Chapter 21
Glasgow, 5 July 2004
I sit for a moment in these unfamiliar surroundings, filled with a sense of unreality. Life and death haven't got the same meaning for me they have for most people. I know that. With my history, it couldn't be the same.
The next feeling is … almost guilt. I should have known that he wasn't gone. However Spike eventually leaves this world, it won't be as an anonymous pile of dust. Last time, he took Sunnydale with him. The least I could have expected this time was a chunk of LA.
I feel his ring then. It's under my top, only the chain visible. I've taken to touching it whenever I feel vulnerable, trying to remember how powerful he used to make me feel. More than any other time, fighting with him, in the sense of alongside him, was when I felt strongest. He gave me strength.
After guilt comes a recurrence of the anger. I feel it building and with it the need to hit something … anything. I look around, but all I see is a room filled with precious memories and I know there's nothing here to fit the bill. I check my watch, but it'll be a while before dark, and I don't see much point in looking for vamps in full sun. Unless they're blonde and irritating and apparently living in the flat opposite. I imagine myself hitting him, feeling the satisfaction of giving him a bloody nose, but that feeling dies in a wave of nausea as I remember hitting him before. I remember that time when Warren Mears and the others tried to make me believe I'd killed that girl. Spike may have been misguided thinking that hiding the body was the solution to the whole problem, but what he did, he did out of love for me, and I rewarded him by beating him to a bloody pulp. I haven't thought of that for a long time - avoiding memories that are too painful.
That doesn't stop the anger, though. Isn't it enough that Angel wanted to decide what's best for me? He did it back in Sunnydale by leaving, and recently in LA by assuming we'd be together. What's with Spike thinking the same thing? But then, I realise with a lurch in my stomach, maybe he did it for his own sake. Maybe he just thought that me being a part of his life again would be bad for him, would hurt him. In fact, the more I think about it, the more true that seems. He couldn't cope with the pain he'd suffer seeing Angel and me together. I … get that. I couldn't cope with seeing him with someone else, and that person being someone I've already got issues with - well, the phrase 'rubbing salt in the wound' comes to mind.
But why would he assume I'd run to Angel now there's no curse? The reason for that hits me. How many times did I imply or even state that he was just a convenient replacement for the one vampire who I loved? I must have convinced him pretty well - and come to think of it, he's not the only one I convinced. When Dawn heard that Angel had been rewarded, she assumed we'd be together, and, for the first time it occurs to me that Giles keeping me in LA might not have been without its ulterior motives either. Well, that's good, because whatever guilt I was feeling at coming here when he was assuming I was going to Rome has just disappeared in a puff of righteous indignation. Giles and I are so going to have words.
And then something else occurs to me. In London, when she described her home to us, Moira mentioned that the whole building belonged to her. She said that there were offices, and two flats, and that the other one was often used by a Council employee. Does that mean that Spike's been working for the Council? I know that Gus is the Watcher around here, but Giles talked about 'people' in Glasgow. I'm pretty sure he didn't mean Moira, so where's the rest of this team?
And how did Spike come to think of Glasgow anyway? It occurs to me that he'd have been drawn to the place where Slayers first disappeared, but how did he know about it? The Council wasn't exactly making it general knowledge until very recently, and it's been weeks since he disappeared from LA. Could he be employed by the Council without Giles' knowledge? Not a chance.
Never mind righteous indignation. Right now, the level of anger I'm feeling is way above that. And oddly, I'm even more angry at Giles than at Spike. I just know that me being stationed in LA with Angel and Spike ending up in Glasgow - somewhere I would never have visited without some rather pointed intervention - are linked. It's so like Giles to want to use Spike while trying to keep him under control. And London wouldn't do, would it? Too much chance that I'd have a good reason to be there, and while it's a big city, the Council itself is too full of rumour mills to be sure I wouldn't hear about the Council employing a souled vampire. By leaving him up here, the need for anyone down there to know that he's a vampire has pretty much disappeared – that's always assuming that he doesn't go by the name 'William the Bloody'.
I hear Dawn coming back before I've had a chance to think further. She comes into the living room, a question on her face. I get up, walk to her and put my arms around her - something that's just a little awkward given the height difference. With that feeling of being held, the dam holding everything in place dissolves, and I cry.
At first, she makes soothing noises. As it continues, though, she's getting worried, the tone of her voice changing to something more strident as her panic increases. I try to stop, to tell her what's going on, but even with that resolve, it takes a while before I feel able to speak.
She pulls away a bit, her hands on my shoulders, and I swallow carefully before speaking.
"Buffy, what is it? Is someone hurt? What?"
"No, no. Nothing like that. I've … It's Spike. He's alive."
"Buffy, what're you saying? Have you had a call? Is he …?"
"He's in the other flat. He's been here for, I don't know how long, but long enough for Moira to decide to bring us here to see him."
"Spike? But …What's happened to him? Is he … killing again? Or …"
"No," I interrupt her quickly. "I don't think he's killing again. I don't know, but I think he might even be working for the Council."
She nods at me, her face full of determination. And then, to my amazement, she turns on her heel, and walks towards the door.
"So, what's his excuse? Did he lose his memory? Was he kidnapped? Why did he let us believe he was dead … again?"
"No, … nothing like that. It's …"
"If you say 'complicated', I may just scream," she warns. I just shrug my shoulders because that's exactly what I was going to say. "The other flat? That door I noticed on the way in?"
