Title: Turncoat's Road
Author: Miss Sage
Email: sagemail76@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Category: Romance; Drama; Angst
Keywords: Buffy/Spike
Spoilers: Not too many – up to but not including The Body
Disclaimer: BTVS belongs to Joss & Co., the WB and/or UPN
Archive: Just please let me know where it's headed.
Feedback: Would be great.
Summary: What happens when a Slayer passes her prime? It's
Buffy's 25th birthday and she's about to find out.
Notes: This story's universe diverges from the traditional
Buffyverse sometime after Crush and before The Body. Joyce never
died of brain cancer and Buffy never took a header off the
construction tower at the end of Season 5. The gang found some
other way to beat Glory. Got it? Good.
Turncoat's Road
by Miss Sage
CHAPTER 1: Birthday Present
The glorious night was turning out to be the best birthday Buffy
had ever had. It was a milestone, really, and not just because
of the kick-ass party her mother and Giles had thrown in her
honor. No, the truly remarkable thing about this particular
birthday was the simple fact that no Slayer had ever made it so
far, lived so long. An excellent reason to celebrate, by
anyone's standards.
The hall Joyce had secured and decorated so elegantly was packed
with love and friendship. Dancing around Buffy were all the
people she couldn't live without and also many of the folks she'd
helped save over the years. The music the band pumped out was
full of joy and life and affirmation. Heroic songs for a most
heroic birthday girl.
Twirling to the music, Buffy looked up at the beautiful glass
ceiling above her and to the moon beyond. With a wide smile, she
thanked the Powers That Be for such a fine time, and for her
extraordinary life.
As the song ended, Willow amicably bumped Buffy's hip with her
own. "Joyce says it's time for cake and presents!" she said
loudly so all around could hear.
"Presents!" Buffy yelped as another song started up. Latching
one hand onto Xander's offered arm and throwing her other arm
around Willow's shoulders, Buffy led her friends and admirers to
find her mom and the giant birthday cake everyone had been
drooling over all evening.
"Make a wish!" someone shouted a few minutes later as Buffy took
up a long baker's knife and prepared to cut the cake.
Grinning, Buffy held the knife up triumphantly and made her wish;
"Another twenty-five ass-kicking years!" she bellowed.
The crowd around her cheered, and she made the first cut into the
soft, stake-shaped cake. Sticky strawberry filling coated the
knife as she pulled it out. To her friends' delight she made a
show of licking the tasty treat from the blade.
Rolling her eyes, Joyce took over serving the dessert. Buffy
laughed and kissed her mother on the cheek.
"So, Buff, you've officially made it to your mid-twenties,"
Xander mused as he snuck a taste of frosting.
"Actually," Dawn said around a mouthful of strawberries, "not for
about another half hour, right Mom?"
"10:43 P.M., to be exact," Joyce said.
"Is that counting time zones?" Xander asked with a lopsided grin.
"Where were you born, anyway, Buffy?"
"San Diego. So time zones don't matter, smarty pants," Buffy
said. Like a little girl, she poked her tongue out at her
friend.
Laughing, Joyce offered Buffy a piece of cake. "Later, Mom,"
Buffy said. "Presents now! C'mon, Dawny, you pick!" Truly
happy for the first time in a long time, Buffy grabbed her
sister's hand and dragged her over to the long table stacked with
gifts.
Each present, be it funny or sentimental, brought tears one by
one to Buffy's eyes. She was sure her makeup was ruined by the
time Dawn handed her the last package thirty minutes later. It
was from Giles.
She opened the package to find a solid gold medallion. In the
center was a rendering of Mary, mother of Jesus. Mother of God.
Buffy was never overtly religious, but the tears gathering in her
eyes finally broke free and slid down her cheeks over the symbol
of purity, peace, protection, and love.
On the back of the pendant was a simple inscription: Thank you,
Buffy. Love, Giles
Wanting to thank him for such a beautiful gift, she looked around
for her Watcher. Giles was running security for the party even
though Buffy thought such strict precautions were unnecessary
that night. She caught his eye where he watched her from the
edge of the crowd. He waved, looking a little embarrassed.
Buffy made sure he was looking as Dawn hung the pendant around
her neck next to the gold cross she always wore. Giles smiles
shyly.
Once the presents were opened and their givers properly thanked,
people dispersed back to their tables, the bar, or the dance
floor. Buffy excused herself to the ladies' room to freshen up
her makeup. Dawn tagged along, handing her sister a tissue to
wipe the tears from her face.
The two young women slipped out of the ballroom and down a dim
hallway. Before they reached the restrooms, however, Buffy
grabbed her sister's arm and stopped them both short. "Oh no,"
she moaned.
"What?" Dawn asked.
"What's he doing here?" Buffy nodded toward the dark figure with
the unmistakable shock of white-blond hair lurking rather
nervously outside the men's room.
Dawn's face lit up when she saw him. "Spike!" she yelped and
bounded away from her sister. She threw her arms around the
vampire's neck. He spun her around joyously. Buffy tried not to
grind her teeth.
A minute later Dawn took Spike's arm and led him toward Buffy.
Buffy wondered if there was another restroom somewhere else that
she could escape to. Not that the ladies' room would keep Spike
out if he wanted in.
As he approached, Buffy had to admit he was quite stunning in his
entirely black tuxedo. No bowtie, of course, but he really
didn't need one.
Stopping not a foot in front of her, he looked Buffy steadily in
the eye. His hands, however, fumbled with the ribbon wrapped
around the small gift box he held close to his body.
"Slayer," he greeted with a slight nod.
Buffy just shook her head. "I was right," she muttered.
Spike's brow furrowed. "Bout what?"
Buffy released an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "Oh, nothing.
I just really thought that none of the bad guys would be stupid
enough to crash this party."
"I was invited," Spike said indignantly.
