Alright, jeez! It's been two months now or something and I just can't believe it's been that long! Color me the bad writer – pallet is all yours, black and blues are to prefer, I'm sure – and see the hovering bubble over my head with the flashing words I am sorry in it. You guys have hopefully read my short messages that I've posted, explaining that no, I have not been killed in a freakish mob-related incident where a large cucumber and many, many cute Spike-resembling gangstas were involved. Oh, yes, all smoking and wearing leather. Well, that wasn't the scenario. And I guess I should be glad it wasn't. :) Alright. This story is about two chapters (not including the ones I'm posting now) and a brief epilogue away from being ended. sob Just so you know that there IS a light at the end of this looooong tunnel. ;)
Many many thanks to wolf116 (Oh, lack of time is ALWAYS valid in my book, my friend. Glad to hear from you now. And well...) ;), shelly (Thanks, girl!), ReeseAnn (Like the rambling and so nice that you liked it! Hope that won't change on me!) ;), kim (heh. And YES about the soul bit! Grr-argh. Loved all your thoughts on this chapter and what can I say other than that I agree?) :), Brunettepet (Lovely to make you laugh:) Happy you liked, and thank you for the dialogue comment, always very nice to know!) :), w1cked angel (heheh, glad you liked that. And that's nice to hear. Would be tough to write this story without either of them.) ;)
LindaM (And me! And thanks. I know that it got a bit angsty, but the thing truly was, I didn't expect the story to expand like this. I planned it to be... fifteen chapters, at the most. And hello, here we are. :) It was very soothing to read your comments though. Much obliged!) :), msberry (ooooh, hope I won't cure them just yet.) ;), Anyanka0705 (I know the angst is drawn out but as I just told LindaM above, I hadn't expected the story to run for so many chapters. Whenever I explore the deeper relationship between Slayer and Vamp I can't seem to help getting into the angsty stuff. And it's all Buffy's fault! Hope you still enjoy!) ;)
Megan (Thanks for all your great comments on the chapter, girl! Glad you liked the Anya moment! Hope your flu and coldsores are all gone, I still have a slight remnant of my cough. Anyways, I do pray you'll like what's to follow. Of the story, not the cough.) ;), boeketjebloemen (hello, and not a lame nickname at all. I wanna change mine, though. Don't like it. Was more of a quick solution, don't have time to think sort of a thing. Anyways, happy you liked the chapter and hope the next one won't fail.) :), Casey (sorry, sorry, sorry that it's SOOOO late!) :), MaidenRo (hehehe, that would be a sight. And on me. Buuuut… here's a few more pages.) :)
Scarlet Ibis (You'll see. And yeah... Here's a bit more.) :), effulgentgirl (Oh, dear! The entire story! Well, I must say I'm happy if you're happy. And who are these people who dare be so rude as to post bad things about Spike on your web site? I'll pummel them. And hard to boot. I hate people who can't respect other's opinions. Alright if they like to discuss the differences and pros and cons of the Bangel Spuffy relationships, but they don't have to crap all over something they don't agree with. That just pisses me off. And very nice you liked the chappy and... You'll see, right? Oh, and it's okay about the multiple posting. It happens. Thanks for letting me know, though.) :), Spikez-babe91 (lol. Indeed:) And sorry this isn't soon, but here it is!) :), Spikaholic101 (Great that you liked and here it is!) :)
Thank you to everyone for a great amount of patience. I hope you haven't given up on me! Updates will strive to be posted next week at the latest, with hope they will be up tomorrow, but I make NOOOO promises! I always have to break them. Alright, I hope you will enjoy these chapters and to all of you who think they're too long, I'm very sorry.
All My Love, Annie.
Did I mention, it's good to be back:)
Revisited
They barely talked on their way back to the crypt. Buffy searched for an opening phrase, but this time it was her brain lacking in the coming-up-with-something-good department.
Spike was quietly asking himself if there was anything he wouldn't do for this woman. He went down a very long list of possible scenarios – in which he lost some very important parts – and had to admit that he wouldn't back out of them for anything – if she needed him there.
How depressing. How pathetic. How had this happened? How had William stepped forward and trampled down every demonic emotion he had possessed? How had this love even been permitted to sow its first seed? Where had the soil come from? It should have been doomed from the beginning. It should have been sickened by blackness, unable to struggle through with this searing light. It should have died before it began to make him live. Live like this. Through her.
Bloody hell.
He really was a wanker.
But he needed her now. He wondered if he had ever needed anyone quite like this.
No, not quite like this. Not even Dru.
She had strengthened what was already in him, while Buffy had brought forth something that shouldn't even be there.
He glanced at her.
