Chapter Thirteen
The Career Fair.
Something Buffy was not looking forward to going. Not when it was proposed, not when she'd heard about it, or when the Sunnydale staff began setting up booths for students to figure out their futures. She wasn't even going to bother participating until Principal Snyder had forced her. It was his hoop of the week; he's not happy unless Buffy was jumping. If it were up to her, she wouldn't have shown up.
And for the first time, Giles had agreed with Snyder, as did Willow and Xander. It was like everyone in her life was pretending that they didn't know what her deal was. No matter what her aptitude test says, it was all mootville for her. She shouldn't bother filling out a test for the Career Fair. Pointy wooden things and bumpy ridged faces were her future—nothing more, nothing less.
Was Buffy a teensy weensy bit curious about what future she could have had if she weren't the Slayer? Of course. She'd never admit that out loud, but it was a thought that would pop up from time to time. Maybe she could have been a doctor or a pilot. Those jobs may sound extreme for someone of her ACT scores, but she also hunted vampires and demons every night, so nothing was impossible.
When Buffy was at Hemery, she had a whole list written out about what kind of life she'd live after graduation. She threw away that list after she was kicked out of Hemery. She was sealed in her fate, and there was no way out. Unless Hell froze over and every vampire in Sunnydale went into early retirement, her future was sealed in fate and very much a non-issue.
Buffy sighed as she walked through the cemetery. Tonight was quieter than usual. Fortunately, she had not run into any of Spike's lackey's in a few weeks. Spike seemed to be on the low also. Angel didn't have much to report either. It was giving Buffy an itch. In her experience, whenever things were this calm meant that something big was coming.
Buffy scanned the graveyard one last time before she turned around to begin walking home. She hadn't walked more than a few steps when she heard clinking noises. Looking around, she noticed they were coming from a nearby mausoleum. She walked over and peeked inside to see the light on and a vampire chipping away at a wall. Buffy stepped back as she leaned against the wall and waited for him to come out. A few moments later, the door opened, and the vampire walked out.
"Does 'rest in peace' have no sanctity to you people?" Buffy asked wryly. "Oh, I forgot. You're not people."
The hair on her neck stood up as she sensed another vampire behind her. She quickly turned around and kicked him in the gut, then jaw. Pulling out her stake, she shoved it into his chest. He exploded into ashes.
"One down," she said, turning back around to a missing vampire. "One gone."
That would be a conversation she would have with Giles tomorrow. She looked around but saw no sign of him anywhere. Shrugging her shoulders, she put the stake back into her pocket and began walking home.
Once there, she climbed up her tree and to her window. To her surprise, Angel was inside with his back turned to her, looking at something by her bookcase. She didn't like the idea of Angel thinking he could come inside her home without permission. Just because he had an invite didn't mean he had an invite whenever he pleased. She purposefully tossed her hunting bag loudly onto the floor. Startled, Angel turned around with Mr. Gordo clutched in his hands.
"Buffy! You scared me."
"Now you know what it feels like, Stealth Guy. Just dropping by for some quality time with Mr. Gordo?" Climbing into her room, she began opening her bag to store away her stake.
"Excuse me?" Angel asked, confused.
"The pig."
"Oh," he chuckled and put the stuffed animal on her bed.
Buffy walked over to him. "What's up?"
"Nothing," he said while trying to keep a blank face, but Buffy knew better.
"Only you don't have a nothing face. You have a something face. And you don't have to whisper. Mom's in L.A. till Thursday. Art buying, or something."
"Then why'd you come in through the window?"
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Habit."
"I wanted to make sure you're okay. I had a bad feeling."
Buffy exhaled and sat down on her bed. "There's a surprise. Angel comes with bad news."
Angel looked hurt. "I seem to get this reaction from you every time I come around."
Buffy immediately felt guilty. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I've been Cranky Miss all day. It's not you."
That seemed to relieve Angel a little.
"Well, what is it then?"
"Uh, we have this thing at school."
"Career week?"
Buffy gave him a questioning look. "How did you know?"
