A Serendipitous Beginning
by
Lisa Y. Drexel
Chapter Six
~~~~~~~
Old friends…New Problems
~~~~~~
It had been nearly six years since Xander had last seen Mike Evans.
She looked the same.
Even her hair was the same length.
It was one thing knowing about Immortals and a whole other thing seeing it with his own eyes.
Sure, Angel and Spike—even Vachon—didn't age—but they were vampires and vampires were immortal. Even before he knew that such beings were actually real, he knew that. But there were no tales told to children at bedtime about an Immortal race of beings that looked exactly like you—got hurt like you—ate the same foods as you—but never aged and rarely died.
It was unnerving and almost chilling in a whole different way than dealing with vampires were.
He switched his attention to Spike and found himself letting out a sigh of relief.
The change was remarkable.
Ever since Xander had seen the vampire curled up on the floor, desolate and broken, an unwarranted fear had slowly been trying to grown within his heart. He could remember with absolute clarity the horrors the vampire had inflicted on him and his friends before Angelus had returned, and even with the knowledge that Spike's soul was still there—he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the vampire lost himself in a blood haze of pain.
He actually didn't have to wonder. He could almost see it. And without Buffy, he had no doubt Spike could kill every last person in the room—except maybe Willow and not even realize what he was doing until all of their bodies were cooling—empty of blood.
Ignoring the shudder that the image produced, he had to say Mike's presence was definitely welcomed. The vampire's grief was still apparent—the light that had been in his eyes at the Bronze, was still somewhat dimmed—but at least it had returned. Also, his shoulders were straighter, as if the burden of Buffy's death and of Angelus' return was no longer in danger of breaking him.
Yes, Mike was a good thing.
Although he had talked in length with Buffy about Spike and Mike, he still didn't quite understand what was so powerful about bloodlinks and bonds. His friend didn't seem too worried about Mike, knowing that the Immortal woman would physically keep her distance, while Spike and her were together. When Xander asked her how she knew that, she smiled while squeezing his shoulder.
"Because I can feel it," she said. "Every time Spike drinks from me, I can feel Mike. I can feel her love for him, her caring for me and I know that she wouldn't ever allow herself to come in between us. She firmly believes that since her and Spike have an eternity, that I should have him for now."
Xander felt his eyes water and those tears of grief that he had been holding back, threatening to overpower him. He already missed Buffy so much, he wondered if life would ever be the same. She was his first lust, love and the first person he had saved from death. Her ability to bring light and laughter into all the dark corners of her existence had more than once, given Xander the strength to survive and become someone when nothing else had.
He bit his bottom lip to stop the tears and silently promised himself a good cry when he and Cordellia were alone. This was not the time or place to break down—knowing that if he did, everyone else would follow.
And no one needed to collapse when they had so much to do.
Xander looked back up to see Mike squeeze Vachon's hand and step into the living room—heading straight for Joyce.
~~~
It was like stepping into a time warp—seeing all those people that had been so important in her life all those years ago. As her eyes traveled around the room, she found herself agreeing with Vachon. He was right—everyone with the exception of Giles and Joyce, now looked the same age as her.
Willow, her red hair now much longer with beautiful waves that curled around her face, had grown into a lovely, breathtaking woman.
Although she had only met Amy a couple of times during her stay in Sunnydale, she too looked as if the years had been kind to her.
Cordellia, wrapped in Xander's arms on his lap, was sleeping the sleep of innocents. It seemed pretty apropos now—although six years ago she would've disagreed.
Xander, his hair cut styled and neat—along with the rest of his attire—seemed to reflect Cordelia's tastes more than his. But the change looked good on him. He looked every much the writer he was.
Oz, with green hair and two earrings, was the only one on the outside that hadn't appeared to change—but she knew better. The werewolf was no longer a musician that played when his schedule with school permitted. He was now a successful recording artist, with Devon, still playing the lead singer.
And then there was Giles and Joyce.
She felt her breath catch as she noticed how the sorrow had taken a hold of the Watcher. He was so much more than Buffy's watcher. He was her friend, comrade in arms and surrogate father all rolled into one. The lines in his face were more pronounced—his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were filled with such sadness that Mike felt her eyes water in empathy.
He lost his purpose.
