TITLE: Convergence Part 2: Revealing
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I own none of these characters, Joss Whedon, Fox Corp. and Mutant
Enemy do.
SETTING: Beginning of BtVS Season 7
SUMMARY: Spike gets the lowdown, Buffy is the historian (who knew??) Willow and Giles
seek advice from the council, and Xander talks to Anya. I am not so much into the whole
S/B thing yet, it is going to take a while for that to happen. All the characters are going
through some self discovery and confrontation.
FEEDBACK: Of course. Please do, and I would love suggestions. This is only my second
fanfic, and I would love some instruction and advice. Let me know if you like it, what
you would "like" to see happen, or if you think I am doing something wrong with any of
the characters. Thanks for taking the time to read, sorry so darn long!
Revealing
Spike sat at the kitchen counter in shock. "She almost died," he thought to himself, "again. I knew I should have killed that wanker when I had the chance. It may have hurt like hell, and my head might have exploded, but it would have been worth it." He shrugged the violent thoughts aside for the moment. "Too bad about Red's pretty bird, she really was a decent one. Kidding me about my cramp, hah. She never once passed judgment on me treated me bad." He was surprised to find tears coming to his eyes. He never really gave Tara much thought when she was alive, taking her presence in the gang's affairs for granted. He discovered he was going to miss her and her death saddened him.
"Spike?" He heard Buffy's voice break through his thoughts. He felt her warm hand touch his cold one then he looked up at her. "Spike? Are you alright?" She looked closely at him, then he saw her eyes widen. "Are you crying?!?"
"Bloody hell, no, I am not cryin'. Well," he clarified, "I ain't blubberin like some girl, but dammit all, I liked Red's little friend. She always had a kind word for me, even teased me a bit when the mood struck her just right. And she never once looked at me like I was wishing for something too good for me, not like Xander or Red." He looked up at Buffy and shrugged. "Guess she won't be doin that anymore, damn it all to hell. I knew I should have killed that buggar Warren when I had the chance. If I had, Tara would still be alive, Red would still be here, and you wouldn't have got shot."
"Yeah, well, I had Xander to help me, he called 911, but Willow had no one. When she went bad, Spike, she went really bad. You should have seen what she did to Warren when she finally caught up with him. Of course, she took the bullet out of my chest first. She looked so strange. All black and veiny; she was really spooky. At the time, I didn't understand why she kept it, but, oh my god, you should have seen…." It was Spike's turn to reach out and take her hand in comfort.
Buffy closed her eyes and tried to let go of the memory. "Anyway, Giles got wind of what was going on with Will, and he rushed back here to help us." She laughed quietly to herself. "God, Spike, once we got her under some kind of control, I told him everything, and I do mean EVERYthing that was going on here. I told him about you, about Xander and Anya, about the damn money situation, the pipes in the basement, Riley – don't say anything! - Dawn's stealing. It was a really cathartic moment. But you know what he did? Do you know what he had the audacity to do?"
"Hmm." Spike speculated, "Knowin your watcher, he probably had something real self important to say, about how you should be more responsible and adult and what not," he answered her. To his consternation, she started laughing.
"No! My watcher, Mr. My-Shirt's-So-Stuffed-I-Can-Barely-Fit-In-It, LAUGHED at me. No, not a simple little chuckle, but whole heart laughing. I thought he had gone insane. It was the craziest thing I had ever seen. And then I started laughing. All the stuff of this past year was gone, then, in a fit of hysterical laughter, I finally got it. I finally felt alive again."
"Well, that is good, I guess, Slayer. You bein all mopey and out of sorts was beginning to get a bit old. But I guess over the summer you had a lot of time to think, too, eh?" He raised his eyebrows in askance at her. "I mean, I don't think I was the only one who was doin some figurin."
"Yeah, I did get a lot of stuff figured out over this summer."
"Well, glad to hear it." he stood up from the counter and started to make his way to the front door. "It looks like it is getting close to dawn out there, so I am going to head to the humble abode. You remember, the dark, dank, underground lair of mine?"