Buffy shot Dawn a glare.
Dawn frowned. "Well, he was," she murmured.
"Dawn, give us a minute," Buffy ordered.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Buffy, come on…"
"Dawn."
"Fine. Excuse me, Spike," Dawn said in a clipped tone before she
turned and headed off to the ladies' room.
"She's grown up real well, Slayer," Spike commented
appreciatively as he watched Dawn go.
"Don't even look at her," Buffy snapped. Blinking, the vampire
turned his cold blue eyes back to hers. "I can't believe you,
Spike. You may have wormed your way back into my family's good
graces over the years, but you have no business showing up at
this party."
"Buffy, I just wanted to…"
"You just don't give up, do you? You just won't let me go."
Spike snorted. "That's arrogant, Slayer."
"Sure. How long has it been, anyway, Spike?"
"Since I told you I loved you? Or since you finally got me to
leave town?"
Buffy shrugged. "Either way, it's been a while. Why didn't it
stay that way?"
Spike's jaw tightened. Something that looked like hurt flashed
across his face but then disappeared. "Look, Slayer," he said
through clenched teeth, "I didn't come here to fight about the
past, or to try and get into your pants. I just thought it…"
Buffy cut him off with a bitter laugh. "That's really rich,
Spike. When have you ever tried to do anything with me besides
fight or, well, that other thing?"
So fast she didn't even see it coming, Spike's hand shot out and
grabbed Buffy by the arm. She gasped as he pulled her body flush
against his. "Would you let me get a bloody word in?!" he
shouted into her face, his lips practically brushing against her
own.
Buffy's mouth narrowed. "Fine. Talk, then leave. You have ten
seconds."
"That is so typical of you," he grumbled, but he relaxed his grip
on her.
"I just thought," he began with forced calm, "that it would be
nice if I came by and told you how proud I am of you for making
it this far. The devil knows I haven't helped that much."
Buffy blinked at Spike and his kind words. Her mouth dropped
open. She wished he had never shown his pretty face. It was so
much easier to regard him with distrust and scorn rather than
faith and friendship.
With a toss of her long blond hair, she shook off her shock.
"You really didn't come here to try to get in my pants?" she
asked dubiously.
Spike huffed. "Forget it, Slayer," he said. "Just…here, take
this." He shoved the gift he carried into her hands, pushed past
her, and headed for the exit. Buffy turned and watched him go.
He was almost through the door when he stopped to look back at
her. Moonlight painted soft blue over his face, the color of
both cold and comfort. It brought Buffy back years to a summer
evening on a hillside overlooking the cemetery, their cemetery.
Back to a time not long after he'd sworn love, she'd sworn
hatred, and still he'd stuck around to help defeat Glory, to help
save her sister. A time when she couldn't stop thinking about
him until she found him sitting on that hillside smoking a
cigarette.
It was the one and only time she ever willingly let him capture
her lips in a kiss so visceral, so hot, every cell in her body
was set aflame as he plundered her mouth. When he had released
her, she'd been unable to do anything but run away down the hill,
fast and furious, before his dark passion burned her right into
the ground.
It still, years later, ate her up inside to know that she had
never experienced a truly soul-searing kiss other than his, her
mortal enemy's. Not even with Angel. Not anywhere close. She
squeezed the small package she held in her hand. Spike tossed
her a regretful little smile from the doorway.
"Hey, where's Buffy? It's 10:43!" Xander shouted from somewhere
inside the ballroom.
Then out of nowhere Buffy hit the floor. White-hot pain split
her chest. The pain lanced down her limbs and out her fingertips
and her toes. She felt as though her very essence was being
drained into the floor beneath her. She started to convulse.
Spike's gift rolled across the carpet, forgotten.
A firm hand grabbed her chin, forced her to look up into blue
eyes. Spike's eyes. They were steady and sure. But there was
panic in his voice when he shouted for Joyce and for Dawn.
Buffy moaned and tore at her own skin, trying to release the pain
and pressure from her body. Spike tried to comfort her,
pillowing her head in his lap. He stroked her cheek with his
thumb and cooed to her. "It's okay, love. Help's coming. Help
is coming."
In the few seconds before help did arrive, however, Buffy's pain
disappeared as suddenly as it had come. She sat up slowly, her
head still ringing from the attack. Her mother, Giles, and Dawn
hovered in front of her. Harsh lines of worry creased their
faces.
"What happened? Did you do this?" Giles snapped at Spike.
"No! I was just on my way out, damn it," Spike growled
indignantly.
Feeling dizzy, Buffy started to sway. Spike wrapped his arms
around her waist for support. Weakly, she shook her head, tried
to push his hands away. "I'm fine. Get off me," she insisted.
Spike's eyes widened at the lightness of her touch. "Bloody
hell, Slayer," he hissed in her ear, "you're weak as a kitten.
Let me help you."
"Fat chance, Spike," Buffy grumbled. She wiggled against him as
he tried to gather her into his arms. It wasn't much of a
struggle to begin with, but both vampire and woman stilled when
the loud sound of shattering glass boomed in from the ballroom.
Through the ballroom's wide double doors Buffy could see the
glass ceiling cave in. Behind it shadowy figures of evil dropped
from roof to dance floor. Guests screamed and scattered.
Giles rose in an instant. His face grim, he pulled his favorite
pump-gun from his long, tweedy coat. Xander had rigged the gun
to shoot fat wooden bullets.
Giles turned to Spike as he readied the weapon. Spike was
already tossing the weakly struggling Slayer over his shoulder.
"Get her out of here!" the Watcher ordered. "Dawn and Joyce,
stay close to me!"
Spike looked worriedly at the other women. At their nodded
encouragement, he took off for the front door, sweeping Buffy out
into the night.
Several nasties immediately set upon them. Buffy ignored the
ghouls and vamps and demons. Her attention was fixed only on the
hall from which Spike hauled her as though they were being chased
by the Devil himself.