Angel shrugged. "I lurk."
Buffy didn't bother to inquire further on that. It wasn't like it was new information to her.
"Sometimes I just want… I want a normal life. Like I had before," she confessed.
"Before me."
"No!" She looked up suddenly, her eyes locking with his. Didn't he understand that her world didn't revolve around him? "You're the one freaky thing in my freaky world that still makes sense to me." That was a lie. "I just get messed up sometimes. I wish we could be regular kids." But as she said that, she imagined it was blue eyes she was looking into instead of brown.
Angel stood up. "I'll never be a kid."
"Okay, then a regular kid and her cradle robbing, creature-of-the-night boyfriend," she said, trying to lighten the mood. Angel couldn't help but let out a laugh. Buffy smiled back before suddenly realizing that she had called him her boyfriend. While their relationship had steadily improved over the weeks, she wasn't sure if they were boyfriend-girlfriend ready yet. Buffy hoped he wouldn't say anything about her Freudian slip, but of course, her luck sucked.
"Boyfriend?"
She sighed. "That just came out."
"I could be your creature-of-the-night boyfriend." There was a long pause, and then he continued, "If you want me to be."
"Well, I-I, you see–"
"It's fine," he interrupted. "We don't have to rush anything."
Buffy let out a relieved breath as Angel turned around and picked up a picture on her nightstand, changing the topic.
"Was this part of your normal life?"
"Oh, my God," she laughed and stood up. "My Dorothy Hamill phase. My room in L.A. was pretty much a shrine. Dorothy dolls, Dorothy posters, I even got the Dorothy haircut. Thereby securing a place for myself in the geek hall of fame."
"Hmm, you wanted to be like her?"
"Are you kidding? I wanted to be her. My parents were fighting all the time, and skating was an escape. I felt safe."
"When was the last time you put on your skates?" Angel asked.
Buffy thought about that for a moment. The last time she skated was before her parents divorced. "About a couple of hundred demons ago."
"There's a rink out past Route 17, it's... closed on Tuesdays."
Buffy looked up at him and gave a slight smirk. "Tomorrow's Tuesday."
"I know."
Buffy threw her hands in the air. "Fine, you've convinced me."
Angel smiled, a rare sight she didn't see often, and began walking towards the door. "I'll let you get some sleep."
"Actually, I was planning on meeting up with Willow and Xander at the Bronze. You want to come?"
Angel shook his head. "Not tonight. I should head out and see if I can find any word on what Spike is up to."
"Still nothing?"
"Not yet, but I know him. He won't stay quiet for long," he replied. "Have fun tonight. I'll let you know if I hear anything."
Buffy nodded and watched as he walked out of the room. She couldn't help but wonder if something big was coming… and if the bleached blonde was involved somehow.
Spike could give credit when credit was due, and the Slayer had earned his respect more than he'd cared to admit.
After his failed attempt at the Sunset Club a few weeks ago, he'd been spending a majority of his waking hour reading the Watcher's Journal. She'd fought alongside a dummy to take down a demon, an invisible girl, a witch, a demon trapped inside the internet. The list was endless, and he was unfortunately very impressed.
And, of course, her most significant defeat, the Master. Before he'd arrived in Sunnydale, Spike had thought that old BatFace's death was simply a fluke. There was no bloody way a Slayer as young as she could defeat the oldest vampire in history when so many others had failed. He had walked into this town overly confident that he would be able to kill her that first night on Saint Vigeous, ignoring the talks from the demon community of her reputation. Spike had fought Slayers who were more cunning and skilled in numerous fighting techniques, especially the Chinese Slayer he killed in the early 1900s. What was it about this Slayer that was so different?
Besides the two Slayers on his list, Spike had fought and come into contact with a few other Slayers in his unlife. None of them acted or fought like Buffy Summers. She was truly unique in that regard. Her fighting style focused on luck and using her surroundings as resources rather than technique and skills. She was an intelligent fighter, and unlike the other Slayers, she had a desire to live. Not to mention having family and friends, something that was unheard of for a Slayer. They weren't meant to go to school and have an everyday life.
