Stupid Things
By Sweetprincipale
Completely AU. There are people who get inside you. That you love, that you get angry with, but they're still your person. The person who, no matter what they ask, and how much you say no, you will end up doing anything for them. Buffy and William have that kind of relationship as they grow up. Is there anything that can change it?
Author's Note: I recommend a re-read of the last chapter, then dive right into this one.
Dedicated to Omslagspapper (cover design), AGriffinWriter, The Darkness Befalls, micmoc, Sirius120, Rosalea12, Ginar369, Illusera, Jhiz, Mars, Breezybiatch, and Kitakana. I couldn't do this without you.
Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.
Part X
He carried her to the bathroom, all of a bridegroom's pride and sudden responsibility weighing on him, the same way she weighed against him, legs over one arm, head resting against his chest as he bore her down the hall. Blood spattered and bruised, both of them, smiling weakly but happily.
Passion and pent up emotions had calmed. Best friends had become lovers, lovers had become one, in one intensely complex act of life sharing. Life partners now, looking at each other with no less love or lust, but with the eyes of a time-tested couple, even though they hadn't had much time together yet.
Yet. All the time belonged to them now.
"Bruised you. Sorry." He kissed her cheek, stroked back her hair as he let her feet drop to the tile.
"You're bruised too. You have… dirt? In your hair." She teased some out and flicked it into the sink.
"Buried." He pointed out.
"Oh. That'll do it." She fought off a sudden chill. Blood loss makes you cold.
He knew it. "It didn't bleed much after I stopped drinking. I can clean that up." He licked his lips.
"I think I want soap."
"We have soap." He turned on the water. She wincingly sat on the edge of the tub. "Hurts?"
"Not really. Just achey." She held his hand.
"I never went that long before." He confessed with a bit of pride and a touch of embarrassment.
"Me, either."
His eyes turned curiously to hers. "Really?" Angel was a vampire. Vampire stamina.
"Funny how different people make you act differently." Buffy smiled, half-shyly. "More into it, you know?"
"I know. Here, it's warm. Want privacy?"
"No. Not yet."
"This stuff is shit. Utter shit." He grimaced as he worked on a mugful of steaming red fluid.
"Maybe it's not warm enough?" She put her own cup down, coffee, five sugars, and a lot of milk. The sun was coming up, the shades were pulled, and they adjusted.
"I had champagne. Now I'm drinkin' mud." He licked his lips. All things considered, amazing how much he wanted this stuff. He was on his second cup, still struggling it down, feeding a need.
"Maybe I can spike it for you." She held out a fingertip. He pushed it away.
"I'll get used to it. Maybe if I added something to it…" He rose and began rummaging in the cupboards.
"Like what?"
"I'll try anything. Hm. Tabasco."
"Weirdo." He's drinking blood. My boyfriend is now a vampire. Weird is welcome.
He shrugged and shook several drops in, tasted, winced, then looked at it musingly. "It helps." He nodded slowly and sipped again. "It's still shitty, but it's not 'utter shit'."
"You keep drinking it."
"I'm hungry, and this is the stuff, Luv. Shit or not, it's like bein' dehydrated and humans needin' water. You'll drink from a dirty stream if you have to." He sipped again, taste becoming more palatable with practice. "Gettin' better."
"Hurray for less shit. I wonder what I could do to make my coffee better?" Buffy sipped and wrinkled her nose. "More of a juice person."
"Chocolate syrup?" He turned to the fridge and tossed her the bottle.
She stirred some in, sipped, and smiled. "I could get used to that. Kind of mocha-y." She sipped again. "I knew I loved you."
"For my brains?"
"That was part of it." Buffy giggled, then suddenly rocketed from her chair. "Oh my gosh!" She blurted. "Giles! We didn't call him! We have to-"
A coffee cup shattered in his hand, blood soaked the tiles, and his palm dripped crimson. "Still bleed. How 'bout that." William licked his skin carelessly, thunderous expression on his face.
She watched the act of sudden violence with wide eyes. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, you do. Um. Why the angry?"
"Giles. Rupert." The name was a sneer. "My dear uncle."
"You're freaking me out now." Buffy cautioned.
Shards of the cup flew across the room, and he snarled. "Call him? Call him out, man to vamp, swords at ten paces, fangs at two." Will spat and glowered at her with fierce eyes.
"What the heck are you saying? Aside from the bad drama. You love your uncle, you-"
"Hate his guts! Wanna blacken those wise old eyes and split those nancy-boy lips, let the toff right out of him."
"Hey." Buffy put her own cup down once more and approached him. "I don't know what the deal is, how you can do boyfriend to psycho in six seconds, but that's MY Watcher you're threatening to beat up. I love him. You love him, too, whether you remember it or-"
"Oh, I remember. I remember a million little details now. A million little lies."
"Will!"
"Years. Years, Buffy! Years and years he lied about what he did. Museum curator-"
"He was!"
"Watcher with a cover, more like. Then the job in Sunnydale. A fuckin' Hellmouth, Slayer, and do you know he never even said, 'Hey, Will, fancy packin' a cross?' Leavin' me unprotected."
"He must've thought you- you would think he was nuts." Buffy tried to calm him.
"You gave me a chance." Will's eyes were dark, glaring. "You told me you were the Slayer. Must've been scared."
"Terrified." She admitted softly.
"You still did it. Had a bit of faith in me. Or maybe I was all you had left."
"Both."
Shoulders swam angrily, swathes of newly hard muscle rippling as he let the rage course over him. "I thought I was all he had, too. Guess not. Guess the job, guess the duty always meant more to him than I did."
"Don't say that stuff. It's the demon talking."
Mistake.
