Things Change
Chapter Nine

Chrissy slipped out of bed and opened the door slowly, wary of waking her sleeping brother. Experience told her he wouldn't stir; he slept too deeply for that. He slept like the dead and now she knew who their father was, she understood where he got it from.

She went into the bathroom and dressed in the clothes she had brought from their room. Boots, sweater and jeans. She crept down the stairs and grabbed her keys, pausing to grab her coat from the closet. A hand grabbed her wrist and she turned slowly to glare at her brother.

"Go away," she hissed.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Out."

"On your own? I'll come with."

"If I wanted company, I'd have woke you up. Go back to bed."

"No, I'm not letting you out on your own."

"Todd," she sighed. "I just want to get out. Go back to bed, please. I'm gonna kill me something."

"You're pissed about Aunt Dawn and Mom yelling at you about making Spike leave, aren't you?"

"No, I'm pissed because they don't get why I wasn't totally chipper about him turning up in the first place. Are you gonna wake Mom up?"

Todd studied his sister, her determined stance and the crossbow she had picked up from the table by the door.

"No," he answered. "As long as you're back in an hour."

"Thanks, Todd," she grabbed a coat from the closet and shrugged it on. She met his eyes sheepishly. "You think I really upset him?"

"You practically accused him behind his back of killing Ed, who isn't exactly your favourite person. I'm guessing he'll get over it in a couple of decades."

"Very funny," she huffed. "But I'm serious… You think he'll come back?"

"Yeah, I think he will. But if he does, Chris, you need to go easy, ok?"

"Ok."

He smiled grimly and pushed her shoulder.

"Get going," he said. "Don't take any risks."

"I never do."

"Liar."

She smiled as he went back upstairs and slipped out of the house. She was halfway down the street before she realised the jacket she wore wasn't hers; it was the short leather jacket her father had been wearing when he first arrived.

Spike stood at the foot of the grave and stared down at the base of the headstone where someone had place a small bouquet of flowers. He guessed they were from Dawn, her handwriting was on the note pushed amongst the flower heads, "Wish you could be there."

He sighed and wondered what had made him come here. It had taken a while to find it, the cemetery that had been his garden for over two years had acquired a few more inhabitants over the years. But he had found it in the end and by the immaculate look of it, Red hadn't found the strength to let go just yet.

He read the epitaph below her name, "Forever in our hearts and forever blessed be."

He lit a cigarette and gazed down at the earth that filled the grave of Tara Maclay. He had gotton to know to shy Wiccan better over the summer when Buffy had been dead and had liked what he saw. At the time, he had been too blinded by grief to notice her. The first real memory he had of her was not of his punching her in the face, it was of her coming to his crypt two weeks after Buffy's death.

The door of the crypt creaked open, a shaft of sunlight narrowly avoiding the pale hand that hung lifelessly over the arm of the only chair, a bottle dangling from listless fingers. The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol was overpowering, but she had come for a reason and she wasn't leaving.

She didn't say a word as she came towards him and cleared the empty whisky and wine bottles and cans of lager. She dropped them into a large bag she had brought with her, anticipating what she would find. She removed the bottle from his fingers and tugged the packet of cigarettes from his other hand. He didn't argue then and couldn't find the strength to protest when she poured the last couple of inches of whisky onto the grass outside his crypt. He had plenty in the refrigerator.

She still didn't speak when she went to the refrigerator and removed the bottles and cans and stood in the door of his crypt, pouring every drop of liquor outside to create a soggy lake to greet visitors. He didn't move from the chair when she stood in front of him, frowning in concern.

"Is there any more?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Spike?" she asked a little more forcefully.

"No," he answered flatly.

She nodded and removed five blood bags from her shoulder bag. She crouched before him and held the first cool bag between her hands to warm it. Then she handed it to him, pressing it into his numb hands. She stared at him until he sighed and slipped into game face and sank his teeth into the bag.

They sat like that for a while. She warmed the bags between her hands while he drank, then handed it to him to drink. When he had finished the fifth bag, she removed three more and put them in the refrigerator.

"Better?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I know," she answered. "But you must feel better than when you were living on alcohol?"

He smiled weakly and nodded. "Thanks, pet."

"Tonight, seven o'clock," she replied, standing up and picking up her bag.

"What?"

"You have to baby-sit Dawn tonight. Be at her house at seven. I don't think Buffy would be happy if she knew you were neglecting her sister to drink yourself into oblivion, do you?"

She left, closing the door as quietly as possible.

That night, he arrived promptly at seven. The healing began that night, thanks to Tara.

He stared blankly at the grave. To think such a nice person ended up here, under six foot of dirt. He cleared his throat and addressed the point at the base of the headstone.

"Remember me, Tara?" he asked. "Spike, the one who punched you and the one you nicked all that booze from. That's me. I didn't know 'til a coupla days ago what happened to you. You didn't deserve that, love, anyone but you.

"Look, I know I didn't talk to you all that much, I know I didn't go out of my way to get to know you, but I did know you were decent. I admired the way you were strong. For all of them, Red, Harris, explaining things the Anya the others couldn't bear too. I heard you watched the shop for the first couple of days after. And the way you looked after Dawn… you were made for it. Out of all of them, I respected you the most, wish I'd told you.

"I guess you know about me having kids, huh? And the whole me having a soul, right? I wish you'd been here. I think they would have liked you, you'd have been a great help to Buffy. Wish you were here now; think you might have been able to help me.