"Why are you still reading that?"
Spike was taken out of his thoughts to see Dru standing across the room, an annoyed look on her face.
"I have to do my research. The better I understand the Slayer, the easier it is for me to kill the bitch," he explained, exasperated. That was not the first time he had to answer that question from her.
Dru pouted. "She's more important than your princess."
Spike immediately felt like a righteous git. "No baby, she isn't," he said, standing up and walking over to her.
"You're lying," she yelled, scratching him across the face with her long sharp nail. "She floats all around your head. Laughing. Why can't you push her away?"
Spike wiped the flowing blood from his cheek as he tried to reign in his anger. The last thing he needed was to lash out at the one person who least deserved it. No, he'd save his rage for the Slayer. And he'd enjoy every sodding minute of it.
Dru put her hand to her head as she clutched it in pain. "I… I need to change Miss Edith," she said and then suddenly bent over and whined.
Spike immediately put his arms around her and pulled her back up. "Oh, forgive me! You know I can't stand to see you like this."
He walked her over to the bed. She slowly sat down, still clutching her head.
Spike sighed in frustration. "We're running out of time. It's that bloody Slayer! Whenever I turn around, she's muckin' up the works."
"Shh. Shh," she tried to comfort him, leaning back against the pillows. "You'll make it right. I know."
Her eyes closed, and she was asleep. It was becoming a task for her even to walk now. Every day that passed, she became weaker and weaker until…
Spike shook his head. He wouldn't let that happen.
He kissed her gently on the forehead and went into the other room where Dalton had been working to find Drusilla's cure.
"Well," he said, walking around the table to where Dalton sat with the book Vanessa had stolen weeks ago. "Come on, now. Enlighten me."
"Uh, well, it looks like Latin, but it's not. I-I'm not even sure it's, it's an actual language–"
"Then MAKE IT A LANGUAGE! Isn't that what a transcriber does?!" Spike yelled. He was surrounded by a bunch of bloody fucking imbeciles!
"Well, not exactly…" he yelped as Spike grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him from his chair.
"I want the cure," he said through clenched teeth. They were losing time. Drusilla was losing time. They had the cross from Du Lac's tomb and his bloody book. If only they could figure out how to use the damned thing...
Making up his mind, Spike pushed Dalton back into the chair. If he didn't leave this room, he'd end up killing Dalton. And the wanker was the only minion he had that had any sense of a brain in his noggin.
"I want that cure figured out by the time I return," he called angrily over his shoulder and stormed out of the room.
Spike wasn't sure where his feet were taking him until he found himself outside the only club in town where people go. The Bronze. It was the perfect place to find victims for dinner. That's why he began coming at first, but the more he stepped foot into the building, the less he was there for food and more for her.
He should've known the Slayer would be among the population of teenagers to migrate there. The first time he saw her was two months ago, a few nights after Saint Vigeous. He made sure to avoid her while he searched for his food. It was easy since she was too occupied with other fledglings that weren't as cautious as Spike was. He wasn't aware it'd all begun to change until one night, he had walked into the club and up to his usual spot on the balcony that he realized wasn't there for food. He just sat there and watched her dance. It became a routine after that. He'd come, go upstairs, and just watch.
He'd been good about keeping his presence a secret, until one night, right before Halloween, the Slayer had almost spotted him.
It wasn't like he had meant almost to get caught. Spike had become careless that night, stepping out of the shadows to listen carefully to their conversation. When Angel had come over to the Slayer and had asked her out, Spike had felt something, and he wasn't entirely sure what.
Loathing, disgust, hatred.
Lust, heat, desire.
He tried to deny it, but it was becoming increasingly more complicated when his cock hardened at the mere sight of her. Drusilla was beginning to even catch onto him. It wasn't like they hadn't desired other people in the century they'd been together. But this was different because it wasn't some disposable meek human. It was a sodding Slayer.
