"For the unrepentant unabsolved dies,
Nor can a soul repent and will the sin
At once; in this a contradiction lies." – Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy "Inferno"
When he fell onto the floor, he didn't bother to lift his head or open his eyes. What was the point? He was doomed either way. Then the last shreds of pride prodded him to stand up and face his sentence. He might not have been a man but he wasn't going to crawl or beg. No way was he meeting his damnation face down like a cringing coward. He rose and saw Xork staring at him from behind the desk. "Welcome back, Mr. Speck. Although I'm afraid it's not much of a welcome, given the circumstances."
"Well, look who decided to return from Disneyland!" Spike sneered. Why should he give a toss about this Frodo reject now? If he was damned, he might as well forget about courtesy—not that he'd ever had much to spare for the furry little runt. "Did you fill up on those sticky fruits of yours and grown an extra paunch? Hump some other little rodent like yourself? Maybe you actually made a friend and he got one of those cheap T-shirts that says 'I'm with Stupid.' " He sniggered and then laughed out loud.
Xork appeared indifferent to both Spike's bitter humor and his contempt. "Mr. Speck, I thought you'd be interested in learning what your final fate is going to be. I can always let it be a surprise. You look like the sort of person who'd appreciate surprises." He picked absently at one of his teeth and peered at the bit of foodstuff he'd managed to pry from his incisors.
Seeing that the creature wasn't rising to the bait, Spike muttered sullenly, "You already told me, remember? I get to be the whipping boy for a lot of randy demons."
"Whipping boy? Is that what they called it in your world?" Xork replied after wiping the unidentified bit of food on his fur.
"Ha bloody ha. So what's my punishment then? Let's get it over with."
Xork didn't speak for a moment. He scratched at his feet, wriggling his toes as he dug between them. Spike recalled Ragu's words about the foot fungus and smirked. He hoped the little bugger clawed his feet off. Then Xork looked up and smiled, exposing every single one of his miniature teeth, and Spike felt his stomach drop to his toes.
"You're still going to be damned for eternity. Make no mistake about that. But the folks upstairs have decided on something a little more—refined than mere physical torment."
Spike scowled. The little bugger wasn't going to tell him what would happen and he could get stuffed if he thought Spike was going to beg for the answer. He flipped Xork the bird. "I hope all your hair falls out, you lousy, smelly, ugly little turd." He turned around and dropped his pants, mooning the little bugger.
If the insult meant anything to Xork, he didn't give any indication. He merely leaned forward and sang out, "Goodbye, Mr. Speck…and go to hell." Just then the vortex appeared, snatching Spike up, dropped trousers and all. Watching the vampire fumble for his pants as he was transported away, Xork leaned back into his chair, reaching into his drawer and pulling out the special salve he'd acquired on his sabbatical. Sighing happily as he rubbed it into his scalp, he glanced at the empty space where Spike had been and grinned. "I never get tired of saying that."
When eternity stopped whirling around him, Spike found himself in a large, brightly-lit space. The piercing light was disorienting after the darkness but he wasn't going to let that phase him. The vampire crouched, prepared to take on the first git who charged him. There might be demons here ready to pound his arse but he wasn't about to be taken without a fight. He was ready to take on each and every single one of these blokes in this…shopping mall?
He squinted, his eyes darting everywhere for threats, as people rushed past the store windows. By the looks of things, he was in one of the busier shopping centers. He couldn't tell which city he was in, though. These places all looked alike.
"Dawn? What do you think of this one?" He'd know that voice anywhere and he froze. He slowly turned and saw a blonde vision.
Buffy was standing near a rack of short blouses, holding one up to her body for her sister's inspection. There were the shadowed depths he'd seen in her eyes in the last few years on the Hellmouth. This was the real Buffy not some substitute or the teenaged girl she'd been. He stepped closer, wondering why she didn't notice him or say anything about his sudden appearance.
Dawn skipped around the corner and he blinked in surprise. The Bit's hair was shorter and tinted with red streaks. She was wearing a short blue blouse and jeans so tight it was a wonder she could walk in them. "Hell, Buffy. What are you thinking, lettin' the brat out of the house looking like that?" Spike said to Buffy. The Slayer still didn't look towards him and he frowned at her continuing lack of attention.
He walked up to her, ready to put a hand on her shoulder, when he was stopped short as he slammed into an invisible barrier. "Ow! What the bleedin'—?" He ran his hand over it in an attempt to get a clue as to what had stopped him from touching her. It didn't feel solid and yet it wouldn't yield to his touch. He ran against it, pounded against it but it didn't budged in the slightest. "Oy, Slayer! What's going on?"
Buffy didn't look at him and Dawn ignored him as well as they discussed the various merits and demerits of the blouse. He waved his hands and yelled frantically, "Dawn! DAWN! I'm over here!" He tried approaching Dawn but he couldn't get close to her either as she leaned next to her sister.
"I don't know. You're a little old for pink, aren't you, Buffy?" Dawn said critically.
"What do you mean, old?" Buffy retorted. "I'm only 23!" Twenty-three? Spike considered. She'd been 21 on that jinxed birthday when they'd all been locked in the house by that demon bint Halfrek. They hadn't even celebrated it during Sunnyhell's final year given that they'd been fighting for their lives and things like birthday celebrations hadn't exactly been a priority. That meant that over a year had passed for Buffy and the others.
He pushed aside his speculations to concentrate on the conversation. "Like I said. Old. Pink is for kids and teens," Dawn replied, her voice sounding insufferably smug.
"Oh, really? 'Cause I don't see too many kids these days wearing pink." Buffy's eyebrow lifted as she pointedly eyed Dawn's outfit.
