A Serendipitous Beginning
by
Lisa Y. Drexel
Chapter Ten
~~~~~~~~~
A time to be
~~~~~~~~~
"Well, we managed to get most everything done," Giles said as he looked up from his cup of tea and met the oldest Immortal's curious gaze. "Joyce called Hank, Buffy's father, and he's driving in from LA tonight. We're to meet him at the house in a couple of hours."
"How's he taking it?" Spike asked, sitting down next to the elder watcher.
Giles shrugged as his eyes shut. "A lot better than he would have if he hadn't found out about her calling," Giles said grimly as his mind flashed back to five years ago when the slayer's father had been abducted by a group of ambitious vampires who wanted to get back at the slayer. In that one weekend during his kidnapping, Hank Summers received not only a crash course in all things demonic, but had the singular pleasure of seeing his daughter, as well as her former and present vampire lovers in action as they rescued him. Never again did the slayer's father take his daughter's love for granted, knowing that she had such a finite amount of time to live.
As Joyce would say, it was nice to see that the man finally gained some sense, even if it was over five years too late.
"And everyone's houses? Are they protected?" Vachon asked, sipping at his ever-present glass of bloodwine. As Giles watched the red, thick liquid sloshing about in the glass, it suddenly occurred to him how uncomfortable the vampire had to be, surrounded by so many humans and yet unable to feed off any of them. No wonder he wants us gone, thought Giles as he nodded. "Every place except Angel and Willow's apartment. Angelus' impromptu visit prevented us from doing what was necessary there."
Spike shrugged and looked over at MacLeod. "She was going to stay here anyway. That was already decided."
"Until she can protect herself, she's better off with as many of us as possible," the Scottish Immortal added. "If Morden comes around, we can issue a challenge before he sets his eyes on her."
"So, what are we going to do?" Spike asked, leaning back against the chair. He shook out a cigarette and glanced back at both the closed sliding doors before slipping it between his lips. He turned to Vachon and nodded at the back kitchen door. "Can you switch the fan on, mate, so I can smoke?"
Smirking, the other vampire did so, and suddenly the low-level rumbling of the fan filled the air.
"I mean, how the hell are we going to get the prick where we need him?"
Giles took another sip of his lukewarm tea and shook his head. "I don't know, Spike." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I called Wesley, Faith's watcher, and they're flying in tomorrow so she can take up patrolling and whatnot. Maybe a fresh mind can come up with a plan. I can't seem to think past what happened last night to beof any use whatsoever," Giles admitted, feeling the weight of Buffy's death. Shaking his head as if to clear his mind, he looked over everyone's head and stared out the dark kitchen windows, seeing nothing as he thought about what he had just said. "But whatever we do, it'll have to wait until after the funeral. We all need this time...time to just be."
And for the next three days, that's what the Scooby Gang did...took time to just be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time to just be...
The words Giles had softly spoken in the kitchen seemed to haunt Spike, until he finally managed to get some time by himself.
Mike, still drained by not only the link but also from lack of sleep, had fallen asleep in the living room in the middle of a heated discussion between the remaining houseguests on different ways to get Angelus where they needed him to be. No one but Spike even noticed it, until the Scot asked her direct question and got a soft snore in response.
Four pairs of eyes stared at her incredulously, while Spike chuckled softly, admiring her innocent beauty as she slept—just as he had been for the last five minutes.
Finally deciding that it was indeed time for her to go to bed, he snickered quietly as he lifted her limp body into his arms and disappeared into the bedroom. Once in the privacy of their own room—the same room that had been Buffy and his, and even before that, Mike and his—he slowly divested Mike of her clothing and slipped her underneath the mound of blankets that covered the bed. Leaning against the bedroom door, he stood there and watched the steady cadence of her breath and sighed to himself when he felt the all-to-familiar stab of sorrow filling his heart as the link hold on his emotions lessened. He had noticed the beginnings of it while he had been in the living room and as her sleep deepened, his emotions became more and more his own—leaving him to feel the harsh pain of Buffy's death that he had been spared since Mike's return in his life.
Time to just be...