She had said she trusted him... Would she trust him without the chip? Would he trust himself? Had he declined the chance to rid himself of this barrier, because he was petrified of what lie beyond it? But even the thought of feeding felt so far away now. He knew it would render his love for her worthless if he ever did anything to betray her in that way. No, he could never do that. But, God, why was she so bleeding scared of letting him in?
"What are you thinking?" she asked, just as they entered the cemetery hosting his crypt.
He smiled.
"Questions that I'd like answered," he shrugged.
"Like what?"
He stopped and she did the same. For a few seconds he simply eyed her, and then he slowly furrowed his brow.
"Like 'who sent the invitation'," he then replied and she blinked, wonderingly.
He didn't elaborate, and he didn't need to as he simply looked over her shoulder. The next moment she had a familiar sensation fill her, and when she turned around she stood face to face with the last person she would have expected to show up in this undeclared fashion.
"Angel," she mumbled, her mind going numb.
Indeed, it was. He smiled gently as he stepped forward.
"Hey," he greeted, glancing at Spike as he added: "This the company you're keeping these days?"
"It's a step up from you, I know," Spike nodded; adding in a conspiratorial whisper: "She's still adjusting."
"What're you doing here?" Buffy asked Angel; giving Spike a look and making him merely raise his eyebrows in retort.
"That phone call sort of made me... curious."
"Nervous," Spike translated helpfully. "See how his left fingers are all twitchy? Nerves are all tingly. I remember the signs." He paused. "Then again, I guess you already know them, don't you?"
The last came out rather sourly, and Buffy sighed unnoticeably before she turned to him and said:
"Maybe you should head home?"
"Maybe I should," he agreed, not moving.
"Spike," she murmured.
"Oh, wink-wink-nudge-nudge," he replied. "Right, of course, wouldn't wanna be in the way of you two catching up and... catching up. The way I reckon you would. You would, wouldn't you?" he asked Angel, who narrowed his eyes and then smiled self-assuredly.
"Sure would," he replied.
Buffy could feel the tension building and she laughed to break it.
"Yes, catching up is much needed, so you go home, Spike, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Great," Angel said, taking a step forward to stand at Buffy's side.
"Great," Spike mimicked him, though his face was far from relaxed and his gaze was nearly burning a hole through the other.
"Great," Buffy nodded, grabbing Angel's arm and beginning to walk away. "Goodnight!" she added.
Spike gritted his teeth. He couldn't move his feet from the spot for another two minutes.
Angel got his arm out of Buffy's hold as they rounded a row of tall hedges, which rendered them out of sight from the other vampire. Angel had a soft, questioning crinkle between his eyebrows, and as Buffy looked up at him, she came to the conclusion that she didn't particularly like it.
"What exactly has happened since I left here?" he asked.
"You mean since the last time you dropped by uninvited?" she shot mercilessly, crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant gesture.
He decided to overlook it.
"You're patrolling with Spike now?" he inquired, incredulous.
"We weren't... patrolling, per say."
"Then what, per say, were you doing?"
"He was helping me..."
"Now, there... right there. That's the problem." Buffy frowned, impatience seeping into her features. "'Helping' shouldn't be present in that sentence," Angel elaborated, but his sarcasm was lost as her expression merely grew annoyed.
"Yeah, well, you haven't exactly been around to know what's going on, have you?"
"You're putting this on me? You hanging out with Spike is my fault?"
"That's not...!" she trailed off, drawing a slight breath to calm down. "That's not what I'm saying," she continued. "It's just... I've barely spoken to you since Christmas. It wasn't easy for me to call you. And I hate not being able to talk to you."
"I'm here now," he said with a smile. "Lines of communication are wide open. Talk to me."
She clenched her jaws together.
"It's the same old. ...Big Bad seems larger than life and impossible to destroy. We're working on a way to get to him... He has a plan we're trying our best to figure out. Willow and Giles are heading up the brain of the operation, and me and..."
She stopped herself, eyes in Angel's, and he was hit with realization as to where that sentence had been going.
"You and Spike," he filled in. "He's actually working with you on this?"
"Can you stop with the bafflement? It's not like he never did anything good in his life."
"In his life, I don't know what he did. In his death, he never was much for benevolence."
Buffy met his gaze steadily.
"Until now," she replied.
He stared at her, then slowly began to walk, and she followed the movement.
"You're call was about him, wasn't it?" he asked, and when she refused to answer he shook his head a little. "Unbelievable."
"What?" she muttered.
"And you believe him, don't you?" he merely continued.
"I don't need this from you," she said.
"You ask me about vampires capability to love, I'll tell you what I think is the truth. But Spike! If you'd told me you were asking on behalf of that bleached..."
"I was asking on behalf of me!" she interrupted him, coming to a halt and facing him. "And so what if I'd told you? You'd told me he isn't capable? He isn't like the rest of you? That I shouldn't believe a single word he says, because everything that comes out of his mouth is untruths and deceit!"