"Pink is so not my color. What am I, six? Don't answer that," she warned when her older sister's mouth opened.
"Come on, big guy. You need more color in your wardrobe and you know it," said a girl's voice. At least she sounded like a girl. That southern accent tended to infantilize a lot of women. That was Buffy's idle thought, anyway. Then she heard a familiar low tenor voice answer the woman.
"I don't know, Fred. I've been going with black for so long. It's hard to tell what looks good on me." Buffy felt her heart stop and then begin racing in her chest. She peeked over the rack and saw the man and the woman going through the men's clothing selection opposite her and her sister.
"Well, why don't we start with the basics? We'll get white, blue, green and maybe…brown?" She had tossed a few shirts into the muscular brunette's arms and held up the next one, hesitating when she saw him frown.
"No. Brown is too much like dirt." He shifted under his load and Buffy could see he already held a small assortment in his arms.
Dawn had turned when she heard his voice and cried out, "Angel! Oh my god, I don't believe it!" Buffy hissed at her sister to come back. But Dawn ignored her to go running up to the older man standing with the startled brunette woman by his side.
"Dawn?" Angel said uncertainly. He reached out automatically to embrace her as she gave him a big hug. His eyes flew over her head and met Buffy's. The blonde woman smiled as bravely as she could and stepped out from behind the safety of circular clothing rack.
"Angel. Hi. You're looking…really good." He was, too, dressed as he was in an expensive suit and a shirt of dark wine. Well, he'd always looked good. It was just so unusual to see him in any other color than black. To see him in such a domestic activity as shopping was also of the weird and she found herself scanning the female with him.
"Angel? Who's this?" the skinny brunette woman asked. Her voice betrayed no jealousy, only avid curiosity, as she eyed the tall, longhaired girl and her blonde sister.
Angel stepped back from the clinging teenager and made the introductions. "This is Dawn. Dawn, this is Fred, one of my associates at Wolfram & Hart."
"Oh yeah. That evil lawyer company you took over and made the new home of A.I. Buffy told me. Hi, pleased to meet you," she said. Fred reached out and began shaking her hand. "This is my older sister, Buffy. In case you didn't know," she added.
Buffy wanted to smack Dawn. Couldn't she see that she didn't want to talk or meet with Angel now? But what was wrong with meeting him now? It had been over a year since Sunnydale fell and after months of awkward talks between Cleveland (home of another Hellmouth) and Los Angeles, Angel and Buffy had regained something of their old ease in conversation. There was always underlying tension but Buffy had felt herself safely separated by almost 2,000 miles so tension she could handle. Seeing Angel in person was something else.
Fred however made distance impossible. With all her irrepressible charm, she stepped forward and shook first Dawn's hand and then Buffy's. "Wow, so you're Buffy! I remember hearing Angel talk about you. Well, actually he kinda mentioned you once that year you came back from the dead and wasn't that a weird story. Then he took off to see you and I had Cordelia fill me in on the details and I gotta say the two of you made Romeo and Juliet seem happy and well adjusted by comparison. Not that I'm saying y'all are crazy or anything it's just you have got to have one of the most difficult relationships on record. I have to admit I was itching to meet you for the longest time and when Angel went to Sunnydale to help I thought 'Here's my chance to meet the great Buffy Summers' only he came back without you and I was disappointed again but now I finally get to meet you and your sister and this is so cool!"
Buffy and Dawn stared in stunned shock at this motormouthed brunette. Dawn was the first to recover. "God, I can't believe you said that all in one breath. She makes Willow sound like—"
"Sound like you, Angel," Buffy finished. Then she flushed and smiled feebly at her erstwhile lover.
Angel was silent for a moment. Then he smiled. And finally he laughed. Genuine laughter rolled from his lips and Fred joined him in high-pitched giggles.
Dawn was sure her mouth was dropping all the way to the floor. "Buffy, is this really Angel or was he replaced by a pod person?"
"I-I don't know, Dawn," Buffy said uncertainly. She'd talked to Angel a lot and laughed at his wry humor. But she'd rarely been able to raise more than a chuckle out of him. What was with the wild and crazy laughing?
"Are you sure that's my Grandsire, Buffy? Maybe it's a demon in disguise," Spike muttered. Then he scanned the poofster as he considered the possibility. Of course Angel was a demon! Xork had sent him to hell. Naturally, none of these people in it could be real. That couldn't be the Bit with her dyed hair and that couldn't be Buffy trading jokes with Angel…or looking into Angel's eyes…and watching his lips as they curved…
Spike was growling to himself as he saw Angel and Buffy's gazes lock and then turn away. She was falling for the colossal sap all over again, just as she had in the past. "You can't have her, you damned ponce! She's mine! Do you hear me? She's been mine all the time you've been playing the fucking hero in L.A. Stay away from her!"
But his words fell on deaf ears as Buffy and Angel began talking again. Fred and Dawn paired off to look through more clothes, their animated female chatter ignored by the warriors of light. "So…what brings you to Cleveland?" Buffy murmured.
Angel had come here to talk to Buffy. He had wonderful news for her. But now that the moment was actually at hand, he found himself almost terrified to begin. He cleared his throat and began cautiously. "Well, something's happened to me recently, something I hadn't thought about for a really long time. I wasn't sure how it would look in a letter and I couldn't tell you on the phone. It's just too impor—"
"Buffy! How do you think I'd look in this?" Dawn held up a skimpy fishnet top with a thin underlying layer to it.
"Cheap," Buffy replied succinctly, wrinkling her nose in disapproval.
"But it costs $60! How can that be cheap?" her sister demanded.
"Sixty dollars for that?" Angel said in disbelief. "You'd think for that kind of money there'd be more of it."