"Yeah, I guess it is getting late, or," she corrected herself, "early rather. I didn't realize how tired I was until just now." Then she looked as though she suddenly remembered something and hurried to the linen closet in the foyer. She took out a hanger that held the long duster he had left at her house that night. "I kept this for you, in case you wanted it when you got back. You left it here that ni-…"
"Keep it." He said abruptly, interrupting her. "Burn it, trash it, do whatever you want with it, but I don't want it. It just reminds me….." He stopped himself. "Never mind. Just do whatever you want with it, I don't care." He walked out the door and down the steps to his bike. "Good night, Buffy." With that brief farewell, he started the bike and rode away, leaving her standing on the front porch, staring into the darkness, black leather draped over her folded arms.
Dawn was up making her Saturday morning pancakes when Buffy made it back to the kitchen. She draped the duster across the back of the barstool Spike had abandoned a few minutes earlier, a look of confusion on her face.
"Hey, Dawn." She greeted her little sister. "You're up early for a Saturday, don't ya think?"
"Not really." Dawn answered, with a little yawn. "I usually get up around 6 to watch the morning cartoons, but this morning the bike woke me up a little early." She poured a puddle of batter on the skillet. "Want some? I have enough here for an army, really. Tara never was one to be skimpy with the pancake batter." A wistful, sad smile passed across Dawn's young features. "I really miss making breakfast with her."
"I know, Dawnie, me too. But no, I don't want any pancakes. I do want to discuss what you and Spike talked about tonight, or rather, last night." She folder her arms on the counter and looked at Dawn pointedly. "You never should have found out about …well, you know about what….the way you did. I could kill Xander."
"Buffy. You should have told me. I know, I know, you don't think I am – or was – old enough to know about that kind of stuff, but you should have told me. And I can't believe you trusted him to take care of me after that." She slammed down the spatula, but her voice stayed calm, which confused her as much as it did Buffy. "I just don't understand you."
"Dawn, I know it seems weird, but what happened had nothing to do with some character flaw, or psychosis on Spike's part. Things were just hairy then, and while he never should have done it, I understand why he did. I understood it so I knew I could trust him to take care of you. What I didn't know, was that he would take off. That shocked me." She looked sideways and rolled her eyes in wonderment, "it still shocks me."
"Yeah, I got the "big explain" from him last night. Though I understand him, and what he says happened, I can't just jump back into the whole Spike and Dawnie thing again. I forgive him, and now that I know what was happening between you guys," at Buffy's stunned look, she said, "Yeah, he told me a lot, not the details, but I got the picture. Anyway, now that I know what was going on with you two, I can understand his motivations." She turned back to her pancakes and turned them over. "It is just going to take me a while to deal, is all. Do you think he expects me to just accept him back?"
"Honestly, Dawn, I don't know what he expects – from anyone. But you do what you feel most comfortable with. If you don't want to hang, then don't. I am sure he's gonna understand." Buffy stood up and picked up the duster. "Anyway, Dawn, I am heading off to bed – finally – for some sleep. Enjoy your pancakes, ok?" She walked over and gave her sister a hug then walked to the foyer to put the leather duster back in the closet. She opened the door, took out the hanger, then, decided to take it upstairs instead. Her last sensation for that day, before she closed her eyes, was the sweet smell of Jack Daniels, Camels, and old leather.
"Clem!" Spike hollered through the crypt for his crypt-sitter. "Clem! Wake your ass up, I'm home!" His voice lowered to a growl, "Home, sweet, bloody Home." He heard rustling from the makeshift living room and turned toward the noise. "Clem, ya waker, where the hell are ya?" he saw the slack skinned demon, finally, under a pile of KFC buckets and Chee-tos bags. "Bullocks, what a mess. Clem! Get up, ya git."
"Wha- What?" Clem's groggy sweet natured voice announced that he was waking up. Suddenly he sat bolt upright in Spike's TV chair, a KFC bucket stuck on his head, obscuring his vision. "Oh my god! Oh my god. I'm blind! Help!" His hands frantically searched the air around him for some form of help. Spike couldn't help but smile and the inept, though good natured demon.
