Disclaimer: See chapter 1, 6, or 11.
PART 13
"I can't believe this was here all along, and I never knew it," Willow laughed. She grinned at Phillip as they walked along the path, munching on their crushed, flavored ice. It wasn't quite the same as an Italian Ice, or a Slurpee, but it wasn't bad. It suited the mood and the affair. Vauxhall Gardens was an amazing place.
Couples milled about the paths, consumed by each other's company. It was the first time Willow had seen normal behavior--for her--from lovers, and married couples. The night was nice, not too chilly, or warm, not too dark, but more importantly, not too brightly lit. She could've swore she heard moaning coming from one of the bushes just off the path, but she didn't investigate.
"And you've been here for almost two years?" Phillip chuckled. "You and your husband should get out more." His voice was light, but she heard the disdain in there for Spike. So many times over the past month, Willow caught the dislike, and the glares for her 'husband', so many times, she'd caught Phillip's appraising looks in her direction. But she'd never given him any reason to think there was any hope. Ever. Nor would she. First of all, she was gay now. Second of all, she didn't have the slightest inkling to be with someone, male or female, in a relationship capacity.
Determined not to lose her good mood, she settled her hand on his arm and strolled unhurriedly beside him. "I keep telling William that, but you know him. He's more a homebody than a... outbody."
Phillip nodded, staying quiet. Probably keeping his opinion to himself. "Except when he's gone all night long that is." Or not.
She opened her mouth to tell him that Spike needed to be out at night to eat and avoid sun damage, but of course Phillip had no idea Spike was a vampire. Or that demons and such existed. Unbelievable for a man living in a demon boarding house, but, in the month since he'd moved in beside them, Willow hadn't seen one iota of weird behavior from him. No horns, or evilness. No blood drinking, or sacrificing. Nothing to make her go hmm, he's a demon.
Instead of chiding him, she merely smiled, and stayed quiet. Neither spoke for the next few minutes, they just enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells. Tired of holding her mask up, she dropped her arm for a second, looking around fully. Ooo, gymnasts, she thought, seeing a woman do a handspring in the grass off to the side. But another glance told another story.
Twenty yards away, partially hidden by trees, there was snarling, growling, and vampires. The woman Willow had mistaken for a gymnast ran toward two of them, dusting one as she jumped on him. Willow bit her lip, wanting to help, but not wanting to alert Phillip. She also didn't want to get in the way of what looked to be the slayer.
She slid her arm free of his, blocking his view. "Um, could you--" think, quick! "Get us some more of these ice... thingies? Please?"
"Sure. Come on." He tried to pull her with him, but she shook her head.
"I'll wait here." At his surprised look, she shrugged. "It's such a pretty view here." She made a show of looking around and enjoying the sights. "Lovely."
"Willow, I can't leave you here alone. I--" he frowned, looking over her shoulder.
Panicked and desperate now, she pushed him down the path a little. "Hurry. I am so parched."
"I think we should go help that woman first, don't you?" he asked reprovingly. "Not all vampires are like William."
Shocked didn't even begin to describe what she was feeling at the moment. Hearing a grunt of pain, she decided to be surprised later, and concentrate on the now. Sparing him a single confused look, she turned and ran to the trees with Phillip right behind her.
The one vampire left had the girl on the ground, straddling her as he took out his obviously huge aggressions on her. She and Phillip ran, panting, into the trees, both of them tackling the vampire to the ground. Willow ended up in the best spot, far away from the vampire, and close to a stake. The woman who'd been pinned, jumped up, moving unbelievably fast in her long skirts. She grabbed the stake by Willow, tossed her a confused glare, and jumped on the vampire's back.
"Get off, you bloody bint," the vampire roared, throwing his arms back as he stood up, trying to shake the girl off. The girl drew her arm back, and plunged the stake into the vampire's back.
Willow almost had a heart attack right then and there. His accent was cockney, and his voice very similar to Spike's. For a moment, she thought it was Spike. And as he fell to the damp grass in a pile of dust, and the slayer dropped down onto his remains, Willow felt such an immediate sense of loss that it scared her.