"This is the demon. I am the demon. He's me, I'm him, and there's really not much 'we' in it, Luv. One big ball of power and not too much 'tact'. Rupert let my parents die. He totters off to the most dangerous place in the fuckin' universe with nothing but a handful of relics and books for weapons and waits for his own send off." Black eyes went back to blue, angry, but even more, pained. "Orphan. Again."
Buffy reached for him, but he didn't close the distance. "He wanted to protect you. He knew it was dangerous, but… but I don't think once you're a Watcher you can just quit. M-maybe he knew I'd be 'called' soon. Maybe he thought about leaving me out there… alone. Stupid. And he couldn't do it. Some people you do stupid things for. Put yourself at risk for…" She walked to him, laying her hand on his gently, feeling the knuckles buckle under hers as the hand curled back into a fist. "Do you think I would still be here without him? He brought me you - and well, we know how that turned out." Her voice faded. His expression softened- for a second.
"I forgive him then. For that." Will growled harshly. "But if that's the case-then how could he turn on me now? Stop helpin' me? Let me die?"
Sympathy and reason was only partially effective. Buffy switched off the softness and put her hands on her hips. "Oh, gosh, Spike, let's see. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that out of the bajillion vamps your uncle has met, you're the only one who didn't go all Lizzie Borden on your family after you turned."
Will's eyes blinked in surprise.
"What? You can dish it out but not take it? You wanna lose the tact, fine, I'll un-tact your ass off."
"I think I'm just amazed you know who Lizzie Borden was."
"Yeah, well… When I'm bored with undead evil, human psychos are a nice distraction." She shrugged. "And maybe there was a documentary on one time and I couldn't find the remote."
Anger cooled between them, into a dull amusement. Comfortable in all emotions, all weathers, the friendship at the core still the strongest. "He was scared. He loves you so much. I think it's hard for him to tell you how much." Buffy finally murmured.
"He lied to me. Years of lies."
"We all lied. Me, too. For years." Buffy finally fired back.
"You told me everything- too much sometimes, sometimes it hurt so bad to hear you talk about him."
"But you let me. You forgave me. But I was still lying."
His chest tightened up, but he didn't know what physiological ability caused it now.
Buffy looked away, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. In the electric glare of the lights off the tile, Will could see how pale she was, how the redness hadn't faded from her neck.
"We both lied. You're smart. You know it. You knew it all along." She licked her lips. "I kept saying I needed the 'edges', and I never said you had them, even if I could tell. I could tell. The first poem I ever read…" She shook her head in amazement at the memory of the raw, if sometimes clumsy, energy in his words, in his mind, "You hid a lot under the nice smile, Will."
He turned her chin gently, lifting her beautiful face, right now stubbornly set. "Lied to ourselves all along. Should have chosen me, you knew, you knew I'd choose you."
"Actually… I thought- I thought maybe I lost that part. That chance." Buffy admitted. "When I left."
The anger that had ebbed flooded back. There seemed to be only fleeting glimpses of middle ground for him, either very calm, sated, in control, or sweeping, heated, fury that gave him rushes of power. "You left. You left me."
"I left everyone!"
"No!" His eyes were suddenly slits, expression a barely controlled seethe. "You left me. The others, the hell with them, you could've trusted me. I would've gone with you. I stood by you when you were with him, when you were against him, when you were alone."
"I was never alone. I had you." Buffy's eyes overflowed."A-and I thought, if you stayed with me… if I let myself lean on you- I'd just take you down, too. Hurt you, too. Look at what I'd done to everyone else by then!" I had to have one person left in the world… someone, somewhere safe, someone who loved me. "I thought being around me would get you hurt."
"D'you think I'd have cared?" It hurt worse when you went away. I couldn't even find you.
"I would have!" She hit his chest lightly, and he gripped her wrist, pulling her into his arms.
"Idiot." He snorted into her hair. "Couldn't you tell I didn't mind the hurt? Long as it was you? 'Cause you never mean for me to be in pain."
Comforting kisses on the crown of her head. She returned them, lips pressing to his collarbone as he spoke. "Maybe that's why it was safe to run. I knew you'd forgive me. You knew it was something stupid, something I did when I was wigging and heartbroken- and you knew I would have forgiven you if you did the same thing."
"I never would have."
"Never would have left me? What about seeing if you died and woke back up? Risks we take, Spike. Will." She kissed him gently. "It's not the same, but it has the same worries. Leaving, waiting, hurting- maybe you believed, like I believed, some day we'd find our way back together, even if we think we're passing the point of no return."
"Never lost faith in you." Spike declared.
"You either." Buffy reassured. Then, in a smaller voice, "You just get mad at me?"
"Oh, bloody hell." He sighed heavily. "And you say I'm the smart one. Look, I'm not actually angry anymore. Just had to get it off my chest."
"And Giles?"
"Buffy…"
"And Giles?" She said more insistently.
"He's not young, in love, and stupid."
"No. He's middle aged, scared, and heartbroken."
"Dammit… No."
"You won't let me call him?" Buffy looked up at him incredulously.
His eyes were dark, but then they twinkled faintly. "Nope. Some things he won't believe over the phone. Let's pack."
"You said you didn't care if she killed vamps?" Doyle asked casually.
"Nope." Angel said with a shrug.
"But if she takes one with her?"
"Yeah, that'd be worth noticing." Angel muttered into his book, a scoffing snort punctuating his remark.
"Then you ought to sit up and take notice, Angel." Doyle reached out and pushed the book into his quasi-friend's lap. "Some of my associates from the bad old days happened to mention business'll be picking back up, now that the Slayer's gone."
"She's gone. Fine." His chest heaved once, no air came out, of course.
