belongs to doesn't always have their Slayer's best interests at heart, and since they don't know about me, I'd like to keep it that way."
Doctor Reynolds nodded his acquiescence, and Buffy gave him the details of how Anne Barrowman had come to be a Slayer. "This is most extraordinary! How George would love-" He caught sight of Buffy's face and coughed. "No, of course I shan't tell him, my dear lady. But you have adapted most wonderfully, it is very impressive."
Blushing, Buffy mumbled a thank you. "He didn't happen to say why there is a potential here, did he? I mean, the way I understand it, potentials are just regular people, so… not much good in the fight against evil, except maybe for getting dead."
The doctor gazed into the tree-lined distance. "I believe she was meant to be an informant on the situation here, eyes and ears on the ground, no more. Which she must be doing admirably, as George knew of the first attack, and even knew the identities of the vampires involved – if you wait here I shall retrieve his letter; I cannot remember the names by which he called these monsters…"
Buffy halted him with her hand, shifting uncomfortably. "I've already got it covered," she said, not meeting his eyes. She didn't know how to explain the situation with Spike, not to the man who had seen the vampire slaughtering his patients with his own eyes.
She could feel those eyes on her. After a long silence he said, "I presume that were I to ask, you would not tell me what you know of the future?"
Buffy shook her head. "I think that's one of the cardinal rules of time-travel – try not to muck up the future. But," she gave him a grin, "I might be persuaded to give out stock tips. If I can think of any good ones – I never really paid attention to that kind of stuff."
The doctor chuckled. "It is fine, Mrs. Barrowman. Or would you prefer to be called Buffy Summers?"
She shrugged. "Nah, I think it would be less confusing to stick to Anne Barrowman instead of trying to explain to everybody why I'm Buffy. Besides, I'm used to it now."
"Very well." One of the other doctors came around the corner, motioning for Doctor Reynolds to hurry. "Our brief respite appears to be over. Good day, Mrs. Barrowman. I shall see you on the morrow."
"Bye!" Buffy returned, smiling at his back. Edith was right; the doctor was a good man. She had already known that, but his calm acceptance had cemented her trust in him.
She hurried back to the ambulance, where Edith was tinkering with the engine under the late afternoon sun, trying to keep her curls out of her eyes. "Well?" the British woman asked.
"You were right, Reynolds was great."
"So he was, 'cool'?" Edith teased, rolling the unfamiliar expression around on her tongue.
"Very cool. You should ask him out on a date."
Edith gasped, eyes comically wide. "Never! Such a thing is simply not done!"
Buffy pointed to the partially disassembled engine. "Are you not a modern woman?" she smiled, eyebrows quirked.
Wiping her curls away with an oil-smeared hand, Edith grinned ruefully. "Not that modern, I am afraid. Besides, it wouldn't be suitable. When this war is over…"
Buffy searched her memory. Wasn't the war due to last for two more years?
"I'll tell you what I used to tell Willow. Carpe Diem – which, actually I didn't say that, she did, but – seize the day. You don't know what will happen between now and then." She frowned as she remembered that advice leading to Willow almost getting herself killed by a vampire…
Edith grimaced. "Perhaps later. Right now I need to seize a wrench if we are to go home anytime soon."
She could hear Spike yelling before she even opened the stout wooden door leading to the cellar. "Oi! Slayer! Let me out of here, you sadistic cow!"
She stomped down the stairs. "I'm sadistic. Nice one. Don't know why I even bother with the meals on wheels gig!" she said, opening her sack and taking out a new container of blood. Spike growled. "Look, it's this or nothing."
He stared hungrily at her neck, and she remembered how he'd gazed at her with that same intensity while she'd taunted him in Giles' bathtub, tracing her exposed jugular with a fingertip. And then she suddenly remembered how he'd nuzzled her neck when they'd been under Willow's spell, nipping gently at her pulse point. And I let him. And he didn't do anything… not that he could have, but… boy did it feel good…
The memory brought on a frisson of desire, the kind she always firmly squelched. Because desiring Spike? So many kinds of wrong. Especially with the hungry-not-lusty way he was staring at her now.
"You ever going to let me go?" he grumbled. "Can't just keep me chained up forever like a sausage in a roll, propped up against this wall you know."
She squatted down next to him, wondering just what she was going to do with him. "I know."
"How 'bout my jacket? You going to give it back? S'mine you know."
"No it's not. You probably stole it off somebody you killed."
"Not like he needed it anymore. 'Sides, had some things in the pockets I want back."
Buffy scowled at him. "You mean all the shiny trinkets? Somehow I don't think all that jewelry was yours either."
"So what, you kept it?"
"No!" She gave him a self-satisfied smile. "I gave it to the orphanage. An anonymous donation."
"What!" His jaw twitched. "I earned that fair and square. T'was a hard night's pillaging. Had a lovely piece set aside for Dru."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, don't I feel ashamed of myself now. Not really helping your case, Spike."
He glowered at her, but didn't respond, staring moodily at the ceiling. After several minutes, he began to fidget, his fingers twitching to an unseen rhythm.
"Slayer…"
"Anne," Buffy corrected.
He cocked his head. "All right. Anne. How 'bout you just give me a nip of your blood. You could stop me easy enough before I hurt you. It doesn't even have to hurt."
"Are you insane?"
"You're the bloody insane one, trying to feed me pig's blood. S'not right."
"Spike. If you don't want it, I don't care. You're not getting anything else."
His lower lip crept out. "But 'm hungry." His voice lowered, his lids slid half-shut, and she swore she could feel his voice vibrating in her belly. "Can make it feel so good for you. Make you scream in a good way… feel things you didn't even know were possible."
The sleepy look on his face, the seductive rumble of his voice had her curiosity rising. Buffy watched his glistening pink tongue flexing and curling, fascinated. She knew he wasn't lying; Dracula's bite had been surprisingly erotic, and a wicked image of Spike at her throat, drawing pleasure out of her with his mouth and tongue made her squirm. In the next instant Buffy thought of the bitehouse, the one where she'd found Riley, and any curiosity fled.
She jumped away from him. "I've got to go. Need anything? No? Bye!" she stammered, giving him no time to answer.
"Wait!" he called out, panicked. "Don't go!" She halted at the top of the steps. "Please, Slayer… Anne." She turned back to look at him, and he looked away, sheepish. "Stay?"
"Why?"
He gave her a crooked smile.
"Because I'm about to gnaw my sodding arms off for lack of anything better to do."
