Second Chance, Chapter 3

This portion of your fanfic has been brought to you by "Glass Vase Cello Case," by Tattle Tale.

WARNING! SPIKE BASHY! SPUFFERS BEWARE! It gets a bit silly fic at the end of this chapter.

*****

Willow was the first to wake up several hours later. She turned slightly to her left and saw Tara snuggled against her. Willow smiled and kissed her forehead. Tara opened her eyes and sat up immediately.

"Willow, are you okay?" Her breathless voice elicited a laugh from the redhead.

"I'm fine. I know I was having a slight breakdown, but you're fine, so I'm fine. I...I didn't mean to do that. I just...God, Tara, I love you so much, and the thought that I could have lost you freaked me out."

Tara grinned. "Just a little, though."

"Of course," Willow replied sarcastically. "I mean, the Powers That Be saying my eternal soul mate was going to be shot? Psh. Not a big deal." Her smile faded. "I must have scared you."

Tara wrapped Willow in a hug. "I'm just glad you love me."

"Like I said- forever. And a day. Or maybe two! How about three?"

Tara hit Willow lightly with a pillow. "I think I deserve at least four."

Their playful banter was interrupted by a knock. "Everyone seems to want to talk to us. What are we, main characters?" Willow quipped as she got up to open the door.

"Wesley! I forgot you were here."

"Thank you, Willow. I appreciate it." Wesley looked over Willow's shoulder. "Is Tara here?"

Tara stepped up. "Yeah, I'm here. Is something happening?"

Wesley looked down. "There's something I...neglected to tell you."

Willow's forehead creased and she frowned. "What is it?"

Wesley looked back up. "I'm not the only one who came up from L.A."

*****

*AngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAng-*

"Buffy?" The dark, gorgeous in a not-so-annoying-sort-of-way vampire extended a hand to the supine Slayer. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I-" Buffy took his hand and managed to stand. His skin warmed as it touched hers, and she could feel him tighten his grip, as if he did not want to let go. But neither did she. They stood, hand in hand, as she tried to form words.

"Angel?" And there it was, the name that could never be anything but a question. As she looked into his eyes, Buffy was floored by the love she saw there. *But we can't- we aren't-*

"Fire bad. Tree pretty." Buffy smiled up at him. "Higher brain function not functioning."

Angel laughed, and Buffy caught a glimpse of his rarely-shown teeth. She remembered how they felt, lightly nipping her-

"Buffy? I'm starting to be concerned here." Angel frowned and leaned down to peer into her eyes. "Did he hurt you?"

She couldn't take it anymore. To see him back like this, and have him worry over her when she had never felt better, and to see his eyes as they filled with what she knew was a thing more than love...she leaned forward and kissed him. She felt him so keenly that she knew what his first thought was: *I shouldn't,* which, in the space of 0.006 seconds, gave way to *I want to. I need to.*

And they kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed.

As his tongue searched out hers she let go of his hand and wrapped her own around the back of his head, pulling him closer. His hand slid round her waist, trapping her lower body against his. She groaned into his mouth and ran her hands through his dark hair as he lowered them to the ground.

*Making out in a graveyard. Again. Whatever happened to the backseat of a car?* Buffy laughed into Angel's mouth, and he pulled away and smiled.

"What is it?"

"I'm just glad to have my cradle-robbing, creature-of-the-night boyfriend back."

"We should go to your house, check up on everything. Wesley might be feeling a little-"

"Wes is here too? That's funny. Did the stick up his ass hurt on the car ride up?"

"He's changed a bit, Buffy. It's a much more pliant stick. And that came out very very wrong."

"I was just thinking that."

They shared a moment, before Angel continued. "So I was going to say he might feel kind of like an outsider."

"What, cause he's sharing a house with two horny lesbians?"

"And Dawn..."

"No, she's at a friend's for the weekend. School vacation or something, so naturally she doesn't want any quality time with me."

"Huh. Who would have thought."

The two stood up reluctantly and started to make their way to Buffy's house. Suddenly, Angel stopped. "Wait. Horny lesbians?"

Buffy smiled. "Did you ever meet Tara?"