I nod, still not sure what she's planning.
The next thing I hear is her thumping on a door. I go after her, worried about what she's planning, but when I get there, it's just in time to see Spike's expression an instant before Dawn slaps him across the face.
He looks stunned. He doesn't react to the slap, but then a slap from Dawn's going to hurt him more emotionally than physically. She seems disappointed by the lack of reaction, and even from behind I can see that her anger's coiled tight. Oddly, seeing her like that allows my own anger at Spike to cool.
"Dawn," I call, walking to the doorway.
She turns around, looking ready to pounce at me.
"What? Why is he still here? He doesn't get to just leave and not tell us he's back. He doesn't get to pretend he died. The least you deserve is knowing."
I'm trying to find words to tell her that she doesn't need to be angry with him for me, but then I realise that that isn't the problem. She's angry with him for leaving her. He left to go and get his soul, and she's never quite forgiven him for that. All the rest has just compounded her feeling of being abandoned.
"I'm sorry."
The words are quiet, and come from Spike, while Dawn and I are looking at each other.
"Not good enough!" she answers before turning her back on him and marching towards me.
Spike's expression as he watches her walk away is stricken. I don't think he's ever looked so vulnerable, and I feel the need to touch him, to take that vulnerability from him, but I know it's too soon.
I don't know if this life he's built for himself has room for me, and although I see him and feel that this time we could actually get it right, there's so much hurt on both sides to overcome that there's a risk that it'll all just degenerate into more pain. And that's the one thing I won't do to him again. If I have to hurt him by walking away, then that's what I'll do. If I don't walk away, and if he wants me in his life, I've got to be as certain as I can be that it's real.
He's watching me as I stand in the doorway after Dawn's pushed her way past me. I hear the familiar sound of a slamming door and he catches my eye with a look that says that he recognises that sound too. I turn to go and speak to her about not damaging Moira's doors - I'm not sure I'm the right person to talk to her about not hitting people - and I can feel his eyes on my back right up until I close the door between us.
To my surprise, before I get to the bedroom, Dawn comes out, a jacket over her shoulders.
"Going somewhere?" I ask.
"For a walk. There's a park not far from here – Gus mentioned it. I just need … to get out of here for a while."
"Ok," I answer. "Have you got your phone?"
She pats her pocket and nods. "Yeah, it's right here. Look, I just need to, you know, think. Unless you need me here?"
She looks at me, trying to read the answer on my face.
"No," I answer. "I need to think, and I'll be better alone."
She nods at that and walks out of the door.
Since she's left our bedroom, I decide to go in there, but I'm no sooner comfortable than I hear Moira coming back. She knocks on the door, and I tell her to come in.
She doesn't speak, just looks at me carefully.
"Good," she says, without any preamble.
"Good? What's good?"
"You are. At least, your aura is. Oh, you're stressed, and you've had a shock, but there's nothing seriously damaged by this afternoon's events."
"Oh. Good. Nothing seriously damaged. Tell me. Why didn't you just tell me he was alive? It would've been a whole lot less of a shock."
"Yes, I dare say it would. But telling you, I felt I'd be breaking a confidence."
"And bringing me here wasn't?"
"Well, if you're pedantic, then it probably was. But bringing you here also has the effect of letting him talk to you, giving him a chance to explain."
"Yeah, he explained," I agree.
"I know, I know. His reasoning leaves a bit to be desired. The truth is, as far as I can tell, that he was scared. He wouldn't admit it – at least, he wouldn't admit the extent of his fear. I think that every time he thought about contacting you, he knew things would change. He thought that you'd think less of him for coming back, and he knew you'd be angry that he didn't get in touch right away, and then everything just spiralled out of control for him."
"Yeah, that's more or less what he said."
"So?"
"So what?"
"Can you forgive him?"
Forgive him? What for? For being scared to tell me he was back? For running away because he thought I'd cause him pain? Moira's still waiting for an answer.
"I think so, but maybe he won't be able to forgive me."
"I think he already has, at least as far as anything major is concerned. That doesn't mean that he's not still scared. Again, he wouldn't admit it, but you've got more power over him in that little finger of yours than anything or anyone else ever has. He's always been led, for better or worse, by those he loves, and I think he's enjoyed being his own man these past months. And yes, I'm including some of his time in Los Angeles in that."
"It would be wrong to take that away from him, wouldn't it?"
"Of course it would."
"Then, maybe we should go. When's the next flight to London? Or do they fly direct to the US from Glasgow? We could …"
"You could what? Run? If it wasn't right for him to do it, why would it be right for you to?"
"But you said …"
"I said it would be wrong to take the independence he's earned of late. I didn't say it would be wrong to be part of his life."
I'm mulling over what she said, and she turns to leave.
"Have … have you spoken to him? Since?"
"Spoken? Not really. I did pop in and take a look at his aura, although there wasn't really much point in that. He wears his heart on his sleeve, doesn't he? He's pretty upset, although mainly at himself. I think he might have run already except that you made him promise not to, didn't you?"
I nod. I didn't even think about that – not really. I just asked for his promise, and, of course, he gave it, never mind that it would cause him pain.
"I'm going to put on the kettle. Shall I make you some tea?"
"Thanks," I answer, my voice steadier than it has any right to be.
She brings it a few minutes later, then leaves me to think. And before I know it, I've fallen asleep, worn out by what-if's and why's.