And probably the only thing that was keeping him together was his love for his wife and the other 'children' he had adopted so long ago.
But Joyce surprised her.
Mike had heard how she had reacted to Buffy's revelation that she was the Slayer. Of all of her attempts during the Slayer's senior year in high school of normalizing her daughter. She had stopped by the time Mike had left, and when she discovered that Spike and her daughter were in love, she finally accepted it—her daughter was the Slayer.
But now, Joyce stood tall next to her husband. Mike could see the pain in the woman's eyes, but the strength she radiated was mind-boggling. This was a woman who once she accepted her daughter's fate—she accepted it all—even Buffy's death.
All this time Mike had believed Buffy's success as the slayer had to do with her friends and their support.
Now, she may have to change that assessment.
She could finally see what Spike saw in Joyce Summers all those years before—a fiercely strong woman who could not only love with all her heart but also withstand the pain of life's heartbreaks.
Mike couldn't help thinking of how proud Buffy would be of her mother, if she could see her now.
It was Joyce that Mike first approached. After wiping her wet face, Mike walked over to the woman and took her hands in both of hers and looked up at her, suddenly unsure of what to say or how to say it. Somehow I'm sorry was so inadequate, but yet appropriate. That plus, she worried that Joyce would think that Mike was insincere in her feelings; Buffy's death did mean Mike and Spike would get back together. Would she believe Mike when she said that she was sorry?
Mike sighed and squeezed Joyce's hand. "All of a sudden, I don't know what to say." She stopped and pulled her hands away as she closed her eyes, remembering the rush of thoughts and feelings when she experienced her mini-Quickening in the bathroom. That was Buffy—coming back to her. "I really cared about her—loved her even." Mike grinned to herself as she looked over at Joyce. "She taught me so much in that six months that I was here. How to fight and stay alive. How to be tough and how to love at the same time." Mike could see Joyce's eyes fill with tears and took her hand and held it. "She taught me how to accept your fate, even when you think the Fates were really off their game in choosing you. I was so young back then. Barely Immortal for two years and for most of that time, everyone else was making decisions about my future. I don't know if I'd ever had the courage to become my own person if I hadn't known her.
"At eighteen, she knew that life was sacred—love was precious and well worth fighting for. She had more courage than 20 of me and she was almost half my age. Pretty humbling experience."
Joyce nodded, smiling through her tears.
"And she'll be missed," Mike added softly.
Joyce broke down as she pulled the Immortal into her arms for a quick hug. "Yes she will, but with all of us to remember her, she always be here," she said as she pulled away and touched her heart.
Mike couldn't help but agree, because wasn't that where her father was—still to that day—in her heart?
The ice broke, Mike was quickly engulfed in a huge hug by Xander, soon followed by the rest of the Scooby Gang—tears running rampant as everyone felt a bit of the heaviness of the night dissipate.
Mike had never felt as grateful to the slayer's mother as she had at the moment—she broke the ice and gave Mike her blessings.
The Immortal couldn't ask for anything less.
~~~
As Spike watched Mike approach Joyce, he felt his control slip as it sunk in how much she had changed in the years they were apart. Although the differences were slight: the tightening of her buttock's, how she held her head up higher now, the wariness in her eyes—the muscles in her legs that rippled when used—all of it was a testament to not only how much time had passed, but of how much he missed as well.
And still, things hadn't changed that much. He could still feel the pull of her soul as it called to him—even now, when his own pain was nearly overwhelming.
What the bloody hell is wrong with me? he asked himself as he turned to Vachon, catching the other vampire as he too watched Mike.
It wasn't until he felt his fangs cutting into his lip, did he consciously realize how jealous he felt. The Spanaird had six years with Mike—five years and three months more than Spike. Vachon knew Mike's body better than Spike. Understood all those idiosyncracies she had that Spike had forgotten about, during his time with Buffy.
Growling softly, he grabbed the other vampires arm. "We need to talk," Spike whispered so softly that only another vampire could hear him.
Vachon nodded knowingly. "I need to feed. You have something that I can bring it back with us?"
Spike nodded, unable to hide the small smile that curled his lips. Vachon continually amazed him. Did anything ever faze the other vampire? Here Spike was ready to tear his lungs out seconds before and Vachon just shrugged and offered to get him a drink.
