Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I only borrow the characters and situations of the Whedonverse for my selfish pleasure (and hopefully yours).
Summary: The merging and continuation of BtVS and AtS. Starts just after 'The Girl in Question' and continues from there.
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It's unfortunate that Slayer strength doesn't extend to hangovers and long nights, she thought grumpily as her head steadily pounded its protest at the early morning hours she so wasn't used to keeping.
Buffy slowly crawled up the stairs to her apartment just before dawn, tired and weary from her night out with Giovanni. Her clothes were rumpled, her hair was a mess, her makeup was smeared, and she had the taste of something resembling monkey fur in her mouth. Or at least what she thought monkey fur might taste like. Whatever, it was unpleasant, and all she wanted to do was take a long, hot shower, brush her teeth (so long, Miss Monkey Mouth!), before crawling in bed and pulling the covers over her head to block out the world.
It had been a fun night, like all the others, filled with dancing, drinking, and flirting, which had become the habit since they'd moved to Rome for a break from training new Slayers. They had Slayers coming out of their ears, so to speak, and while she had thrown herself into the mountainous process of rounding them up and beginning training, after a few months of horrible Cleveland weather she had decided to take some time off and go to Europe.
Giles was in London rebuilding the Council, so that had been an option, but she really didn't want to trade Cleveland snow for London rain. Instead she and Dawn had opted for something a little more sunny and exotic. Andrew, who was now training to be a Watcher in his 'Quest for Redemption,' as he repeatedly and quite annoyingly called it, had suggested Rome, which was where he would be stationed. Dawn had been ecstatic at the prospect, and Buffy had just wanted a new, less Hellmouthy, place to escape. And escape she had done, mainly by enrolling Dawn in school, dealing with her occasional and unexpected house guest, Andrew, whenever he had another disastrous kitchen mishap, and filling her days with shopping, day-time television (in Italian, no less), and pretending to sleep, all while dealing with the Slayer and Watcher situations from afar.
Then she'd met Giovanni, The Immortal, and his attentions had initially been a balm to her loneliness and boredom. The fact that he was, well, immortal was fitting as far as she was concerned. Never could, and probably never would, be attracted to guys of the human variety, as far as she was concerned. Better to just go with it. Giles had had quite a few reservations about him, to put it lightly, and he was probably right. But, Giovanni was attractive, fun, and interesting and she'd decided that maybe, just maybe he might the next step in helping herself move on.
And so she had spent the last few months in his easy company, trying to forget the past, trying to push to the back of her mind all those haunting memories of linked hands ablaze and a beautiful, British voice telling her, "No, you don't. But thanks for saying it," that awoke her every night, and somehow she managed to maintain the façade that life was honky-dory.
But lately, Buffy had been feeling strange somehow, like she'd been missing something, like the façade she presented was out of place and that something important was happening around her but she wasn't a part of it. It was like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop because this life she'd created for herself was just a ruse. She was never this happy. It was bound to come to an end, sooner or later. She hadn't liked the feeling, but had thrown herself into her usual routine anyway, knowing that if something were going on, apocalypse-wise, Andrew or Giles would contact her without hesitation.
Then, last night in the loud club, she'd suddenly felt off. Had sensed that something or someone was there, watching her dance, and she had vaguely been reminded of another night, many years ago, when she'd felt the same presence watching her at the Bronze. The same night she'd met Spike in a darkened alley. And her heart hurt thinking about him as she wondered if her mind was conjuring his supposed presence to spite her attempts at making a new life.
It was impossible. Spike was dead, and she had to stop regretting the loss he'd left behind. So, she had drowned her senses in glass after glass of expensive champagne to dull the pain and danced carelessly in order to maintain her precarious façade. After all, how else was she supposed to be moving on if she continued to think about him, feel him?
They'd left soon after, going to his grand home, where she'd again made excuses to Giovanni as to why she wasn't ready to 'take that next step' with him. She'd stayed at his house, though, as she often did, curled up next to him in his big bed, unable to sleep for fear of her dreams, but not the least bit interested in anything more physical with the man lying next to her. After all, they'd only been dating for three months, and she wasn't ready to go there, to get her heart broken...again.
There was a voice in the back of her head that told her The Immortal would never have the power to break her heart because it still belonged to someone else.
She deliberately ignored it.
Determined not to slip into depression at her rampaging thoughts, Buffy sighed and continued her trek up the last flight of stairs to her front door. Digging her keys out of her tiny purse, she unlocked the door and stepped in.
And was assailed by the strangest, strongest sensation. A sensation that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up and a chill break out over her skin. It was a feeling she had once been familiar with but now missed, a feeling she hadn't felt in what seemed like a lifetime, with the exception of last night, and she suddenly felt dizzy at its implications. Her Slayer senses went haywire, as they screamed one single word in her head.
Spike.
Spike had been here! Recently. She could feel his presence left behind in her apartment and her whole world tilted off balance as the confusion hit her like a punch to the solar plexus. She doubled over, her mind racing at the implications that he might actually be alive...or undead, that is. It wasn't possible...was it? She'd seen him start to burn as she'd left him, her Champion, behind in the cavern. She'd seen the Hellmouth implode, and there was no way he could have survived. Was there?
Mustering up an inner strength that had refused to let her fall apart in the past, Buffy took several deep breaths and tried to clear her head. There was something that didn't fit here, and someone better damn well give her some answers. Soon.
"Andrew! Get your skinny, pasty ass down here, pronto," she screamed at the top of her lungs, her anger and confusion hitting an all time high as they roiled around in her head and heart. If anyone knew what was going on, it would have to be the Captain of the Geek Brigade that lived in her apartment.