But it wasn't Spike, and she didn't have to examine the reasoning behind her fear of losing him.
"All right," the girl said, standing and spinning toward Willow in one quick motion, her blonde hair fell loosely about her shoulders as she moved, reminding her a bit of Buffy. Her hands rested on her hips while her head tilted suspiciously to the side. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Her British accent wasn't as clipped and harsh as Spike's, it was more like Giles' accent. Softer and smoother. But her tone and look was rude.
Willow resisted the urge to put her own hands on her hips, settling instead for clasping her hands primly in front of her. "We're just--" she began, but the impatient slayer cut her off.
"Demons. Well, he is," she corrected, pointing to Phillip, "I'm not quite sure what you are yet."
"We're not demons," Willow insisted, deciding that she didn't like this girl. She was a snobby know-it-all, obviously upper crust. Bluebloods, Spike called them. The dreaded nobility. "I'm a witch. He's a human." Now she did cross her arms over her chest, feeling very defensive. "And you're the Slayer."
"How did you know that?" she gasped, looking around them for a possible side-swipe attack. "Only demons themselves know of the slayer."
"Watchers know too," Willow countered smugly, closing the distance between them. "And the Watcher's Council." Seeing Phillip watching them warily, she smiled at him, trying to reassure him. "Besides, I've known three different slayers in my time."
The slayer raised her stake threateningly. "You're a witch?" she asked in her haughty tone. "A witch who is as young as you and has seen three slayers must be involved with dark magic."
"Uh, no," Phillip said quickly, stepping in front of Willow to protect her. "She's a good witch. Though you'd never know it by the company she keeps." He tossed her a reproachful look before reaching out to disarm the slayer.
"Phillip, don't--" Willow tried to warn him, but it was too late. He already had the stake in his hand, and two dumbfounded women staring at him. "Phillip?" How had he done that with such precision and speed? A niggling suspicion was worming its way through her mind.
"I told you he was a demon," the slayer snapped with another glaring look.
That was the suspicion that was trying to jump around her mind. She turned to Phillip, the man she'd known and lived next door to for a month. Had coffee and tea and lunch and dinner with. Talked with daily, and never heard a word about him being a demon.
"You're a demon?" she asked disbelievingly, stomping her foot petulantly. "Dude, I can't believe you never said anything." She sighed deeply, extremely angry at him, and... "William never said anything either."
"William probably doesn't know," Phillip shot back. "No one knows. I'm only half demon, and that half is Galapos, a peaceful race, so it doesn't matter." He straightened his shoulders, doing his fair share of glaring. "And I am not a dude," he told her, sounding extremely offended.
"Whatever," Willow said dismissively. "And maybe it doesn't matter to you, but it certainly does to me." She took complete advantage of her long skirts, and flounced angrily away, unfortunately, her strides weren't long enough to gain any headway from the two.
"Excuse me," the slayer said imperiously, "hey, witch. I'm not through with you."
"Yeah, well I'm through with you," Willow tossed back, furious for having been lied to. "So go run to your Watcher and the Council, and leave me alone. And you," she told Phillip--no, the half-demon--walking beside her, "stay away from me. I get enough lies from William."
"Who's William?" the slayer asked, walking on her other side, and showing no signs of leaving her alone. "Is he another demon?" There was definitely a sneer in her voice when she said that.
Willow fisted her hands at her sides, forcing herself not to hit the slayer, or throw a fireball at her. "I'll bet your name is Fifi, or something like that," Willow sneered.
The younger girl shook her head. "I'm not French. My name is Laura. Why?" She got in front of Willow and tried to halt their mad dash through the grounds of Vauxhall, but Willow didn't slow down or stop.
"No reason, really. Just wanted to know. Slayer's generally have outrageous names, like Lucretia or Babette." She continued stomping down the path until she reached the entrance to the gardens. Looking both ways before crossing the street was something she did religiously now, since Spike had saved her from a painful death under the hooves of a horse that first night. Sometime during that quick left-right check, Laura left for greener pastures, hopefully for good.