"You just don't understand women's fashions," Dawn grumbled as she saw her sister's stubborn expression and put the offending garment back on the rack.
"I don't think I understand it either," Fred offered. "I mean, I know I was in a cave for five years but since when did the oldest profession become the latest fashion?"
"That's been an ongoing thing for years now," Angel said in his dry fashion. "I just don't see why it's so expensive to look so cheap." He smiled as Dawn stuck her tongue out at him.
"I don't recall your having any complaints when I dressed in short skirts," Buffy murmured. She was startled and delighted to see Angel blush. Then she blinked.
Angel was blushing? But, wait, vampires didn't blush not with all the lackage of blood circulation. And what was he doing shopping in the daylight anyway? This mall had underground parking but you couldn't get into any of the stores through it. No, you had to walk through the courtyard…with the sunlight beaming through the well-lit windows.
"Angel?" she whispered. There was a question in her voice, one she didn't dare ask him.
As always she seemed to pack a wealth of emotions into just his name. But he could hear wonder, uncertainty and demand in it. He caught her hand and brought it up to his cheek. "Buffy, this is what I wanted to tell you."
There was warmth underneath her trembling fingertips and she ran them over his lips to feel his breath tickling at them. Angel had often breathed in human company. He did it to make humans feel at ease not because it was a necessity for him. It was never something he did with her once she'd learned his secret. Now she could feel the puffs of heated air brushing against the skin of her palms and the delicate hairs on her wrists and arms lifted as she shivered. In spite of his heat, it was as if goose pimples were racing across her body.
"That's enough! Hands off, you ponce!" It was useless. They couldn't hear nor see him. Besides, Angel wasn't touching her. Buffy was the one with her hands all over him. How could the bitch do this when she'd pledged her love to him? Where was her damned loyalty?
"Buffy? Are you okay?" Angel was worried. Buffy's hazel eyes had lost focus and she seemed to have trouble breathing. She hadn't said anything since she'd touched him and her silence was beginning to unnerve him.
"I-I don't know what to say. H-how are you…how did this happen?" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"It was written about in a prophecy I found," he responded in a voice equally low. "It said the vampire with a soul would eventually achieve humanity. It was to be my reward for all my good deeds." She was still touching him and her nearness was scattering his thoughts, making it difficult for him to concentrate.
"Your good deeds? What about my good deeds, you wanker? Did you give up your existence to save the world? Did you get tortured by hellgods in high heels and ugly Cro-Magnon vampires? No, you sat comfy in Los Angeles and let Buffy and me take all the risks. And now you're the one getting a reward while I get this hell?!" Spike roared.
He charged at Angel, determined to put his hands around the wanker's neck and squeeze—only to rebound off a barrier like the one that surrounded Buffy. This time he was repelled hard enough to fly through the air and fall onto his arse. He lay there, furious, looking up as Buffy and Angel continued their conversation.
"And that's what you came here to tell me?" Buffy asked. Her voice was musing, almost absentminded, as she ran her hand in teasing, featherlight caresses over his throat, where the vein lay pulsing, down over his chest to rest over the beating heart.
"Yes. I—well, you see it's not the kind of news you give over the phone." His heart was pounding faster, both from her touch and her nearness, and he wondered why it didn't fly out of his chest.
"Uh huh. Getting that." She lifted her eyes to his. "So that's it? You gain humanity and think I'll come flying back into your arms again?"
Hurt filled the dark chocolate eyes as Spike crowed at Buffy's imminent rejection. "That's right, you berk! Think you can just come waltzing back into her life after you tore her heart out and left it bleeding on the ground? There's only one love's bitch in this tight circle and it ain't Buffy. You tell 'im, luv!"
"No, that's not it, Buffy. It's just…" He stepped away from her, the hurt in his eyes deepening to a kind of grief. "When I first learned about this prophecy six years ago—"
"You've known for six years that you might be human and you're only telling me now?!" Buffy's voice rose to a shout and Dawn and Fred stopped what they were doing to crowd closer.
"Angel's going to be human? What am I missing?" Dawn demanded as her eyes darted between the gorgeous man looking so wounded and her furious older sister.
"Was being the operative word, Dawn. Seems Angel joined the ranks of the living and came to Cleveland to tell me the news."
"Really?" Dawn walked to Angel and touched him again on his hand. Her eyes widened as she registered the warmth of his touch. "You're human? Oh my god! How did that happen?"
"Ancient prophecies, blah blah blippity blah. You know the drill, Dawn," Buffy bit out, never taking her eyes off Angel.
"Buffy, please listen," Angel begged her.
"Oh, she's brassed off at you and no mistake, mate. Go on, Slayer. You give him what for. If this is hell, this may not be so bad after all," Spike urged.
"Talk away, Angel. It's about six years too late but better late than never," Buffy snapped.
"I couldn't tell you because the prophecy was vague and unclear," Angel began.
"That's right," Fred chimed in. "He didn't know when it might happen. The prophecies said there'd be plagues, days of darkness, apocalypses galore before the vampire with a soul got his humanity. He thought that it might not happen until after you were dead and he didn't want to get your hopes up if that was the case. He always wanted you to live a normal life which I thought was darn silly given what Cordelia told me about a Slayer's life. I figured 'Hey, she might die young which seems to be par for the course in which case you should definitely go for it.' But you know how stubborn Angel can be."
"Fred, you're not helping," Angel said, glaring at the talkative brunette.
"Oh, no. She just about sums it all up, Angel. So now that you're human and I'm still alive you've come to get the other part of your prize, is that it?" Buffy crossed her arms and waited for Angel's answer.