"Let me go, you bastard," she shouted, punching him in the back.
"My family's in there!"
"Shut up, Slayer. Giles will take care of it," Spike told her as
he leaped a row of bushes and landed on the sidewalk. Buffy's
stomach came down hard on his shoulder. She groaned as bile
surfaced at the back of her throat.
"Don't heave down the back of my tux, Slayer," Spike warned
grimly as he tore off down the street.
"Fuck you, Spike," Buffy murmured. Then her head lolled and the
world faded to black.
Buffy woke up to the smell of mint. Her body was tucked into the
softest bed she'd ever imagined. When she moved, silky sheets
glided across her bare arms and legs. She blinked the sleep out
of her eyes to see that her head shared a fluffy, white pillow
with a tiny piece of chocolate. The gold letters on the wrapping
read "Sunnydale Regency Hotel."
Wondering how she'd ended up in such a classy place, she sat up
and scanned the elegant room. The events of the night came back
to her the instant she saw Spike lurking by the window. He held
the curtains apart and glared down into the street below. He'd
shed his jacket and cumberbund and un-tucked his shirt. He
looked rumpled and worried, but that didn't quell Buffy's outrage
over his presence.
"When did you stop slumming it, Spike?" she asked bitterly as she
swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Spike let the curtain fall back over the window. With a shrug,
he dropped into the chair next to the expensive-looking cherry
wood desk. "Checked in here earlier today," he said as he lit a
cigarette. He pinned Buffy with cool eyes, blew a breath of
smoke in her direction. "Don't think anyone round town knows
though. Cept you. And the Watcher now."
"You talked to Giles? Is everyone all right?"
"Cuts and bruises, mostly. Most of the guests ran off home when
the fighting started. Your chums are all holed up at the Magic
Shop right now."
"Great, let's go," Buffy said, forgetting for a moment that she
and the vampire broken their alliance years ago. Grumbling at
her mistake, she looked down to find that she still wore her gown
from the party. She smoothed it out as she stood and then
checked that her legs were steady beneath her. No more
collapsing, she told her body as she headed for the door.
Spike was up in a flash, blocking Buffy's escape. "Not so fast
there, ducks."
"Outta the way, fangbreath." Buffy scowled as she tried to push
past him.
Spike grabbed her arm, hard. She tried to shake him off as he
spoke into her ear. "Watcher's got reason to believe every
beasty in Sunnyhell is out to get a piece of you tonight, Slayer.
Plannin' to deliver some birthday wishes of their own as I see
it. This building's got top-notch security. Safest place for
you tonight is here with me."
"Oh, is that why you've been watching the street since we got
here?" Buffy said sarcastically.
"Just bein' cautious, Slayer."
Buffy shook her head impatiently. "Are my mom and Dawn at the
shop with Giles?"
"They are," Spike said with a nod.
"Then so am I."
Buffy tried to pull from Spike's grip, but the vampire's hand
wouldn't budge. Frustrated, Buffy balled a fist and popped him
one in the nose.
"Yeow!" she howled as her knuckles crunched and pain shot up her
arm.
Spike hadn't even bothered to rub his nose. "What happened to
you, Slayer?" he asked with a smirk. "You can do better than
that!"
Buffy ignored him. She watched her hand swell and turn red as
though it belonged to someone else. Spike took a step closer and
had a look for himself. "Bloody hell, Slayer," he said quietly.
"Either I've gone and got me an iron skull, which I haven't, or
you've…"
"Lost my powers. Oh my God." Refusing to believe it, Buffy
socked Spike in the stomach. He doubled over, and for a second
she felt relieved. When he looked back up at her, however, his
face was contorted by laughter, not pain.
"This isn't funny, Spike," Buffy snapped. She pushed rather
ineffectually at his shoulders.
"Oh, it is a bit from my point of view, pet." His eyes were
alight and he was just barely controlling his giggles. He jumped
playfully back from Buffy. "Come on, big bad Slayer. Come and
get me," he teased.
Buffy took a step toward him but didn't risk embarrassing herself
by throwing another punch. "I'm gonna kill you, Spike," she
growled.
The vampire had her up against the door in an instant. "Are you,
now?" he asked. Buffy wondered for the first time that night if
he still had the chip in his head.
He'd pinned both her wrists behind her back with one hand,
pressing his chest intimately to hers. His breath was heavy in
her face and smelled of smoke and wine and trouble. "Probably
not the best idea you've had, Slayer," he said. "As of now, I'm
the best protection you've got." He dipped his chin and brushed
his lips over her cheek, breathing in her scent while he was
there. Then, very gently, he released her.
Before Buffy managed to say anything, the vampire had grabbed his
duster from the coat-rack, taken her again by the arm, and was
escorting her from the hotel.
No one at the Magic Shop had been happy to see Spike arrive with
Buffy, but she didn't care enough to try to convince him to
leave. Everyone knew the now truth anyway, that they could use
his protection.
Since she'd told them of her condition, Buffy had hung back from
her friends and family, lurking in the dark behind the cash
register. She had no idea what to do with her new, helpless
self. Spike hovered nearby, the same old restless spirit he'd
always been.
Giles was on the phone with the Council. From the sound of the
conversation, they didn't seem to have any answers either. He
made them promise to continue to research and then hung up. He
stood there for a moment looking at the cordless receiver as
though it had betrayed him.
"Giles?" Willow finally asked timidly from her seat at the round
research table.
The Watcher set the phone gently down on the table. The soft
scrape of plastic on wood was the only sound in the room.
"I – I'm sorry," he finally stuttered. He turned to Buffy. Her
stomach sank. "Buffy, why don't you come over here and sit
down?"