"They saw her leave a few hours ago. Funny thing was- this other car followed hers. Some vintage black piece- with foil all over the windows, except for a little strip 'bout where the driver would look over the wheel."
"What?" Angel suddenly seemed to take an interest.
"An' they thought to themselves- why in the world would you do that to a car? No reason, unless the driver doesn't want to be seen. But then, why not just rent yourself something with dark windows, like those movie stars have?" He led.
Angel followed, rising angrily. "Or the driver's flammable in the sunlight. Dammit!" Angel swore and kicked the chair. "I told her! I warned her! Now he's following her…"
"What exactly is the deal?" Doyle asked.
"Buffy's boyfriend did something stupid and got turned! Now she's in danger, he's following her. I warned her! Dammit!" The curse had more vigor the second time. "I have to get to a phone."
"Did you call?"
"No, you said not to."
"Yeah, but I know you. An' I know him." Will's face darkened. "I'll be lucky if I make it to the door without an arrow in my chest…"
"There's still time to call."
"No. I have to do it my way." He sighed and fumbled for his keys, newly nimble fingers almost magically finding the right one and having it perfectly ready to push into the lock.
"Whoa, aren't we going to knock?" Buffy grabbed his elbow.
"If I knock, he has time to load his crossbow. If I just walk in, well, for one thing, he'll know I'm different. No invitation required. At least not until the bellyache gets a bit too much."
"So you're just going to barge in?"
"It's my home!"
"You'll give him a heart attack. I know you're mad at him, but is that what you want?"
"No." He grudgingly admitted.
"Let me go in. Then you. I won't give him time to invite you, I won't give him time to get ready to stake you, either. But you can't just-"
"Don't tell me what I can't do, Slayer."
"Fine. I'll let you decide. Do you want him to pass out, or have a heart attack, or would you like a couple minutes to actually talk to the guy who's probably out of his mind worried by now?"
He swallowed angrily, then sighed, and shoved her shoulder gently. "Go on then."
"Giles? Giles!" Buffy pushed the door open after no one answered her knock.
"Buffy? Buffy, is that you?" A voice came form upstairs, followed by a thud and a clatter.
Her eyes widened and she ran forward, in time to see him skidding down to her, rumpled and stained, disheveled and wild eyed. She couldn't tell if the normally dapper man hadn't slept in days, or had just woken up. "Giles, I-"
She had no time to finish the sentence. He was hugging her tightly, scents of faded cologne and hints of whiskey wrapping around her as his raspy voice shakily whispered in her ear, "You're back. Thank God. William?"
Buffy pulled back, and looked at him, trying to keep her face blank. "I don't want you to say anything or do anything."
"Are you hurt? Is he…?"
"I want you to see for yourself." She tightened her grip on his forearms, partially because she was so glad to see him, partially to keep him immobile. "Everything's good. Really."
"Buffy, what aren't you saying?" His voice hardened, and he blinked blearily, attempting to shake her off, and panicking slightly as he realized she couldn't be moved.
"Hello Bertie." Will's voice was surprisingly gentle as he appeared in the doorway.
"Will." Giles gasped softly and stopped struggling.
"It's me. Still me." He steeled himself and put one foot over the threshold.
The room seemed to slide into some time vortex, where the half-second it took William to cross into the flat seemed like a decade.
He stood in the entryway, draped in black, so much paler than he'd been a week ago, a certain bearing about him was different as well. But his smile, slow to manifest, was still the same crooked half-grin. His arms opened slightly. "I'm home."
Buffy felt herself pushed backwards. She didn't realize her half-drunk, stressed, sleep-deprived Watcher was so strong. She reeled and caught herself as Giles flew to William's side, into his arms in relief.
"Thank God! Thank God you're home, thank God you didn't go through with it."
William's eyes met Buffy's alongside the Watcher's head as Giles placed a thankful half-kiss on his nephew's brow. "Bertie, I- Bertie. I did."
Giles drew back at once. His hand was faster than even their eyes, and it seemed he was about to strike his prodigal ward, but instead he clapped hand to his cheek. "Cold, but I've felt colder." The hand pushed. The head turned. Giles' mouth dried and he said nothing as he stared at the white on white scar, a raised mountain of skin that was now flawless everywhere else. "It's dark. You were so pale… even before." He whispered shakily.
"Cancer'll do that to you." William caught his uncle's wrist, but kept his grip light. "I'm still me."
"He is." Buffy chimed in. We'll mention all the scary rage stuff later, but really. That's Will. That's Will without fear.
Giles' eyes were wary. They could fool some people. They could fool all the people- for short periods of time. It could be the demon mocking them all.
Except vampires can't get in without express invitation. "I didn't invite you." Giles stepped back, eyes suddenly hard and wary.
"I wish you would." Will gasped sharply as the pain in his middle intensified. "I can come in, but it hurts a bit."
"You… how? How is this possible?"
"I promise not to bite you, now give me the official offer and I can tell you." He grabbed his side, stepping away from his uncle as the pain bent him double.
"Giles, ask him!"
"This isn't right." Giles shook his head, miserable confusion in his eyes.
"No. It's not." Will panted. "If I'd stopped battlin' the pain, if I'd listened to the demon between life an' death, it'd be cut and dried. But I didn't. I let it burn me, and then when I woke, I killed my sire, I walked back to Buffy, I refused to give into the urge kill, to take a life, and just took blood. That's right. I'm a vamp. I'm a blood-drinking, undead, monster. But I'm still in control. I'm still 'innocent', no blood on my hands- even if it's been in my mouth." He couldn't take it any longer. He took a heaving step backwards, and crossed back to the outside, straightening up as the pain magically disappeared. "The laws half-affect me. I've got fangs, got no reflection, but I'm still Will. William, the Spike, the dark in the light, the light in the dark. I'm the edge of the razor."