*****

They reached 1630 Revello Drive and entered. "Will? Tara? We're here! And hi Wesley! Come out, come out wherever you- aah!" Buffy was taken slightly aback as Willow thundered madly down the stairs and jumped into her arms.

"I'm so glad you're alive!" She hugged Buffy tightly and said over her shoulder, "Hi Angel! Been glowering much lately?"

Angel glared at the redhead. "I missed you too, Willow." His face cracked into a grin as she left Buffy and gave him a quick hug. "You're in a good mood."

"Dare I think it's because of me?" Tara walked slowly down the stairs, holding up her skirt.

Willow turned to Tara and took her hand, squeezed it lightly. "Of course it is." The two witches shared a kiss as Wesley came down the stairs.

"Angel." Wesley nodded.

"Wesley." Angel nodded.

"Well that was heartwarming." Buffy said, nodding officiously. "Can I make anyone tea? I promise I won't burn it this time."

Tara looked confused. "How do you burn tea?"

"It's Buffy," Willow put in.

"Oh."

*****

Later that night, after some well-done tea, Buffy was getting ready for a shower when Angel walked in. Wrapping her robe quickly around her, Buffy glared at him, trying not to smile.

"You know, here in 21st century America, it's considered polite to knock! Not that I mind when it's you." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I was just going to take a shower. Want to come?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Just a little." Buffy bent over to grab her towel, and her robe rode up, exposing her milky white thigh. And the dark bruise that marred it.

"Buffy." Angel spun her around. "What happened to your leg? Was it the fight?"

Buffy looked down, paling. "Um, no, it was...yeah, it must have been the fight." She lowered her head and tried to push past him.

"Buffy, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

Buffy decided to come clean. She took Angel's hand and they sat together on the bed. "Angel, I hate to have to say this to you. I love you, you know that." Angel smiled warmly, but Buffy didn't return his expression. "After I had that little phase of, um, dying, I couldn't really feel. My emotions were stuck in off mode, and I did something incredibly stupid to try and fix it. I got involved with Spike."

Angel's face hardened. "Spike? As in, bleached hair, evil idiot Spike?"

"He was fighting on our side, Angel. I just...I don't know. But we had a thing, it wasn't a relationship thing so much as a physical thing, just so I could feel something. Anything. Should I get a thesaurus and stop saying 'thing'?" The Slayer laughed weakly, but this time it was Angel's face that did not change. Buffy coughed. "Anyway. I told him it had to be over, but he wouldn't...he wouldn't accept it, and yesterday, he tried to-"

"He tried to rape you." Angel's eyes darkened, turning sharp with hate. "He tried to violate you. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him. Where is he?" Angel stood up and grabbed a stake from Buffy's bedside table. "He has a crypt, right? In Restfield? I'll be back in half an hour." Angel strode out the door and clomped down the stairs, making more noise than he ever had in his unlife.

Buffy sat still on the bed. "I suppose I should stop him," she said to the empty air. "Oh wait. Never mind." She lay back. "Nice bed I've got here."

*****

Angel knocked down the door to the crypt in Restfield cemetery. He took in the bed, the rugs, and the TV set. There was no one there, and it occurred to Angel that Spike might actually have enough brain cells to clear out after an attempted rape. The thought of his Buffy, held down by the scarily veiny, disturbing arms of Spike as she screamed and writhed to break free, made his blood boil. He cried out in rage and smashed the TV set and all of Spike's prodigious alcohol collection, then overturned the bed and broke it to smithereens. Angel surveyed the wreckage, then turned on his heel and strode out.

He walked down the road, contemplating where Spike would have gone. Knowing him as Angel did, he quickly came to the conclusion that Spike was in a bar. Angel took a left and went back into town and followed Main Street until he reached Willy's Place. He stood outside the ground level entrance and tried to calm himself down.

A skanky little female vampire slithered up to him. She had long brown hair and dark eyes, and looked vaguely Mexican. She was very attractive, but Angel could tell that she would annoy the hell out of him within about a second.