Buffy glanced at Spike. His eyes were dark; he looked as sick as
she felt. For a moment she flirted with the ridiculous thought
of grabbing his hand and running out with him, into the night.
Away from whatever horrible thing Giles had to tell her.
As though he could read her mind, Spike shook his head ever so
slightly. He set his jaw, straightened his shoulders, and guided
her to the table with a gentle hand at the small of her back.
Joyce pulled Buffy down into the seat next to her. She held her
mother's hand as Giles began to speak.
"The – um – the Council has just been informed that a new Slayer
has been called," the Watcher said quietly.
Buffy's brow furrowed. "But I'm not dead," she said. She looked
around at her companions. "Right?"
"No, no of course not," Giles reassured her. "The thing, you
see, is that we don't really know much about what happens to a
Slayer once she reaches your advanced years, Buffy."
"Could you make me sound any more geriatric, Giles?" Buffy
snapped.
Giles looked down. He started fiddling nervously with a book on
the table. "I'm not saying that you're old, Buffy. I'm saying
what we all know – that no Slayer in recorded history has ever
reached her twenty-fifth birthday. And we simply cannot pass off
as coincidence the fact that you lost your powers at the exact
instant you officially turned 25. That being tonight at 10:43
PM."
"Yeah, I know when it was. So what are you saying? That the
Powers what? Retired me?"
"Well, yes, that is the theory."
"But nobody knew it would happen." Buffy sighed and rubbed her
tired eyes. She could feel herself going numb inside, rejecting
Giles' words and theories and truths. She could feel everyone's
eyes on her, but all were quiet.
Then, with a frustrated growl, Spike jumped into the fray,
slamming his hand down on the table. "Have you all gone daft?"
he nearly shouted. "You're leaving out the most important part!"
"And what's that, Einstein?" Xander asked dully.
"That, throwing coincidences aside, mind you, every bloody demon
in Sunnyhell burst into that ballroom not one minute after Buffy
hit the big two-five. Not one minute after she lost her powers,"
he said in a huff.
"Meaning…"
"Somebody did know," Buffy finished.
Spike found Buffy a while later sitting alone in the dark
training room. Her back was against the wall, her legs pulled up
into her chest. Spike put his back to the wall himself and slid
down to the ground next to her.
"I reckon whoever knew and spread the word is old. From back
before any records were put down. Kept the secret for a long
time," he mused as he fished in his pocket for a light for the
cigarette that dangled from his lips. "I mean, it's hard, ain't
it, to believe you're the only one to ever make it to twenty-
five."
Buffy blew out a harsh breath and let her head fall back against
the wall. "Someone that old must be awfully powerful. Why don't
the good demons ever live that long?"
"The Key did," Spike said with a shrug. He'd finally found a
match and he lit up effortlessly.
"Yeah, but she's not the Key anymore. And I'm not the Slayer.
So why stir up such a frenzy to kill me when I'm no longer a
threat?"
"Revenge? Psychosis? Dunno. And maybe you're more of a threat
now than you give yourself credit for."
"Yeah, and you've suddenly grown a soul," Buffy said
sarcastically. Spike frowned and she seized the moment to sit up
and pluck the cigarette from his lips. She held it awkwardly up
to her own mouth.
"I'm all for you bein' naughty, Slayer," Spike said as he deftly
snatched his smoke back from Buffy before she could take a puff,
"but this stuff'll kill ya."
Sighing, Buffy slumped back against the wall. "It does look like
I'm set to have a nice long, normal life now, doesn't it?"
Spike threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, Slayer. You might
even have to go to work!"
"Fantastic. Probably should have thought more carefully when I
picked my major," Buffy grumbled. She hung her head between her
knees and fought to keep depression from overwhelming her. How
could she be anything but the Slayer? It was all she knew.
Spike sat quietly, puffing on his cigarette. Surprisingly, the
silence between them was comforting rather than terribly awkward.
It was broken soon enough though by the heated voices of Buffy's
loved ones floating in from the research room.
"You know," Buffy said after a while, "it's not safe for any of
them as long as I'm here. Not with every demon in Sunnydale
coming after me."
Spike nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. "Guess we better hit
the road, then," he said as he stood up and brushed himself off.
"You're hilarious, Spike. What makes you think I would go
anywhere with you?"
"C'mon, Slayer. Thought we'd been over this," he said with a
grin. He put up his fists and bounced around a bit, shadow
boxing. "You need a protector, for once, and I'm all you've
got."
Buffy snickered at his idea. "Yeah, and how do I know you're not
going to throw me to the wolves first chance you get?"
Spike dropped his hands to his sides. His eyes were deadly
serious when he looked down at her. "When was the last time I
let you down, Buffy?" he asked quietly.
Buffy was about to laugh at his solemnity, but something stopped
her and made her think about what he'd said. It really had been
a long time since he'd messed up, hurt her and her friends, or
hindered instead of helped her cause. And the thought of running
- something she'd sworn she'd never do - all alone saddened her
profoundly. Spike was strong, irritating but amusing, and he
couldn't hurt her. Or could he?
"You still have the chip in your head?" she asked bluntly.
"You're wanting some insurance. Smart girl." He spoke lightly,
but his face was grim. Swiftly, he knelt down before Buffy and
slapped her across the face.
"Yeow!" they both howled at the same time. Buffy touched her
stinging cheek and Spike fell over onto the floor, clutching his
head.
"Smarts, don't it?" he said, groaning. When he finally sat back
up, he looked at Buffy almost shyly from behind his long, long
eyelashes. "Well, what do you say, Slayer?" Slowly, he offered
her his hand.
Buffy shook her head at herself. "I can't believe I'm doing
this, but you're on, Spike." She slipped her hand into his and
they stood up together. "Maybe along the way we'll find out who
ruined my birthday party."
Spike snickered. "And I'd thought I had that honor."
"So did I, Spike. So did I."