"Come in." Giles said suddenly, and dragged his nephew back inside, hugging him hard, weeping and laughing all at once, something broken and bordering hysteria and relief all at once. Buffy and Will exchanged a confused look. Giles drew back and explained. "No one else could jam that much poetry into ordinary conversation. It is still you."
"I told you that, you idiot." Will snarled ungraciously.
"Oh. He has a temper now." Buffy added.
"Always had the bloody temper." He snarled again.
"The English are typically too polite to show it in social situations." Giles remarked drily.
"Yeah, well, that's done with." Buffy crossed her arms and discreetly pinched herself. Yep. I'm here. With Giles and Will. Both alive. I'm alive. This is wonderful. This is a miracle.
"You bet it is. I've got a few things I've been meanin' to say to you, old man." The growling hadn't subsided as the Spike-dominant side showed itself. "Owe you a lifetime of telling off, what you did to me, how you lied to me."
Giles looked contemplative. "Go ahead. Then I'll take a turn and tell you how bloody foolish you've been and what you put me through."
"Um. Can we not?" Buffy waved for attention. "I mean, technically Will was right. He did control the demon, he's not… not bad, even if he's a vampire." Buffy said in a rush. Giles' mouth opened once, then shut slowly. Will smirked smugly, and she turned to him. "What you did was still crazy dangerous and it's a miracle it worked."
"There's some people you can do crazy things for." He came to her side, a possessiveness Giles found new, and a warmth that he found familiar.
They've evolved, I suppose. What they've shared- no couple should have to go through, but the strong ones survive it. These two survived it in ways no others in history have.
Buffy laid her head on the now still chest, her own possessiveness in her eyes, that her Watcher didn't miss.
Evolved, indeed. That's not just my two favorite youngsters, the high school-slash-college sweethearts.
That's a Slayer and her Vampire. He shook with a sudden chill. Only a fool would ever dare come between those two, as deeply in love and as dangerous as they are. He coughed and parted the couple who were sinking into some sort of hypnotic stare, leaning towards each other as if they were the only two in the universe.
"William. You've gotten a new lease on life. Unlife. Living. As it were." He wished he'd been wearing his glasses so he'd have something to polish right now as he fumbled his opening statement and earned himself a long suffering look from Buffy and a glare from his nephew. "May I have the same chance? Even if you're mad at me for failing to help you earlier- let me help you now."
"Still family. Aren't we?" Will said gruffly.
"You didn't want to get more time to spend it being angry at people you love, did you?" Buffy pointed out softly.
William paused. Freedom. Vamping had meant freedom from so many things, the awkward filters between words and brains, a poet and musician suffering inside, unable to speak. It meant power. To vanquish death, find a new sort of life, one not so easily ripped and eaten away.
It means love. Loving them enough to fight so hard- fight hard enough I think my bloody soul got torn in half and shared with a demon- but I won. I won so I could be with them.
"You get on my last bloody nerve sometimes, Bertie." Will snarled- then smiled. "I'm not gonna keep quiet about it anymore."
"You didn't in the first place." Giles grinned back.
Buffy stared. "Is this how you two say everything's cool?"
"Yes." They replied in chorus.
Buffy laughed, then sighed. Okay. First hurdles are done. No killing anyone, no sire bossing him around, no killing me, no killing Giles. Plus sex. This day is going so much better than the one before it. "Can we celebrate? I think we should celebrate."
"Absolutely!" Giles agreed. Caution was killed by relief, by evidence he saw with his own eyes- with hope. "Should we- stay in?"
"Unless you shower. You smell like drunk old guy." Buffy wrinkled her nose.
"You smell fine. Really good actually." Will sniffed. There was an awkward pause, awkward glances.
"Um."
"Oh." Giles swallowed uncomfortably.
William stopped sniffing and sat down heavily on the couch. "This is going to take some getting used to."
"More."
"More?"
"How much have you got?"
"I think we might need to get some sort of contract with the slaughterhouse."
"You could ask Angel who his…" Giles handed Buffy another mug of blood, but stopped speaking as a growling sound erupted. "Good Lord. Was that-"
"We don't say the A-word." Buffy hissed and swished off, mug in hand.
"Ah. Not overly fond of him myself." Giles admitted. "Do you want me to order you - uh- anything?" He'd almost said 'human food'.
"The usual." Spike drained his third mug in an hour, trying to keep the creepy (yet oddly not as creepy as he knew it should be) cravings for blood, anyone's blood, down. Giles was washed and dressed in more suitable clothes, Buffy looked less worried, and the night as a whole seemed- surreal.
I feel better dead than alive. Eyes strayed to the guitars on the wall. I bet I can play better too. Music sounds better. Everything is better. So what if it's weird? We'll adjust.
"We can patrol tonight." Spike stood up suddenly. "All of us. I'm about as fast as you. Almost as strong."
"No rush." Buffy looked startled. "You're still getting… huh. I guess you're done getting better." You're dead. "You're healed." Irony-overload.
"I'm better than ever. Dyin' to try out the new moves." His eyes lit up, then darkened, smoldered. "All the new moves."
"Third party present." Giles piped up in a strained voice. "I can make myself scarce. After dinner." They ignored him. The smoldering eyes were on both sides, blue and green, practically creating a heat field between them. "Or perhaps before dinner." No reaction. "Buffy. Did you call Willow?"
"Huh?" Buffy jumped in her seat.
"What's that?" Spike jerked back to reality.
"Willow and Oz. They're probably very anxious for news."
"Oh, we should call." Buffy said eagerly, then bit her lip. "Unless you're going to wig out on them?"