"She hates me, Tara. My own daughter hates me. Todd, my son, he doesn't seem to, but she does and I don't have a bloody clue how to make it right," he stubbed the cigarette out beneath his foot after taking a long drag. He thrust his hands into his pocket and hunched his shoulders; "maybe I should've stayed away? Ignored Lydia. I'm glad I didn't 'cause they're amazing. Something to be proud of, they can't take after me one bit," he looked at Dawn's bunch of flowers. "Guess she's talking about her wedding to this Josh fella, eh? You think he's good enough for her? He'd better be. She deserves it," he glared at the grave. "And even though I didn't know you all that well, I know you didn't deserve this."

That's when he heard the scream. He cast an apologetic smile at the immaculate gravestone, "Gotta go, pet," and raced in the direction of a scream that seemed somehow familiar.

Chrissy faced the demon with a grim smile and gripped her crossbow a little tighter, hoping it couldn't read her mind and see how desperately she wished she had her axe or her brother's sword.

"Child of the prophecy," it rumbled, pointing a long nailed finger at her. "I have come for you. From your ashes, she shall arise."

That didn't sound too good to Chrissy, but she merely smiled and shrugged.

"Heard of me, have you?" she asked. "Then you'll know I'm pretty handy with this," she lifted the crossbow and aimed quickly. The bolt sped toward the demon and hit him in the chest. He stood stunned for a minute, then dragged it from his body.

Uh oh,

Chrissy thought. She pulled a stake from her pocket and held it firmly as the demon charged.

She had fought a demon like this before and yeah, it had been strong, but not this strong. She struggled in it's grip as it grabbed her shoulders. Its hand moved up to her throat and the other hand tugged the stake from her hand and crushed it in a simple clenching movement of his fingers. Her eyes widened in dismay and as his grip on her throat tightened, she screamed.

She had never screamed in battle, but suddenly, it seemed like the only thing she could do.

Spike skidded to a halt in time to see the demon lift the girl off her feet and shake her, her legs kicking like a rag doll. He knew this demon, it looked… strong? These weren't strong, they were average strength, what the - Chrissy, he thought and ran forward, dragging a dagger from the back of his pants.

He launched a punch at the demon's face and it roared in annoyance. Taking advantage of the demon's momentary distraction, he pulled Chrissy sharply from the demon's grasp. He kicked the demon in the groin and placed Chrissy gently on the ground. He lifted her head with a finger under her chin.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Move!" she yelled and grabbed his shoulders, rolling him to the side.

He rolled onto his back and kicked out, catching the demon's chin. It stepped back and Spike jumped up. The demon lashed out with a long arm and Spike flew backward into a tree trunk with a loud "oof!" Chrissy looked at Spike in horror and at the demon that now grinned horribly at her.

"Oh, crap, " she muttered and grabbed her crossbow from the ground, whacking the demon around the head with it.

Spike looked up and shook his head to focus to see Chrissy battering the demon around the head with her crossbow.

"Never," she panted, bringing the crossbow up to uppercut the demon. "Touch. My. Father. Again," she brought her boot up in a high kick and slammed it into the demon's chest, channelling her anger and making the demon stumble.

Spike allowed himself a brief grin before scrambling up and twirling the dagger before burying it deeply in its back. It gasped and grunted as it fell. Chrissy stared down at it panting, a small smile on her face. She looked up and met Spike's eyes, a similar smirk on his face. She looked away and studied the damage done to her crossbow; Spike sniffed and cleared his throat.

"You could've been killed," he said in a firm, fatherly tone.

"You too," she answered defiantly, then her face softened. "You gonna tell Mom and Aunt Dawn?"

Spike looked down at the demon and then up at her. He shook his head slowly.

"Don't you do anything like that again, you hear?" he asked.

"I won't," she looked down. "I was… angry. Aunt Dawn yelled at me after you left."

"Sorry 'bout that."

She shrugged. "My fault," she looked at the demon. "We gonna hide this thing or what?"

She leaned down and lifted the legs. Spike yanked his dagger free and lifted the upper torso. They carried it to a clump of bushes and threw it in, arranging the branches carefully in silence. They looked at each other again.

"Look," she sighed. "What I said this morning, at home… I didn't mean it. I can be a bitch sometimes."

"Don't say that," he replied sharply.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"For what?"

"Saving my life; promising not to drop me in it; and not yelling like Ed or Mom might do."

The mention of Ed niggled something in Spike's mind, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"It's a dad's duty."

"You gonna stick around, then?"

"If you and Todd want me too."

"Well, if you don't, Todd, mom, Aunt Dawn, Aunt Willow and hell, maybe even Uncle Xander'll be all over the yelling!" she noted Spike's crestfallen expression and smiled gently. "I was joking. I'd like it if you stayed."

"Thanks, pet."

"You coming back then… Dad?"

Spike grinned widely and she found it hard not to smile back at this beaming man who looked at her so lovingly.

"Yeah. You haven't seen me and act real surprised when you see me on the couch in the morning."

"Ok," Chrissy answered.

"Off we go, then," he said cheerfully and hesitated before swinging an arm around her shoulders and guiding her home.

She smiled and snuggled sleepily against the warm leather of his duster. He held her tighter and sighed happily.

Edward Thorpe tore his gaze away from the mirror on the wall and looked apologetically at Glory. She glared at him, then opened her mouth on a scream of frustration as she tugged at her hair.