A Serendipitous Beginning
by
Lisa Y. Drexel
Chapter Five
~~~~~
Even sad reunions can be good
~~~~~
"Querida, we're almost there," Vachon whispered in her ear, waking Mike from her restless slumber.
He felt her bury her face even deeper into his neck and shudder. "Jav, do we have enough time to stop somewhere? So I can get my bearings?"
"Yeah, Mike. We've got an hour until sunrise."
"Thanks."
"Anywhere in particular?"
She shook her head. "Just some place where everyone isn't." She pulled back and glanced at
him, squinting through the darkness. "How much farther? So I can tell Spike."
"About ten miles out of Sunnydale."
She nodded and closed her eyes. As the minutes ticked away, Vachon could literally feel her
mood change from apprehensive to fearful. He just tightened his hold on her, silently
wishing there was something he could do to lighten her load, but knowing this was
something she had to work through herself.
Links and love was a pretty heady combination to begin with, much less the strength of the
one Spike and Mike shared. To feel each others emotions as well as hear their thoughts meant
that there wasn't much privacy in either of their minds. That was why both of them had
decided to damper it as much as possible six years before. But much to their dismay, the link
was much more resilient than either of their emotions. It prevailed-despite the lack of
telepathic and empathetic communication. It influenced one another feelings and in turn,
actions, without either of them being aware of it at the time. Even with LaCroix's lessons as
well Cassandra's teachings, neither of them could shield themselves or each other from
themselves.
As Spike would say, 'It was a bloody mess.'
And it was.
Unfortunately, it took both of them to make the 'damper' work and as they found out when
Mike took her first head and experienced her first Quickening, there were times when it was
impossible to do. Which is why even now, when the last thing Spike would want to share
with Mike-his pain over losing Buffy-was impossible to stop. He simply did not have the
mental energy to continue the dampening. And, Vachon suspected, he was unconsciously
seeking her out-to share that pain with her-needing her stability and her love to keep him
balanced.
That was how links worked.
He silently sighed as the outskirts Sunnydale appeared below him. Spotting a warehouse, he
began his descent, all the while wondering why Mike wanted to stop. If he had been in her
shoes, he would've wanted this reunion to get over and done with. Prolonging her
unfounded insecurities was going to do nothing but make her more nervous and skittish.
She had to know how Spike felt.
Hell, he knew, and it wasn't linked to the other vampire. All he did was drink from Mike and
he felt Spike's protectiveness and love.
"Women," he muttered quietly as his feet touched the roof. After extending his senses for any
life-undead or otherwise and found nothing, he shook her again. "Mike."
He slowly released her legs while keeping a hold of her until she got her legs back. He
expected her to pull back, but she didn't. Instead she pulled him tightly against her, all the
while clutching at him.
"Querida, what's going on?"
She sniffled as she dropped her arms and stepped back. After she wrapped her arms
protectively around her stomach, she looked up at him and gave him an embarrassed smile.
"I'm scared," she whispered as she turned around and stared off into the dark sky.
"Of what?"
"Him."
"Spike?"
She turned back to face, shutting her eyes, but failing to stop the tears that escaped. She
wiped at them angrily and groaned.
"Tell me."
She took a deep breath and sighed. "What if he doesn't love me anymore? Like *that*?"
Vachon stopped himself from rolling his eyes and instead just shook his head. "Believe me,
Mike, he still loves you. He may not drag you into his bed tonight-but that doesn't mean that
there isn't a large part of him that won't be tempted to."
"Really? How do you know?"
He grinned and shrugged. "Trade secret."
She frowned at him as she began playing with her long braid, twirling the loose hairs at its
end. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped and clamped it shut.
"What?"
"It's silly."
"I doubt that."
She dropped her braid and reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette and
lighter. After taking a drag off the cigarette, she turned to face him. "It's silly, Vachon. I'm a
shrink. I know silly when I see it. I even know why I'm feeling all these 'things', these
insecurities, and yet my heart isn't listening to my brain. My heart's too worried about being
40 years old and feeling that I'm a fool to believe that he would want me, an old woman in
comparison to Buffy, back. Like how can I compete with her? Dead or alive?" She shook her
head ruefully as she flicked her half-smoked cigarette away. "And I feel petty and awful for
thinking all these things. It's just that I left my heart-my soul with him-when I left him and I
don't think I'll ever be *right* without him."