Spike considered. The redhead. Nice. Magical. Oooh, I wonder if magic blood tastes- well, maybe someday she'll let me have a taste, not much. More like a wine tasting. Sip, swish- no spitting. Swallowing.
"Will?"
Oz. Werewolf blood- no good. Somehow I know that. Demons don't drink demons. But I like him. I like them both. Nice people. Good friends. Friends don't bite friends. Unless it's a special occasion. No, not even then, no biting.
"Spike!" Buffy shouted.
He jumped slightly. "What, Luv?"
"I think we should avoid them after all. You're drooling."
"I can't help it! It's like suddenly realizing everyone in the world doesn't just have a- an outward appearance, an' a personality, they also have a flavor!"
"You were thinking about snacking on my best friend and your best friend?" Buffy looked worried.
My best friend. She's my best friend. "Already snacked on you."
"What?" The take out menu fluttered to the floor, Giles' hand suddenly unable to grasp it. "You bit-" He couldn't even finish. The thought of all his worst fears, of what the ones you loved could do once they were turned flooded him and left him mute.
"Not like that." Buffy soothed. "Think of it like a hickey. With pointy teeth."
Giles apparently disagreed. "You allowed him?"
"I didn't hurt her!" Spike spat angrily. "I love her!"
"You fed on her!"
"I - did." He had. And it didn't seem wrong. It seemed right. Dangerously right. "I would never take much."
"He told you he drank blood, he said it when he was being all poet-y in the doorway." Buffy protested, wondering how often the two main men in her life would have these volatile shifts in mood and conversation.
"I thought you meant from a bag, like you are now!"
"I did that too! I tasted her. Because… Because you don't understand what it's like to-"
"He did it because I told him to." Buffy jumped in. She grabbed Spike's hand and shook her head at Giles. "It was fine. It wasn't painful- well, pinchy, but not bad. Actually really good."
"Good?" The older man looked bewildered.
"It's none of your business as long as I don't hurt her." William frowned, watching the wheels in the Watcher's mind turning to dangerous paths.
"You're my nephew, she's my Slayer and - much more. Of course it's my business!"
"It's no one's business! I don't want to talk about this! Crossing into private, dating area stuff!" Buffy yelped and found herself stepping between the two again. "Nothing bad happened, and we're not bringing this up again! If I was in danger, I'd handle it!"
"An' I wouldn't let her be in danger!" Spike backed her up.
"You sure about that?" A fourth voice broke into the conversation.
Three figures turned, all sharing expressions anger and surprise.
Angel stood in the doorway, flanked by a much smaller, dark haired man. "I'm pretty sure you are the danger."
"Angel? What the hell are you doing here?" Buffy pushed herself in front of Spike. "And who the hell is with you? No offense."
"None taken." Doyle looked mildly uncomfortable. "I wanted to knock, but he wanted the element of surprise."
"Shouldn't you be able to sense him?" Buffy asked Spike.
"Me? What about you?"
"You both should!" Giles interjected.
"It's a Hellmouth! Vampires everywhere!" Buffy hissed as Spike cried, "New at this!"
Angel stood in the doorway. This was not the reaction he'd anticipated. This was not even the situation he'd anticipated. Why were they back at Giles' apartment?
The horrible truth. To kill his family.
The odd reality- three people in a living room, arguing but not injuring, with evidence of being there awhile- a mug half full of- beef blood.
The spat continued, and Angel took advantage of it to get a closer look, stepping stealthily forward.
Giles caught the motion first, odd as it was considering his company, and stepped in front of the two he considered his children. "I should have de-invited you. There is a process. How dare you march into my home without so much as a knock?"
"He's not evil!" Doyle quickly mentioned.
"He's still rude." Buffy glared.
"Still gonna get his ass kicked. I've been waiting a long time for this." Spike tried to side step his girlfriend and father-figure, who simply moved with him.
"See?" Angel directed his gaze to Buffy. "He's a vampire. He's not the same person, he just looks like the man you knew. But Buffy, listen to me-"
"Wait, wait, wait. We already know he's a vampire. Were you rushing over to save me because you thought he fooled us? 'Cause that's wrong. And you're an idiot. But you don't need your ass kicked."
"Yes, he does." Spike growled.
"Shut up, Will."
"You're okay with him bein' a vamp? You're a very understandin' bunch of people." Doyle's accent thickened in incredulity.
"I'm not a killing, raping, torturing beast - like some people." The venom in Spike's tone made Angel wince.
Guilt prickled, and guilt, something he usually welcomed felt out of place with this situation. This little fledge, with trickery, and worming his way into homes, into hearts- anger and self-righteousness swiftly took guilt's place. "All of them are. All of us are- without a soul."
"Maybe I still have mine. I battled for it." Spike defiantly stuck out his jaw.
"You're dead, aren't you?" Angel glowered.
"He is, and maybe he doesn't have a 'soul'. Maybe not a whole one. It doesn't matter. He didn't take a life. The demon doesn't own you until you pay the dues." Buffy stepped up beside Spike, torn between keeping him back and pushing him to safety.
"How do you know? Were you with him every second?" Angle cast doubts.
Buffy refused to pick them up. "Some people don't keep secrets from each other. Some people… you trust, even when they're different. They're still themselves."
"Maybe you just never liked to admit what a wanker you were as a human." Spike spat, looking him up and down. "Angelus and who you were - one might've been an evil, soulless killer, but I bet you were both sorry excuses for people."
"This isn't going to settle anything!" Giles' voice rang loudly, making his own much abused head throb. "Angel, thank you for coming to our aid- next time knock-"
"Don't let there be a next time." Spike muttered warningly under his uncle's rational tones.