"Clem, ya silly whelp, get that bucket off your noggin, mate."
Clem's hands stopped searching the air, and the bucket turned and if it had eyes would have been looking at Spike. "Spike? You're back? Well, dangit, I still can't see! Oh wait," he realized it was just a bucket, and he finally took it off of his head. "Oh man, Spike, am I glad to see you! You got a lot of catching up to do too. Man! Willow –…"
Spike held up a hand for silence. "Nope, my friend, I have already heard it. Know all about Evil Willow and the damage done in my absence. But have I got news for you, my good friend. Oh," he paused in his deliverance of good news, "thanks for watchin my place for me. You know how squatters can get in and take over. You know," he said, looking around at the mess the crypt had become, "how it is. Anyway, you gonna hang around for a while? I'm exhausted and need some shut eye."
"Umm, yeah, man. Dawn is supposed to come by later. We're goin to the movies. Some Mel Gibson flick she wants to see. I said I'd go with her. Why, you need me for something?"
"No, not right now, you and the little bit go and have a good time of it. I'll talk to you later. But trust me, you are going to want to know how Africa went." He said this with a grin, then marched off to the burned out bedroom down below.
"Well, damn if he still isn't a cryptic vampire. Oh well, it's Saturday. Buggs is on."
England: around brunch on Sunday.
Giles and Willow arrived at the Council's headquarters, prepared to inquire about the viability of Willow and him taking an unexpected early trip back to Sunnydale.
"Willow, I don't want you to get your hopes up, you understand. It is entirely probable that you will not be allowed to return to Sunnydale so early." Giles told her as the walked up the marble steps of the building.
"Giles, don't worry, they are going to let me go. They are even going to grant me some power privilege." She said seriously, as they walked into the cool building. "Wheesh, it is freezing in here!"
"Yes, there are archives in the building with ancient scrolls in them. They require a very cool atmosphere in order to be preserved," explained absently. Then turning to her abruptly, "How do you know they are going to let you go? Are you clairvoyant now, Willow?"
"I don't know, really. I see this in my head. Like an image produced just for me. I don't know how to explain it other than that. But we are going." She paused for a moment, and a look of dread came over her face. "Something very wrong in going on, and they are confused, They don't understand how this can be." She looked up at the watcher, "Giles -.."
"Ahhh, Rupert! Ms. Rosenberg." A dark, yet jovial, voice grabbed their attention, greeting them from the door of the conference room at the end of the great hall. "So good of you two to come. We have been expecting you. Actually, we need you both. In Sunnydale." Willow looked at Giles as if to say 'I told you so.'
The darkly jovial voice continued, "You two come with me, and we'll fill you in on the details before you leave. Your flight leaves at 8 am tomorrow morning, and you need to be fully briefed on the latest events on the hellmouth. We think it concerns the Slayer." He paused for a bit, and looked around furtively. "The Slayer and the vampire Spike."
Sunnydale: Sunday evening, just before sunset
Xander had debated all day whether or not to see Anya. He sat in front of the Magic Box, or what was left of it, knowing that she was already inside, checking to see what damages could be repaired, and what it was going to cost her. He had managed to stay away from her all summer long, in the hopes that the months would assuage the hurt he had cause enough so that he could finally do some explaining. Not that he knew where to begin. But he had to start somewhere, so he stepped out of the car and made his way into the shop.
"Anya." His strong, yet quiet voice floated on the dusty air in the shop, breaking her concentration on the figures in front of her.
She had sensed him outside, sitting in his car. Funny how she could still do that. She had hoped the summer would take the edge off of that sense, like it had dulled the sharp ache in her heart that had not been dulled even by returning to her demon status. She took a deep breath and let it out as she looked up at him. "What do you want, Xander?" She asked him without malice of sarcasm, just a hint of resignation in her question.
"I want… I would like to explain things to you. Explain things, starting with the wedding. If that is ok with you, and if you think we both can handle this discussion like the adults we are supposed to be. By that, I mostly mean me." He laughed. "You know, it is ironic. You were human for just three years, but you learned more about being a person in those three years than I did in 22 years."