Unfortunately, Phillip hadn't.
"Hey, Spike," Willow greeted loudly and with false cheer, slamming the door shut in Phillip's face. During the silence that fell after the door stopped rattling in its frame, she heard Phillip growl angrily. A human growl, not a demonic one. Hmph. "Guess what?"
Spike, either asleep, or just resting, was lying in bed with his eyes closed. At her entrance, he sat up, opening his eyes. He looked bored. Of course he did. Didn't he always? Unless he was snacking on her. Then he was happy and growl-y.
"What?" No interest whatsoever was in his voice, or on his face. He even yawned.
Stupid vampire. "I ran into the Slayer tonight." Ah, she had his attention now, though he tried to hide it. He sat forward as she continued on in an angry voice. "Oh, and Phil's a demon. Isn't that nice?" She sat heavily on the chair across from the bed, shoving her skirts under her legs when they started to poof up in an annoying manner. She was really beginning to hate long skirts... in fact, when she got back to her own time, she'd wear only jeans, and sweats. For the rest of her life. When she got married, she wasn't going to wear a wedding dress; she'd wear shorts. "Her name's Laura," she added, glaring at the offending blue material.
Spike nodded, unconcerned. "Great, I'll watch out for her." He laid back down, closing his eyes with another yawn.
That was it? After his sudden interest, she'd been sure he'd say more than that. "You'll watch out for her," she repeated dumbly.
"Mmm," he mumbled.
"And Phillip being a demon means nothing to you?" She glared at his relaxed form. "Did you know?" He had better say no, otherwise she was going to hurt him. When he didn't answer at all, she called his name a few times. Still nothing, so she got up and shook him.
"What?" he asked, finally rolling over to stare at her. "Slayer; got it. I'll be on the lookout. Anything else?"
She looked down at him, not out of anger this time, but out of concern. It was only early evening, Spike was usually up much sooner than this. "Why are you so tired? Did something happen while I was gone?" She held her hand against his forehead, checking for... what? A fever? Did vampires even get sick?
"No." He removed her hand from his forehead and settled back in to sleep. "Just tired."
"You've been tired a lot lately. Maybe something's wrong," she told him, sitting back on her heels. She bit her lip, thinking. "Oh, ooo, I could do a spell to find out if--"
His eyes snapped open, focusing on her face. "Willow, we have piss-poor luck when it comes to spells. Don't do any unnecessarily, okay?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her nod of assent. When she gave it to him, he sat up and stretched. "And, yes, I knew about Phillip. He's not dangerous though, so I didn't think it mattered."
He'd known! Why that... jerk. "That's *so* not the point," she said angrily. Climbing to her feet, she moved over to the door and locked it. "You should've told me. He should've told me." She dragged the chair over in front of the door. If Phillip or Laura decided they wanted in, at least Spike and Willow would have a little warning before they were attacked.
Spike watched her silently. "Is it the not knowing that bothers you, or the part where he's a demon?"
She turned to him with her hands on her hips. He had to ask? Obviously he didn't know her at all. "What do you think, Spike?"
He sat up, reaching out for his cigarettes. Finding the table by the bed empty, he threw the covers back and stalked over to his cloak, digging in the pockets. "I think this has less to do with not being told, and a whole lot more to do with what he is. I think," he told her, pausing momentarily to light his cigarette, "you don't like the fact that he's a demon, and that's what's got you miffed."
Willow huffed at him, unable to believe he thought her species-ist. "Wrong," she growled in a fair imitation of him. "So very wrong." Doing a little more of that flouncing, she turned away and began undressing. It wasn't the easiest thing to do in these dresses, so she'd learned way back in the beginning to get front buttoning gowns if at all possible. The dark blue one she was wearing now was a front buttoned one, thankfully, and rather easy to remove. It only took about ten minutes all told. Grabbing Spike's worn T-Shirt, she shoved her arms into it, took a blanket and pillow from the bed, and settled down in the chair.
Spike leaned back against the wall, smoking and watching her.