Leaning against the hallway wall, his eyes shut and head back, Spike wondered when he would ever feel in control again. Just when he had a handle on things, Mike shows up and everything was eskewed again. How could he help Willow or Angel if he couldn't keep his fangs or hormones in check? So many feelings were swirling through him, he didn't have the energy to sort through them. Why couldn't they just come one at time? Why couldn't he mourn for Buffy for a just a bit with some peace—and then he could reclaim Mike as his and this time never let her go, Methos be damned. They could share her, as far as he was concerned. He did it with Dru and Angelus for years. He could do it again if necessary.
He was never, ever going to let her go again.
Feeling the other vampire's presence, he opened his eyes and pushed off the wall, and headed to the back bedroom—the same one that Willow revived in. The smell of the young Immortal's blood filled his senses and he shook his head and ushered the other vampire out and over to the back bedroom.
"Too distracting, mate. I'll see if Mike can clean it up later," he said as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Sitting on the bed, he watched Vachon pour two glasses of bloodwine and took the one he handed him. "I'm fucking losing my mind, mate and I have no idea what to do," he whispered through his fangs—the call of the blood was stronger than anything that he had felt since Mike left him six years before.
"It's the link, Spike. Mike feels it too."
Spike nodded, finishing his drink and carefully placing it on top of the night stand. "And the reason a part of me wants to ring your bloody neck—is that part of the bloody link too?"
The dark-haired vampire nodded yes. "You want to reassert your position and your importance in her life. I was the one that filled that spot—so of course there's a part of you that wants to destroy me."
Spike chuckled humorlessly. "Said so calmly. So tell me, mate, why aren't you worried?"
Vachon shrugged. "Well, I am—a little bit. But I know something that you don't."
"And that is?"
"That I'm not in love with her. And that my relationship with Mike is far more akin to a childe-sire one than the lovers that you two have." Vachon sighed and walked over to the wooden chair sitting next to the wall by the door. He picked it up with one hand and walked over to the bed, placing it so the back faced Spike and sat down, leaning forward on it. "You know, I do know about some of what happened to you that brought to you to St. Louis and into Mike's life. What if I told you that you weren't the only that pretty much lost everything and found hope in her eyes? She gave me that, Spike. She let me take care of her, train her, watch over her—things that I needed to do to heal myself. And all she asked for in exchange was after that first Quickening that I help her find herself.
"Man, it was bad. You know that. Although, it was worse for her because you'd moved on. Don't get me wrong—she wanted you to go to Buffy and be with her, but that didn't mean that it didn't tear her apart. She experienced through the link and the Quickening—everything that happened between you two in Sunnydale. Every look, every sigh, every touch—every declaration of love. I know, because the only way she could anchor herself was for me to drain her to the death—so, when she revived, the intensity of your connection was diminished. So, I got those memories too," Vachon finished, looking up from his nearly empty wineglass to meet Spike's eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I didn't sleep with and make love to her for completely altruistic purposes. I, too, missed and needed what she could give me. The only woman I ever truly loved was mortal and died about nine years ago—before I could ever tell her.
"Mike reminds me of her. Her heat, her sense of humor and practicality reminds me of Tracy. Mike also reminds me of my childe, Urs, who died about the same time that Tracy did. Urs hated being a vampire. Urs hated being alive—be it as a mortal or as an immortal. The one thing that kept her from killing herself was she loved being depressed even more than she hated being alive. Mike has some of those tendencies. When she gets depressed, she likes it a bit too much. So, through Mike, I felt like I could make it up to both of them."
He reached for the wine bottle and filled both their glasses. After placing the bottle back down on the floor, he looked back up at Spike.
Spike met his eyes and knew the other vampire was telling the truth. To be honest, he didn't need to look into Vachon's eyes to know that. He trusted him—despite his sudden desire to rip his head off and throw it across the room. Shaking his head, he broke eye contact and stared down at the carpet.
"What about this link? What the hell is going on?"