"-but as you can see, William, while he may have been turned, isn't a threat. At this time."
"Hey!" Buffy and Spike cried as one.
"We'll keep an eye on the situation, and we will deal with… whatever arises." The Watcher concluded stiffly. "I suggest you leave."
"C'mon, man. Seen stranger things in a night, haven't we?" Doyle attempted to lead Angel away.
Angel jerked his elbow away. "No. No, I'm not leaving. No, I haven't seen anything stranger than a vampire who 'keeps' his soul. It's never been done before."
"Never was someone like Buffy before." Spike retorted. "Worth keepin' it together for, worth livin', dyin', stayin' safe for." The hardened features softened slightly, eyes losing their angry fire, and turning into a different kind of intense heat as they met hers.
Angel winced inside. Only I didn't stay 'safe'. I didn't even try. Memories of how Angelus had turned on the woman he loved, turned on all her friends and family- no hint of humanity- rankled in light of the pale blonde's words.
"Fine." Angel ground out through barely held in fangs. "You haven't killed yet. You rushed right back to Buffy. You're not a human anymore. You're a vampire. You're never safe, William. You're just waiting to slip. You're a killer waiting to happen. And you're putting her in danger."
"First- you can call me Spike if you use my name, an' frankly, wish you wouldn't." There was no holding him back now. He moved past Buffy, past Giles, and the scrawny little Irish man nervously getting out of his way. "Second- you're talkin' out your arse. You never listened, never learned." He swallowed. "You broke her down, broke her mind, but she was still right about some things. You don't give the demon his due- and he's yours, you're not his. Maybe the urge to drink is still there, the anger even, so many of the dark things." Spike was standing inches from him now, unflinching, unafraid. Immortality did that to you, too. You lost a lot of fears, fear of the big bullies like death and this bastard to begin with. "I'm not a split piece of work like you, no Jekyll and Hyde around here. I'm jus' me. Still the good guy with a little bit of the bad- and I know what to use it for." The threat was obvious.
Angel didn't like being threatened. Not by someone he'd very recently viewed as a challenge for his Buffy, and a scrawny, human one at that. "You think you own yourself? Then you're in real trouble, 'Spike'." He said the name mockingly, and the other vampire's hackles went up. "You might know what you want, but if your sire ever- what?"
The younger man's face shadowed, the eyes didn't look away, but they dimmed. "My sire is dead. I killed her. So she couldn't control me. Tempt me. Be my weakness… like she was yours."
So many pieces clicked into place, a puzzle coming together all at once, in blinding, painful clarity.
He and Drusilla… She wanted him from the beginning. She had him. He was dying. She turned him. She loved him. She was mine. He killed her. I should have killed her. He did what I never could do- even as her creation, even newly risen, weak, without a soul, with a demon.
He killed my Drusilla.
Roars broke out, one then the other, startling all the human inhabitants of the room into retreating a few steps as a battle broke out.
They fought like two wild beasts, not two men. No words, only roars, human faces fleeing. Giles looked angry, terrified, and sickened all at once, watching the boy he'd held as an infant turn into some brawling inhuman monster. But he still wanted that monster to win. "Buffy! Help me separate them!" He urged, and Buffy nodded.
"They'll kill each other!" Doyle agreed, wide-eyed. He'd watched Angel take on a few baddies, plenty of vamps, but he'd never seen him go like this, with utter savagery. So much for the soul.
Spike loved this. Angel hated it. The broader, weightier man threw him down and lunged- and Spike's booted feet launched into his ribs and sent him flying.
"The guitars!" Buffy gasped as the walls shook and furniture toppled.
He didn't care. He didn't care about the room they were wrecking. Maybe changing made him reckless. He went for the other demon viciously as he knew how, wanting to inflict the maximum of pain. Payback. Vengeance. Avenging. He had a long memory- and now he had the muscle to back it up.
The room spun as he flew threw the air, and he crashed through the front door. The battle continued outside, neither caring what the neighbors saw.
"Oh my God. Giles, I can't get between them when they're like- like angry alley cats. Really deadly, scary, loud alley cats." Buffy blinked and watched the fight spilling from the landing into the small courtyard. "Get me a cross or something." Buffy ran for what used to be the door.
"What set him off?" Doyle was lost. "I'd thought he'd be happy the little guy lost any ties he had with his sire. Sires are powerful influences." Doyle helped Giles grab a few crosses and make a path through the debris.
Giles considered pointing out that Doyle was in no position to refer to William as "the little guy", but instead stuck to the crucial matter at hand. "Drusilla is William's sire, I am almost entirely sure. You know the name?"
"Yeah!" Doyle's eyes widened as he leapt over a flood of books from a tipped bookcase. "His masterpiece. Girl he likes to torture himself with when he's not torturing himself about blondie." He jerked his head towards Buffy.
Giles' lips thinned. The Irish… ever impertinent. "Yes, he likes to brood over his pains- I don't think he knows how to cure them- one thing William had no trouble with doing. Painfully direct." They stumbled out of the house after Buffy.
"Your son?" Doyle watched the two locked in battle a dozen feet away, the girl doing her best to cut through the snarling mass with words and fists, to no avail.
Giles hesitated. For all intents and purposes- "Yes."
"He knew about all this, the ins an' outs of turnin'. Was he sick?"
"Cancer. Took his mother as well. Genetic. Buffy! Here!" He tossed her a cross. "Help us push Angel to the left, back him away from Will." He addressed Doyle.
"Right. Only- Angel made Drusilla. Shouldn't your boy see him like some sort of grandfather? Sire's line an' all that?"