Taking the watcher's words to heart, he left the bedroom and stepped out the backdoor and flew up into the air—not really knowing where he was going until he got there.
It wasn't until his feet touched the ground, did he realize where he had gone—Shady Oaks Cemetery. The place where he had kissed the slayer the first time. The place where he had finally allowed himself to show his feelings to this strange warrior-woman-child that had somehow stolen his heart in the past year and a half.
He sat down on the ground, leaning against the same headstone that he had six years before as he watched her pace frantically in front of him while she dealt with her own feelings towards him. Once comfortable, he lit a cigarette and found himself taken back in time as the memories of Buffy and his time together began to surface.
Although he had known, via Mike, that Buffy had loved him as well, he also had known that she had nearly as difficult a time accepting her feelings towards him as he had towards her.
What a quandary they had been in back then. How does one fall in love with one's mortal enemy? Although they weren't on opposite sides anymore, there was just something about their relationship that always grated on one another's nerves. A kind of confrontational approach to one another. It was so different from the way he had shown Dru his love or even from the way he loved Mike.
When he had been in love with Dru, it was almost reminiscent of an incestuous love. There were so many different roles he played when he was with his Dark Princess: protector, lover, caretaker, father, brother. Sometimes he wondered what the hell he had really meant to her. Did she love him like he loved her? With Dru, he never knew. At least, he never knew for sure. For years...nearly a hundred years, he believed that she loved him. But then Angelus returned and with that, her love seemed to disappear as if it had meant nothing to her. Almost as if he were a rest stop or something of the sort, until her 'daddy' came home.
With Mike, their love was like a cool salve that healed all his wounds...a kind of acceptance that he had never experienced...even in his mortal life. She was a gentle breeze in his demon soul, and later on, his human one. She lit up all the dark spots in his mind and took him into herself...body and soul...washing them free of his past sins. She made him laugh; she taught him how to love, and with her in his life, he knew he would never be alone again.
With Buffy, it was a challenge...always a struggle to be better, to make him a better person...to make the relationship flourish. And yet he reveled in that challenge...feeling so alive when he basked in her love.
She was like a shooting star, Spike thought to himself, grimacing at how Nancy-boyish that sounded. She lit up his world...forced him to be a better vampire...and disappeared in a showery display of lights...leaving only the memory of her love.
Gods, he missed her. He missed her quirky sense of humor. Her deluge of quips—at hand at every crisis or event. He even missed the slayer part of her...the way she took charge...battled ferociously for what she believed in. He missed her half-smile that curled her lips when he did something that pleased her.
He missed her.
And, he decided, it was nice to feel that, for a change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the past, Giles had always dreaded dealing with Hank Summers.
He was an arrogant ass who, until he found out about Buffy's calling, had allowed his daughter to slip out of his life, believing that a few, well-placed gifts would suffice in his stead.
And later on, once he learned of Buffy's fate, he became the type of parent of whom the council had warned its Watchers: overbearing, interfering and whiny.
Fortunately, that only lasted until Joyce gave him what she called, the 'what-how.'
But now, as Giles spied on the broken man who sat before him, all that anger and resentment that had been building for years just disappeared. The watcher finally realized the man truly loved his daughter but didn't know how to do so properly.
And why should he?
To love and accept a slayer, one had to accept all the qualities that came with her calling. The appearance of violence...the strong will. The take-charge attitude...all the things that Buffy had that made her such a successful and long-lived slayer.
And all the things that drove her parents to the brink when their daughter was growing up.
As Hank sat on the couch, his face cradled in his hands, Giles couldn't help but feel for the man. All those years wasted, because he hadn't known of her fate. While Hank was struggling with the guilt and anger of his 'juvenile-delinquent' daughter, she was, in reality, just saving the world.
How horrid that must be for a parent.
No wonder the council tried to remove the girls from their homes before they were called. No parent should have to suffer through this.
