Title: Mythical Creatures

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 2: Slayer-Colored Glasses

Note:

Thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying this little story (perhaps again, if you read it as a single chapter in the 2020 EC challenge). Still looking for a Christmas Miracle to hit Buffy over the head ...

Thanks always to Holi117 and Paganbaby - two wonderful friends and awesome writers - who beta'd this for me - before I fiddled. All mistakes are mine.

On her way home from the hospital, Buffy took the time to notice that all the shops downtown were decked out for the holidays. There were elves and Santas and reindeer in the windows, along with twinkling lights and fake snow. Some stores went for the tasteful all-white, starlight type of lights while others opted for cheery multicolored bulbs. She hugged her coat closed more tightly, wondering how it was the world just kept moving, bustling, readying itself for the joy of the holidays, when her world felt like it was crumbling into darkness. Her mother was sick – the doctors said they'd gotten the tumor, but did they really know? Her sister wasn't really her sister but a mystical Key that she, Buffy, had to protect from Glory, whatever she was. Strong is what Glory was – way too strong. And her boyfriend hadn't just left her, he'd left the freaking country! After cheating on her with vampires because … why? Because she didn't need him enough? What did that even mean?

Buffy stopped in front of a bridal shop and looked at the display. Christmas weddings were clearly the theme, with golden snowflakes, blood-red poinsettias, and snow-queen tiaras. She remembered staring dreamily into this same window just a little over a year ago, planning her spell-induced wedding with Spike when Riley had walked up. What if she had chickened out and never explained anything to Riley? What if she'd just let him keep thinking she was engaged? What if they'd never dated or fell in love or any of it? Then her heart wouldn't feel so shattered, her dignity so crushed, and she wouldn't be standing here feeling like a half-deflated balloon drifting aimlessly across a cold, barren sea.

"Know what you're thinkin'," came a deep, familiarly annoying voice from behind Buffy. She rolled her eyes, stiffened her back, and turned around.

"Do tell," she challenged, glaring at Spike.

He took a deep drag on the cigarette in his hand before flicking the butt end away into the deserted street. "Thinkin' if you don't let the wankers in, they won't betray ya, break your heart. No way to live, that," he advised, stuffing his hands into his duster pockets and sauntering up to her slowly.

"What would you know about it?" she demanded, hating how well he could read her.

"Know enough," he asserted, stopping just out of punching distance from the Slayer. "Just haven't found the right bloke, is your trouble. One who's not afraid of your strength, one who can see how bloody magnificent you are, even when you're at your worst. One who isn't blinded by your ..." He almost said 'effulgence' but changed to, "light. One that's loyal and true, who'll love ya, even when they hate you. One you can't scare off with deadly fists or deafening shrieks. One that can see through that armor you hoist up all the sodding time to cover the pain, and still doesn't turn away. Who'll challenge you, push you to be the best bloody Slayer in history and have your back, no matter what. One who'll stand up and fight until the end of the sodding world if that's what it takes to be with you."

Buffy arched a skeptical brow at him, arms crossed over her heart. "All that, huh?"

Spike shrugged. "Might as well get the full package, luv."

"And I suppose you know where to find this mythical creature?"

Spike shifted his gaze away from her to look down the empty street, pulling his fags and Zippo out of his pocket. "Can't find 'im for you, ducks. Gotta do it yourself. Sometimes, it's just a matter of taking off your Slayer-colored glasses, dropping the shields, and looking about."

Buffy tsked her tongue reprovingly. "Slayer-colored glasses," she mocked. "Has anyone told you how annoyingly unhelpful you are?" she wondered as she turned and began walking again.

"Once or twice," Spike admitted, falling into step beside her as he lit his cigarette. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"What were you doing with my mother?" she asked then, changing the subject.

"Having a visit. She's a nice lady; I like her. Sorry for what she's going through," he replied sincerely.

"And checking on me – to find out if I'm pissed at you for …" She let her voice trail off.

"Might've come up in conversation," Spike admitted, the grey-blue smoke flowing from his mouth and nostrils as they strolled along the dark, quiet streets. "Didn't want t' hurt you, Buffy – wasn't why I showed you. Just brassed me off to see him doing you that way. Not right. Woman like you, deserves respect – loyalty. Stupid berk didn't know what he had when it was right in front of him. Those bloody drugs fried his brain, if ya ask me. I did warn him."

Buffy snorted, trying to sound amused, but tightened her arms around herself protectively. It wasn't just Riley who had left, was it? And Spike knew it. That awful, mortified feeling surged inside, twisting her stomach in knots. Her armor didn't work with Spike, because he already knew what was beneath it – her shame and humiliation, her inadequacies and utter failures. She felt flayed open, every flaw, every mistake laid out for inspection and judgement.

'No, Mom, I don't talk to him! He and I are not talking buddies. And this is why! Stupid, annoying vampire sees too much, knows too much!'

They walked in silence for a while. Spike chain smoking and Buffy with her arms wrapped around her torso, trying to keep all the shards of her heart from spilling out and humiliating herself more.

"So," Spike began when they'd reached the turn-off that would take Buffy to her house in one direction, and him to his crypt in the other. Buffy blinked and looked around, surprised by where they were.

"Feel like a bit o' the rough and tumble t'night?" he asked, coming to a stop on the corner and looking at her.

"I … what?" she stammered, her eyes going wide.

"Patrol … you know, vampires? Grr-argh … keeping the world safe for puppies and Christmas?" he clarified.

"Oh, uh … no, not tonight," she demurred, looking down the street toward home. "Xander's supposed to be bringing Dawn home soon. I need to be there. You can … you know, feel free to get your, uh, tumble on without me."

Spike smirked at her. "More fun with two," he pointed out, hooking his thumbs over his belt buckle and squaring his shoulders.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you'll survive," she assured him as she began to walk away. She stopped a few feet down the sidewalk and turned back. She was surprised to find Spike still standing there watching her. "What are you doing?"

Spike shrugged. "Just watchin' your back."

"Well, stop it. My back is fine," she contended.

"Bloody right, it is," he muttered under his breath. "Right – 'night then," he said louder as he turned to go toward his crypt.

"Spike," Buffy called after him.

He stopped and turned back, brows raised.

"Don't tell my mom about … about what you showed me. About Riley and those … all that stuff."

He stared at her a few moments, his brows furrowed, head tilted, as if he were trying to decide if he could use this to get something from her – blood, money, a punch in the nose.

"Please," she added in a small voice as if it physically pained her to say the word. "She doesn't need to know about … just, please, don't tell her."

Spike nodded then. "No worries. Secret's safe and all that rot."

Buffy nodded back. "Thanks," she offered before turning away again and heading for home.

"Welcome," Spike murmured too low for Buffy to hear. He watched her a few moments before turning away and muttering to himself, "Anything you want, Slayer, it's yours. Just need t' ask. Just sodding ask."

End Note:

More soon! Thinking I'll update on Tue, Thurs, and Saturday unless I get bored and impatient like a certain vampire we know, and update faster! Thank you so much for reading!