End Chapter 1
Author: Miss Sage
Email: sagemail76@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Category: Romance; Drama; Angst
Keywords: Buffy/Spike
Spoilers: Not too many – up to but not including The Body
Disclaimer: BTVS belongs to Joss & Co., the WB and/or UPN
Archive: Just please let me know where it's headed.
Feedback: Would be great.
Summary: What happens when a Slayer passes her prime? It's
Buffy's 25th birthday and she's about to find out.
Notes: This story's universe diverges from the traditional
Buffyverse sometime after Crush and before The Body. Joyce never
died of brain cancer and Buffy never took a header off the
construction tower at the end of Season 5. The gang found some
other way to beat Glory. Got it? Good.
Turncoat's Road
by Miss Sage
CHAPTER 1: Birthday Present
The glorious night was turning out to be the best birthday Buffy
had ever had. It was a milestone, really, and not just because
of the kick-ass party her mother and Giles had thrown in her
honor. No, the truly remarkable thing about this particular
birthday was the simple fact that no Slayer had ever made it so
far, lived so long. An excellent reason to celebrate, by
anyone's standards.
The hall Joyce had secured and decorated so elegantly was packed
with love and friendship. Dancing around Buffy were all the
people she couldn't live without and also many of the folks she'd
helped save over the years. The music the band pumped out was
full of joy and life and affirmation. Heroic songs for a most
heroic birthday girl.
Twirling to the music, Buffy looked up at the beautiful glass
ceiling above her and to the moon beyond. With a wide smile, she
thanked the Powers That Be for such a fine time, and for her
extraordinary life.
As the song ended, Willow amicably bumped Buffy's hip with her
own. "Joyce says it's time for cake and presents!" she said
loudly so all around could hear.
"Presents!" Buffy yelped as another song started up. Latching
one hand onto Xander's offered arm and throwing her other arm
around Willow's shoulders, Buffy led her friends and admirers to
find her mom and the giant birthday cake everyone had been
drooling over all evening.
"Make a wish!" someone shouted a few minutes later as Buffy took
up a long baker's knife and prepared to cut the cake.
Grinning, Buffy held the knife up triumphantly and made her wish;
"Another twenty-five ass-kicking years!" she bellowed.
The crowd around her cheered, and she made the first cut into the
soft, stake-shaped cake. Sticky strawberry filling coated the
knife as she pulled it out. To her friends' delight she made a
show of licking the tasty treat from the blade.
Rolling her eyes, Joyce took over serving the dessert. Buffy
laughed and kissed her mother on the cheek.
"So, Buff, you've officially made it to your mid-twenties,"
Xander mused as he snuck a taste of frosting.
"Actually," Dawn said around a mouthful of strawberries, "not for
about another half hour, right Mom?"
"10:43 P.M., to be exact," Joyce said.
"Is that counting time zones?" Xander asked with a lopsided grin.
"Where were you born, anyway, Buffy?"
"San Diego. So time zones don't matter, smarty pants," Buffy
said. Like a little girl, she poked her tongue out at her
friend.
Laughing, Joyce offered Buffy a piece of cake. "Later, Mom,"
Buffy said. "Presents now! C'mon, Dawny, you pick!" Truly
happy for the first time in a long time, Buffy grabbed her
sister's hand and dragged her over to the long table stacked with
gifts.
Each present, be it funny or sentimental, brought tears one by
one to Buffy's eyes. She was sure her makeup was ruined by the
time Dawn handed her the last package thirty minutes later. It
was from Giles.
She opened the package to find a solid gold medallion. In the
center was a rendering of Mary, mother of Jesus. Mother of God.
Buffy was never overtly religious, but the tears gathering in her
eyes finally broke free and slid down her cheeks over the symbol
of purity, peace, protection, and love.
On the back of the pendant was a simple inscription: Thank you,
Buffy. Love, Giles
Wanting to thank him for such a beautiful gift, she looked around
for her Watcher. Giles was running security for the party even
though Buffy thought such strict precautions were unnecessary
that night. She caught his eye where he watched her from the
edge of the crowd. He waved, looking a little embarrassed.
Buffy made sure he was looking as Dawn hung the pendant around
her neck next to the gold cross she always wore. Giles smiles
shyly.
Once the presents were opened and their givers properly thanked,
people dispersed back to their tables, the bar, or the dance
floor. Buffy excused herself to the ladies' room to freshen up
her makeup. Dawn tagged along, handing her sister a tissue to
wipe the tears from her face.
The two young women slipped out of the ballroom and down a dim
hallway. Before they reached the restrooms, however, Buffy
grabbed her sister's arm and stopped them both short. "Oh no,"
she moaned.
"What?" Dawn asked.
"What's he doing here?" Buffy nodded toward the dark figure with
the unmistakable shock of white-blond hair lurking rather
nervously outside the men's room.
Dawn's face lit up when she saw him. "Spike!" she yelped and
bounded away from her sister. She threw her arms around the
vampire's neck. He spun her around joyously. Buffy tried not to
grind her teeth.
A minute later Dawn took Spike's arm and led him toward Buffy.
Buffy wondered if there was another restroom somewhere else that
she could escape to. Not that the ladies' room would keep Spike
out if he wanted in.
As he approached, Buffy had to admit he was quite stunning in his
entirely black tuxedo. No bowtie, of course, but he really
didn't need one.
Stopping not a foot in front of her, he looked Buffy steadily in
the eye. His hands, however, fumbled with the ribbon wrapped
around the small gift box he held close to his body.
"Slayer," he greeted with a slight nod.
Buffy just shook her head. "I was right," she muttered.
Spike's brow furrowed. "Bout what?"
Buffy released an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "Oh, nothing.
I just really thought that none of the bad guys would be stupid
enough to crash this party."
"I was invited," Spike said indignantly.
Buffy shot Dawn a glare.