"There was nothing he could do?" Hank asked, still unable to speak Spike's name. Even after six years, Buffy's father had a hard time accepting Spike's role in Buffy's life. Hank had first seen Spike as a social-reject and a hoodlum who had somehow stolen his daughter's heart and repeatedly demanded that Buffy to leave the younger man. And of course, things didn't improve when Hand discovered that Spike was indeed a vampire...a two-hundred-year-old vampire...the very same being that Buffy had been destined to kill.
The entire relationship did not sit well with Hank. Although Joyce and Giles had managed to calm him down some, Hank's general distrust and distaste for Spike never faltered. The elder Summers just learned to silence his feelings around his daughter and the vampire.
"No, not a thing," Giles said. "Xander and Cordelia confirmed it. Everything happened within seconds of each other. Buffy's death, Angel losing his soul...Willow."
"The Tet offensive," Hank whispered, more to himself than to Giles.
"What, Hank?" Joyce asked.
Hank frowned and met Giles' curious gaze. "Did you know that I was in 'Nam? Only for about six months. Right before the Fall of Saigon. But I talked to some older soldiers, who were around during that time...and this just reminded me of the Tet Offensive. Attack your enemy when you least expect it...attack them on multiply fronts and take as many casualties as possible in the shortest amount of time."
Stunned at the other man's insightfulness, Giles could only nod in agreement. How astute, he thought to himself. I wonder what other surprises this man has hidden underneath his arrogance?
Finally, Giles cleared his throat and looked out the living room window into the darkness. "Well, yes...it was definitely a planned assault. And yet, there had been no signs that it was going to come to pass. A slayer's death—especially one as strong and as long-lived as your daughter—should've had a prophecy attached to it. Yet, there was nothing," Giles whispered, fighting that hopeless anger that suddenly filled him. He failed her...failed her calling and his...
A warm hand clutched his, tugging him out of his guilt. "Rupert, don't," Joyce said quietly. She dropped his hand and stood up. After walking over to the window, she sighed—her breath catching with obvious sorrow. "Hank, she lived this long...she was twenty-four years old. She saved the world so many times that it's almost redundant to even discuss it. This was her fate...the moment she was born. The moment she was conceived...that warm May night that we made love underneath the stars. There was nothing anyone could do. She even died once already—beat her fate to live another eight years."
"But Joyce, she was our daughter...our baby—"
She nodded to her ex-husband as she wiped an errant tear that trailed down her face. "That she was. But I do know that you can't blame anyone other than God himself for this. And even that seems a bit presumptuous. Spike did everything inhumanly possible...but he, like the rest of us, was helpless to stop it. That he managed, in his broken state-of-mind, to save Willow from a true death is a miracle. That he's here now, ready to bring Angel home, protect Willow and bring those bastards who did this to our daughter, to their knees, should be enough for you." She lifted her eyes and faced him. "It is for me," Joyce added softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Where are you?" Oz asked, sitting down next to the blond witch.
Amy gave him a small smile and shrugged. "Just thinking," she said as she hugged her legs close to her chest.
"You know, it's not safe out here," Oz said as he extended his preternatural senses around the backyard—checking to see if they had any unwanted guests.
Amy rested her head on his shoulder and nodded slowly. "I know, that's why I did a perimeter-protection spell to warn me of any visitors—alive or undead."
Oz chuckled softly. "Always prepared."
She nodded again. "Most of the time," she said. "It's so quiet."
"It's late."
"No, not that kind of quiet. Quiet, energy-wise. Buffy was like a beacon on the Hellmouth—her life-energy filled the darkness—singing so loudly against the evil that sometimes all you ever heard, was her song. It's so quiet now." # that's beautiful!
Oz felt that familiar catch in his chest and shuddered in response. Buffy had been such a godsend to him. She accepted the wolf—kept him as well as the rest of the population safe when he changed. She was supportive when he left in search of a way to control the wolf and welcomed him back home when he failed to find the answers he so desperately needed.
Months later, Amy and Willow found a spell that gave him the power to control the beast inside of him. And so after that, he finally let himself fall in love with Amy—another witch that stole his heart.
He never regretted it.
And now, years later, he had everything that he ever wanted or desired. Amy's love, his music...a place to call home and friends to fill his heart.