He looked down at her as she sat at a table with her blokes. Willow and Xander, he'd heard her call them. He listened to their conversations, hoping that the Slayer would talk about how she knew him, where they might had met.
She never did.
They talked about school, slaying, shopping, and boys–specifically Angel. He may act like he was all nice and innocent, but Spike knew the truth. He didn't know what women saw in the Magnificent Poof. He was always brooding and depressed. At least as Angelus, the sod had a sense of humor. Angel was pathetic, and soulfully Slayer whipped.
Buffy stood up and walked out towards the dance floor with her friends. The redhead danced awkwardly, and the boy made a fool of himself. His eyes stayed focused on the Slayer. He understood what Angel saw in her. A good treat, she was, the way her hair whipped over her shoulders and her perky tits bounced when she danced.
Spike groaned as his cock hardened. He immediately felt a surge of guilt rush through him. The love of his life was lying in bed sick while he was here watching the Slayer dance. He was a bastard, and this was becoming ridiculous. He couldn't continue to lust after the Slayer. He had to get her out of his head. Killing her would solve that problem nicely, but it was hard when he constantly worried over Dru's safety. She would never be healed while the Slayer was alive and breathing down their necks.
She was the gnat in his ear, the gristle in his teeth, the bloody thorn in his bloody side!
Suddenly, an idea formed in Spike's head and didn't leave until he was back at the mansion where he'd left Dalton.
"The cross is the key to everything!" Dalton exclaimed. "The blood from Drusilla's sire is what will heal her."
Spike nodded. His night was becoming better. He'd get to kill the Slayer and Angelus, but he still needed to bring out the big guns. They'd take care of the Slayer once and for all while Spike dealt with Angel.
"The Order of Taraka."
Dalton looked up at him, confused and shocked. "The bounty hunters?! What about them?!"
"They'll take care of the Slayer while we plan on how to capture Angel," he explained. "We can't have her lurking around and fucking up our plans."
"Uh, yes, but… The Order of Taraka, I mean…. Isn't that a bit overkill?"
Spike shook his head. "No, I think it's just enough kill."
Buffy woke up with a start. She put her hand to her head and groaned as she looked over towards her window. It was still nighttime. She pulled back her covers and, still wearing her silk light pink nightgown, walked out her bedroom door and into a big, cold, and deserted room she did not recognize. There were baskets of roses throughout the room and a red carpet leading to a door. The hairs on her neck stood up as she felt something behind her and quickly turned around, but nobody was there. Looking down at the doorknob, she turned it and walked through the door.
Buffy suddenly found herself in the Bronze. She felt a pair of eyes on her and looked up to Spike staring at her from the balcony.
"This isn't how it was supposed to happen."
Buffy looked over at the man standing beside her. He wasn't much taller than her and wore a brown hat and coat. She didn't get the vibe that he was evil but could never be too cautious.
"Who are you?"
He didn't answer her question. "I didn't see you coming. Not in the way I had originally planned."
"I'm sorry to disappoint," she replied.
"Not disappointed, but it makes the situation far more tricky." He glanced at Spike. "He will kill you if you don't keep your guard up. It's much too soon."
Buffy looked up to Spike, who was now in full game face. "I'll do whatever I have to."
"Even if that means killing him?"
"Yes," she replied without a second thought.
"I guess you'll have to ask yourself one question: are you prepared to give up that future?" he asked before slowly dissolving before her eyes. "I'll be seeing you again soon, kid."
Buffy opened her mouth to respond when somebody tapped her shoulder. She turned around to see Drusilla and Angel standing behind her. They both had wicked smiles as Angel ran his fingers down her cheek and to her breast. It looked like Angel, but he didn't act or feel like Angel.
"An eye for an eye," Drusilla smirked.
Buffy woke up with a startled gasp. She clutched her chest as she tried to slow down her pounding heart. Buffy knew the difference between her recurring dreams and a Slayer dream, and this dream was the latter. She knew she had to tell Giles of her recent discovery while patrolling last night and her dream, but how much of it was she willing to admit?