Dawn frowned. "Well, he was," she murmured.
"Dawn, give us a minute," Buffy ordered.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Buffy, come on…"
"Dawn."
"Fine. Excuse me, Spike," Dawn said in a clipped tone before she
turned and headed off to the ladies' room.
"She's grown up real well, Slayer," Spike commented
appreciatively as he watched Dawn go.
"Don't even look at her," Buffy snapped. Blinking, the vampire
turned his cold blue eyes back to hers. "I can't believe you,
Spike. You may have wormed your way back into my family's good
graces over the years, but you have no business showing up at
this party."
"Buffy, I just wanted to…"
"You just don't give up, do you? You just won't let me go."
Spike snorted. "That's arrogant, Slayer."
"Sure. How long has it been, anyway, Spike?"
"Since I told you I loved you? Or since you finally got me to
leave town?"
Buffy shrugged. "Either way, it's been a while. Why didn't it
stay that way?"
Spike's jaw tightened. Something that looked like hurt flashed
across his face but then disappeared. "Look, Slayer," he said
through clenched teeth, "I didn't come here to fight about the
past, or to try and get into your pants. I just thought it…"
Buffy cut him off with a bitter laugh. "That's really rich,
Spike. When have you ever tried to do anything with me besides
fight or, well, that other thing?"
So fast she didn't even see it coming, Spike's hand shot out and
grabbed Buffy by the arm. She gasped as he pulled her body flush
against his. "Would you let me get a bloody word in?!" he
shouted into her face, his lips practically brushing against her
own.
Buffy's mouth narrowed. "Fine. Talk, then leave. You have ten
seconds."
"That is so typical of you," he grumbled, but he relaxed his grip
on her.
"I just thought," he began with forced calm, "that it would be
nice if I came by and told you how proud I am of you for making
it this far. The devil knows I haven't helped that much."
Buffy blinked at Spike and his kind words. Her mouth dropped
open. She wished he had never shown his pretty face. It was so
much easier to regard him with distrust and scorn rather than
faith and friendship.
With a toss of her long blond hair, she shook off her shock.
"You really didn't come here to try to get in my pants?" she
asked dubiously.
Spike huffed. "Forget it, Slayer," he said. "Just…here, take
this." He shoved the gift he carried into her hands, pushed past
her, and headed for the exit. Buffy turned and watched him go.
He was almost through the door when he stopped to look back at
her. Moonlight painted soft blue over his face, the color of
both cold and comfort. It brought Buffy back years to a summer
evening on a hillside overlooking the cemetery, their cemetery.
Back to a time not long after he'd sworn love, she'd sworn
hatred, and still he'd stuck around to help defeat Glory, to help
save her sister. A time when she couldn't stop thinking about
him until she found him sitting on that hillside smoking a
cigarette.
It was the one and only time she ever willingly let him capture
her lips in a kiss so visceral, so hot, every cell in her body
was set aflame as he plundered her mouth. When he had released
her, she'd been unable to do anything but run away down the hill,
fast and furious, before his dark passion burned her right into
the ground.
It still, years later, ate her up inside to know that she had
never experienced a truly soul-searing kiss other than his, her
mortal enemy's. Not even with Angel. Not anywhere close. She
squeezed the small package she held in her hand. Spike tossed
her a regretful little smile from the doorway.
"Hey, where's Buffy? It's 10:43!" Xander shouted from somewhere
inside the ballroom.
Then out of nowhere Buffy hit the floor. White-hot pain split
her chest. The pain lanced down her limbs and out her fingertips
and her toes. She felt as though her very essence was being
drained into the floor beneath her. She started to convulse.
Spike's gift rolled across the carpet, forgotten.
A firm hand grabbed her chin, forced her to look up into blue
eyes. Spike's eyes. They were steady and sure. But there was
panic in his voice when he shouted for Joyce and for Dawn.
Buffy moaned and tore at her own skin, trying to release the pain
and pressure from her body. Spike tried to comfort her,
pillowing her head in his lap. He stroked her cheek with his
thumb and cooed to her. "It's okay, love. Help's coming. Help
is coming."
In the few seconds before help did arrive, however, Buffy's pain
disappeared as suddenly as it had come. She sat up slowly, her
head still ringing from the attack. Her mother, Giles, and Dawn
hovered in front of her. Harsh lines of worry creased their
faces.
"What happened? Did you do this?" Giles snapped at Spike.
"No! I was just on my way out, damn it," Spike growled
indignantly.
Feeling dizzy, Buffy started to sway. Spike wrapped his arms
around her waist for support. Weakly, she shook her head, tried
to push his hands away. "I'm fine. Get off me," she insisted.
Spike's eyes widened at the lightness of her touch. "Bloody
hell, Slayer," he hissed in her ear, "you're weak as a kitten.
Let me help you."
"Fat chance, Spike," Buffy grumbled. She wiggled against him as
he tried to gather her into his arms. It wasn't much of a
struggle to begin with, but both vampire and woman stilled when
the loud sound of shattering glass boomed in from the ballroom.
Through the ballroom's wide double doors Buffy could see the
glass ceiling cave in. Behind it shadowy figures of evil dropped
from roof to dance floor. Guests screamed and scattered.
Giles rose in an instant. His face grim, he pulled his favorite
pump-gun from his long, tweedy coat. Xander had rigged the gun
to shoot fat wooden bullets.
Giles turned to Spike as he readied the weapon. Spike was
already tossing the weakly struggling Slayer over his shoulder.
"Get her out of here!" the Watcher ordered. "Dawn and Joyce,
stay close to me!"
Spike looked worriedly at the other women. At their nodded
encouragement, he took off for the front door, sweeping Buffy out
into the night.
Several nasties immediately set upon them. Buffy ignored the
ghouls and vamps and demons. Her attention was fixed only on the
hall from which Spike hauled her as though they were being chased
by the Devil himself.