The vampire looked down from her face and sighed. It was interesting to watch that manly chest rise and fall as she'd never seen it do before. But Buffy quickly brought her eyes back to his when he lifted his head again. "Buffy, I hesitated to tell you for the very reason you're pointing out. I thought 'What if she doesn't want me? What if she thinks I'm being pushy thinking I can have her just because I happen to be human again?' Then I thought that I wanted you to know about this before you died—again."
He stepped closer, yearning to touch her but wary of the anger snapping in her hazel eyes. He whispered, "I just wanted you to know and, like I said, this isn't the sort of news you give out by email."
"No. No, I guess it isn't." She still hadn't moved and the grief in Angel's eyes turned into a dull sadness.
"Fred, maybe we should just go." He turned away from her, anguish evident in every line of his body, and Dawn glared at her older sister.
"Buffy, what's the matter with you? Are you upset at Angel for coming to tell you he's human? Okay, I know you're royally pissed he sat on this prophecy dealie for six years. But I get why he didn't come clean. Besides, you weren't exactly honest about my being a Key."
"And I remember how upset you were when you found out. Screaming Mimi Dawn strikes again," Buffy said wryly.
"Well, I was younger and you should have told me!" She looked up to see that Fred had joined Angel and was tugging ineffectually at him to return as the former vampire slowly walked away through the mall. "Anyway, is this the time for our personal drama? Your boyfriend's getting away—again."
"He's not my…" Buffy looked up to see that Dawn was right. Angel was almost at the end of the mall. He was really taking an awfully long time to leave the premises and she realized that the brunette keeping a death grip on his arm had something to do with that. Judging by the way she was gesticulating, she was obviously having as intense a conversation with Angel as Dawn was with her.
Suddenly Buffy was walking faster and faster as she tried to hurry up with the man who had held her heart for over three years. "Angel! Angel, wait!"
The man turned and this time his face held all the utter lack of expression that she remembered from Sunnydale. Had he really been that much blanky Angel or had he adopted that look to keep from showing his pain over her? She wondered if she had hurt Angel as much as he'd hurt her and all at once she hated to see that look on his face.
At the first sign that she was running off after him, Spike had wheeled away in disgust, ready to cut out on yet another round of Buffy and Angel thrashing out their personal issues. But he found he couldn't take a step away from Buffy. Instead, he was helplessly dragged along in her wake as she ran after that stupid git. Then he banged into that invisible barrier again when she stopped. What the hell was going on?
While he tried to figure out the mystery, Buffy came to a halt in front of the oversized wanker. "Buffy." Angel didn't say anything else. He only stood there. And waited.
"Angel," she panted. She was staring at him and then a tremulous smile came over her face. "You could at least say you're happy to see me."
He smiled mischievously and murmured, "I don't know. Are you cookies yet?"
Her smile was just as teasing. "Pretty much. Wanna taste?" She giggled. She couldn't believe she was being so flirtatious with Angel—and in a public place, too.
But Angel wasn't one to back down from a challenge. He scooped up her petite form in his arms and crushed her close as he kissed her thoroughly. Buffy felt the blood mount to her head and the all too familiar ache between her legs as the kiss went on and on, grew deeper and more prolonged. Angel was bending her backward until she stood a good chance of falling on her ass if he released her suddenly. But she was past caring about a little bump on the buttocks at this point.
Spike was beside himself with impotent rage. He hurled himself at the barrier, caroming off it and yelling at Buffy, Angel, at the powers that had cursed him like this. Attempts to run away met with the same failure as before. He ran around them in a circle in a desperate go to evade the horrific sight before him—but to no avail.
"You bastards! You fucking wankers! You couldn't put me in a dimension with fire and brimstone?! I have to spend eternity watching this?" He sagged to the floor, watching the two of them hatefully as they parted, Buffy with a brilliant shine in her eyes, her breasts heaving with the effort of catching her breath.
"Wow. I guess that qualifies as glad to see me."
"You'd be right." He glanced around sheepishly as Fred and Dawn applauded. "I guess we made a bit of a spectacle of ourselves."
"You could say that again." She still hadn't stepped out of the circle of his embrace and made small circles on the front of his shirt. "So where do we go from here?"
"Um, I guess we should find someplace to eat. We need to talk."
She nodded uncertainly. "Talk. Yeah, we should do that. The talky thing. Because we have a lot of things…to discuss." Remembering her younger sister, she added, "We'll have to put it off for another day, though. I didn't exactly come here alone."
Dawn interrupted at this point. "Don't worry about me, Buffy. Me and Fred can ride back to my house. We'll see you later!" Dawn waved her hand in farewell and ran off with the giggling brunette.
"Oy, Slayer, you just gonna let your sister run off with some bint you just met in a mall? I don't care if she did come with the poofster; you used to have better parental skills than that. Bloody careless of you, if you ask me," Spike muttered with a scowl. With Dawn around, there had at least been a chance that Buffy would behave herself or take things slower with Angel…although that public show the two of them had put on just now didn't leave him with any great hopes of that.
Buffy stared after her fleeing sister. "Wait a minute! When did you arrange that?" There was no answer as the other women sped away from the baffled blond and her equally bemused beau. She looked back at Angel. "Boy, she's a fast mover. You get the feeling we've been set up?"
Angel was startled at the notion. "Maybe. Fred knew I was coming here to meet you. But I was also dragging my feet. On the flight over here, I kept on having second thoughts—and third and fourth ones. Then she became insistent on buying me a whole new wardrobe. She said new clothes might give me confidence. Only she was particularly bent on taking me to this mall and I don't know why."
"And Dawn kept telling me she needed a new top because she was tired of borrowing my things which was news to me. She said we had to go today and this is my favorite mall to shop, so…" She trailed off and directed a narrow glance at where her sister had gone.