She groaned loudly shaking her head, ignoring the newest stream of tears that flowed down
her face. "We better go. You need to get you inside."
She picked up her backpack and slipped her arms through the straps.
Vachon watched her silently as he thought of what she said. He never believed she was petty
or cruel. He always believed that her leaving Spike was one of the most bravest things he'd
seen anyone ever do. He knew he wouldn't ever be able to leave her totally. Granted he lost
his lover that night, but he still had her friendship and love. He knew from the beginning that
this day would come. When Spike would need her and she would go to him.
He knew it before he even took her to his bed.
And yet, he couldn't regret the last six years. This beautiful woman, somehow filled that
aching hole in his own heart left by Urs and Tracy's deaths. As his constant companion for the
last six years, she helped him find himself and he knew, if he had to, he could leave her now
and not lose that sense of self that he worked so hard to rebuild.
But he also knew he wouldn't.
Because, he still had her-just not as a lover.
And that was okay, because long ago, he had decided that first and foremost, he would teach
her and guide her like he would his own children and he could live with being her 'sire' or
father, far better than not having her in his life at all.
*Now, as long as Spike can deal with it, we'll be okay,* he thought to himself as he stepped
up to her and caressed her cheek. "You are not an old woman, Mike. You are an Immortal.
You died when you were thirty not eighty. And I don't care what you think, you still look as
if you're in you're maybe 25 years old. How much you want to bet, those kids that we met
seven years ago are going to look as old as you. And I hate to tell you, but you're in much
better shape than you were in when I met you. And even then, you still took my breath
away."
She blushed, looking downwards as she shuffled her feet. "Then why do I feel like an
awkward teenager getting ready to go on her first date?"
He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Because, nina, you're finally seeing Spike
after six years of loneliness."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head, pressing a finger on her lips. "Shhh,
listen to me. It's true, Querida, your heart is his-just as his is yours. Buffy and I were only
borrowing them for awhile. We both knew we'd have to return them. I'm just sorry for you,
that it had to be her death that forced all of us to realize it."
Her eyes flooded with tears as she nodded in agreement. "So do I. I really liked Buffy. Even
loved her as a friend and admired her strength and courage. I feel like I'm some fucking
scavenger, scoping out the remains. And yet, I can't stop myself from wanting him."
"You're no scavenger-you Mike-Spike's soul. Remember that, Querida, and don't be ashamed
of your love for him. It's too beautiful of a thing to push back."
She nodded as she gave him a small grin. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so
glad that you're here. Thank you," she whispered as she pulled him into her arms and
hugged him tightly.
He hugged her back, and then scooped her up into his arms, preparing to leave. "Ready?"
She nodded.
"Hang on."
And they ascended into the air, heading to Mike's house-where Buffy and Spike had been
calling home for nearly five years.
***
It had been that last and final mental check-in from Mike that did Spike in.
Before that, he had managed to delegate all thoughts of Mike to the 'I-can't-deal- with-this-
now' spot in his mind-where, as the night wore on, he found, was growing exponentially. A
part of him wondered just how much more unpleasant feelings he could stuff in there before
he exploded and became a wild vampire-just waiting to be staked.
He shook his head and pushed that thought into the same bin with Buffy and Mike.
It had been nearly two hours since Angelus and company's visit and everyone had settled in
for the rest of the night-waiting for dawn to come.
Luckily for them, it was late in the spring and after Day-Light Savings Time, so, even though
no one would be heading for bed until way past six am, even after six hours of sleep, they
would have enough time to get the things done they needed to before nightfall.
And it was a lot of things.
Amy, Giles and Willow (along with Richie and/or Mike) had to go to each of their houses
and not only revoke Angel's invitation but cast the same type of protection spell against fire
they had on his home.
That alone would probably physically drain the three magic practitioners.
They had to contact Faith and her watcher and ask if the slayer could return to the
Hellmouth.
Giles had to call the Council to inform them of Buffy's death and to search for the next slayer.
Joyce had to go down to the morgue and identify her daughter, call Hank Summers and
begin funeral preparations.
It just went on and on.
And then there was Angelus.
Spike knew he hadn't given up. If the last time wasn't enough to show him that Angelus'
demon was just a bit nuts, tonight was. The demon-vamp wasn't going to give up until either
Willow was really dead or his demon was banished forever by the same change Spike went
through seven years before.
