Escape
Chapter Nine: The Morning After

Angel hadn't moved for what Buffy estimated was about a minute. She was staring at his back, noting abstractly that he hadn't removed his jacket since he got back.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she asked after a long silence.

He didn't move for a moment, then slowly turned, the leather of his jacket creaking and his shoes squeaking.

"What am I supposed to say to that?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Buffy cried in frustration. "Tell me you're pleased he's back. Or that you wish he'd stayed dead. Or even forbid me to ever see him! Something!"

"Well, Buffy, I'm a little stunned. It's not every day someone comes back from the dead," he answered, folding his arms. "Especially someone like Spike."

"He died a hero, Angel," Buffy said softly.

Angel snorted and turned his back on her again.

"No, don't turn your back on me, Angel," she said, taking his arm and turning him back. "We need to talk about this."

"Why?" he asked. "You said it wouldn't affect us."

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to him."

"How about 'I love you'?" Angel asked sarcastically.

Buffy blinked, flashing back quickly to the argument they had just after she arrived, an argument that ended in their first disastrous kiss.

"Is that why you're being like this?" she asked softly. "You think I'm gonna get with Spike? You and I are trying to make a go of us, Angel. I wouldn't do that to you."

You couldn't force that kind of sincerity, he realised and he came toward her. He pulled her into a hug and she gripped the folds of his jacket tightly and inhaled his scent. He kissed her hair gently and sighed.

"You should go and see him," he said in a low voice.

"You don't want me too, do you?" she asked.

"I never said Spike was my favourite person. But I understand you two have been through a lot and now he's back, you need to see him. I might not like it, but I can't stop you."

"No, I guess not."

"And he did save the world after all," he replied, attempting a smile.

She grinned at him and threw her arms around his neck.

And while Buffy hugged him, Angel frowned.

Spike had got up at the crack of dawn, pacing and trying to watch TV. Since Wesley had told him the night before that Buffy was back from Cleveland and would see him in the morning, Spike hadn't been able to keep still. He took a sip of his blood and spat it out. He wiped the now cold blood from his lips and pushed the mug away.

He glanced down at his shirt. Fred had somehow managed to find him an entire wardrobe and he was currently wearing a blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, according to Fred. That was why he was wearing it, to create the right impression. But now he wondered whether he ought to just tug on a black t-shirt and stick a cigarette in his mouth. That would be at least be something she'd recognise.

He jumped when he heard the soft knock on the door and he bolted from his chair, stumbling in his haste to reach the door. He came to an abrupt halt and glanced again at his shirt, smoothed his hair, smiled and opened the door.

He'd had a plan. He'd had it all figured out. He wasn't going to get heavy with her, just a gentle hug, invite her in. He'd even got Fred to get him some coffee so he had something to offer her.

But now she was there, standing in front of him, staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief, he found he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but stand there feeling awkward. He moved slightly to hug her, but noticed her arms were poker straight, pinned to her sides. It would be ridiculous to hug her when she stood like that, so he stopped his movement halfway.

Buffy gulped when she saw him, standing in the doorway in an unfamiliar blue shirt. She saw him move to hug her then stop and fall back into his original position. She toyed with the idea of giving him a quick, friendly hug, but realised she had been standing there for too long. The moment had passed and she was left feeling silly and awkward.

"Hi, Buffy," he said finally, smiling a little hesitantly.

"Hey, Spike," she replied, finding herself suddenly able to break into a warm, genuine smile.

It was really true. He was back. He was alive. She felt affection and feeling she felt for him just before he died fill her chest and warm her through. For some reason, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face.

"Come in," he offered, stepping to one side to allow her entry.

She entered slowly, casting her eyes around the small apartment. It was decorated in black and white, with varying shades of grey. She almost smiled at the irony.

He led her into the kitchen and she raised an eyebrow at the blood spattered across the table.

"Fighting already, Spike?" she asked.

He shrugged, chuckling self-conciously.

"That sounds cooler than me spitting it out 'cause it was cold," he replied.

She laughed and he frowned, trying to remember the last time he made her laugh and found he couldn't. She pulled out a chair, glanced at him and he nodded.

"Coffee?" he asked, opening the cupboard and pulling out the coffee and a mug.

"No, thanks. I had something at the hotel."

"Oh," he paused, putting the mug and coffee away. Angel's hotel? he thought, remembering Fred saying something about Angel putting them up. He turned back to her. "So, Angel cooked you something?"

"No," Buffy shook her head, feeling discomfort prick at the base of her neck, making that warm, good feeling churn. "Willow did. They've got a huge kitchen and Willow was feeling homemakery."

"How is she?" he asked, taking a seat opposite her.

"Fine," Buffy answered.

"I, uh…" he lowered his gaze, doodling random patterns on the table top with his finger. "Well, Fred mentioned… It didn't really go so well… In Sunnydale… Something about Xander being upset?" he looked up at her. "Is it true? Is Anya dead?"

