A Serendipitous Beginning
by
Lisa Y. Drexel
Chapter Eight
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Old friends…New Problems
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A Serendipitous Beginning
Chapter Eight
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If Wishes Were Horses...
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Vachon's eyes shot open, he was out of bed and had someone pinned against the wall before his mind finally caught up with him.
Willow.
He recognized her scent.
Eyes flashing, he stepped back and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Willow-"
He could feel her nervousness as he heard her laugh softly. "Remind me never to do that again," she whispered, her voice soft and full of sadness.
He took her hand and led her back to the sofa bed and sat down. "What brings you down into my neck of the woods, Querida?"
She heard her sniffle softly and wipe her face. "Richie didn't come alone-MacLeod's here."
He reached over to the nightstand and lit the candle and leaned back against the arm of the couch, facing her. "That's strange. He hasn't visited Mike in a long time."
Willow nodded as Vachon stared at her pale skin in the golden hue of the candle light. Shaking his head at his rising bloodlust, he reached down and grabbed a bottle of bloodwine.
"He came because he had heard how Mike had died last night and because of the bloodlink and because of me and Angel."
After Vachon finished one bottle, he opened the second one all the while inwardly thanking Spike for insisting that Vachon bring two bottles of bloodwine downstairs with him. Vachon couldn't remember the last time he had slept under the same roof with more than one human and forgot how much their sweet blood tempted his bloodlust.
Smiling to himself, he looked up at Willow and sighed. "He has good reason to worry, Willow. You're not taking on an easy task."
"I know. That's why I came down here. He came up with a suggestion or a solution and I need to know if it's worth the risk."
"What do you need from me?"
She stared down at her clasped hands and nibbled on her bottom lip. "I need to know what it was really like for Mike-for her to be separated from Spike."
Vachon snorted and fell back against the cushions. "You really don't ask the easy questions, do you Querida?" He closed his eyes and thought back to the first night Mike had returned to St. Louis and shuddered at the memory. Her eyes-always so bright and full of life and laughter-
were empty and dark. He knew then it was going to be a hard road to keep her going the right way-to the direction of survival.
Mike didn't want to live back then. She might not have known it-but her eyes had already died.
"A lot worse than Mike lets on, Willow," he said and began telling her everything within reason that he witnessed in the past six years.
Nearly an hour later, Vachon stopped and watched the exhausted new Immortal nod as she pushed herself off the bed.
"I had a feeling," she whispered, as she locked her arms and leaned heavily against the hard molding of the sofa bed. "He's right, then. Angel wouldn't want that for me-if something happened to him or us."
Vachon stood up and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her houlders and pulled her up into a standing position. "What's his solution?"
"Have him feed off more than one Immortal and make me as the primary source-but not the only one. That way-the bond won't be as strong as Spike's and Mike's-but it'll still be there." She pulled away from him and stood on her own. "I used to envy them-when I was younger. I saw her as some sort of Mother Mary who changed a demon into a loving soul." She chuckled humorlessly. "I wanted to do that for Angel."
Vachon shook his head as Mike's memories of Spike filled him. "She didn't change him, Willow. He was already on his way before he even took a sip of her blood. He may not have had a soul-but his demon wasn't as bloodthirsty as it once was."
Her eyebrows creased in confusion. "Does that mean Angel's demon will change as well? That it doesn't disappear but becomes attenuated?"
"I don't know. Maybe. What was known is gone. All we have is Mike and Spike to work from. I'm sure this has happened in the last two, three thousand years but if it has, no one has spoke or written of it." He dropped his arm from her and shrugged lightly. "We are winging it."
Yawning, she let out a soft chuckle. "Well, it won't be the first time," She whispered, more to herself. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. "Thanks Vachon-I needed this." She yawned again and shook her head. "I think it's time for me to go to bed." She squeezed his arm and walked past him.
Not even a minute later, Vachon heard the basement door close.
Exhausted, he stumbled back over to his bed and flopped down on the mattress, barely remembering to blow out the candle before sleep claimed him once again.
Vachon wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when his next visitor showed up.
Groaning, Vachon's eyes settled on the other vampire as Spike lit a cigarette, staring off into the darkness.
"What do you need, Spike?"
Spike chuckled softly, lifting a wine bottle to his mouth and taking a deep drink. "Do you need some more, mate? I brought down an extra bottle."
"Yeah, just leave it. I'm cool for now, but I drank two of them when Willow was here earlier."
"Whatever you said to Willow-it worked. Thanks."
Vachon shrugged. "I just told her the truth, that's all." He sat up and faced the blond vampire. "So Spike, what's wrong?"
The vampire began pacing in front of the sofa bed, shaking his head as he laughed softly. "Not much-that's the problem."
Vachon forced himself not to laugh-reminding himself that even though Spike was three hundred years younger than him, the other vampire had the strength of an elder. It was not good policy to piss him off.