"No. The sire's link is broken. The bloodline still exists, but without the communicating piece. That's why Angel felt no allegiance to the Master after Darla was killed. Well, that and the soul. William! I mean- Spike! Stop this, it's not going to be solved in a fight unless one of you dies!"
The first actual words either had said since the battle began rang out in unison, "I'm fine with that!"
"Maybe the link isn't as dead as you thought." Doyle muttered, cautiously walking towards them, cross extended.
"No… I think they both sincerely hate each other. At least at this moment."
Scuffling. Burning pain from outside forces. Spike felt it like a stinging bite of some sort, whereas Angel felt the smoking of hot pokers. They moved together, eager to continue the fight rather than separate, both of them having waited for this moment for longer than they'd care to admit.
"You- killed her. She- she wasn't yours to take."
"Still thought of her as yours, did you?" Spike panted. "Whyn't you ever love the girl then? Be near her? Don't tell me about Buffy, that was centuries later."
He didn't answer. Had no good answer. "She was innocent. I made her what she was!"
"Not arguin'." Spike decked him again, again, again, each punch breaking his skin, but splitting Angel's as well, so he considered it worth every little twinge. "So you should pay. Pay for her, pay for Buffy…"
"That wasn't me!"
"You can lie to the humans." Spike staggered back, the pain of the cross finally giving them some space. "But you can't lie to one of us. We know. An' she told me- how she loved you. How she followed you for years an' years."
"I was sparing her!"
"Sparing her what? Leavin' her alone and unloved? Don't tell me she couldn't. Don't tell me!" A rain of blows, bones cracked, both of theirs, and he didn't really mind. "I couldn't love her. Not with a soul. Not while she was evil."
Spike snorted, blood dripping from one nostril as he did so. "You have a soul? Then you should have had mercy. Loved her, or put her out of her pain. I did. Both. An' it bloody kills you. That you had a century of chances and I had only one. You wasted all of them, and I didn't."
Everything he said was true. There was nowhere to run from the truth. Nowhere to run from him and all the things he was forced to hear- so he simply- he simply wanted the truth to go away. Angel grabbed him by the collar and hurled with all his might.
"Spike! No!" Buffy watched her boyfriend fly through the air- and through the neighbor's front window in a shower of glass. "Oh my God! Oh my God, I should- I should…" Buffy made inarticulate sounds in her throat, glaring at her former lover. "If you hurt him- if he landed on something pointy and wooden- you are going to die. And you won't wanna come back this time." Buffy charged past Angel with a threat.
"Hey. How'd he do that?" Doyle asked, blinking as he helped Angel stagger forward.
"He's light. It's not actually that far." Angel shrugged, wiping blood from his hands and face, shoulders heaving, trying to block ugly but honest words from his head.
"No… I mean, I thought vamps couldn't go in without an invite. That's someone's flat, they live there. See- all the yellin' happening? He's clearly not invited."
Angel frowned. "What? Well maybe it's a demon. There are plenty of them in this place."
"I'm sorry. This big bloke burst into my uncle's, I got him outside-" Will sat up, clutching his middle, shaking glass from his hair, addressing the elderly screaming woman who was standing over him with a can of mace and a kitchen knife.
"Will! Will! Hi, Mrs. Mays, I'm sorry about your window! Are you okay?" Buffy blew in like a petite hurricane.
The mace and knife lowered. Wrinkled eyes squinted at the boy on the floor and the pretty little thing kneeling over him. "William? From next door?"
"Uh-huh." Will winced as he sat up. "I'm sorry about all this." He resisted the urge to lap up the blood coming from his nose. Buffy helped him up and brushed him down.
"It's my ex. He's… got some major boundary issues." Buffy explained.
"And he's a bastard." William added
"Should I call the police?" Mrs. Mays looked horrified.
"No." Both answered too quickly.
"Mrs. Mays!" Rupert called into their midst, interrupting the woman's insistence that they call 911. "I'm so sorry about this! Will, are you all right?"
"Just a few bruises." He rubbed his stomach. "I better leave. I'm drippin' on your nice carpet."
"Why don't you stay until he's gone? Mr. Giles, tell these children we need to call the police!"
"The police have been called." Giles lied with a perfectly straight face. "They'll be here shortly."
With the backhanded invitation, William's gnawing abdominal pain vanished- and he could feel all the other pains. Broken ribs. Maybe nose. Some other things he couldn't name but could feel. "Where is he?"
"I'm going to go deal with him." Buffy breathed, low enough so only he could hear.
"No, it's between him and me."
"That means me, too. I love you. He has no right to try to take you from me. And if it- if it comes down to you or him…" Buffy looked into his eyes and gave a small, painful shrug. "I don't have to say what happens to him, do I?"
He gloried in that level of love, that clear choice. But he shook his head. "You don't have to do that again. Once was enough."
"Losing the big love of your life is a one time deal, too. I won't lose you." Buffy hissed. "I love you. You love me. Baggage and weirdness and stupidity and everything. Love wins."
Angel stopped short outside the broken window. Kissing figures. Bloodstained kissing figures, mistily watching adults looking on.
"Doesn't look very demonic, does she?" Doyle pointed to the plump gray haired figure.
"Neither do you." Angel muttered. He shook away the images he didn't want to see and strode towards the door- where he stumbled back as if running into an invisible wall. No demon owned this house.
"Buffy. I'm- sorry about the- ma'am I'm sorry about your window." Angel called through the doorway, door left open in Giles' wake.
Mrs. Mays screeched and shook her mace warningly. "The police are coming! You stay away from that poor boy!"
"I can handle myself." Will protested.
"You just got thrown through a window." Buffy pointed out in an undertone. "Let her have this one."
"We're leaving. We'll pay for the damages." Doyle put a few bills down on the doormat and backed away. "You owe me next month's check a little early now." He muttered to Angel.