"I'm not sure what it's like for demon-vamps, but for us—when something emotionally traumatizing happens, we are always drawn to those who share our blood, because they can feel our pain and know our heart. It helps us heal and stay strong. Although she didn't initially bring you across, her blood transformed you. And because of that transformation, she the closest thing to a sire you'll ever have—from now on." Vachon finished his second glass of bloodwine and stood up. "Don't fight the link, Spike. It's probably the only thing that's keeping you sane right now. I wasn't connected to Buffy like you and even Mike was, but I have to believe that she knew and accepted Mike's role in your life. I don't think she would condemn you for turning to the one person who not only understands your pain, but can help heal it as well. Not if she loved you."
Vachon turned back to the door and slipped outside, leaving Spike to his thoughts.
~~~
"So, when's Richie coming?" Xander asked once everyone had settled back down in his or her seats. Mike had sat down on the floor, in front of the coffee table and had a glass of half-drunk orange juice in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike grab Vachon's arm and felt a rush of anger and posssessiveness fill her her mind. She shut her eyes and inwardly sighed at Spike's jealously over her relationship with Vachon.
She just hoped Vachon could calm him enough that the dark-haired vampire could explain the intricacies of bloodlinks and why Spike was feeling so torn at the moment. Although she could tell him what she knew, there were some things that her lover needed to hear from Vachon that couldn't come from her.
Spike needed to understand her and Vachon's convoluted relationship before someone ended up with a stake in their heart. She shook her head, once again wondering how her life could get anymore complicated and turned her attention back to Xander and Cordelia and gave the couple a small smile. "He took the first flight out. I'm not even sure what flight it was, but I know it was the red-eye. I'd say dawn—the latest about 8am."
Xander nodded as he rubbed Cordelia's back soothingly. She watched the prom queen's eyes shut—exhaustion evident in her drawn, pale face.
Mike frowned, thinking that everyone needed to get some shut eye and decided they needed to figure out sleeping arrangement and soon, before everyone fell asleep where they were.
Deciding to give the two vampires a few more minutes of privacy, she allowed herself to get lulled by the easy, lighthearted discussion taking place in the living room.
"We were going to wait and but, what the hell," Xander said, with a small smile on his lips. "We got an unexpected present this year for our anniversary—Cordy's pregant."
"Pregnant, man? That's wonderful," Oz said, as squeezed the former Prom Queen's arm in affection. "How far along?"
Cordy yawned. "Six weeks," she whispered. "Willow and Amy say it's a girl."
"You told them already?"
Cordelia nodded, smirking at her husband. "They've known all night. I told them at the Bronze—when we all went to the bathroom. Remember, honey?"
Xander's eyes widened as it sunk in. "So, Bu—Buffy knew?" He didn't seem to notice the stream of tears that were running down his face.
She cupped is face and smiled gently at him. "Yes, she did. She cried and gave me a huge hug and congratulated us."
"She did?"
Mike felt her own eyes water as she felt a flash of elation run through her. damnrightIcongratulatedthem! a whisper of Buffy's voice floated through her heart. She looked up in time to see Xander finally breaking down and crying as Cordelia held his head to her chest.
Her eyes scanned the room and realized that everyone seemed to be affected by the news. Exhaustion does wonders for everyone's emotional control, she thought to herself. Sighing, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and mentally called out to Spike.
Spike?
Hmmm?
It's getting kind of hairy out here. Did you know that Cordy's pregnant?
I figured it out earlier this evening. Luv. Pretty wonderful, eh?
Yeah, it's pretty amazing. She paused, wiping her own wet face and then continued. Well, she's pretty exhausted—how 'bout letting her and Xander take your bed? You can take one of the spares...
No--
Spike?
She and Xander can have the back bedroom. Joyce and Giles can take the other one. We can ask Amy if she can 'zap' a couple of extra cots for Willow, and Richie when he gets here. There's already a room set up in the basement that's for Vachon—
What about--
You, luv?
Yeah—can I sleep on the floor in the bedroom?
She felt his mirth. No love, you're sleeping with me in our bed--
Abruptly, she stood up, suddenly feeling seven pairs of eyes on her. "I'll be right back—excuse me," she mumbled to herself as she scampered out of the living room into the hallway, passing Vachon on the way.
"Back bedroom, Mike!" Vachon whispered to her back just as she saw him open the bedroom door and step outside into the hallway.
Seconds later, she standing in front of Spike, not knowing if she should hug him or scream at him for screwing her insides up like he had.