"Let me go, you bastard," she shouted, punching him in the back.
"My family's in there!"
"Shut up, Slayer. Giles will take care of it," Spike told her as
he leaped a row of bushes and landed on the sidewalk. Buffy's
stomach came down hard on his shoulder. She groaned as bile
surfaced at the back of her throat.
"Don't heave down the back of my tux, Slayer," Spike warned
grimly as he tore off down the street.
"Fuck you, Spike," Buffy murmured. Then her head lolled and the
world faded to black.
Buffy woke up to the smell of mint. Her body was tucked into the
softest bed she'd ever imagined. When she moved, silky sheets
glided across her bare arms and legs. She blinked the sleep out
of her eyes to see that her head shared a fluffy, white pillow
with a tiny piece of chocolate. The gold letters on the wrapping
read "Sunnydale Regency Hotel."
Wondering how she'd ended up in such a classy place, she sat up
and scanned the elegant room. The events of the night came back
to her the instant she saw Spike lurking by the window. He held
the curtains apart and glared down into the street below. He'd
shed his jacket and cumberbund and un-tucked his shirt. He
looked rumpled and worried, but that didn't quell Buffy's outrage
over his presence.
"When did you stop slumming it, Spike?" she asked bitterly as she
swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Spike let the curtain fall back over the window. With a shrug,
he dropped into the chair next to the expensive-looking cherry
wood desk. "Checked in here earlier today," he said as he lit a
cigarette. He pinned Buffy with cool eyes, blew a breath of
smoke in her direction. "Don't think anyone round town knows
though. Cept you. And the Watcher now."
"You talked to Giles? Is everyone all right?"
"Cuts and bruises, mostly. Most of the guests ran off home when
the fighting started. Your chums are all holed up at the Magic
Shop right now."
"Great, let's go," Buffy said, forgetting for a moment that she
and the vampire broken their alliance years ago. Grumbling at
her mistake, she looked down to find that she still wore her gown
from the party. She smoothed it out as she stood and then
checked that her legs were steady beneath her. No more
collapsing, she told her body as she headed for the door.
Spike was up in a flash, blocking Buffy's escape. "Not so fast
there, ducks."
"Outta the way, fangbreath." Buffy scowled as she tried to push
past him.
Spike grabbed her arm, hard. She tried to shake him off as he
spoke into her ear. "Watcher's got reason to believe every
beasty in Sunnyhell is out to get a piece of you tonight, Slayer.
Plannin' to deliver some birthday wishes of their own as I see
it. This building's got top-notch security. Safest place for
you tonight is here with me."
"Oh, is that why you've been watching the street since we got
here?" Buffy said sarcastically.
"Just bein' cautious, Slayer."
Buffy shook her head impatiently. "Are my mom and Dawn at the
shop with Giles?"
"They are," Spike said with a nod.
"Then so am I."
Buffy tried to pull from Spike's grip, but the vampire's hand
wouldn't budge. Frustrated, Buffy balled a fist and popped him
one in the nose.
"Yeow!" she howled as her knuckles crunched and pain shot up her
arm.
Spike hadn't even bothered to rub his nose. "What happened to
you, Slayer?" he asked with a smirk. "You can do better than
that!"
Buffy ignored him. She watched her hand swell and turn red as
though it belonged to someone else. Spike took a step closer and
had a look for himself. "Bloody hell, Slayer," he said quietly.
"Either I've gone and got me an iron skull, which I haven't, or
you've…"
"Lost my powers. Oh my God." Refusing to believe it, Buffy
socked Spike in the stomach. He doubled over, and for a second
she felt relieved. When he looked back up at her, however, his
face was contorted by laughter, not pain.
"This isn't funny, Spike," Buffy snapped. She pushed rather
ineffectually at his shoulders.
"Oh, it is a bit from my point of view, pet." His eyes were
alight and he was just barely controlling his giggles. He jumped
playfully back from Buffy. "Come on, big bad Slayer. Come and
get me," he teased.
Buffy took a step toward him but didn't risk embarrassing herself
by throwing another punch. "I'm gonna kill you, Spike," she
growled.
The vampire had her up against the door in an instant. "Are you,
now?" he asked. Buffy wondered for the first time that night if
he still had the chip in his head.
He'd pinned both her wrists behind her back with one hand,
pressing his chest intimately to hers. His breath was heavy in
her face and smelled of smoke and wine and trouble. "Probably
not the best idea you've had, Slayer," he said. "As of now, I'm
the best protection you've got." He dipped his chin and brushed
his lips over her cheek, breathing in her scent while he was
there. Then, very gently, he released her.
Before Buffy managed to say anything, the vampire had grabbed his
duster from the coat-rack, taken her again by the arm, and was
escorting her from the hotel.
No one at the Magic Shop had been happy to see Spike arrive with
Buffy, but she didn't care enough to try to convince him to
leave. Everyone knew the now truth anyway, that they could use
his protection.
Since she'd told them of her condition, Buffy had hung back from
her friends and family, lurking in the dark behind the cash
register. She had no idea what to do with her new, helpless
self. Spike hovered nearby, the same old restless spirit he'd
always been.
Giles was on the phone with the Council. From the sound of the
conversation, they didn't seem to have any answers either. He
made them promise to continue to research and then hung up. He
stood there for a moment looking at the cordless receiver as
though it had betrayed him.
"Giles?" Willow finally asked timidly from her seat at the round
research table.
The Watcher set the phone gently down on the table. The soft
scrape of plastic on wood was the only sound in the room.
"I – I'm sorry," he finally stuttered. He turned to Buffy. Her
stomach sank. "Buffy, why don't you come over here and sit
down?"
Buffy glanced at Spike. His eyes were dark; he looked as sick as
she felt. For a moment she flirted with the ridiculous thought
of grabbing his hand and running out with him, into the night.
