Time
And I'm haunted
By the lives that I have loved
And actions I have hated
I'm haunted
By the promises I've made
And others I have broken
I'm haunted
By the lives that wove the web
Inside my haunted head
Haunted' by Poe
Buffy watched the scenery spin past from the car window. Streets and streets of houses that all looked the same. It was depressing. Not in the my parents won't let me out tonight I'm so depressed' kinda way, but in the I feel like killing myself' way. Not that she was feeling that bad, but since she'd become the Slayer she'd become very careful about throwing around words like suffering' and depression' in unworthy contexts. The reason the houses were depressing was because they were filled with people she had to protect. Made more depressing by the fact that she frequently had to protect them from members of their own families, turned demon. It was enough to make any person less-than-beaming every morning.
That plus the fact that it was the first day of school. It actually wasn't that far way from her house, but it was... traditional for her mom to drive her to school the first day of a new term. It was a fear thing when she was little, and a comfort thing when she was older, now it was just because she wanted everything to appear the same. Buffy slowly found herself watching the sunlight reflecting on the car windows rather than looking out of them.
So you're all set then? her mom asked brightly.
Buffy jerked slightly and straightened in her seat. She flipped the mirror down from the car ceiling and started adjusting her hair neurotically.
Yeah. Books. Pens. Got it all.
Joyce voiced, turning the car around a corner.
Buffy stopped adjusting and stared at her own face in the mirror. She'd gone for the natural look, which just meant she was wearing make-up to make it look like she wasn't wearing make-up. Her hair was tied back in a tidy ponytail with a few strands loose to frame her face. This was also a back-to-school ritual. Of course once she got amongst her peers she usually forgot it all anyway. Which could lead to embarrassing lipstick stains as she wiped her mouth, sometimes.
You look beautiful honey. her mom reassured.
Buffy shot a furtive glance at her mother and caught her fiddling with her skirt again. It was simple beige and wrapped her legs tightly to just below the knees. It wasn't that it was uncomfortable. Her mother was a very practical woman and wouldn't wear something uncomfortable just because it looked nice. Buffy knew that the reason for her mother's fidgeting was that she was remembering the scar on her thigh. And it made Buffy feel so... guilty. One word in pale scar-tissue, probably forever, emblazoned on her mother's leg: SOON. It was a lasting reminder, as if they needed one, of Angelus and what he had done. But he was dead, and Buffy couldn't hate him anymore. She could only hate herself for bringing him near her mother. And for being so stupid as to trust a Vampire.
Thanks mom.
Is William coming around this evening?
He.... I don't know. I don't think so. Buffy spluttered. Her mother had taken to calling her boyfriend William, because she insisted Spike was not a real name. It had been funny to watch Spike politely take it and not argue. Buffy said with more certainty, I'm going out with Willow tonight, remember mom?
Oh. I know.. she said, twisting the steering wheel again and fiddling with the indicators, But he might have come around later so I just wanted to know. she paused, Not too late though.
No. Not too late. Buffy echoed distractedly, returning her attention to the car's external surroundings. Her mother sighed and decided not to press. Soon they were turning into the street crowded with children. Teenagers. And a brave smile was etched onto Buffy's face. Joyce pulled the car to a stop.
Well. Here we are... Have a good day honey.
I will mom. Buffy grabbed her bag and pushed the car door open to step out onto the pavement.
Joyce called after her daughter, but she doubted that the girl heard her. Joyce sighed again and pulled away from the sidewalk. Instead of turning it to go home, or ever to the gallery, she drove it a little further up the road before parking there. She didn't hesitate as she got out of the vehicle. Or when she headed back towards the school.
***
Xander called across the near-empty school courtyard. He was jogging and was sure to catch her, but it did no harm to call out and make sure she would wait for him. A few months ago he wouldn't have needed the reassurance. Things change.
Hey Xander.. Willow said with a smile, turning around and walking backwards to class as she greeted him. Xander grinned and patted Willow on the shoulder.
Turn round Will. Don't want you to fall and get hurt.
I'm not that clumsy. Willow pouted, turning around.
Oh, I know. But just in case... ya know... I don't want to be ripped apart at the next full moon because of you tripping right now and bruising something... tender.
Willow smacked Xander in the arm and he feigned pain right before they both broke out into smiles. They walked into the coolness of a school corridor and immediately slowed their pace. Neither was really keen to get to the Gym.
So, you seen Buffy yet...? Willow asked offhandedly, sneaking a sly glance at Xander to gauge his facial response to the question. He frowned.