Angel observed her, then replied:
"How'd you know?"
She pulled her hands through her hair in frustration.
"I'm getting so sick of this," she said. "Of people telling me what I should or shouldn't believe. You haven't been close to him in a century, what the hell do you know!"
She exclaimed the last, and his eyes widened.
"Implying that you have been close to him?"
She swallowed, then raised her chin a little, but her confidence was wavering.
"It wasn't... supposed to... I made a wish," she then said.
"To be close to Spike?"
"No, you idiot! ...To be fifteen again. And I ended up in Spike's... care, or what you wanna call it." Angel looked stricken, and she smiled, though it was melancholy. "He saved my life, Angel."
"So you decide to depend on him?"
"I'm not," she shook her head. "But I would, if it came to that."
"Of course it'll come to that. He'll see to it that it comes to that. Dammit, Buffy, you can't..."
"It's already done," she once more cut in, this time gently. "I'm sorry if you came all this way for nothing. And I'm sorry if you can't understand. But things are different now. Between you and me. Between me and him. There's no use arguing about it, or saying it shouldn't be this way, 'cause there's nothing either of us can do about it."
Angel took a step closer, watching her face.
"Are you telling me that you...?"
He couldn't finish the sentence. She looked at him for a short moment, then said:
"No."
There was a lapse of silence, where they both observed each other.
"Things with you and me... They're not that different," he finally said tentatively, smiling a little.
She returned it.
"But things with me and him are," she replied.
"Then I hope you know what you're doing."
"Does any of us really know what we're doing?" she retorted, and he smirked. "Don't worry about me," she added.
"Never," he smiled, and she huffed, but smiled as well.
¤
Spike put the flame his lighter produced to the wick of one of the candles still standing in the niches of the small windows of his crypt. He had lit most of them already. He didn't know what for. Perhaps in hope that they'd serve as a beacon. That she'd find her way there. He wanted to see her. Even if it was briefly. See if he could smell the bastard on her.
There was a knock at the door and he paused, glancing that way and then clicking his lighter shut, waiting.
Soon enough the door slid open, and the bastard stepped through it.
"Well, well," Spike grumbled. "I'd say welcome, but we'd both know I'd be lying."
Angel offered an ironic smile, then sauntered further into the room, looking around.
"Wow," he said. "This place must be a sure card with the ladies. Or is that... 'lady' these days? Feel like I can never be sure, time does fly so fast when you're happy never seeing each other."
"Mh," Spike agreed with a small smirk. "She tell you then?"
"No," Angel replied, having a seat in the armchair; something which had Spike's gaze darken considerably. Angel paid no heed. "She didn't tell me that. She told me other, more disturbing, things. Things that brought me here."
"You come to defend her from the evil undead? Yes, I would think that's what you bleeding well do best? Only, usually, that involves you skipping town... So whatever did you come here for?"
Angel's face grew set at that, and so the sarcasm was dropped, their eyes serious in the others.
"What are you doing?" Angel finally demanded.
"It's out of my hands. I bloody can't..."
"Don't make excuses to me!" Angel exclaimed, rising. "I don't know what this rooted fascination with Slayers is with you, but if you're gonna kill her, at least be as upfront about it as you always have been. I'm not putting up with you jerking her around like this!"
Spike smiled at that, and Angel stared at him – taken aback.
"Would be so much easier if I was," Spike said. "Would be a relief – to be honest. To be able to say this is what I'm doing, this is why I'm bloody doing it... Here's where I stand." He paused, shaking his head a fraction, then continued: "But now all that's a blur. And she's in the middle of it, stirring it the hell up. You know what I mean. I can see it on your face. She reaches into places you didn't know were there and rips them to the surface. Ain't pretty, but there's not a damn thing you can do about it. ...I don't wanna do anything about it."
He mumbled the last, looking away from his grandsire and turning back to the candles. He lit the last three, feeling Angel's eyes follow his every movement.
"Thought she was already taken."
"She is," Spike muttered, turning back to the other.
"Riley... Soldier, right?"
"Bloody poof, if you ask me."
"Not really asking."
Spike shrugged at that.
Angel hesitated, then added:
"So, what's he like?"
Spike glanced at him.
"Tall, dark, irritating – regular photocopy of you," he answered.
Angel sighed.
"Yeah," he murmured. "I don't even know what I'm doing here... Buffy's far from needing my protection."
Spike smirked, walking into the kitchen and grabbing two bags of blood.
"That's the trick, though," he said. "She doesn't need it, but she wants it. And you can sense she wants it. So you watch over her from afar, yeah... Don't wanna crowd her, but still can't help it. To ease your own mind. And even if she'll never admit it, she's grateful. She needs you there, right? Needs to know you're in the shadows... Makes them seem a little less scary."
He handed Angel the cup of blood he'd prepared, and Angel took it, looking into it before taking a mouthful.