"So, I think we were set up," Angel concluded.
"Oh, aren't you the swift one, Angel?" Spike scoffed. "If this is the way you run that damned firm of yours, I'm surprised you get any cases solved. I could tell the moment I saw Bit and that twig together they were cooking up something. Guess being made human really slowed you up, didn't it?"
Unheeding of his snarky comments, Angel and Buffy held hands and walked through the mall, searching for the food court. Angel ordered a chilidog with all the fixings while Buffy contented herself with a salad and a shake. She eyed the dripping concoction Angel shoveled into his mouth. "Angel, slow down. You're going to choke to death…or give yourself a coronary. Do you have any ideas how many calories of fat are in those?"
"Lighten up, Buffy. Life is too short to restrict yourself." He winked at her surprise and took another hearty bite. He moaned in sheer delight as he chewed. "God, I love food. I've been spending the last three months sampling foodstuffs. Yesterday, I had a hamburger with jalapenos…"
"You've been human for three months? Why did you wait to tell me sooner?" Buffy interrupted, shock and hurt evident in her tone.
He stopped chewing and hastily swallowed. "Buffy, I told you. I kept wondering how you'd feel. I couldn't just rush to you and present my humanity as if it were some sort of gift…"
"Okay, Angel, I get it. Actually, I'm surprised it was only three months. I'm wondering why you didn't wait longer." She shifted on the hard seat and picked morosely at her salad.
"I would have." Sensing her anger, he added, "Three months seemed too short a period of adjustment for me. But I wouldn't talk about you and Cordelia realized that it was avoidance and she kept nagging at me. You know how she is." He finished with a smiling shrug and she smiled in return.
"Yeah. I still remember how she kept pestering me to go that frat boy party with her. One of the worst mistakes in my life."
Angel thought back. "That the one where they were going to feed you to that giant snake demon. What was his name? Machida?"
"That's the one. Not that I needed much persuading. I was really feeling the pressure from Mom to be Normal Girl and Giles to be Slayer Gal and you weren't biting—I don't mean in a literal way, I just mean you were being Distancy Angel—so I figured why not? It'd be nice to cut loose and be with guys who wanted me for being, well, me. Turns out that was exactly what they were looking for only not in a nice way." She grimaced and munched angrily on her lettuce and tomato as if the memory still pissed her off after all these years.
"You were going to get sacrificed to a snake god? What is it with you and giant snakes, Buffy?" Spike asked. "And where was I when this was going down?"
Angel reached across the table and lightly stroked the hand lying on it. Spike growled at the display and his growls got louder as Buffy's fingers curled around Angel's. "I'm sorry you were feeling neglected. I wasn't sure what I was feeling and I didn't want to hold you back from enjoying human life with human people."
"So, if you were still a vampire, you'd keep away because life with me would be so impossible?" She leaned back, frowning a little as she considered the question.
"Nooo, not necessarily," he ventured. "I get along a lot better with humans now than I did back then. It was just you were still cookie dough…"
"Right. All that baking I needed to do," Buffy replied.
Spike stared at the two of them. What in hell were they talking about? Was this some sort of simpering lovers' talk he just didn't get? When had they discussed Buffy as pastry, anyways? "Have the two of you gone completely nutters? How much longer do I have to listen to this crap? Buffy, tell this git to push off!"
Getting rid of Angel appeared to be the last thing on Buffy's mind. She and the walking billboard sign continued talking, hogging the table, remaining deep in conversation. Angel's chair inched imperceptibly closer to Buffy's until they were touching and his hands clasped hers and didn't let go.
Spike found his inability to touch Angel or Buffy was only limited to them. People kept on passing through him, their movements unwelcome distractions from the emotional drama unfolding before him. He didn't want to watch Buffy with Angel. But he had no choice. Eventually getting tired of having people drift through his person as if he wasn't there, he moved to the side and gingerly sat on a chair that had been left out. He didn't pass through it and he sighed in relief.
Buffy and Angel continued to talk about nothing in particular and everything that had meaning to them. Angel told her about the latest information on his teenaged son, a subject that had Spike taking particular interest. He was sure that Buffy would be pretty brassed off about hearing that. But the Slayer took it in her stride. The story about this mystical child, whoever he was, seemed old news to her. Shit, where was the bird's pride?
Then she mentioned Spike and the vampire leaned forward, greedy eyes trained on Angel. Let's see what nancy boy had to say about his little sessions with Buffy. He doubted Angel would be so forgiving.
"I didn't love him, you know that, right?" she asked, watching Angel anxiously.
"I know. You told me on the phone…lots of times."
Spike gaped at Buffy, pain filling his blue eyes. "You told him that? How could you? That's a flamin' lie and you know it! You said you loved me at the end. I was there!"
The former souled vampire stared deeply into Buffy's eyes, trying to plumb her emotions. She had never before told him exactly what had transpired between her and Spike in the last few moments of Sunnydale's collapse. Angel didn't speak. He only sat silently and waited for her to continue.
Angel was always reticent on the topic of Spike. She hadn't been sure whether he was disgusted with Spike or her when he withdrew. It was only by voicing her fears and getting plenty of reassurances from him that she became convinced that he never blamed her.
She took a deep breath and continued, her voice bemused as she put her feelings into words. "The funny thing was, he knew it. He said I didn't love him even though I told him I did. You know, I think he was right. I didn't love him. I thought I did. After spending so much time with him and feeling so guilty for what I did to him and what he went through…"
"What you did to him, Buffy?" Angel frowned. Buffy had finally given him some of the sordid details of her sexual bouts with Spike. It had taken months for her to trust him with that much and he'd never pushed her. Still he thought it was a good thing his Grandchilde was dead. There was no telling what he'd have done if he could have gotten hold of Spike.