Angel didn't move. "But…how?"
"I'll see these two out." Giles said firmly. "Buffy, William, stay here."
"Did he already go over there? After he was turned?"
"No."
"He was there as a human, wasn't he?"
"Yes, but even had she let him in, not knowing what he was, you hardly gave him time to ask." Giles remarked. "You know better than anyone, that having been into a home as a human doesn't matter to a vampire. You killed your family. You still had to get invited in. Who was it? A housemaid who didn't think anything of you showing up after your own funeral?"
Angel winced. He remembered exactly the trickery he'd used. Not a housemaid. Little sister. Desperate to have her big brother back. A big brother who had stopped being much of a brother years before he was turned, with his whoring and drinking. "Then how?"
"He can enter any home, just as a human would. Only once there, it's uncomfortable until he has the official 'invitation'. By the way, you've lost yours. Consider yourself officially de-invited, as soon as I have time to perform the incantation."
"Fair." Angel admitted, though pained and confused. "Why? Why can he?"
"Because he told you the truth. He may be a vampire, but he does not have a demon in control of him, in place of his soul. I can't peek inside with some spiritual x-ray machine and tell you what he has. I can only tell you a person is made up of something more than simple state of being, a state of 'species', human or demon. Vampires, even souled ones," he looked significantly at Angel, "need an invitation into a home because they're a demon in a human shell, an unclean entity that has to be offered admittance. Whatever William is- he's not a mere host. He's not evil. He's a blend of things, and I have no research on him." He swallowed suddenly. "I don't need any. He's still my family, as is Buffy, if by intent and not blood." Giles stepped close to Angel suddenly, and something hot shot through the vampire's midriff, a scalding t-shaped welt as Giles pressed a cross to his torso. "They're my family. If you ever come near them again, I will make this a stake, and I'll aim a little higher. Understood?"
No. Nothing made sense, nothing was ever going to be understood. The world was rearranging all its pieces and he was stuck in the middle, alone and bewildered.
Angel cast a tortured glance back to the window. The couple was no longer kissing. Buffy was watching anxiously in his direction, her hand locked firmly in Will's. And the vampire. The vampire was looking at her with a mixture of such love and possession.
He felt sick. Beaten.
Worse, he knew he should feel both. "Don't you worry about what kind of a life she'll have with him?" He made one last, desperate plea.
"Not really." Giles realized, a grim smile on his face. "After seeing them together like this- I only worry about what sort of a life she'd have without him. Which brings me back to my earlier point. You're leaving. Now."
Doyle pulled him. Pulled him again, until the legs moved on their own. Walking away from something he'd always wanted to be and never was. Walking away from someone getting the impossible.
Doyle clapped his back encouragingly. "It sucks, man. But if it's true, that's good, isn't it? She's not in danger. One less evil in the world."
Angel didn't reply.
Hours of cleaning, and fixing, explaining, going through all the blood in the house, and a little of hers, too, when no one was watching, while Rupert was placing yet another call to his insurance agent and helping Mrs. Mays make a similar call to hers. Hours and hours, until dawn was near, and he had to admit that yes, he was different, and their life would be too.
"I need to drive to the magic shop to get the right herbs, and the slaughterhouse to get a great deal more blood than I thought possible. And carpet cleaner. No, Buffy, you stay and rest. You both need to rest." I need to rest. But I can't. I still have to help take care of him.
"My room still mine, right?" Will, pale and bruised, smiled up at him from where he lay on the couch.
"Of course." The odd, uneasy feeling wasn't gone. His nephew was changed. But he was still his. "Of course. I'll be home in a few hours."
"You need to sleep, too, Giles. This hasn't been a picnic for you, either." Buffy watched him slip into his worn brown leather jacket and loafers, grabbing wallet and keys.
"I feel better now that it's settled. One way or the other." He smiled faintly and left the flat.
Will and Buffy stared after him. "It'll take awhile." Buffy murmured consolingly.
"I know." Will sighed , then looked at her musingly. "Didn't take you any time at all."
"I probably should have been a little more careful. Even you were more careful." She recalled that second where he'd told her to wait- and she hadn't. Sprung into his arms. Then into his kisses, into their bed, into his mouth… It wasn't safe. Wasn't smart. "Yeah. Not too bright. You're the smart one."
He disagreed about that. And about the reasons she wasn't wary of him, right from the beginning. "Love isn't brains." Will whispered, taking her hand, leading her upstairs, to a room with drawn curtains, a bed waiting to be unmade. "It's something screaming inside of you."
She swallowed. "You made me scream - in a good way."
"I was inside of you as well. Here." He touched a soft, rapidly turning softer, spot between her thighs. "Here." He kissed the small indentation at her neck.
"You're always inside. Here." She led his fingers up, between her breasts, over her heart.
"I love you, Buffy. Slayer"
"Love you. Will. Spike."
"You know what to call me, when to call me it - how I'm feeling, what name I want." He mused as they mounted the stairs. "I noticed that."
"Well… you always knew what to call me too. Slayer or Buffy."
"It's really one in the same, init?" He hooked his thumbs in the loops of his dirtied black jeans as they entered the room.
She agreed. "Really. One and the same. One and only."
"Some people are just like that." He whispered, watching her ease out of her top.
"People you'd do anything for." She watched his shirt slide from his body, revealing gray and white ridges of bruised ribs, still so perfect.
Mouths met, hands finished undressing, bodies found the bed and sank into it gratefully. "People like you and me, Baby."
"Stupid, crazy people?" She teased as they sank into each other longingly.
He laughed against her throat, blue eyes glinting. "People in love."
To be concluded in an epilogue.