"I guess," he then said. "Sometimes I wonder though."
They took a seat.
"What?"
"If she really wants it? If it's not all..."
"Just in your head?" Spike filled in. "Yeah..."
They were quiet for a while, finishing their dinner.
"Good stuff," Angel commented as they rose and he handed Spike the cup.
"Yeah, buy it off a new butcher. Fresher," Spike replied.
Angel eyed him for a second, then headed for the door.
"Ever in L.A." he said.
"I won't come a' knocking," Spike reassured and Angel smirked.
"That's my boy," he said, closing the door behind him.
Spike turned his eyes skyward before heading into the kitchen area.
He had no idea what to make of that encounter.
¤
Ath opened her eyes and looked at Jonathan, who was sleeping next to her.
She reached out a hand and touched his face gently.
They were in his room. All night they had talked about nothing at all, it felt, and still, somehow, about only important things. He was such a beautiful soul. He had so much goodness in him that had been wasted for so many years. She felt for him.
They had gotten so sleepy they had finally given in, and she could see dawn spread its chilled glow outside the window. So, then they must have slept for a few hours. They had done nothing more than that, and she felt like it was a revelation.
"Beloved," she whispered, moving closer and softly placing her lips to his forehead.
He stirred a little and she smiled. Sliding her cheek against his she let her mouth find his, kissing him gently.
What a new sensation it was. Flesh upon flesh.
He woke then.
Soon the pressure she was applying was reciprocated and then his tongue carefully made her part her lips. Her eyes opened in surprise. But she met the deepening kiss and she felt the most extraordinary feeling right below her waist, in the center of her... A fire that had never been there before, not like this.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave into it.
¤
Buffy glanced up at Willow, who was studying. Well, technically Buffy was studying too, only she had given up trying to concentrate about half an hour earlier. That time had been spent in desperate search of how to talk to Willow about what had happened last night.
"Angel thinks I'm making a mistake trusting Spike," she finally blurted, Willow raising her head in surprise.
"Does that have anything to do with trigonometry?" she asked and Buffy whined. "Alright," Willow said, sitting up. "What happened?"
"Well, Angel stopped by last night."
"Angel was here?"
"Yes. Yes, he was. He stumbled across me and Spike..."
"Oh, my God, what were you doing!"
"Talking!" Buffy replied with a frown. "Jeez, Will."
"Sorry," Willow said. "Go on."
"And he got all stare-y and Spike got all stare-y and so I took Angel out of there and then he asked me what was going on and I told him and he said he thought I was making a mistake. Well, he didn't say it in so many words, but he pretty much stated it. Almost with a line under it. A thick, black line in permanent marker. And know what really annoys me? He has no right. He has no right to barge in here and presume he knows exactly what's going on, like he's wiser than the wise, like he's... Giles. Yeah, that's who he was acting like. The father patting the child on the head saying no, no, don't jump off the bridge or you'll drown, little one. What does he think, that I can't swim!"
Willow furrowed her brow, unsure of if she was expected to comment.
"Um..." she tried. "You did drown that one time."
"Hey! Not the point," Buffy said. "And it wasn't from jumping off a bridge, so it doesn't count."
"Were you gonna... jump off a bridge?"
"No! Not a bridge. Spike's the bridge."
"Spike's the bridge?"
"Yes."
"Where does he lead?"
"What?"
"If Spike's a bridge, where'd he take you?"
"I'm not walking on the bridge; I'm standing, holding the rail, about to jump off the bridge."
"Oh... But wasn't Angel talking about how it was wrong for you to be with Spike?"
"Not with."
"Near Spike?"
"Yeah..." Buffy said hesitantly.
"So then, if you're jumping off Spike... doesn't that take you away from him? Shouldn't Spike be the river?"
"What?"
"The river. You know, like how you know how to swim, ergo you can take care of yourself and make whatever decisions need to be made about whatever relationships you wanna engage in. Wasn't that what you were saying?"
Buffy pouted, sitting back.
"I don't know; I'm all confused now."
¤
Calor looked up as the front door opened. Ath practically twirled her way through it. Her face was split in a smile. He felt irritation billow up inside of him.
"Where've you been! I've been worried about you," he stated as he met her half way.
Her smile widened.
"Humanity's catching up with you," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek before heading into the kitchen. "I'm starving," she stated, opening the fridge.
"Joyce made something with meat last night," Calor said. "It was quite good. The texture was rather odd. I suppose it's all a matter of taste. Why are you beaming?"
"Cale, you'd never understand why I'm beaming," she replied, taking a pint of ice cream out of the freezer and retrieving a bowl and spoon.
"I needed to talk to you last night," he said.
"I know. But I had better things to do."
"You forget why we're here."
She met his gaze, growing somber in the next blink, putting the spoon down.