Buffy stared at him for a moment before pulling away from his intense gaze.

"Yes. She died saving Andrew's life apparently."

"And the - uh, Xander, he's ok?"

"He's upset, but he's getting along. He actually watched a movie with some of the guys at the hotel last night. What, uh, else did Fred mention?"

"Just that Sunnydale no longer exists," he shrugged, but he had noted the uncertainty in her question. "Can't think why you didn't level the place sooner. And that you're thinking of going to Cleveland?" his voice raised slightly in question.

Buffy paused before answering. That had been the plan. Take a little while off in LA, then find the Slayers in LA, fill them in on their new talents, get Angel on the case and move on to Cleveland with the gang. Only now things weren't so simple. Mainly because she didn't think Angel would be into a long distance relationship that they were also taking slow.

But, of course, she couldn't say that to Spike. So she shrugged.

"Maybe," she hedged. "I might. But I've been thinking maybe Giles and the guys could go up there instead. There's good schools here for Dawn -"

"And there's not in Cleveland?" Spike cut in.

"It's not that. It's just that we used to live here, in LA. This used to be home. But everything's still up in the air at the moment. Who knows? I might even go to England!"

He didn't laugh, only quirked his mouth slightly in a smile. She was avoiding the question and he already had his suspicions as to why.

"So, how is the Bit?" he asked, "got out in one piece?"

"Yep. She did great. She's taking care of Andrew at the moment, they've found a mutual friend in Lorne."

"Who?"

"A friend of Angel's. He's an empathic demon," there was a long silence until Buffy said in a soft voice, "Thank you, Spike."

"For what?"

"For what you did. Without you -"

"You would have been fine."

"Spike, you know as well as I do that that's crap."

"Well," he shrugged. "I'm not one to toot my own horn."

An awkward silence descending and Spike watched as Buffy shifted uncomfortably. He lowered his gaze and stared at the dried blood on the table.

"Buffy," he said after a while. "I'm kinda tired… Resurrection and all."

"Oh, right," she nodded and stood up quickly enough for him to be sure she was uncomfortabl. "I'll see you later, Spike. Maybe you could drop by the hotel…?"

"Maybe," he answered.

"Or I could come here," she added.

"That'd be nice," he replied.

She nodded, unable to find anything else to say and he stood to escort her to the door. He opened it for her, hoping he didn't look too eager to see the back of her. She hesitated before grabbing him suddenly in a hug.

But it wasn't the kind of hug he had imagined last night.

It wasn't hard and gripping, with her touching him to make sure he was real and him holding onto her for the same reason.

This hug was a quick, friendly, good-to-have-you-back hug. And as he watched her leave, he realised with a jolt that he had been right when he said she didn't really love him.

And as he closed the door, he had only one thought.

Angel.

Gunn was giving Angel a run for his money in the brooding stakes, Xander thought as he descended the stairs and found Gunn hunched on the couch.

After being accosted by Willow the night before after the film and pizza fest, Xander knew all about the whole Spike thing.

Reading between the lines, Xander also had a sneaking suspicion that the main problem for Buffy wasn't so much that Spike was back as Spike was back while she and Angel were back together. Xander supposed he ought to be annoyed at least by Angel and Buffy being back together and maybe even pissed by Spike's return.

But he didn't have the energy to rage against them anymore.

Instead, he mostly felt sad because Spike was back instead of Anya. He knew Willow felt the same about Tara, he could tell by the damp look in her eyes when she told him and the way she squeezed his hand a little tighter. But Xander consoled himself with the thought that he wouldn't want Anya to return because she was in Heaven and he wanted her happy.

And he really couldn't see the point of being angry when it came to Buffy and Angel. The past few days had taught him that you ought to cherish love when it came along. And no matter how much he didn't like the idea of Buffy dating a vampire, he didn't doubt they loved each other. And now he had learnt that was all that really mattered.

"You ok, man?"

Xander looked up and realised he had sat down and was steadily getting into his own little brood fest. He shrugged off his blues and shook his head, smiling at Gunn.

"I'm fine," he said. "But I think I ought to ask you if you're ok."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders," Xander feigned deep thought for a moment. "So that means it's either an apocalypse or a woman. We've just had the apocalypse, so I'd guess woman. Am I wrong?"

Gunn shrugged moodily.

"You left me, Gunn. Remember? I woke up and you weren't there. You didn't call or anything. Just left. So I never want to see you again. Understand? Now get out of my way."

"Gwen -"

"I mean it, Gunn. If you don't get out of my way, I'll remind you why they called me freak at school."

Gunn winced at the memory of Gwen's reaction to his offer of dinner. Looking back, maybe it really had been too little too late.

"A woman," he admitted with a rueful smile.

"Did she give you the brush off?" Xander asked bluntly.

Gunn bristled slightly at the suggestion.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Then I've only got one piece of advice," Xander told him, standing up. "Don't. Give. Up."