Unless it was necessary.
"So?"
Spike flicked an ash on the floor as he stopped in front of Vachon. "Now, ask me how Mike's doing?"
Vachon nodded as his confusion began disappearing. This was about the link again. "Okay, I'll bite. How's Mike doing?"
"Horrible. She's crying at the drop of the hat. She's missing Buffy something fierce and she barely knew her! She's fretting overtime about Willow and MacLeod. She feels like a failure. She bloody well cried herself to fucking sleep, Javier! And I know this isn't normal-not even for her."
Vachon sighed as he rubbed his tired face. That goddamn link was going to be death of all of them. Thank God he had talked Willow into following Mac's suggestion. He didn't think he could handle two Immortal women living through what Mike had been for the past seven years. He reached up and grabbed Spike's arm, tugging him down to sit across from him.
"It's the link."
Growling, Spike yanked his arm out of Vachon's grasp, stood up and began pacing once again.
"Oh fucking brilliant, Vachon. I know that! Tell me how we can even this thing out. I can take a bit of my pain back-'
Vachon shook his head. "Maybe you should think about this. You are needed here-in control, calm, level-headed-"
Spike laughed. "Level headed? Mate, I'm far from being level headed right now!"
The Spaniard rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. You're doing fine. Maybe a little manic, but otherwise you're fine."
"All right-tell me how I can help Mike then. I can't stand seeing her like this and knowing it's my fault. Bloody hell, she finally opened up to me earlier and I know how bad it's been for her. How can I let this continue when I have the power to break it?"
Vachon sighed, falling back onto the pillow and rubbed his temples wearily. "Make love to her. Take her-give her as much pleasure as possible and drain her." Vachon shook his head, unable to hide his grin. "It works every time. It centers her."
Spike's eyebrow shot up. "You know that this is just too fucking hilarious for words, don't you?"
Vachon nodded. He couldn't help but agree. "But it works every time. That's how she got through all those Quickenings and those nightmares she's been having. I guess-if you're not ready-you could just as well stab her or snap her neck or something. But don't even know if it works and she hates dying unless it's necessary."
Spike stomped out his cigarette with his boot and sighed. "I can't wait until I have to stop asking you advice on how to deal with my mate."
"I hear you."
"Thanks Vachon," Spike whispered and a minute later, Vachon heard the other vampire stomp his way up the stairs, closing the basement door behind him.
"I can't wait either," he whispered as he fell back and rolled over on his stomach.
Minutes later, he was back asleep.
As Spike stood outside his bedroom door, he closed his eyes and let his senses peruse his house, picking out the variety of beings that were sleeping underneath his roof: six humans, four Immortals and two Souled-Ones.
A fucking full house and he was going to go into his bedroom and make mad, passionate and bloody love with his mate.
He was nuts.
And then as soon as he thought that, he nearly smacked his forehead in annoyance. Since when did he care who heard what he did? When he was a demon-vamp, he never gave a shit who was around. As long as there was a modicum of privacy available, he would've shagged Dru just about any where.
"Must be the bleedin' soul," he muttered to himself as lifted up his hand and pressed the Post-It note on the door, telling all those who read it not to disturb Spike and Mike until 5pm. He stood there, staring at it for a moment in a daze as its implications sunk in.
Sex and Mike.
He heard himself growl as he literally felt himself being torn in two.
Mike and Buffy. Buffy and Mike. Wasn't it just the day before he had made love to Buffy in that same bed-whispering that he loved her and wanted her with all his undead heart? Wasn't it just yesterday that he had felt his head almost explode in pleasure as the scent of her arousal nearly overpowered him?
Wasn't it just yesterday that she was still alive?
And yet, there was Mike.
Mike who'd unselfishly took so much of his pain and anguish upon herself and hadn't asked for anything in exchange. Mike who could've easily pulled Vachon aside and asked him for help and still, but yet, she still did nothing.
Mike, who was now lying in bed on the other side of the same door
Spike was dreading opening, being bombarded with various nightmares of Spike's, Buffy's and her own personal favorites-taking on everyone's fear with an ease that unnerved Spike to no end.
And finally, Mike, who Spike wanted more than anything in this world, to feel her legs wrap around his waist and tug him inside of her-the same Mike that he had loved for seven years with everything he was and everything that he could be.
The same Mike that he was planning on spending the rest of his unlife with.
"Bloody fucking hell," he whispered, ignoring the blood tears that were running down his cheeks.
Shaking his head, he took a deep, unneeded breath and opened the door.
He could do this...bloody hell, he wanted to do this and just prayed that wherever Buffy was, she understood.
It didn't even occur to him that she had always known and understood.
Yawning softly, Willow sipped on her coffee and watched the two elder Immortals bicker quietly in front of her.
Once she had left Vachon and told the others of her decision, she had returned to her cot and nearly instantly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Richie woke her up three hours later.