It was just that simple.
That, added with Dru and Morden's reappearance, made everyone just a little nervous. Was
there a prophecy that they missed? Any portends they ignored? Or was this just one of those
random Hellmouthy things that popped up periodically in Sunnyhell?
All this just pointed to research.
Tuning out Giles, Joyce and Xander, he began looking around the room - anything to take his
mind off of Mike and Buffy. He noticed that Delia was still asleep, curled up in her husband's
lap, not unlike a small child would instead of a mother-to-be.
Oz was sitting on the floor, next to Xander's chair, strumming on Spike's guitar. He appeared
to be picking out a new song-its tune as melancholy as everyone's mood.
Amy and Willow were sitting over in the corner. Periodically, Spike would hear one or the
other cry as they talked of the evening events and the future plans that were no longer
possible.
And of course, there was Xander, Giles, Joyce and him-they had spent most of the night
making the lists that everyone would follow the next morning.
Spike sighed, inwardly wondering when that human characteristic had become a normal
habit for him. *Probably came with the bloody soul,* he thought to himself as he turned his
head to glance down the hallway, his eyes instantly pinpointing his closed bedroom door.
Could he go in there in the morning and sleep, even though the bed would be cold and
lonely? And that the only company he would have would be the ghostly memories of Buffy?
Could he?
Suddenly feeling anxious, he stood up and lit a cigarette. Glancing at Delia, he mumbled
something about checking the outside and slipped out the front door.
The cool spring air welcomed him and he found himself smiling as a hundred- year-old
memory of Druscilla popped up.
She loved nights like these. After they would finish hunting, she would drag him up to this
hilltop where she would twirl about-her arms up, soaking in the moon's essence.
It was moments like those that had bewitched him to her.
As a human, he'd never been in love. He'd seen it as a weakness. All he had to do was pull
up an image of his mother-a beautiful, innocent and trusting commoner who had the
misfortune of giving her heart to a nobleman-who ended up devastated and penniless
because of that love.
The irony of it was Spike was the spitting image of Sir William Atkinson-his father. From the
prominent cheekbones to the sable brown hair and dark brown eyes.
Yet, his mother and him were forced to leave her village and family and ended up in a
tenement in London.
She tried to find legitimate work, but scandal seemed to follow her wherever she went.
Finally she was forced into prostitution out of necessity and after that, little William's life was
forever changed.
From an innocent loving boy, he grew into an angry, tough, sociopath with enough
intelligence to keep him one step in front of the law. He earned the title of William the
Bloody long before he had become a vampire.
And once Angelus brought him across, he found his demon was one who had lived off
extremes-hate, sex, blood, anger, and finally, once Druscilla entered their lives, love.
Once he had Druscilla, the bloodlust became focused-less erratic, more precise.
He found purpose-to keep her safe.
And for nearly 90 years, it was enough.
Sometimes he wondered what would've happened next, if Angelus hadn't returned and
Spike never had to make the choices he made: Angelus or the world; Angelus or Buffy and
Druscilla.
Would've he progressed on his own to the point he was seven years before when he had met
Mike? Or was Spike's present life just random effects of strange causes?
He tossed his cigarette aside, disgusted with his brooding and flew up onto the roof of his
house. From there, he extended his senses, quickly pinpointing the three minions that
Angelus and Dru had left to watch the house.
One was in a car, parked three houses down on his street. Another was in the old coot's
backyard, most likely trampling the human's prized begonias and the last one was standing
on the other side of Spike's back fence.
Gods, he missed Angel and Buffy. Not only did he lose his sire and friend and lover, but he
lost the other members of the slaying team. It was them, Angel, Buffy and Spike, that did
most of the slaying. With them, they could've easily dispatched the three fledglings. But
alone, even though Spike was a Souled-One, it would be more than difficult.
Maybe he should just wait for Mike and Vachon. Mike could get the one in the car and
Vachon and Spike could flip for the other two.
Feeling a bit better, he flew back down to the door and slipped back inside.
As he flopped into his waiting chair, Xander cleared his throat.
"What's it like out there?"
Spike told them.
"Do you think we should dust them?"
Oz stopped strumming.
"Nah, mate. I'll wait for Mike and Vachon. Everyone here is beat."
The strumming continued.
"Spike, if I may ask, is-is the link active?" Giles asked him.