"Did something happen?"
"Angel came." Ath's eyebrows rose. "He confronted Spike. The balance has shifted."
"It might not have."
"Ath..."
She shook her head, walking around the island to stand next to him instead, lowering her voice.
"Even if it has, it may be what's best; what's meant to happen."
"What?"
"Maybe you were supposed to cast that spell. Maybe our father knew you were going to, because he set you up, ever think of that? Maybe this has all been a wild goose chase, designed to lead us in circles, bringing us back to precisely where we started."
Calor stared at her.
"I know what happened last night," he then said.
Her eyes widened.
"Nothing happened."
"It must've, if you're suddenly aiming at turning this into an X-file." She grew impatient with not comprehending the jibe and he waved it away, continuing with: "Bortha is going to call on you, be sure of that. Nothing goes passed him unnoticed."
"I just want to know what the purpose is!" she exclaimed. "After all, even we can't control love, Calor. And that's why they sent us down here, to strive to attempt the impossible. Love was why your spell made everything go wonky. You can't put that emotion out there to be tapped into and expect it to not have some effect on its environment."
"Are you calling the vampire an environment now?"
"If you have a plan, I'm willing to hear it. But don't expect me to come up with a brilliant solution. I think my work is done."
"Your work's done? You're what brought us to this point. You and your meddling, straightening out of emotions." He huffed and she glowered. "Yes, all of this was brought forth by my mistake, but you have added your share to it. And frankly I fear there's no way to set this straight. I have thought for some time I might not be able to rectify it. If this means banishment to an earthly existence, so be it. You're right. I tapped into forces well beyond my control... And the repercussions are what lie before us."
She eyed him wonderingly, but he'd say no more and she felt she needed to try and make him understand at least some aspect of where she was coming from. Why she was feeling as she was.
"We have been given a chance," she said. "One that's never been given to any of our kin. To see the world from its point of view, and not ours. Have you taken it yet, Cale? Have you enjoyed the Earth? It's a grand place."
He observed her for a moment.
"You're in love," he mumbled and she blushed for the first time, looking away from him. "Do you realize what you're doing?"
"Yes," she said.
"You will have to leave him. No matter the outcome."
The sudden hurt in her gaze struck him like a blow to the cheek, and she slowly turned from him, walking into the dining room and continuing to the hall she softly replied:
"I know."
¤
Buffy smiled with unhidden glee as Spike threw his cards on the table. They were in his crypt, dawn just spreading its first glow outside the windows.
"Happy now?" he asked.
The emotion in her expression changed at that, and she could feel it all over.
"I think I am," she replied gently, and he smiled as he slipped one ring off one finger, putting it on the table and then pushing it across to her.
"Your winnings, milady," he said, and she gently reached out, picking it up.
A diamond almost blinded her as it caught the first rays of the sun and she glanced up at him. When she looked back at what she had in her hand it had turned into a small bird, blinking its black eyes as it observed her. It took flight, and banged its wings against the slanting wall above her bed.
She was in her room.
Rising she ran up to her window, trying to get it open, but unable to. She reached back one hand and was about to ram it through one of the panes, but the feel of fingers on hers stopped her, and she heard Ath's voice softly whisper in her ear:
"It's not the only way."
Buffy turned her head, but the room behind her was empty.
She walked out of it and down the hall to the stairs, looking back as she heard the bird follow her. Proceeding down the stairs she opened the front door and stepped outside. Night crept its familiar paths around her, and then the bird fluttered passed her shoulder, flying into the shadows.
She looked where it had gone and for a brief moment longed for wings.
"It wouldn't make it easier," Calor said, standing at her side.
"Maybe it would."
"You'd fall. I know."
"How?"
"I know these things." He looked at her, soberly. "You would break, and scatter, and no one could ever put you back together again."
"And who can put me back together again now?"
"You," Spike said, and she turned around to face him as he stepped down the ladder of his crypt. "Inside perspective, remember?"
"But I can't see? I can't get this off," she mumbled, having something in front of her that blurred her sight.
"I can," he said, reaching out and carefully brushing it away.
She stared at him, feeling as though she was a fool for believing that she could move on from this. Then she smiled, and he returned it.
"But you know I'm already gone," he said and she reached up a hand, gently placing it against his cheek.
Suddenly he was surrounded by light and his skin burned her as she touched it. She felt her eyes widen and then he crumbled into nothing before her. Behind the spot where he had been, stood Adam. The grotesque figure of him seemed to grow into nothing but a cloud of darkness, expanding to swallow her whole.
She woke with a jerk as Giles' hand touched her shoulder.
"Are you alright?" he asked and she sat up, getting sleep out of her eyes and nodding a little, unsure of what had just happened.
"Bad dream," she mumbled.
He eyed her for another moment, then turned back to Willow and Tara.
