Disclaimer: See chapter one
A/N: Okay, I know I said it wasn't going to be a oneshot any more, but I'm just going to leave it at two chapters, I think. I'm sorry it's been so long – I've had a ridiculous amount of schoolwork to sift through recently. Wish me luck on my prelims. Let me know your thoughts and feelings, as always.
Buffy stalked through Restfield, the back of her neck tingling uncomfortably. She had a feeling she knew why, and when she saw two shadows emerging from the trees in front of her, her suspicions were confirmed.
'Buff,' Angel greeted her pleasantly. No – she corrected herself mentally – Angelus greeted her.
'Angelus,' she said coolly, closing her eyes. 'Drusilla.'
Sighing, she opened her eyes to face them, and was presented with the strangest scene. Angelus' hair was long and wavy, his face vampiric, with a cross of blood glistening on his left cheek. His eyes were like fire, and she couldn't hold his gaze. Drusilla looked like she'd been dead for hundreds of years – her strange Victorian clothes hung raggedly off her ruined frame, and her sparse hair trailed over her shoulders. Angel had killed Drusilla inside when he'd tortured her to insanity, and now, even though she lived in a sense, as a demon, her true self was long since dead. This dawned on Buffy as she looked in wonder at the walking corpse of the once saintly woman.
'Buff?' Angelus asked, bored. 'You feeling a little off your game again? Aw, if I kill you now, people will tell me for centuries that it wasn't a real victory 'cause you were sick!'
'You're going to kill me, Angel?' Buffy said, snapping out of her reverie. 'Gosh, that's new. You know, you keep on playing the same record, I'm going to learn the words eventually.'
'Meaning?' Angelus wasn't looking at her; he was trailing his index finger down Drusilla's cheek.
Forcing her wet eyes away from the image, Buffy said 'Meaning, I'm going to know your tune so well you'll never be able to beat me.'
'Newsflash, Slayer, you don't know anything. And believe me, I know that.' He raised an eyebrow at the trembling girl in front of him. The innuendo was not lost on her. 'I mean, I'm not gonna forget the most humiliating night of my existence for a long time.' He smiled wickedly. 'Well…humiliating for you.'
'You're – you're not him.' Buffy said falteringly. 'You're not him.' Her voice was stronger now.
'He doesn't exist,' Angelus sneered; Drusilla giggled girlishly. 'The sun is setting… she's disappearing now,' she said mildly, her dark eyes wide.
Buffy threw Drusilla a look of contempt, before turning back to Angelus. 'Need a bodyguard, huh? Where's Spike'
Angel snaked his arm round Drusilla's waist. 'She wanted to play…and Spike's all wrapped up in his wheelchair, feeling sorry for himself. ' He smirked at the slayer. 'It's kinda funny, actually.'
'This is my town, Angel.' Buffy's fingers gripped her stake tighter.
'And you're the main player, Buff. That's why we're here,' he said, dropping his arm from Drusilla. He leant close to Buffy, so close that the world seemed to disappear.
'Bad daddy…where's my star? My own toy to play with? My sunshine?' Drusilla hissed into the night; Buffy didn't even hear her.
Angel came closer still, until the two were nose to nose. Buffy stared coldly into his blazing eyes, mustering all her strength.
'And we'll be here 'til you're not. It's nearly time, Paradise Girl. We'll see you at the finish line.'
Angel stepped back, straightening up. Buffy was rooted to the spot.
Wordlessly, Angel and Drusilla swept from the cemetery, leaving Buffy alone at last.
She exhaled noisily, and slowly sank to the ground, leaning against a gravestone. As she buried her face in the leather jacket she'd managed to put on over her gown, she realised with a start that it was the coat Angel had gifted her with more that a year previously. She remembered the night, and she began to cry in earnest. Tears coursed over her face as she mourned for the man she'd loved. The man she still loved. Angelus and been cruel and vicious, and all she wanted was for him to be Angel again. To draw her into his cool arms and for her to be home.
She didn't stop; couldn't stop; until she heard the swish of leather above her.
She scrambled to her feet and wiped her tears away. She didn't want Angel to know how much he'd broken her. She fixed her face into the coldest stare she could muster, and looked up.
Her mask slipped away instantly. It wasn't Angel.
She was faced with the most extraordinary scene.
It was Spike. She could sense it, just like she could all the others. But he wasn't wearing his leather duster. And his hair wasn't its usual brilliant peroxide white.
He was wearing a smart black tux, his hair longer than she'd ever seen it; floppy and a sandy brown colour. He looked younger, and he glowed with innocence. His deep cerulean eyes sparkled with youth, and love, and a hundred other words that Buffy couldn't bring to mind. He was beautiful.
She stared at him, slightly open-mouthed.
'What the bloody hell are you doin' here, Slayer?' he snapped.
Oh right, she thought. True Face, not true anything else.
Blinking, she smirked at him. 'Slaying. You know, she who walks in cemeteries. My job. I thought you were the slayer expert?' She frowned a little. 'Anyway, might ask you the same thing, Spikey,' she raised an eyebrow. 'Angelus informed me you were currently a ball of self pity with wheels right now.'
Spike sighed deeply. 'Well, I got rid of 'em, for now.' He looked down at the slayer. 'Don't tell Angelus.'