"Yes, Angel. I told you how bad things were for me back then. I-I used him. It was wrong and selfish. He never complained because it was close to what he wanted but that's what I did. Then, when I got tired of him, I dumped him. Pretty crappy behavior by anybody's standards. So when he came back, soul in hand, I felt sorry for him."
Spike growled at hearing that he'd been an object of pity. "There was more to us than that, Slayer, and you know it. What was that last night about when you slept in my arms, eh? Remember that?"
Buffy continued in a musing tone. "I tried to help him get back on his feet, redeem himself and when I saw him dying I wanted to tell him I was grateful, that I was sorry, that I didn't want him to die after everything he'd been through. But there wasn't time for that so I just coughed up 'I love you.' " She shrugged helplessly. "Do you understand?"
"I think so. He was dying and you wanted to give him something—and you thought that would be what he wanted to hear." He could only admire her for her desire to help a former enemy. There had been something like kindness between him and Darla in the brief hours she'd been human coupled with the strong desire to aid her when he'd learned she was dying. Who knows? If she had lived longer as a human, there might have been more between them—maybe even love.
Would he have had Connor by Darla had she stayed human? No, the syphilis killing her would have put her in the grave long before any child could have been born. Perhaps, then, there had been a grand plan in ridding her of her humanity. He remembered her sacrifice so their child could be brought into the world and her desire that he tell Connor how he was the only good thing they'd ever done together. But he'd never been able to tell the hostile teenager anything about his mother. There hadn't even been time to tell Darla goodbye.
Thinking of his Sire's final moments brought a sting of regret. At least Buffy would never know that sting and he envied the generosity of her heart that had allowed her to throw Spike that scrap of comfort.
Buffy appeared to think over his last words and then she sighed. "Yeah, I guess it was the excitement of battle. I didn't really love Spike—unless it was like how I love Xander or Willow."
The redhead's name brought a smile to Angel's face. "And how is Willow? She still practicing magic?"
"There's no practicing about it. She's definitely gone pro," Buffy quipped.
Angel quirked an eyebrow. "Does that mean she's charging for it?"
Buffy snorted and then giggled. She decided she liked the new Angel. Of course, she'd been sensing the changes in him all during the year when they'd kept in touch via email, snail mail and phone. In spite of a wealth of communication they never ran out of things to say to each other and he never stopped surprising her. She guessed that was one of the things she loved about him.
The thought drew her up short and had the effect of quelling her laughter. She loved Angel? Well, of course she did. She thought her old feelings for him were long gone. But that kiss they'd just shared had sent the flames shooting through her. It was as good—better even—than any they'd shared in Sunnydale. But without the previous kisses, she couldn't have known this one.
The color of her eyes flickered and changed like the color of waves at the sea when the weather shifted. Angel watched the emotions flitting across her face and wondered what she was thinking. "Buffy?" he murmured.
Her answer was quick as she snapped out of her introspection. "What?"
"What were you thinking? You were a million miles away."
"No, only 2,000." At his quizzical expression, she elaborated. "I was just thinking how the first and last kisses I ever had in Sunnydale I gave to the same man."
"That's not true, Slayer!" Spike protested hotly. "You and me spent that night together…" Then he paused. Buffy hadn't actually kissed him. She'd only lain in his arms and then drifted off to sleep. Still, it was more than Mr. Hair Gel got to share with her. Why should Buffy make such a big deal out of a couple of kisses?
Angel thought that over and a smile spread over his face. "Really?"
Buffy nodded. "Really and truly." She clasped his hand a little tighter. She'd been holding it all this time, reveling in its heat. She couldn't seem to stop stroking and touching him, caught up again and again in his newfound humanity. She studied his face as he licked the last of his meal from his lips and saw the dreamy enjoyment settle on his features again.
"Can I have some more then?" Angel whispered. Buffy proceeded to do just that.
They stayed there, talking in a distracted fashion about the future. Thanks to Willow's spell, Buffy was no longer the only Slayer in the world. There were four other girls holding down the fort on the Cleveland Hellmouth. But she'd created a kind of life there. She'd gone back to college and Dawn had returned to classes as well. In fact, her sister had been talking more and more about getting a dorm room. She'd move out and Buffy would be alone. The little blond wasn't sure how she felt about that.
"…I'll be like Mom when I left for college which makes sense 'cause everybody kept mistaking me for Dawn's mom when I brought her to school that first day which was so uncool," she rambled, grimacing at the memory.
"I can see why they'd think that," Angel replied.
She pouted, a dangerous glint in her eye. "Are you saying I look old? Or momish?"
"I'm saying you look like your mom. You remind me a little of Joyce: her eyes, her mannerisms, things like that."
A slight cloud settled on Buffy's face. "I miss her sometimes, Angel. Everything I had of her—photos, keepsakes, old recipe books, even her grave—is gone along with the rest of Sunnydale."
"I remember Joyce, Slayer. She was one stand-up lady. I miss her, too. 'Specially those cups of hot chocolate she'd make," Spike chimed in. He smiled as he recalled the older Summers woman. But his musings were ruined when Angel interrupted with his own observations.
"I know what that's like," he said softly. "Everything about my family's gone, too—and I'm the one who made them disappear."
There it was, the familiar Angel gloom and guilt. As Buffy reached to comfort him, Spike snorted in contempt. "Big boo hoo, poof. I killed what was left of my family. See me shedding tears over it? I had my big epiphany over my mum's death when that wanker Wood was smacking me around and I moved on. Why the hell you keep flattening Buffy with your 'poor little me' act? It's getting old!"