She heard the stomping of feet on the stairs as he obviously recognized her fury and knew he'd better move double time at her command. Seconds later he scampered into the living room and stopped a few feet away, scared for his life and out of breath. She'd woken him up, obviously, and he was standing before her in a blue t-shirt that Dawn had gotten him last Christmas that said 'Talk Nerdy to Me,' in big digital letters, gray boxers, and mussed hair. It would have made her laugh, seeing his stupid t-shirt and the perplexed and terrified expression, if she hadn't been so confused, scared and furious all at once.
She covered her emotions by crossing her arms and looking at him with raised brows and an expectant look on her face.
"Is there something you wanna tell me?" she suggested smoothly.
"Um...um no. Well, I mean...I k-kinda lit the oven on fire last night making baked ziti, but I had it under control. There was minimal damage sustained," he stammered uneasily in his whiny voice.
"That's NOT what I was talking about...and I think you know that," she said pointedly. Oh boy, he was really nervous now, as he shuffled his feet under her narrow-eyed glare.
"Um, w-what are you talking about?" he stammered, playing dumb, eyes shifting to everything in the room except her.
"Had any visitors lately, Andrew? Anyone stop by that I should know about?" she suggested with a deceptive calm and somewhat patronizing attitude despite her raging emotions.
He gulped once, then twice, as he gaped at her like a rabbit staring into the mouth of a large, hungry predator. Oh, he had no idea.
He started to back up in fear, his hands out in a placating gesture, as she advanced on him with menacing steps, clenched fists, and an icy glare.
"Ok, promise you won't kill me—"
"I'm not promising anything, Andrew. Now, spill it."
"Angel and Spike came because they thought you were in trouble—"
She stopped her stalking of him as the truth hit her like a slap to the face. Her senses had been correct...Spike was alive and he'd been here. Looking for her. And last night, at the club...Oh God. Keep it together, Buffy, she diligently told herself before looking at Andrew once again.
"So, you knew Spike was alive and you didn't think it was necessary to tell me? When did you find out?" she said in a low, even voice which belied the shaking of her hands.
"Um...when I went to L.A. for Dana. But...S-Spike asked me not to tell you, and Giles thought it would be best since you seemed to be happy?" he said in a nervous rush.
"You went to L.A. months ago!" She yelled as her anger again returning as it began to boil the blood in her veins and she continued her predatory progression towards the Junior Watcher. Andrew, led by his instinct for self-preservation, took off around the back of the couch, putting the heavy piece of furniture between himself and a thunderously pissed off Slayer.
"You can't keep you mouth shut about anything, Andrew, so why this? And, Giles thought?! Since when does he get to make decisions about my life? And what the HELL is Spike doing with Angel, the head of Evil Incorporated? They hate each other," her angry rant stopped as did her pursuit once again, as her brow crinkled in consternation, "Wait, is he evil? No, no...not if they thought I was in trouble," she concluded quietly.
Andrew, not sure which question to tackle first, decided to answer the last one before Buffy decided that he was slay-worthy. By the look in her eyes, that might be soon.
"No, neither of them are evil, at least, I don't think so. We've had contacts watching them in L.A. From what we know, Spike's essence was contained in that amulet that he used to close the Hellmouth, so when it was suspiciously delivered to their office and out popped Spike, he was incorporeal and stuck there. But, somehow they managed to 'bring him back' cause when I saw him, he was all with the being able to touch again. Well, except that Dana had cut off his hands. As for Angel, we still don't know why he and his crew took over Wolfram and Hart, but he seemed to still be concerned about you, which leads us to assume he's still Soul-happy. Or not so happy, I guess. And by the way, does he usually brood so much, or was that just because I told him you were seeing The Immortal?"
Buffy's mind raced with Andrew's story, and her heart bled for Spike. He would have hated not being able to touch anything, not being able to affect anything. And he lost his hands?! Those strong, cool and knowing hands that had given her pain, strength and love in equal amounts. Oh God, please let him be ok now, she begged silently. It would have been like Hell for him. And, stuck with Angel? Even worse...for the both of them! And then her mind got stuck on something else he'd said.
"Wait! You told them I was seeing someone? Why?" she asked indignantly, hands snapping to her hips.
Andrew shuffled his feet again, knowing the infamous Wrath of Buffy could strike at any moment.
"Well, I just let them know that it was time for them to move on, cause that's what you've been doing with The Immortal."
Buffy threw her hands up and growled in exasperation. Well...I guess that my façade had been fooling everyone after all, she thought, both angry and relieved that her friends hadn't noticed the boredom, loneliness, and grief that had taken her over months ago. Hell, she'd even been fooling herself. But now being faced with this?
Spike's alive, her heart screamed. Its steady, albeit rapid, beating really showed her the truth of the emptiness that was her current life. Perspective, thy name is Buffy.
Well, at least now she had an objective.
"Andrew...you're still on my shit-list, so don't think you're getting off easy. I need to make a phone call, so we'll continue this later, k?" she said as she stomped out of the room.
As she made her way to the phone on her dresser, she looked longingly at her comfy bed, wishing for a respite from her exhaustion, but knowing she was never gonna get to sleep knowing he was alive. She knew suddenly that she wouldn't rest until she, at the very least, heard his rich voice.
Spike. Is. Alive.
She was still trying to get her mind around it all. God, after all these months of dreaming about him, thinking about him, missing him till she'd thought she'd go crazy, and he had been alive the whole time. Alive, but hadn't called her.
Andrew wasn't the only one on her shit-list.
She looked up the number in her phone book of contacts, and after several deep breaths, dialed it shakily. She heard the ringing on the other end, and Buffy clutched the receiver with white knuckles as she waited for someone to answer...