Spike nodded and closed his eyes as he made a tentative mental touch. "She's asleep right
now."
"Asleep?" Xander's voice cracked. "How the hell could she sleep while flying like that?"
"Cool," Oz interjected. "That means she feels safe. This Vachon guy, what's he like?"
Spike grinned as he turned to Oz, mentally noting the green hair. "A musician- like you. Been
in a few bands. Though, I'm not sure he has in the past eight or ten years. He's laid back, but
when something means a lot to him, he's intense, loyal. Not a bull-shitter. I think you'd like
him."
Oz nodded. "Yeah, I'm kinda sorry I missed out on all that fun that summer. I would've loved
to've met him then. A whole different view on the supernatural and being in a band thing."
Spike shook his head, chuckling softly. Oz was one of the most unique beings he had ever
met-
*Spike?*
Spike's eyes instantly shut as he mentally greeted her. *Hey, luv. Where are you?*
*About ten miles away. We should be there in a few...*
*Okay, I'll let the others know...*
An uncomfortable silence.
*Okay, see ya.*
*Until then, luv.*
And then it hit him.
Mike was coming.
After six long years, he was finally going to see her again and for the life of him, he had no
idea what or how to feel.
Growling softly, he stood up and headed down the hallway. He stopped and turned. "Giles,
they're about ten miles out of Sunnydale."
The watcher nodded and Spike turned back and pulled the attic steps down. And for the
second time that evening, he went up there-this time to welcome his guests.
***
Spike met them on the roof.
Standing there, looking as beautiful as he did the day she met him, clad in a pair of old blue
jeans and a worn, black tee-shirt with a his duster billowing out behind him, Mike felt her
heart lurch upwards-somewhere close to her throat.
Gods, he was magnificent.
Untangling herself from Vachon's arms, she turned to him and suddenly stopped-afraid.
"Will?" she whispered, asking so many things with that one word. Can I hug you? How are
you? Do you love me? Are you going to be okay?
Although his face was expressionless, his emotions and thoughts were anything but that.
Awe, excitement, pain, sorrow, anger-all plundered her heart as a running dialogue filled her
mind, *Cor, she's beautiful-I've missed her so much-more beautiful than I remembered...*
And then an overwhelming sense of completeness seemed to fill them both.
*I'm home*
*I'm home*
Mike broke her self-paralysis and ran up to him, flinging herself at him- instinctively
knowing he would catch her-that he always would catch her-as his arms did catch her. As he
had done so many times before in those mere nine months they'd spent together that changed
both their lives irrevocably.
*Ah luv, I missed you. I missed this.*
*I did too. I missed you so much I thought I'd die...*
*I love you.*
*And gods, I love you.*
***
Spike rained kisses on her face, poignantly aware that her tears were for him and his loss. He
gently pushed her head to the side, his fangs aching to just taste her-to be with her. Her
beautiful, pale long neck called to him as her essence teased an ache hadn't even realized he
had. As he kissed her pulse point, he felt her body shudder in response as a wave of sexual
arousal hit him, reminding him of almonds and coconuts and wild, spring flowers.
As his fangs broke her skin, slicing into the cateroid artery and her blood filled his mouth, a
thousand thoughts, feelings and visions filled him. Her bottled blood held none of the magic
that this did. Her heard a load moan and vaguely realized it was him as he felt her body buck
against him. Retracting his fangs, he lazily licked the blood around the wound as he held her
tightly to him.
Home.
He was finally home.
And then, a picture of Buffy flashed through his mind and whatever peace he had found in
Mike's arms and in her blood, disappeared.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, stepping back, as he watched her eyes focus on him, without
condemnation or recriminations.
"It's okay. I understand." She reached up and traced his scar. "I know how you feel. How can I
not? It's going to take time. I'll be here when you're ready." She tiptoed and kissed him
chastely on the lips and pulled away. "Now, don't you have some demon-vamps you want to
get rid of?"
He yanked her back into his arms, and hugged her tightly to him and glanced over at
Vachon, who stood and watched their reunion. Thank you, he mouthed to the Spaniard,
knowing that the other vampire was responsible in no small way for Mike still being alive.
"And thank you, luv," he whispered in her ear.
He felt her chuckle in his arms and for the first time since the events at the Bronze earlier that
night, he knew he might actually survive the next few days-
Because he was no longer alone.