Really bad dream, Buffy thought, her heart still hammering in her chest.
She had to suppress a need to go and see if the vampire was alright. What if something had happened last night?
No, she told herself. No, nothing has. But something's going to.
At that she felt a knot form in her stomach. It was big and dark and threatened to swallow her whole.
¤
For once Spike hadn't been able to go to sleep. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't envelope him. Wouldn't hush all the disturbed worries circling his head. Wouldn't grant him needed rest. Finally he thought to hell with it and got up, deciding to go see if he couldn't find her, since she seemed not to be about to come knocking down his door anytime soon. He hated running after her like this, but there was only so much a bloke could take. And when she was running around with ex-blokes and current-blokes and God knew who else...
Bloody hell. She had done this to him, and then she'd left him to die. Maybe all the signs he kept thinking he saw on her every time they were close to each other, were all wrong. Perhaps he was just kidding himself. Like she had once said: perhaps he really was only seeing what he wanted to see.
Fifteen minutes later he slammed the front door of the Summers home shut behind him, pushing his duster off his head. Waving his hand a little at the smoke emanating from him, he had a look around. Seemed empty. Of course, it was a Saturday afternoon. Slayer was probably meeting up with her posse someplace and mummy Summers surely had better things to do than to...
"Spike?"
Busted.
"It is Spike, isn't it?" Joyce asked, coming from the dining room and into the hall, where a very old vampire was growing very sheepish.
"Yeah..."
She didn't look as welcoming as she always had before, and soon enough it hit him why.
"I know you didn't approve of Buffy staying with me, and I want to apologize," he said, amazed at how quickly the words fell from his mouth. "It wasn't planned, in any way. And I did try to make her go the hell away, but she's so bloody stubborn! ...All I want said is: I know you didn't want her there and I know I didn't have any right to... to take care of her."
"Is that what you call it?"
"Joyce... Erg, Mrs. Summers, your daughter is one of the best people I've ever known." He paused, retracing his entire history in one fell swoop and promptly correcting himself by continuing: "Actually, she is the only really good person I've ever known. I want you to understand that I respect her. That I didn't before, but that I do now. So maybe some good came out of it."
"Is that really why you came here today? To offer your apologies?"
"No," he confessed.
"You came here for Buffy."
"Yes... She in?"
"No, she's at Giles'."
"I sort of figured that. Just not on the way here."
She looked at his shoulder, where a small pillar of smoke was still visible. He noticed where her gaze was resting, his own going there as well, and he quickly flailed one hand at the spot, smiling a little.
"Would you like some coffee? Or tea, perhaps?"
He couldn't hide how unexpected this show of hospitality was to him. He had been certain he was a second away from being politely thrown out the door.
"Sure," he said. "Either."
"Got a fresh pot just made," she said. "Come on in."
She led the way into the kitchen and he hesitantly followed.
"It's coffee," she said, grabbing the pot and a cup, putting the latter down before pouring the liquid into it.
"I don't mind."
She gave him a half smile, sliding the cup over to him before picking up her own, which had already been prepared. There was silence for a short while, Spike bringing the cup to his lips and taking a slow sip.
"From what I gather you've lived for quite some time, so you must've known some good people before meeting my daughter," Joyce commented, making Spike raise his eyebrows.
"I suppose," he agreed. "But none quite like her."
"I don't think anyone's quite like Buffy."
He smiled.
"No, not quite."
There was the first hint of a real smile on her lips and then she leaned forward against the island, eyeing him for a long moment.
"I'd rather you left her alone, you clearly have already understood that," she said and he nodded slowly. "I don't understand, though," she then sighed. "What is it about your kind that draws her to you like a moth to a flame? It seems like one of fate's cruel ironies."
"One of them," he nodded. "The other big one is our kind being so completely drawn to her..."
He trailed off after that, wondering if he should speak so openly about this unyielding devotion he held for her daughter... She didn't approve of it, after all.
But as she once again observed him he felt he should be entirely frank with her. She spoke before he got the chance to, however.
"I can't say anymore what's best for Buffy, and it pains me immensely, but I have to admit it to myself. She has grown on her own, has been forced to, and she's moved out from under my wing. My protective urges seem fruitless, even pointless. Well, don't they?" He gave a nod. "I guess I'll never truly outgrow them, but I'll have to overlook them. Let her make her own choices. Her own mistakes."
"I think, once she makes a choice, it's usually the right one," he mumbled. "She's not very prone to mistakes."
"You think?"
"Don't you?"
"I've only seen her... fight a few times... Every time it's like the first. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."
"I know what you mean. She's got one mean left hook."
Joyce raised her eyebrows at that and the vampire again grew sheepish, smirking a little.
"She's a clever girl," he then stated.
"Yes," Joyce said slowly, "but she is only a girl."
He smiled.
"She's so much more than that," he remarked.