You're going to have to speak to her sometime.
I know--
--I mean, do you want to be her friend or not? You've got to be supportive.
I am supportive! Passively supportive. I'm supportive by not jamming a stake through Spike's undead heart. That's support. He sighed, And its not like I don't talk to her. We talk. Polysyllabic words and everything. But sometimes I can't stop saying it.. That he's bad for her... Its just... He doesn't make her happy, Will, you know?
Willow kept her face impassive. But she did know. From the months when she'd suspected something had been going on with Buffy and Spike, to the months when something had officially been going on with Buffy and Spike, her best friend hadn't seemed all that cheerful. But she was sure part of that was to do with Angel. And part of it was to do with Xander. And a lot of it was to do with Giles. She didn't understand fully the reasons for Giles's disgust at Buffy and Spike's relationship, she knew he loved his Slayer like a daughter, but Xander had explained to her once that it was something to do with Jenny. Jenny, and the mansion, and that night. Everything seemed to have started then. Including her spell-casting.
I think you--we should just keep Buffy's private life, private. If she wants our help she'll ask for it. I hope, We're her friends, we can't drop her just because of a--because of Spike.
You're right, Will. Xander sighed, I hope that she still wants to be friends.
Of course she does Xander.
Ready to brave Gym? Xander asked, looking for a reason to change worn-thin subject. Their main topic of discussion over the summer had been Buffy. He was beginning to think that Willow's words actually were right about butting out of Buffy's private life. But he still wanted her to be happy.
Even less than you'd imagine. Willow answered. Both friends grinned, So where's Cordy?
Holiday. She's coming into school a week late or something. Got Snyder to agree and everything.
Money talks. Willow said wisely.
Hmm... either that or she flashed him some cleavage.... But that's a possibility I really don't want to think about.
Me neither. Willow said, nose wrinkled. They both found themselves outside the changing room doors, I guess there's no getting out of this... Willow sniffed, placing a hand on the door of the girl's changing room bravely, ...See you in there... she said before disappearing.
See you. Xander echoed before disappearing also. Thoughts of Buffy banished temporarily from his mind by thoughts of Gym, girls in tight fitting clothing, and Cordelia Chase flashing Principal Snyder.
***
The woman stared down at the thing before her with horror. Her mouth was open, eyes wide, and her fingers dug into the countertop in front of her as if she was trying to break through it.
she said slowly, fury in her voice, ... do you call this?
Ice cream. the man behind the counter said thickly. He was probably little older than eighteen and wearing a mint-green and white uniform that clashed unfortunately with pale skin and red hair. Though the pale skin might just have been from his customer's anger. She set a sarcastic smile on her face,
No shit Sherlock. Why, when I asked for double-chocolate fudge with nuts, did you give me simply chocolate?
he leant backwards on the balls of his feet to check the stock, before meeting her eyes again, We're out.
Then wouldn't it be more polite to tell me instead of trying to fob me off with something else for the same price. the woman seemed to have calmed a little, but her lips were stretched thinly across her mouth to show that the little wasn't much. Customers in the queue behind her were looking around the shop and pretending not to listening.
Sorry ma'am. the man said, his voice clearly not conveying the emotion of regret. In a second he found the short woman's hand wrapped around his collar and his face forced down close to hers.
Don't bullshit me, she hissed into his face, no trace of scent on her breath, Say you're sorry. Like you mean it. Then ask me, all polite-like, if I'd like another flavour, on the house.
The man gasped, trying to struggle out of the woman's grip and failing. After what seemed like a long moment, where his co-workers had made it blatantly obvious they weren't going to help him, he seemed to smarten up. He smiled down at the woman politely, his eyes showing a little too much white for him to be truly sincere, but that was probably just the fear.
I'm sorry ma'am, I'm not sure what came over me, would you like another flavour? he said it with complete calmness in his voice, which only wavered slightly when she had to tighten her grip to remind him to say, ...On the house, of course. Immediately she let go and he slumped against the counter, chocolate ice-cream smeared down the front of his white apron.
That wasn't so hard now was it honey. she rolled her eyes upwards for a moment before saying, I'll have strawberry.... I assume you have that.
he said, busying himself behind the counter. The woman watched him with one eye as she stepped out of the queue and onto an empty stool. She didn't want any more surprises in her food. After a moment she found a copious amount of ice-cream placed in front of her, saliva free.