After all these years together, to lose one of those same friends, was almost as if he lost a limb. Years had passed since Ms. Calendar had died, and even then, he wasn't a real member of the Scooby Gang until his senior year, so her death didn't affect him like it had Willow, Xander, Buffy and Giles. Although logically he knew they weren't indestructible, he had begun to believe otherwise.
Buffy's death reminded him all over again, how fragile life was, even for the strongest of them.
"I miss her too," he said as scooted behind her and wrapped his arms around hers. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he closed his eyes and found himself replaying what had happened at the Bronze the night before. That sickening crack that rang through the club as Buffy's head hit the wall...it would haunt him till the day he died.
"I'm worried about Willow too," Amy said. "She's so out-of-sorts now."
"I know," he said, remembering the horror on her face when she realized that Buffy was dead and Angel had lost his soul. "She lost her best friends, babe. Her and Angel were inseparable. And since Willow had been fifteen, Buffy had been the driving force in her life. Almost every major decision she had made or action she had taken, had been for Buffy."
Amy chuckled ruefully. "Can't the same be said for Xander? And Giles?"
"Yeah, it can. And that's why we need to take care of them. Cordelia too. As much as she would deny it, Cordelia's been there since the beginning as well."
She nodded in agreement as she leaned her head back against his shoulder to stare up into the star-lit sky. After nearly five minutes of silence, she bit her bottom lip nervously and turned to him. "I want a baby. After last night, I realized that we need to continue. Buffy didn't get that chance. No child for her to give a part of herself to. I don't want to see us...everything that makes me me and makes you, you die at the end of some demon-vamps fangs. I don't want that. I need to pass on my gift."
Although Oz had similar thoughts, especially after hearing of Cordelia's pregnancy, he tried pushing it away...afraid of passing on the wolf. Afraid that Amy wouldn't want a child with him.
"With me?" he asked, trepidation filling his voice and body.
"Of course, silly. With you," she said, kissing him softly on the cheek. "Only with you."
"What about the wolf?"
She shrugged nonchalantly, obviously not bothered by the thought. "We'll deal. Just like your aunt and uncle did with your cousin Jordy. And the way your grandparents did with your uncle. And who knows, it might not get passed on this time around. It wasn't to you, your mother or your grandfather. You just got bit."
Oz found himself releasing his breath, not even realizing he had been holding it until he felt his body relax. She was right. Like always.
Like his Amy.
"Alright. Let's do it."
Grinning, she whipped around and settled down on his lap, with her legs around his waist and her arms clasped around his neck. After kissing him long and hard on his lips, Oz let his body drop and minutes later, they were making love underneath the stars in the protective circle of their backyard.
Moments like these were what life was about.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Are you okay?" Cordelia asked as she laid her head on his bare chest.
Xander snorted humorlessly as his fingers lightly danced across her back. "As well as is to be expected," he whispered. "Happy about the baby.... sad about Buffy. Still angry at Spike. Furious at God. Lost...worried...nervous, anxious..."
Cordy chuckled softly even as her eyes filled with tears. How true, she thought to herself. He just listed every emotion that I'm feeling as well. "Me too," she whispered. "I remember when I found out about all the things that go bump in the night. I was so self-involved, that at first I was just shocked that something this evil had the audacity to interfere with my life."
"I remember the old Cordy...of the Cordettes. You were such a bitch," Xander said, laughing softly. "And yet, so brave. Every time I thought you were going to let us down...knew for sure that you were going to let us down...you surprised me. I fell in love with that bitch who knew herself like no one else. Who told the world what they needed to hear, whether or not they wanted to."
"Well, loser-boy, you weren't too much of a prize either!" she said haughtily. "But even then, your courage and determination to do what needed to be done tugged at my heart. Underneath those horrid clothes and dorky jokes was a young man who had more courage than most adults ever dreamt of. I was in love with you before I even realized it. Every time I went out with some jock or cool guy, I always found myself wondering if they would be able to defend me against vampires or demons, like you could."
She lifted her head and leaned up to kiss him chastely on the lips. "Before I even knew I needed a hero, you were mine," she whispered against his mouth.