She lifted her eyebrows in mild surprise. "Thank you for that, but don't you think we have been through all the stuff enough? I just want to move on, Xander. I really really loved you, and you hurt me. I am finally getting past the really bad part, and I don't want to go over it again." She looked back down at her notepad, trying again to concentrate on the numbers printed there.
"Ok. I completely understand you. But while you read your figures there, I am going to talk. If you feel like breaking in, and …well, doing whatever…please do. I want to get this mess between us straightened out. Because I do love you, more now than ever before." He stopped, looking at her for some sign that she was listening. Though she didn't lift her head to look at him, he watched her stop writing and put her pen down.
"Ok." He resumed his explanation. "The wedding. I know you know that I was given a vision, and that vision may have been a false one, but I never told you what I did see. Anya, I saw myself as my father. Things that I have never faced up to hit me right between the eyes. I was lazy, insolent and verbally abusive, eventually physically abusive. And things just got steadily worse. The vision ended when I picked up a frying pan and killed you with it."
She looked up at him then, disbelief written all over her face. He continued.
"It wasn't that I believed the vision. I live on the hell mouth, we see these kinds of things all the time. What frightened me is that the vision was real, only not real for me, if that makes any sense. My dad, well, you saw him at the wedding. I have always been afraid of ending up like him, and it took the vision to see that that was where I was heading." He walked over to where she stood at the counter and started really talking to her. "I talked down to you, thinking I was being helpful, I never stood up for you, I always belittled you. I was starting to be my father, and I knew, if I kept going, that I would eventually hurt you. I didn't want that to happen, and I thought the best way to prevent it would be to not get married."
"Xander, why didn't you say these things then? Why wait until now?"
"Because it took me all summer to figure it all out, and to find a way to articulate it, Ahn." He smiled, "I have never been really good about expressing my feelings. I am a really simple guy, you know that. Sometimes too simple." He sighed a cleansing breath. "Anyway, after all that, after the non-wedding, I started drinking. Yeah, I know, even more activities like father like son. But the drinking stopped, I never really developed a taste for it. And besides waking up with a hangover is not good. I don't drink anymore, ever. But it did serve as an escape, and I could be 'Xander' again. I wasn't this achy, hurt and fear filled little boy. And when the drinking stopped, I was again."
"Ok, that explains the nastiness towards me after all that. The viciousness." She nodded her understanding. "Xander, you and I are over. We can't be together anymore as fiancés. But, we can eventually, I think, get to a point where we can be friends. That is a point I would really like to reach, honestly. You can be a wonderful friend. I've seen it, I've wanted it. Of course, I also wanted the perks of being your girlfriend too."
"There is one more thing I have to say, Ahn. It is about Spike and …. I hate that you could find 'solace' with him. I hate that he could offer you the comfort and consolation you wanted. I really hate that I had to witness, even by accident, you two here, in this place. But none of that hate has to do with you. It has to do with me and Spike." He closed his eyes, shutting out the image of Anya and Spike together. "I had no right to say the things I said to you when I found you. I was just so consumed with…. I don't know what, and needed to take it out on someone. I apologize to you for that." He finally smiled at her. "And I think that just about covers it. I just needed to let you know that I finally figured it out."
She smiled serenely at him and nodded. "Xander, I'm glad for you. I wish we could have done this a long time ago, and things might not have got as far as they have, but it really helps a lot to finally know the why you did what you did." She came around the counter, and took hold of his hands, then hugged him, a final goodbye to the best and worst part of her life, all 1100 years of it.
Xander knew this was her way of letting go, he knew they were over, but it felt good to be held by her again, to feel her softness against his hardness. It was one of the hundred things about her he would miss for the rest of his life. When she stepped away from him and back to her notebook, he felt bereft. He stood for a few seconds and watched her brow furrow in returned concentration, then, drinking in one last long look at her, he turned and left the magic.
"Ahh, hello Harris." The snarky British voice stopped Xander dead in his tracks.
"Spike."