They all went their separate ways, and he hadn't expected anything else. After all, what had he done to deserve their loyalty? And they all had good reasons to go, to leave him with his self-contempt and guilt.
Giles and Wesley were headed back to England to rebuild the Council, to regroup and gather their sources. They had a lot of Watchers to find and a lot of girls to help.
Willow, Kennedy, and Xander moved into an apartment not far from Angel's offices. Though the distance was short, it may as well have been a million miles away. He had earned their mistrust in the beginning, and had reminded them of that with his constant edginess, his lying, his selfishness.
One by one, they all trickled away until the only members of the Sunnydale crew left were Faith and Robin. Angel refused to lie to himself. He understood that Faith stayed because she felt she owed him and Robin stayed because he hated Spike. He understood Angel's bitterness, Angel's shielding of Buffy. Besides, where Faith went, the thoroughly whipped Slayer's son went.
Angel found himself with a decision to make. The worst part of it was, he'd have to make it on his own. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the telephone. With each call he made, the introductory message was terse, quiet, and identical.
"It's me. I need you to keep your ear to the ground."
~~~
"Forget trying to get my face clear, we're not boxing here," Buffy panted, spinning around and clipping Kelly's ear with a foot. "Make me uncover my chest."
"I'll just ask Paul to do that," Kelly grunted, swinging her sweaty hair out of her face.
The comment caught Buffy off-guard and she did, indeed, lose her strong defensive stance. "What?"
Kelly stopped circling and sighed. It was hard to stop all that rushing adrenaline. "Oh, come on. Like you haven't seen the way he looks at you. He sits in the back of the class and gawks like a fool." And you're so jealous it colors the room green, she added mentally. The big college basketball player was cute, and frighteningly enough, smart.
Buffy shook her head, not only indicating that she hadn't seen anything, but also to deny the fact. She didn't want anyone to be interested in her. Not now. Maybe not ever again. Not when there was some hope—"I think you're hallucinating, Kel. But it's okay, we've all been there."
Attempting to tamp down the lump that had lodged in her throat, Kelly pushed on. "Why not? He's cute, he's available, he's interested in you. You're cute, you're available…" she trailed off, raising her eyebrows.
"I'm not interested," Buffy snapped, unwrapping her hands with jerky motions. "I'm not even really available." She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. It made it too real, and making it real, made her sound crazy.
She was waiting for a dead man in more ways than one.
"So it's true." Kelly usually kept the rumors and half-truths to herself, preferring to be friends with Buffy rather than interrogate her. But this particular rumor had smacked of the truth, and Little Sis had mentioned Spike enough to make Kelly sure of the validity. "There was someone at the very end. The vampire."
Buffy swung out without warning, less out of anger than out of self-preservation. She couldn't listen to much more of this. Kelly jerked back quickly and was on the move again as Buffy spoke. "Was I really dumb enough to think you were shy?" she said, blocking Kelly's return blow. "Because I gotta say, you're just mostly nosy." She laughed through the pain shooting through her, from head to toe and back again. Don't make me tell you it's my fault he's dead, a tiny, cowardly voice inside her begged. Please, don't. She stopped moving again and sat on the floor to call it quits. "Kelly, for real, have you ever even seen a vampire?"
Kelly scuffed a foot along the ground and mumbled something. Nonplussed, Buffy stared at her. "What was that, Kelly?"
"No, I have not," she enunciated, sitting across from the older girl. "I'm sorry I prodded," she softened her voice. "Forget I asked."
If she'd meant to guilt Buffy into revelation, it wouldn't work. "Forgotten," Buffy said promptly, taking the out as it was offered. "You want something to drink?"
Kelly bit back a sigh and followed Buffy into the kitchen. "I'd love something."
Later, when Kelly had gone home and Buffy was left with a silent house and a sleeping Dawn, she had too much time to think. Too much time to wonder.
She'd came a long way, if she said so herself. Xander, Willow, and Kennedy had came for a visit, and apparently she'd been normal enough. They had, after all, went back to L.A. without much complaint or insistence that she come back.
Maybe they just didn't care.
But she was settling into her life, such as it was, and Kelly's arrival and random comments staved off the boredom.
Buffy couldn't decide whether that was a bad thing or a good thing. For now, however, it had her stirred up, thinking about Spike. She curled up under a thin sheet on her bed, the whirling fan a concession to the Midwest humidity that plagued them all, and closed her eyes.
It was easy, too damned easy even after three months, even after 97 days and four hours, to call up his touch. Things had been… so bad for them, so strange and dark and bad in the beginning, but even in the moments where they were bound together like animals and little more, she'd known.
She'd known it was unique from the first moment. That night in the demolished house had nearly destroyed her, as well, in more ways than one.
Knocking down some walls was easy. Knocking down your own was hard.
Thinking of him, of him moving inside her and her response, Buffy guided her hand down to brush at her body, to move down her thighs. Had it been so long ago that she'd felt this desperate need to feel something?
Finding no solace in the route she was taking, she curled her fingers into the sheets and cried herself to sleep for the first time in a week and a half.
Maybe next time I'll make it a little longer, she thought just before slipping into dreams.
~~~
"What if I told you I didn't want you to do this?" Laramie swept back his hair, pacing in the Bryce foyer. "That I didn't want to tell you what you had to do?"
Spike glanced at the looking glass in the vanity across from him and found himself momentarily transfixed. It was a hard thing to get used to, a reflection. Hard to get used to being without, and hard to get used to having. When did life get so bloody weird?
"I'd make you tell me," he told his only friend wearily. "I'd kill you if I had to, Ramie. For her, I would even do that."
"I know you would." It didn't bother him at all. He was bothered more by the attachment he had formed and the doubts that came along with it. Could he let this man do what had to be done? Could he stick to the conviction that had prompted him to help in the first place?
"For fuck's sake," Spike burst out, "Just tell me what I have to do, will you?" He'd considered just going out and getting himself vamped and then waiting for Buffy to be born, waiting for her to come around. But it wouldn't work. The realities were too different, it was too chancy. He would not take risks when it came to her. Not now.
"How important is your soul, William?" Ramie used his given name intentionally, knowing what sort of reaction it elicited, and knowing just what part of the man he would reach. "How much is it worth to you?"
Spike was stricken uncharacteristically speechless. Was it to come down to this, after all? Getting vamped and taking his chances? "It's worth a lot to me," he said quietly. "But it's not as worth as much as her." He'd only regained it for her, anyway. He'd lived quite merrily for many years without it, until she came along.
"All right, then." Ramie's shoulders sagged visibly and previously unseen lines carved themselves into his mouth and around his eyes. "No more waiting, mon ami. Before we go, I have something to give you." With no explanation, he handed Spike a letter sealed with thick, blood red wax. "Open it some other time. For now, let us go." Torn between excitement and fear, William took one last, longing look at his home.