Buffy hated seeing Angel like this. Casting about in her mind for a means of cheering him up, she asked, "But your home's still there, right? Somewhere in Ireland?"
His eyebrows shot up. "After 250 years?"
"Not the house, of course. I mean, the general spot, village, town, whatever. Think we could visit it sometime?"
"We?" Angel asked.
"We?" Spike parroted, his voice shooting up an octave.
She stammered, "Well, yeah. We. I-if you want to be with me, I thought we could take trips together. Dawn and me still want to see the world. Now you're human, maybe you could come along since that pesky sun is no longer a burning issue for you." She smiled at her own joke.
Angel was stunned. See Ireland with Buffy? He could imagine taking her to see all the most beautiful spots of his world—it would be new to them both since he hadn't been there in awhile. He'd tried his hardest to bury his past for so long—both after he'd lost his soul and when he'd regained it. To visit Ireland again would be a wondrous trip for him and Buffy.
Buffy waved her hand in front of Angel. He'd been strangely silent after she'd proposed traveling together and she wondered if she'd jumped the gun a little. "Angel? Are you in there? We don't have to go to Ireland if you don't want. I hear Italy's lovely this time of year. Or Cancun? Fun in the sun, surf and turf."
A wide grin beamed from his face and he kissed her lightly to stop her chatter. "Ireland's fine, Buffy. I just didn't want to rush you into a plan as decisive as traveling together when we haven't even decided where we're going to live."
"Where we're going to live?" Buffy squeaked. "As in we?"
"Again with the we! Christ, Slayer, don't you think he's rushin' it a bit?" Spike groused.
Angel slumped, depression returning as he considered the difficulties. "You think it's too soon."
Buffy licked her lips nervously, pulled her hands from his and resumed picking at her salad. "Yes. No. I'm not sure." She lifted her eyes to his, searching for answers. "I've known and loved you for years and I had a zillion fantasies about the life we'd make together if you ever became human. And now it's happened after we've spent a year talking so it hardly feels rushed. But we live almost 2,000 miles apart. How would we manage? It'd still be complicated."
The depression in his dark eyes had vanished; his face had resumed its well-known blankness. "Too complicated?"
"No," she replied hurriedly. "I said complicated. Not impossible." She reached for his hand again. "Look at you. One moment vamp, the next among the living. Proof positive that anything's possible."
He smiled again. Smiling did such nifty things to Angel's face. She could learn to love them: the way they made his eyes light up and his teeth gleam. "So we could find a way—" he ventured.
"We could commute," she responded.
"Take our trips during your summer vacation."
"Or spring break," she amended.
"The others could handle my cases."
"Those girls could take turns on Hellmouth duty."
Spike couldn't stand it. He'd gotten up and begun pacing within his invisible circular prison, talking wildly to drown out their voices—anything to distract him from the sickening display taking place only a few feet away. This was disgusting! When were they going to quit?
When a voice came over the PA system warning that the mall was about to close, the lovebirds started and looked at the windows. Evening had fallen and the stars were just beginning to come out. They had been there for hours without realizing it. Paying for their food, Buffy and Angel left the mall, hand in hand.
Spike slumped sullenly in the back of Angel's car. Angel tended to keep quiet while he drove, mindful of traffic around him and any potential damage to his precious wheels. Now he couldn't help trading glances and conversation with the animated blond beside him.
Buffy hadn't been this happy in a long time. She'd thought she had regained a measure of peace after leaving Sunnydale for good. But the joy she was experiencing now made the last year pale by comparison. So caught up was she in chatting with angel, staring at his face of touching his hand at every stoplight that it didn't register when the car stopped.
"Buffy?"
"Hmmm?" She blinked as she caught his amused stare.
"This is your house, isn't it?"
"Oh. Yeah. This is it. This is me," she babbled. "I-I should be going. I'll see you soon, okay?" But somehow she couldn't bring herself to move. When his face inched towards hers, she didn't draw back.
Spike cringed as the tentative kiss turned passionate, their hands clutching and groping at each other. It wasn't until Buffy was reclining on the seat, her skirt riding up her legs, that she recalled they weren't actually in a private place. "Angel, we should stop," she gasped as their lips parted.
"What? Yes, that would be…good." Actually, parts of his anatomy were protesting otherwise, the hardened bulge painfully constricted by his pants.
Buffy gulped as she felt his length digging into her thigh. In spite of common sense telling her that it was too soon and that they should wait, she blurted out, "I didn't mean stopping. I just meant stopping here. Kinda lacking in the privacy, Angel. Not to mention comfort," she added as she shifted on the seat.
He paused minutely. Then he opened both car doors and had her outside so quickly, she was stunned. She was pressed up against the side of the car while Angel kissed her fiercely almost before she was aware of his movement. Fleetingly she wondered if he still didn't possess vampire speed. Then his tongue pushed past her lips and she stopped caring about it.
"Then late one night,
toward the end of the summer,
he appeared in my room.
Perhaps that's why
I've always considered him
an angel: silent, innocent, pale
even in the dark.
He undressed
and pulled back the sheet,
slid next to me.
His fingers felt for my lips." – David Trinidad, "The Boy"
One way or another, they fumbled their way up the drive and into her house although she couldn't remember how she managed to get the key into the lock and kick the door shut. Buffy wanted to tell Angel to stop. Well, really, no she didn't and when one large knowing hand swept up her ribs to caress and then squeeze the diamond-tipped center of her breast, she mewled and arched into his palms.
Angel's hands were all over her, touching her just the way she liked to be touched. Familiarity and urgency lent an added frenzy to their movements and thoughts of caution were thrown to the winds.