His face expressionless, he grabbed her arm and yanked her into the bedroom. He kicked the door shut and pushed her back against the door. With his arms on her shoulder's, his body pressing up against hers, his dark blue orbs sparkling with passion and pain, held her in his thrall.
"I need you. I was wrong up there—in the attic," he said, his eyes filling with bloodtears. He dropped his hands, pushing off her and began pacing in front of her. "I need you to help me help them. I need you to hold me and tell me its okay—I need you to love me just as she loved me when you left. I can't let myself fall into that bloody hole that I fell into when you left. We've got to help Willow—Angel needs us now. I—" he stopped and ran his hand through his hair. "I can't worry about offending their sensibilities—not at the expense of me losing it, love.
"My control is shaky at best—"
She grabbed his hand, stilling him. "It's okay, Spike. I understand. I just didn't think you did."
He chuckled humorlessly. "I maybe slow on the uptake tonight, luv, but I finally get it."
Mike shrugged. "Then, let's get to it. And get everyone to bed. We've got a long day ahead of tomorrow and," she stopped and yawned, "I don't know about you—but I'm exhausted."
She walked over to the door and left the room in search of Amy.
~~~
Willow couldn't remember ever being this tired.
Not even after waking up from a coma in time to re-soul Angel.
Not after opening a portal to Hell and summoning Angel back home.
Not even after studying for finals week her junior year in college—when she had foolishly taken too many hard classes in one semester.
Nope, this beat them all.
And it was because of Angel.
She missed him. It was like this aching hole in her heart, mind and soul that just stood there—simmering in its own pain.
She hated it.
And right now, she was feeling a lot of very un-Willowy things—like anger, resentment, jealously and envy at her friends and their happiness.
She found herself especially angry at Spike.
How dare he latch on Mike like she was the lifeboat in the sea of his misery? Where the hell was her lifeboat? Willow was supposed to be wrapped in the safe cocoon of Angel's arms as they slept their last night away in Sunnydale before leaving for Europe tomorrow.
Instead, her lover was gone, floating around the aether waiting for Willow to bring him back once again—all the while she had to deal with being Immortal and alone by herself.
Why did it happen?
And why was she so angry?
When Mike first came in, standing in between Vachon and Spike, all Willow could think was, 'Thank the Goddess—we may survive the night.' She could see how tenuous Spike's control was and knew that Mike would anchor him—doing whatever it took to keep Spike's bloodlust in check.
And now that the other Immortal was doing just that, all Willow could feel was resentment.
Chuckling softly at herself and her foolishness, she made both her and Richie's cot, all the while thinking of the conversation she and Mike had once Mike managed to disengage herself from the rest of the gang.
It was then that Mike explained to her that Richie was going to be her mentor. Willow nodded, wishing it could be Mike, but knowing that the other Immortal wasn't ready to be a mentor yet. Mike still wore her Immortality with unease—even after all these years. Yet Richie, only Immortal for a two additional years, was much more comfortable with his preternatural existence than Mike had ever been.
Although Willow never asked the Immortal woman why that was so, she knew it had to do with the fact that she had been a Watcher and grew up in a Watcher's family. That fact alone had probably set the tone for at least the first fifty years or so of Mike's immortal life. She'd come from a family where Immortals were to be watched and observed and suddenly to find herself become the very thing she had been told that was only meant to be watched and observed, had to be a bit disconcerting.
Especially in Mike's world—where Immortals were the only preternatural beings she had been aware of—and never secretly carried a fear that she could become what she had been studying all those years.
That wasn't true with the Scooby Gang.
They all knew the risks of involving themselves in the supernatural world of vampires, werewolves and witches—that they could become what they fought against for all those years.
It was an unpleasant side effect of their duty.
Very unpleasant, she thought to herself. And now, she not only had to train but figure out a way to trap Angelus without endangering herself in the process.
She had to get Angel back. An eternity without him was just not acceptable. Without him at her side, Immortality seemed more like a nightmare instead of blessing.
And more than anything, Willow wanted it to be a blessing.
It would make everything else that came along with it, much easier to deal with.
Like the killing...
"Don't do it, Rosenberg," she muttered to herself. She knew if she walked down this path that night, she might just lay her head down in front of Morden and say the hell with it.
And she couldn't do that to Angel.
She would survive.
And so would Angel.
Anything less was just not possible
to be continued...