Away from whatever horrible thing Giles had to tell her.
As though he could read her mind, Spike shook his head ever so
slightly. He set his jaw, straightened his shoulders, and guided
her to the table with a gentle hand at the small of her back.
Joyce pulled Buffy down into the seat next to her. She held her
mother's hand as Giles began to speak.
"The – um – the Council has just been informed that a new Slayer
has been called," the Watcher said quietly.
Buffy's brow furrowed. "But I'm not dead," she said. She looked
around at her companions. "Right?"
"No, no of course not," Giles reassured her. "The thing, you
see, is that we don't really know much about what happens to a
Slayer once she reaches your advanced years, Buffy."
"Could you make me sound any more geriatric, Giles?" Buffy
snapped.
Giles looked down. He started fiddling nervously with a book on
the table. "I'm not saying that you're old, Buffy. I'm saying
what we all know – that no Slayer in recorded history has ever
reached her twenty-fifth birthday. And we simply cannot pass off
as coincidence the fact that you lost your powers at the exact
instant you officially turned 25. That being tonight at 10:43
PM."
"Yeah, I know when it was. So what are you saying? That the
Powers what? Retired me?"
"Well, yes, that is the theory."
"But nobody knew it would happen." Buffy sighed and rubbed her
tired eyes. She could feel herself going numb inside, rejecting
Giles' words and theories and truths. She could feel everyone's
eyes on her, but all were quiet.
Then, with a frustrated growl, Spike jumped into the fray,
slamming his hand down on the table. "Have you all gone daft?"
he nearly shouted. "You're leaving out the most important part!"
"And what's that, Einstein?" Xander asked dully.
"That, throwing coincidences aside, mind you, every bloody demon
in Sunnyhell burst into that ballroom not one minute after Buffy
hit the big two-five. Not one minute after she lost her powers,"
he said in a huff.
"Meaning…"
"Somebody did know," Buffy finished.
Spike found Buffy a while later sitting alone in the dark
training room. Her back was against the wall, her legs pulled up
into her chest. Spike put his back to the wall himself and slid
down to the ground next to her.
"I reckon whoever knew and spread the word is old. From back
before any records were put down. Kept the secret for a long
time," he mused as he fished in his pocket for a light for the
cigarette that dangled from his lips. "I mean, it's hard, ain't
it, to believe you're the only one to ever make it to twenty-
five."
Buffy blew out a harsh breath and let her head fall back against
the wall. "Someone that old must be awfully powerful. Why don't
the good demons ever live that long?"
"The Key did," Spike said with a shrug. He'd finally found a
match and he lit up effortlessly.
"Yeah, but she's not the Key anymore. And I'm not the Slayer.
So why stir up such a frenzy to kill me when I'm no longer a
threat?"
"Revenge? Psychosis? Dunno. And maybe you're more of a threat
now than you give yourself credit for."
"Yeah, and you've suddenly grown a soul," Buffy said
sarcastically. Spike frowned and she seized the moment to sit up
and pluck the cigarette from his lips. She held it awkwardly up
to her own mouth.
"I'm all for you bein' naughty, Slayer," Spike said as he deftly
snatched his smoke back from Buffy before she could take a puff,
"but this stuff'll kill ya."
Sighing, Buffy slumped back against the wall. "It does look like
I'm set to have a nice long, normal life now, doesn't it?"
Spike threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah, Slayer. You might
even have to go to work!"
"Fantastic. Probably should have thought more carefully when I
picked my major," Buffy grumbled. She hung her head between her
knees and fought to keep depression from overwhelming her. How
could she be anything but the Slayer? It was all she knew.
Spike sat quietly, puffing on his cigarette. Surprisingly, the
silence between them was comforting rather than terribly awkward.
It was broken soon enough though by the heated voices of Buffy's
loved ones floating in from the research room.
"You know," Buffy said after a while, "it's not safe for any of
them as long as I'm here. Not with every demon in Sunnydale
coming after me."
Spike nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. "Guess we better hit
the road, then," he said as he stood up and brushed himself off.
"You're hilarious, Spike. What makes you think I would go
anywhere with you?"
"C'mon, Slayer. Thought we'd been over this," he said with a
grin. He put up his fists and bounced around a bit, shadow
boxing. "You need a protector, for once, and I'm all you've
got."
Buffy snickered at his idea. "Yeah, and how do I know you're not
going to throw me to the wolves first chance you get?"
Spike dropped his hands to his sides. His eyes were deadly
serious when he looked down at her. "When was the last time I
let you down, Buffy?" he asked quietly.
Buffy was about to laugh at his solemnity, but something stopped
her and made her think about what he'd said. It really had been
a long time since he'd messed up, hurt her and her friends, or
hindered instead of helped her cause. And the thought of running
- something she'd sworn she'd never do - all alone saddened her
profoundly. Spike was strong, irritating but amusing, and he
couldn't hurt her. Or could he?
"You still have the chip in your head?" she asked bluntly.
"You're wanting some insurance. Smart girl." He spoke lightly,
but his face was grim. Swiftly, he knelt down before Buffy and
slapped her across the face.
"Yeow!" they both howled at the same time. Buffy touched her
stinging cheek and Spike fell over onto the floor, clutching his
head.
"Smarts, don't it?" he said, groaning. When he finally sat back
up, he looked at Buffy almost shyly from behind his long, long
eyelashes. "Well, what do you say, Slayer?" Slowly, he offered
her his hand.
Buffy shook her head at herself. "I can't believe I'm doing
this, but you're on, Spike." She slipped her hand into his and
they stood up together. "Maybe along the way we'll find out who
ruined my birthday party."
Spike snickered. "And I'd thought I had that honor."
"So did I, Spike. So did I."
End Chapter 1