'Don't worry, Spike, he and I aren't exactly confidantes anymore,' Buffy muttered, collapsing back to her previous position on the ground. Spike, chuckled, before halting himself. He had the oddest feeling building up in his chest, a strange heat rising and filling him up. He slowly realised that he didn't actually want to kill Buffy right now. There was a familiarity to her, almost a comfort in her presence, in the knowledge that she could commiserate with him about losing Dru to the newly turned Angelus. He had a sudden urge to sit with her, to talk and to get to know the girl, someone he'd only ever seen as a satisfying meal before. As the heat in his chest burned hotter, he realised he wanted to comfort her, like she seemed to be comforting him.
Confused at the new emotions stirring inside him, he sank to the ground and sat opposite her.
Buffy closed her eyes and breathed deeply. 'Why is he doing this to me?' she wondered aloud, turning her face to the starry sky, as if it could answer her question.
'Angel?' Spike asked, prompting her to catch his gaze, surprised, as if she'd forgotten he was there.
'Angelus,' she corrected him softly, lowering her eyes to the ground.
'Angelus, then,' Spike murmured. 'The demon is a strong thing to have inside you, Buffy. And to have denied it for a hundred years, and then to have it released again, well…I don't know the feeling personally,' he paused, to gauge her reaction, 'I imagine it feels like bliss.'
Buffy's eyes filled again. 'It's bliss that got us in this stupid mess in the first place.'
'Aw, Buffy, it's not your fault,' Spike said gruffly, not used to offering comfort to slayers.
'Yeah it is. I'm the one who released him on the world, who made him a monster.' She wiped away her tears impatiently. 'And I'm the one that's going to have to kill him.'
'Think about it this way, Buff, it'd be like you denying your slayer powers,' he offered, not exactly sure why he was defending Angelus.
'I tried that once, actually. Didn't really work out. And stop defending him,' she attempted a small smile at Spike.
'Will do, luv,' he smiled back at her. 'But see, that's what the demon is like. Hard to ignore. It eats away at you inside until it's impossible not to think about blood, and death, and sex. It consumes you.'
'Doesn't seem to be consuming you right now,' Buffy commented.
'No, doesn't, does it? Funny, that,' he muttered.
'But you can't compare slayer powers to vampires,' she said, returning to the topic at hand. 'I use my powers for good. Vampires choose to be evil.' She sighed as she reached under the layers of her wedding gown and produced a stake. 'Which is why I kill them.'
''ey, Buffy, come on now. I don't wanna fight you; we were 'aving a beautiful moment there!'
Buffy smiled, and then sighed. 'Why don't I wanna kill you now Spike?' she said, regarding his clearly human true visage.
Before he could answer, the demon Buffy had fought the night before materialised in front of them; a beautiful woman to Buffy, a scabbed, horned mucousy monster to Spike. He jumped back, preparing to defend himself, when Buffy held out an arm to stop him. 'Don't, she whispered, gazing at the demon.
Spike faced the monster, and was shocked to see light emanating from the demon. He stared, transfixed, as the light grew stronger and brighter, until all he could see was white. He couldn't even see Buffy. And words were surrounding him, a low hissing at first, but slowly forming a choir of voices all whispering around him, filling him up until one clear, songbird voice said, louder than the others, 'La Cara Verdadera!'
Spike staggered backwards, bumping lightly into a gravestone. It was invisible to him as his searing eyes sought the demon through the silver mist of light. The glow began to fade, as it had done before, giving Spike a glimpse of the true face of the demon, a girl that looked startlingly like the pretty slayer next to him. Her pure white robes still shone with light, and she smiled at the vampire. Shapes began to take form around him, and he looked at the demon for one last, fleeting moment, before she was gone, and all that was left was a shimmering bouquet of white roses, still glowing softly on the ground before him.
Never taking his eyes off the flowers, he asked the slayer what had happened.
'It shows the true face of itself and everyone else you see,' Buffy supplied, frowning at the roses. 'It happened to me last night.'
'So you've been seeing everyone's true faces ever since?' Spike asked, still not looking up.
'Yes,' Buffy said evenly, anticipation building in her stomach for reasons she had yet to understand.
Spike breathed deeply, instinctively, feeling the clean air rush down into his inactive lungs. He looked up at Buffy, and his head was filled with the image of her. She was beautiful, and he felt himself inextricably pulled toward her.
Buffy saw Spike drinking in her appearance, and suddenly, the gown that seemed so ill fitting all day, felt perfect, consummate. She watched as Spike reached up to feel the hair tickling his brow; as he took in the tuxedo he wore. As they gazed at each other, Buffy found herself holding the lace she was sure she'd left in the library. Spike kneeled down to scoop up the roses, never losing eye contact.
When Spike held the bouquet out for Buffy, she reached up and fixed the lace to her hair, realising it's purpose as a veil. Their motions were mechanic, like they were being controlled, but as Buffy accepted the flowers, and Spike drew the veil from her face, they came to themselves once more. Spike brushed the hair from her face and kissed her softly on the lips.
No words were uttered; there was no need. They could read it in the eyes of the other; the Demonio de la Verdad had shown them their paths, paved the way for them to make a decision that would turn their lives around. Like the dress and the tuxedo, the roses and the veil; they fit. They matched. As Spike swept Buffy up into a fierce embrace, The Demonio de la Verdad watched, smile hidden by shadows, as the two met in the first kiss of a love that would last forever.
A/N: Thanks for reading – please leave a review!