"How old are you, really?"
"Wouldn't it be better you didn't know?"
"No," she replied firmly, "tell me."
"Almost a century... and a half," he finally said and her eyes grew.
She was silent for two dragged out minutes, where he waited for any kind of reaction but she just stared into her coffee. Finally she shook her head a little and fastened her gaze in his once more.
"Buffy's only nineteen," she said, voice soft with incomprehension.
He couldn't help the nearly apologetic look that came into his eyes. He didn't know how to explain this to her.
"I know," he finally said.
"Compared to you, she's still a child."
"No, she's far from a child," he replied gently. "I know you know that."
She took a mouthful of coffee, making a face as it had cooled considerably, then she gave a small shrug, not quite looking at him.
"She's been talking about a boy... At her school," she said, locking eyes with Spike again.
"Mrs. Summers, Buffy and I are associates, partners..." he said, filling in with: "Nothing more."
"You don't like it very much, do you?" she asked.
"'S fine," he said, defensively. "'S not the plan I had when I came to this bleedin' town, but I suppose it works, since it's the only way to work out the kinks between us. As it is, I'd rather be on her good side than her bad side anyway."
She looked as though she could see right into him.
"That's not what I meant," she then said.
His resolve from before had left him and now he didn't know how to respond.
"She's with the boy," he finally murmured.
Joyce watched as he drank some coffee. An odd feeling rested at the base of her spine, and it disturbed her. She remembered the few encounters she had had with him. He seemed different. More together, and yet somehow completely torn apart. His eyes held such sadness now. The power she had seen on him seemed changed as well. He had strength about him which she took to be a part of his being; she had felt the same emanate from Angel. But the destructive force of that strength now seemed lessened.
"Refill?" she asked as he put the cup down.
¤
Buffy stepped through the door at a quarter passed eleven that evening. Her head was pounding. She had hit her temple on the edge of a tombstone walking home. No attacker, not even a branch to stumble on, just her feet... She felt like a complete fool and had thanked her lucky stars that no one had been around to witness the embarrassment. She supposed she had been slightly preoccupied, though. Trying to keep from walking passed Spike's crypt; purely to see if there were any candles lit, of course. She had no idea what she would say to him when she saw him next. And she wondered what sort of mood he'd be in.
Maybe that was why she was pushing the encounter on the future as much as possible. The longer it took, the more time he would have to... forgive and forget? Damn it, it wasn't like she was betraying him. She and he weren't... involved. If he got a little jealous there was nothing she could do about that. She would see Angel again. And again. And probably again after that. She didn't want Spike pouting and whining and behaving like a child just because she happened to still get along with her ex...
The sound of laughter interrupted her thoughts and she paused in the doorway before closing the door behind her, a frown placing itself on her brow.
It was her mother's laugh. And... But it couldn't be.
She unbuttoned her jacket as she walked forward into the living room, stopping short, her brow untangling as her eyebrows rose instead.
Spike looked slightly taken aback, but Joyce kept her smile on, getting to her feet.
"You're home," she said, stroking Buffy's arm as she passed her. "I'll get you a cup of coffee."
"I'm... I'm fine," Buffy said hesitantly, her eyes not having left Spike's. As Joyce left the room – not paying her daughter's decline of a beverage any heed – Buffy added: "What is this?" Spike gave her a look, not understanding. "What are you doing in my house? With my mother?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Where's the trust?"
"Spike, I'm only asking..."
"Are you?"
She felt how tense she was getting. The last time she had seen him... This was the last place she had expected to meet him. And this was a situation she would never even have fathomed.
She slipped her coat off her shoulders, throwing it aside and coming up to sink down on the couch next to him.
"I came here looking for you," he said and she turned her head to him.
"Adam?"
"No..."
She eyed him.
"Angel," she then said and he smiled slightly, unsure of why he suddenly felt younger than her. "Look..."
"You're not gonna tell me anything I haven't already heard you say in my head," he silenced her. "Let's leave it."
"Fine," she agreed.
He was silent for a moment, then asked:
"Snog him?"
She gave him a reproachful look, then had to smile a little.
"No," she answered, giving his leg a push with her own. "What kinda girl do you take me for?" she added.
He smirked.
"Apologies, lady," he said, inclining his head, making her smile widen.
Joyce returned with Buffy's coffee, Buffy taking the cup, but refraining from drinking. The caffeine wouldn't improve the still pounding sensation in her head.
"Thanks," she still said as Joyce sat down in the armchair.
"Spike was just telling me a pretty amusing story," Joyce said. "Perhaps you'd like to hear it?"
"Maybe I've heard it," Buffy remarked, eyes on Spike.
"No, you haven't," he replied. "It's about Drusilla."
A flash of Spike entwined in deep lip-lock with the vampiress came before Buffy's eyes and she blinked it away quickly.