Thank you. she said, flashing the man a smile as if she'd not just been threatening him a few moments before. He blinked at her, clearly surprised by her sudden mood change. She pushed the bowl delicately to the side and leant forward, almost as if she was flirting with him, Now that's sorted out.. she purred, ...have you seen anyone... heroic... in town lately?
***
Giles placed the tall pile of books down on the table and began to sort through them. Surprisingly enough these were actual school books for actual students to take out, should they wish it. He was very strict about not letting his job as a Watcher interfere too much with his job as a Librarian, even if saving the world was slightly more important than cataloguing.
Joyce walked in through the Library doors, causing Giles to almost drop the book he was holding. Instead he placed it carefully down before turning fully towards the mother of his Slayer to flash her a smile that showed nothing of the nervousness he was feeling. Joyce didn't visit the school for no reason.
Hello Mr Giles. Joyce said with confidence, as if she had the whole conversation that was about to take place planned out in her head.
...Hello Mrs Summers. Giles said after hesitating.
Joyce, please. she insisted, hands playing on her beaded purse the only thing that betrayed her uncertainty.
Joyce, of course, would you like to... sit down?
No thank you. I'm here to talk about Buffy.
I guessed as much. Giles sighed. He'd been expecting her to come to him eventually. Off her curious look her elaborated, I take it this is about Spike.
she blinked, clearly thrown for a moment, In fact William seems to be the only positive thing that has happened to my daughter over the last few months.
You...You like him? Giles was surprised and he didn't even try to hide it. He wouldn't have expected Buffy to have even introduced Spike to her mother, let along for the woman to like him. The Vampire could be horribly obnoxious if he wanted to be.
He's polite. He's a gentleman. she explained, And he's not the reason I'm here.
Giles raised a hand to his forehead as if trying to rub a headache away, What is it you wanted to talk to me about?
I'm worried about Buffy, she seems distant. She hasn't been sleeping well, or eating properly and the only time she seems to go out is when William comes around.
Giles tried not to sound angry, but he was. His Slayer was upset and neglected and instead of turning to her friends seemed to prefer to talk to a Vampire. He admitted that he'd been distant himself lately, but like Buffy he'd also had his love die, and it wasn't an easy thing to get over. Xander and Willow should have at least noticed.
I want to know if there's anything, anything at all, about Buffy's life that she hasn't told me. The look in Joyce's eyes was earnest and hard, as if she was not going to leave without an answer. An answer that would allow her to help her daughter.
I don't know what to say Joyce, Giles said steadily, trying not to break eye-contact or fidget to show he was lying, What kind of things were you... thinking of?
she suggested with stereotypical motherly concern, Drinking? Anything you can think of.
I haven't seen Buffy much over the summer... Giles said cautiously, But I doubt anything of that sort is going on.
Its not just over the summer. This has been going on for a long time now Mr Giles. Longer than it should have. It used to be late nights and mysterious older men, now she's introverted. Keeping to herself too much. I'm afraid... That something might have happened to her that she won't tell me about. I'm afraid that someone has hurt her, and that I can't do anything to stop it because I don't know what it is... And she won't tell me. And you won't tell me. Joyce swallowed the tears back. She knew from experience they would do her no good. Please tell me, Rupert, if you can think of something that's making my baby act this way. Tell me what's making her hurt.
for a moment Giles wanted to tell her anything. But it was only a fleeting impulse, not only was it Buffy's choice when she told her mother, it was dangerous for Joyce to know. If he told her now it wouldn't just be Buffy's job he'd be revealing, but an underbelly of the world which most people shouldn't have to see. --don't know anything Joyce. I'm sorry. I wish I could be of more help.
Joyce nodded, her eyes cast downwards for a long moment. Outside the Library the halls began to crowd with students moments before the bell for class-change rang. She looked back up at Giles.
If there was anything at all, I know you'd tell me. Because I'm her mother and I love her. Joyce said, clearly trying to make him feel guilty, but Giles didn't waver.
There's nothing going on that I know of Joyce. I'll talk to Buffy if you want...?
Joyce said, disbelief barely masked in her voice, Uh.. Thank you. I'll let you get on with your work.
Thank you. It is quite time-consuming. Have a... good day.
I will. Joyce turned and walked from the Library without another word, leaving Giles to sag against the table and sigh into open hands.
***
Spike leant back against the crimson silk-sheets and stared up at the ceiling. He should have been asleep, it being daylight and all, but this time, like so many others, he just couldn't manage it. The room he lay in was modest in possessions, if not in decoration. Aside from the four-poster bed and a mahogany chest of draws, there was nothing. The walls were painted a reddish-sunset pink to match the bed covers, but the curtains covering the only window were thick and black to keep out the sunlight. It had been Drusilla's room. Angelus had given it to her, along with tens of others, but this is the one she had preferred.