"Are you daft, Slayer? A few hours talking with this berk and you're leaping into bed with him again? What if this ain't Angel? What if it's some demon in disguise? Call your sister! Call those bastards at that law firm! Use your damn head, Buffy, not what's between your legs!"
He looked away from the pair moving sensually together, powerless anger racing through his body. His eyes narrowed reflexively as the light was switched on and then he froze. He recognized this room—the lamp on the table, the heavy wooden furniture, the underwear being scattered on the floor. This was the room he'd seen in his dream while he lay in a grave built for two. "Oh no," he whispered in horror.
As the naked pair on the bed began to rock together, all too familiar phrases spilling from their lips, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and crouched as far from them as his unseen prison walls permitted. He understood the nature of his punishment now. He was doomed to spend his existence watching and listening as the woman he loved gave herself freely to his rival.
But it couldn't be forever, could it? Buffy was mortal and now Angel was, too. Sooner or later, both of them would die and then he'd be free of this torment. A spiteful voice whispered that the powers that handled such things weren't that stupid; they would have foreseen such an obvious loophole and found a way to circumvent it. The sounds from the bed grew fevered, high pitched and powerful, and he bit his lips until the blood ran down his chin.
As time marched on inexorably, Spike figured out the boundaries of his prison. He was confined to a narrow circular corridor that allowed him no closer to her than three feet and extended past her body by about ten. And so it was that he was forced along with Buffy as she traveled with the grand poof through all the tourist traps of Europe and beyond. In all that time, he couldn't find relief in sleeping, eating or drinking. He saw no other ghosts—if that's what he was—while he was with them. Save for the humans ignorant of his presence there was no contact of any kind.
There was not even the refuge of madness. His mind stayed irritatingly intact the entire time while he listened to the chatter of her friends as they teased her about her long nights with Angel, discussed the occasional apocalypse looming on the horizon and made plans for their respective futures. At first, he kept up a running commentary on everything he hated about them, making fun of their clothes, music choices, tastes in food, etc. But since they couldn't hear or see him, even that palled after awhile and, except for the sporadic remark, he began to lapse into a dismal silence.
He stood numbly as Buffy marched down the aisle with Angel after more than a year of shagging and traipsing around the world. He stared out the hospital windows as she delivered the first of what would turn out to be six children. Who knew the Slayer had such a maternal streak? And not one of the brats were named after him, an additional insult heaped atop all the others.
As the Slayer descended into old age along with her spouse, he'd thought his desire and love for her would lessen along with her beauty. But, no, no matter how many other women loomed into the picture, his yen for her remained as fierce and aching as when he'd first known he was in love with her. It was as if the undiminished love was also a part of his sentence.
When she lay dying at last, surrounded by her friends, children and grandchildren, he couldn't help the hope that here at last was a reprieve from his penalty. With Buffy's death he would at last know peace.
She slipped from this world, tears dropping from her husband's blurred eyes, and Spike actually saw her spirit leave her body. For a moment, he cherished the possibility that she might see him now when she hadn't been able to during her time with Angel. But the bright cloud that lifted from her body appeared to remain insensible to him.
He was pulled into the vortex again and this time he was not alone. Together with the luminous spirit that was Buffy Summers, he was hurtled to his unknown destination.
Where was this place? There was a woman in the throes of labor lying on a cheap mattress while another woman was exhorting her to push. The pregnant woman was screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs while trying to bring her new life into this world. Spike watched in shock as the midwife gently pulled a squalling bundle from between her mother's legs. "There you are, Amelia. It's a beautiful baby girl."
The exhausted woman on the bed lay back, sweat pouring from her body to soak the sheets. "A girl. Thank god. I couldn't stand it if it'd been a boy. Probably grow up to be exactly like his stinking loser of a dad." She lifted her head with difficulty. "Can I hold her now?"
The woman briskly cleaning off the infant nodded. "Sure." She placed her in her mother's arms and smiled on the sight as the mother brought the baby to her nipple. "Any thoughts on what you're going to name her?"
The woman rolled her eyes. "Man, right now I'm so tired my eyeballs hurt. I'm too pooped to hold a complicated thought like naming a baby." She paused a moment, her face softening while she looked at the red-faced little girl. "She's a strong one, you know? Whenever I stroked my stomach too hard, she kept kicking back like she wanted a fight. Guess I should give her a fighting name, huh?"
"Like what? Xena?"
The woman on the bed chuckled a little and then winced as if even the effort of laughing was painful. "Cute. I was thinking more like Eliza. It was my mother's name. She'd have liked the baby to have some part of her. God knows, she's not getting anything from the father." She talked to the infant as if trying to teach her a lesson. "Honey, never give your love to the first idiot who comes down the pike. Save yourself for somebody who's gonna treat you right. And if he gives you problems, kick him in his damned nuts."
"Amelia!" The midwife pretended to be shocked but she laughed heartily, approving of her patient's tough attitude. This woman was going to be okay and she'd see to it that her daughter was, too.
Curious in spite of himself, Spike drifted over to the baby and peered into its face. As if feeling his scrutiny, the baby opened her eyes and seemed to stare right into his. The former vampire gazed straight into the startling hazel orbs and realized the true quality of his damnation.
"Oh, shit! You bloody lousy rotten ponces!" Futile curses sprang from his lips as he ran and slammed into the barrier—the one pinning him to the new life cradled in her mother's arms. He rammed his fists repeatedly into the obstruction until he lost the will to continue. Then the vampire slumped to the floor, hung his head and wept like a child.
"The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung." – Sir Walter Scott, "Lay of the Last Minstrel"
Finis
"This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force." – Dorothy Parker
"Spike Multiplied" Spike Denied, ch. 7 of7
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