Now, she was outside on the patio with Richie and Duncan and observing first hand Immortal relations, and not enjoying it a bit.
If she weren't so tired and distraught and missing Angel so much that it felt like a piece of her heart had been ripped out of her chest and stomped on, she might've even been amused.
As it stood, she was just pissed.
Was this how she and Richie were going to be like in ten years? Goddess, she hoped not. If so, she was tempted to find a convent now and just say the hell with it. *Or maybe a coven?* Willow asked herself. *I wonder if Avalon is real? If it is, I could just go there...*
"With Morden around, I should be the one that goes with Will," the Scottish Immortal said as he rubbed his tired face.
"Mac, she's my student-"
"And you're mine!" MacLeod snapped. "I just-"
Willow finally had enough and cleared her throat somewhat loudly.
"Excuse me?"
"Mac, it's not like I'm a kid anymore! I can-"
"Excuse me!"
"Willow?"
"What's wrong, Will?"
Shaking her head at her elders, she sighed loudly as she looked down into her coffee cup. "With Amy's abilities, I can pretty well be zapped anywhere. Why do I need either of you? Especially if you two keep acting like Xander and Angel on a bad day."
Richie groaned and shook his head. "Willow, what about Angelus?"
She shrugged. "Amy can still zap me about if need be. It doesn't matter who I'm running from." Biting her bottom lip, she looked up to meet his blue eyes. "Just please, stop fighting or I'll go and wake up Mike and say the hell with both of you, okay?" She stood up and walked across the patio to the back door. "It's already two PM. Amy, Giles and I have threehouses to cleanse and purify before dark. So, if you'll excuse me."
Willow carefully opened the back door and slipped inside, inwardly applauding her exit line. It was just a shame she knew that it had been wasted on two clueless men.
Richie fell back in his chair and rubbed his face. "Go get Mike," he said as he laughed dryly. "The last time I saw Mike, she'd be lucky if she could remember where the bathroom is, much less how to carry a sword and Willow wants her to protect her? What a great teacher I'm turning out to be."
MacLeod clasped his shoulder and sunk into the chair next to his student. "Richie, don't take it personally. She's tired, strung out-just like everyone else-and we were acting like kids." The Scot yawned as he dropped his hand. "You go ahead with Willow and I'll go with Xander, Cordelia and Joyce."
Richie opened one eye. "You do realize that going with Joyce means a stop at the morgue, right?"
MacLeod nodded, his face taking on a distant look. "I never met her. What was she like?"
"Buffy?"
"Yeah."
Richie shrugged. "I only met her a couple of times. That summer we rescued her and that first Christmas Mike spent here." Richie closed his eyes in remembrance. "She was so full of life." He grinned suddenly. "And like Mike, very irreverent with a sarcastic sense of humor. She took so much in stride. Of course, from what I heard, initially, Buffy resisted being the slayer. By the time I got to know her, she had accepted it as a matter of course. And made slaying fit into her life. Not the other way around, which in itself is apparently unheard of when it comes to slayers. I actually went patrolling with her a couple of times and she was magnificent. I've never seen anyone who could fight like she could. It was beautiful." Richie suddenly chuckled. "And the quips that she would throw out these demons. Some of them were so stupid they would just sit there and stare at her speechless and before they'd get to chance to fight back, they were dead.
"I talked to Spike a few times in the past few years. I finally had the courage to ask him when he first realized she was special."
"What did he say?" MacLeod asked him.
"He said, it was the first time he laid eyes on her-he knew then she wasn't going to die as easily as the other two slayers he faced. He was sure in for a surprise, wasn't he?"
MacLeod shook his head as a flash of anger crossed his face. "Yeah, but I wish he would've realized it before he and Mike hooked up. Sure would've saved all of us a lot of pain and worry."
"No, you're wrong," Richie said. "I don't think she would've allowed herself to fall in love with Spike if he hadn't had a soul. And Mike was the one that gave him that same soul. As bad as that may seem now-"
The Scot snorted as he stood up. "As bad, Richie? Remember how Mike looked right before she went to bed?" He shook his head in frustration. "You know what's happening, don't you? She's taking on all of Spike's grief and pain. And unfortunately, I can see the logic in it. We need Spike sane and stable. Mike isn't needed like that."
"You're right, Mac. She's not needed for that. She is needed to make Spike sane and stable. That's her job right now. And if you ask her, she'd tell the same damn thing. I may not like it, but there's nothing we can do about it."
"Well, we can't leave her alone, or Willow either for that matter, not with Morden fixated on Mike and running around. So, either one of us, Spike or Vachon has to be with one of them at all times," MacLeod said, running his fingers through his long hair. "You know, I really could use a bit of Methos-wisdom about right now."
"Yeah, I know," Richie said. "So could I."
to be continued...