"Thank you," he said softly before hiding his face in her hair. "I miss her," he said. "Do you hate me for that?"
Her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head no. "No Xander, of course not. I miss her too."
His chest began to shake as his quiet sobs filled the room. Cordelia held her husband, wishing that her love could heal the emptiness she heard in his voice.
The same emptiness she herself felt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
For Willow, the next three days passed in a flurry of activity, leaving the youngest Immortal in the household not only mentally and emotionally exhausted, but physically as well.
From the moment Oz had pulled his van into Spike's garage, she felt like she had been going non-stop and on automatic. Once they all stumbled inside, cursing her lover's alter-self and their own stupidity, the group set about packing up their things and putting Spike's house into some sort of order.
Much to Richie's delight, Willow had already taken fencing classes in college, following her innate interest in the sport. Although she had no idea how opportune those lessons would later on be, she found herself drawn to the beauty of the dance of sword-fighters after having spied on a practice session between Vachon and Mike four years before when Willow and Angel had gone to St. Louis to visit the Immortal.
After coming home, she made it a point to take a beginner's class and much to her delight, found that she had a natural aptitude for swinging the deadly blade. It wasn't until after that first practice session with Richie, that it occurred to ask if what had happened to her was normal.
Richie, who was wiping his sweat-soaked face with a hand towel, shrugged at her question, grinning impetuously. "Yeah, it's normal. I remember begging Mac to teach me fencing after I watched him fight a challenge. I didn't understand those feelings inside that I had...that need to do something...to hold a blade in my hand. It was just there. Mac grinned at me and told me to sign up for a class at the community college, where I could learn proper fencing."
After taking a big swig of cold water, Willow looked up at him. "Did you do it? Take the class?"
Richie frowned, shaking his head. "No, never had a chance. Life got in the way, and suddenly we were in Paris and the opportunity slipped by. And it wasn't too long after we got back to Seacouver, that it became a moot point."
"Why?"
His face darkened as he lifted his head to meet her interested gaze. "I died. Tessa, Mac's love of his long life and I were shot by a crack addict. She stayed dead and I didn't."
Willow felt her eyes tear up as she thought about the similarities of his First Death and hers. Richie and her both lost someone they loved on the last night of the mortal lives. Someone who was fated to die and stay dead, whereas they both were forced to continue in this crazy, preternatural existence.
"It's just not fair," she whispered to herself, not even realizing that she had spoken out loud until she felt her mentor's arm pull her into a comforting hug.
"No, it's not fair. It's life. You, out of nearly everyone, know this, if you really think about it, Willow. You've spent the last nine, ten years, risking your life to fight the kind of evil that I never imagined even existed until I met Spike. Takes a brave soul to do what you've done," he said as he rubbed her sweat-soaked head.
Her heart, which seemed only to be held together by the weakest of bonds, seemed to crack apart once again as a wave of pain crashed through her. Ever since she had revived in Spike's spare bedroom, she had forced most of that pain she felt down deep inside in order to remain strong...for Spike, for herself, and now it seemed, it was time for it to come out.
Richie seemed to expect this and said nothing as he gently lifted her small body into his arms and walked over to the sofa-bed where Vachon spent his sleeping hours, and sat down, with his legs extended.
Although Willow was only peripherally aware of Richie's movements, she let it go, reveling in the warm, almost parental comforting Richie's arms provided. It had been so long since her adopted parents ever showed this kind of love and concern for her, that she had nearly forgotten what it was like to be held like that.
Only Giles, and yes, later on Joyce, ever showed this kind of love towards her and she found she was sorely missing it. It's funny how you never realize what you're missing until you've got it again, she thought to herself as she burrowed her face in his dampened shirt.
Richie seemed to understand this need of hers, and it wasn't until later that she discovered why: he too was bereft of parental love most of his life until Mac and Tessa came into his life. The Immortal and the artist did for him, what Giles had done for her.
It appeared that Willow and her mentor, had more in common than she had ever believed before. Just another serendipitous moment in my life, she thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep. My life seems to be full of them.
to be continued...