Spike rolled over onto his side, resting his head on one arm as he clutched the other near to his chest. He was comfortable for a moment before having to shift again, this time to his other side with his legs bent so that his knees touched his stomach. Bare flesh against bare flesh. As it was daytime the curtains were doing their job, and the only lighting in the room came from two flickering candles on long candlesticks, one either side of the bed. He let out the smallest of sighs and moved to lie on his back again, eyes once more upon the ceiling.
The funny thing about Vampires was that they didn't really need to sleep. It felt good and fit into the predatory hunt-kill-feed-rest regime, but they could usually survive for a while without it. They didn't worry about getting cranky, they were Vampires after all. Spike turned again, lying on his stomach this time with his face pressed into one of the pillows. He might not need sleep but sometimes it brought a kind of peace with it that could never be equalled. A pause from thinking, debating and --God forbid-- brooding. It was almost what Spike imagined heaven would be like, if he wasn't too evil to go there. When she started thinking thoughts like that he usually got up and killed something. Except now he couldn't. And not just because it was daylight.
Spike growled into the pillow and turned again so that he was once more on his side. He'd been sleeping in this room ever since she'd gone. Drusilla had forbid either of her lovers to sleep with her in it, so as a mockery of that now that she had left, it was the only place Spike rested. He told himself it was to insult her memory. To piss her off. But sometimes, wrapped up in darkness and sleep, he would smell her scent upon the sheets or feel her presence within the bedroom walls and that would force her into his dreams, his nightmares, his thoughts. She'd hurt him, and love him, and fuck him and he'd wake up angry, confused, cursing and full of lust. If he didn't know she was gone he'd say she was somehow making him think of her, casting a spell, or slipping into his arms while he slept, because that was the sort of thing she would do. To punish him for leaving her. But instead he knew that it was just his own mind, using the cruelty he usually revelled in when hurting others to taunt himself with images of his ex. His past. He should probably have moved to another room, but he didn't like to run away. He faced the dreams each time hoping to conquer them. If he could do that, maybe he could move on from her. Then again maybe he didn't change rooms because he liked the dreams -- just a little.
After those brief waking moments where all he thought of was her, another woman --girl-- would enter his mind like a deadly ray of brightness and obliterate the first. Perhaps he didn't love this second woman, perhaps he did, but he knew that wanted her. To kill or fuck, he still wasn't sure, which was why he was playing the dutiful boyfriend for the moment. All he knew was that if another person haunted his sleep, could he really love the Slayer? The lust he felt while he was around he was almost unbearable, but she had taught him that was different from love. Because she wanted him too, that he was sure of, but she didn't love him.
Spike couldn't sleep now. It was way past noon and he'd been trying since dawn. And not surprisingly it was the Slayer that was keeping him awake. She was the caffeine to Dru's sleeping tablets. She'd cancelled their usual nightly patrol-date to go out with one of her friends and he was annoyed. He didn't want to be but he was. And that only meant that he probably loved her, which he didn't want to do either. Not because of his own issues, he'd gotten over those long ago, but because of hers. She didn't love him, so falling in love with her would only lead to pain. And not the fun kind.
Her cancelling their date made him irrationally jealous. She'd not done it once that summer, but now he was afraid that perhaps she wasn't as hung up on Angelus as he'd thought, perhaps it was another guy instead. He was afraid? Afraid of loosing her? Surely not. But perhaps he should check on her just once tonight. Just to make sure. She'd hate him for being possessive, but it was the way demons were and she'd just have to deal with that. If she ever found out -- which he was planning on never happening.
Spike rolled over onto his back again, but this time his eyes were comfortably closed. The cool night air had forced its way into the room somehow and was gliding over his nude form pleasantly. After hashing out in his head a plan for the night, Spike felt much more relaxed. And with his next moves decided he finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.
(Author's Note: Sorry for the immence wait for the update. You guys almost didn't get another chapter for a few more weeks. But I managed to finish one. I'm afraid you might have to wait a little while for the next one, I have exams at the moment and of course they take priority. I hope this chapter wasn't too... lame. I've had half of it written for ages, and it just needed finishing. Thank you all so much for your reviews and kind words, I was a little worried that the harshness of the last chapter might scare you all off... But no! It didn't! And for that I am grateful. :-) Thanks. -- Oh! And Happy New Year.... Hee.)