"Oh, do tell," she simply said, her heart beat elevating precariously.
"We were in Prague. A while back. She was getting weaker by the day, and I wanted to do something nice for her..."
"This doesn't involve children, does it?"
"Think your mum would find it amusing if it did?"
He had a point and she settled back to listen. She glanced over at her mother, who seemed relaxed. Enjoying herself. What had happened to bring this about? Spike went on telling his story, Joyce smiling and Buffy doing the same, though she was barely hearing the words. Her mind was racing with other thoughts. With a rush of possibility, belief that this was the beginning of something. A diamond blinding her.
"Buffy," Joyce's voice broke through.
"Sorry..." she said. "Must've zoned out. I'm a little tired."
"Go up and go to bed, I'll deal with the dishes," Joyce instructed.
Buffy glanced at Spike, but feeling how tired she truly was she slowly rose, walking around the table to give her mother a kiss goodnight. When she turned, Spike got to his feet and there wasn't more than a few inches separating them. She looked up at him, feeling her heart jump into an eager thump within her. His fingers moved up, slipping over her forehead to her temple, moving away her hair and eyeing the bruise beginning to show.
"You okay?" he asked and she brought her hand up, sliding it over his and then bringing his down with it as she lowered her arm.
"Aren't I always?" she asked with a small smile, but her hand still rested lightly in his and she thought of what he was going to do for her, what he was willing to do for her, what he was risking for her.
Because it was for her he would go and stand face to face with Adam. She didn't want to consider what might happen if his poker face ever slipped.
She remembered her dream, what it had felt like when his ashes had scattered before her. Like a piece of her went with it, irrevocably.
"No," he murmured now, his free hand gently touching the shoulder that had been wounded, what felt like years ago now, and adding: "Not always."
She suddenly grew aware of how not alone they were in the room, and made herself break away from him, stepping back and turning a smile on her mother.
"Goodnight," she said and Joyce gave a nod, watching as Buffy left the room.
"Well," the elder said, rising.
"Let me help you with that," Spike offered, grabbing the emptied plate of brownies – supplied by Ath – and his and Buffy's cup, leaving Joyce her own to bring into the kitchen.
"Thank you," Joyce said and they walked through the living room in silence until she said: "Drusilla... You talk of her with great affection."
"I think I'll always feel affection for the crazy bird, doesn't matter what she did to me."
"I think I understand that," Joyce nodded. "Buffy's father and I... Well, it's sort of the same."
"Mh. Can't choose who you love, or isn't that the tune?"
"Yes, and isn't it unfortunate?"
Buffy leaned against the wall at the top step of the stairs, wishing her legs didn't ache to go down and rejoin them.
Spike glanced up at the ceiling. If the Slayer thought he couldn't sense how close she was, she was delusional. He wanted to will her back down, almost tried to reach out for her with everything in him and persuade her to come stand at his side, but then the door opened and Ath and Calor came through it.
Joyce turned around, a smile on.
"Hello there," she greeted.
"Hey, Joyce," Ath smiled back. "Still up, I see."
"Unexpected company."
"Ah. Where's Buffy?"
"At the top of the stairs," Spike replied in Joyce's place, waiting for only a moment before he heard soft padding of feet aloft.
He couldn't hold down a smile.
Ath noticed it, and he noticed that she noticed it, but he merely cocked an eyebrow, bringing out a fag before heading to the door.
"Joyce," he gave a nod goodbye and she smiled, returning it before he exited.
"I'm off to bed," she said. "Don't stay up too late."
The twins gave her a smile each as she walked out of the room, proceeding upstairs.
"That vampire really doesn't like me," Ath muttered.
"He barely seems to see me," Calor commented.
"You're not close to Buffy. He can sense that I am. I'm sure of it."
"I'm pretty close to Buffy," Calor disagreed silently, making his sister smile another smile.
"I might try to make amends," she said.
"For what?"
"For barging into their lives unannounced. He didn't like it. He doesn't like things he can't trust."
"Hmh," Calor huffed, "no wonder he's the way he is."
"I'd like to rebuild whatever bridges I've burned," she said.
"What for?"
"Because I want to."
¤
It had been a good evening, though he never would have expected to have anything in common with Joyce. They had been able to speak quite freely about a lot of things. She had been curious about the life he had lead, and though he hadn't told her the more gruesome details, he had tried to be as honest as he could. She knew things, of course. Things she must've heard from Buffy. Slowly but surely, though, she had started to open up about the fears she had for her daughter. Once she started talking it seemed like such a relief to her to get to speak about it. It was strange how much he had to realize that he shared them. The thought of Buffy actually ever dying...
No, he didn't want it even near his head.
He stepped into his crypt and immediately knew he wasn't alone. Turning his head to the right his gaze landed in Adam's.
Alright, he thought. Here we go.