"Hey baby, want to have some fun?" Angel thought he glimpsed a tongue stud in her mouth, but it was quickly obscured by an eerie leer. He smiled thinly and backed away, trying to hold in his rage. She pouted, and it annoyed him. Hadn't he known it would happen? Angel whipped Buffy's stake out of his coat and slammed it right through her unbeating heart. She looked up at him, glaring, and whispered, "Maggot," before she turned to dust with a decidedly annoying groan.

Angel, feeling rather chipper now, walked through the door to Willy's. All heads, or other parts of bodies that had eyes, turned toward him and saw the look on his features. Every single denizen of the bar got up and left, right then. Except one.

"Spike." Angel's voice was hard as steel and sharp as daggers. The figure in the long black duster, slumped over the bar top, turned toward him slightly before falling off its stool. Angel stalked up to him and knelt down.

"Wah? You want some cookie dough, mate? I got a bunch back at the house. Almost ready for eating!" The blonde, incredibly inebriated vampire grinned madly and cackled in a scary, high pitched voice.

"I'm after blood right now, Spike. Or dust."

"Well there's some in the corner!" The idiotic giggle came again.

"Spike, just how drunk are you?"

Angel found Spike's hand gripped around his throat. "Not very."

Angel was thrown across the room and slammed into a table, breaking it up like a toothpick. He stood up quickly. "Well you're good at acting it. Kind of like your jackass impersonation- spot on." Angel glared at the smaller vampire, who grinned back.

"Well at least I'm not a bloody great poof."

"Come on, Spike, you know you could never keep your hands off me. Luckily -I- could keep your hands off me."

Spike shifted uncertainly. "That's not, um, how it seemed to me..."

Angel just looked at him. "Right. Anyway, the point of this whole scenario? It's to kill you, Spike. You touched Buffy. You bruised Buffy. You hurt her."

"Yeah, and she enjoyed every minute of it! You shoulda heard her scream, mate. Loved the things I was doing to her."

"I'm sure. Except that when she didn't want to, you tried to force her. You tried to violate her, and for that, you're going to die. Again."

"I'd like to see you try." Spike took a step forward.

"Okay." Angel picked up half of the tabletop he had landed on and chucked it at Spike. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him back into the wall.

"Ooh, you'll have to do better, mate," said Spike, dusting himself off. Angel lunged forward and caught Spike with a nasty right hook to the jaw, and Spike kicked Angel in the shins as he went down.

"Ow! So we're fighting dirty, are we?" Angel sneered. He reached down and pulled Spike's hair.

"NOT THE HAIR!" Spike ran away from Angel and smoothed his platinum locks, making sure each was in place. Angel just watched in awe at his intense stupidity. Spike turned and ran at Angel after he was sure his hair was okay. Angel sidestepped him and threw him into a little round table and the few chairs that were clustered close to it. Spike landed on his stomach and fell still. Angel stepped back a little and waited for him to rise.

Spike put his hands on the floor and pushed himself up. He got to his knees, still facing away from Angel. He stood up fully and raised his head high, but never turned around. "This is it, mate. When I turn around, death will come swiftly."

And he turned around.

Spike's coat swirled slowly, wrapping around him like a dark cloud. His face had shifted into vampire features, his yellow eyes shining from beneath a ridged, ugly brow. Sharp teeth protruded from his lips, and a small trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Spike smiled at Angel across the expanse of broken furniture. "Very swiftly."

Spike took a step.

And tripped over his own feet.

And fell on a broken chair leg, which penetrated his heart.

The last words to pass through his lips were, "Oh my God, my cheekbones!"

And then he was dust.

"Swift enough for ya, 'mate'?" Angel smiled. It had been a very good night.

*****

Back at the Summers residence, a warm, fuzzy sensation passed through a slumbering Buffy. She turned over and clutched Mr. Gordo to her chest, smiling widely in her sleep.

TBC

*****

A/N: I realize Spike died. In an amusing fashion. And so did Kennedy. Yeah, that was her. You were right. Or wrong. I don't know who you thought that was. But anyway, I warned you. And it's not fair to me, nor is it a nice thing, to flame me repeatedly. I can take constructive criticism, but it's very not cool to just insult my work. I'm sorry if you don't agree with my concepts of "amusing" or "right", but that's not my fault. Don't take it out on me. I just work here.