She should make *him* take the chair. The very stiff, extremely upright chair. Sighing heavily, she drew her legs up and turned to the side, trying to get comfortable. A minute later she turned the other way, dropping her legs to the floor, and sinking down. Ugh. This was a bad idea. Finally giving up on the wing-backed chair, she tossed her pillow on the floor and joined it, covering up and closing her eyes. Shutting out the sight of Spike's knowing look was a whole lot easier than shutting out the nasty stench of his cigarette.
And darn it, she was *not* species-ist. Her anger had nothing to do with finding out that Phillip was a demon. It was due to the fact that no one had felt the need to inform her. What if there'd been an emergency? What if they were attacked, and he was lying there bleeding to death, and the only thing that could save him was something she didn't know about because no one had informed her of the need to stand on one leg and chant Beatles lyrics backwards to stop his bleeding?
How could Spike even ask her that? After all, her whole life in Sunnydale had revolved around demons and vampires. All evil creatures Giles said; that's why Buffy fought them, and yet, over the years she'd come to realize that wasn't always necessarily so. She didn't immediately damn them all for eternity just because they were demons. She'd even dated one. Sort of. Well, a werewolf. He was sort of a demon. An in-between. And Angel was too. Demon might've equaled evil in the beginning, but not anymore.
And she'd had that opinion reinforced when Spike came along and he was all chipped and hanging around, and, okay, not real nice, or even friendly, but not constantly trying to kill them either. Hello, he'd kidnapped her to get the chip out of his head, not caring one whit about her or anything else, which was of the evil, but not of the hurting kind.
She'd grown fond of him since that fateful night. How could she not? They spent all their time together when they weren't separated by five years. And tonight, when she thought Spike was being dusted by the slayer, for that one tiny moment when she'd thought it was him, her heart had froze and her mind had panicked.
Now she was being accused of being prejudiced? Please, she scoffed, forcing herself not to listen to her aching back and climb into bed with the person doing the accusing.
Spike knelt down beside Willow as she slept, listening to her deep, even breathing. He reached his hand out, smoothing back a stray lock of hair that'd fallen over her face. It still amazed him to see how long and dark it was now. Things had changed since they'd gotten separated. She'd changed. She was more mature, more independent. Stronger than she had been.
He slid his hands under her and effortlessly picked her up, laying her down where she belonged. As he walked around the bed to his own side, he snatched the blanket and pillow from the floor and tossed them on the bed. Climbing under the covers beside Willow, he tried to think of one way in which he'd changed since Galway.
No matter how hard he thought on it, he came up with a blank. Was it possible that he hadn't changed at all? That he was still the same vampire that left Sunnydale all those years ago?
When he'd forced Willow to leave Sunnydale, he amended.
He'd been quite the bastard, hadn't he? Looking back now, he couldn't believe some of the things he'd done to her. Hit her, bit her... nearly gotten her raped. His hands clenched in the bed sheets. As it stood now, if anyone else even thought of biting Willow, or hitting her, touching her... doing anything to harm her, he'd have to kill that person. Painfully. Torture would come into play.
So perhaps he had changed.
Spending so much time together traveling through time had bound them together. They were forced to rely on each other, to trust each other. To keep each other out of harm's way so that they could get back safely.
He sighed, resisting the urge to light a cigarette. The hand-rolled cigarettes he pre-rolled every night left a lot to be desired. He didn't remember them tasting this bad the first time around. He leaned back, letting the blanket fall to his lap, resting his head on the flowered wallpaper behind him.
He could feel a vampire near by, probably hunting his meal, killing without discrimination. Doing what Spike himself wanted to do. Would it be a quick death, or all full of torture and long drawn out pain? That was a question he used to ponder nightly, back when it was just him and Dru. But then life happened, and she left him, the implant was shoved into his cranium, and he'd forced a human witch to do a spell that got screwed up.
Now he was laying in bed in a demon boarding house a hundred and forty years in the past, trying to ignore the feelings the human beside him was starting to make him feel. More than just lust, though that was a given. There was something else there too. Respect, admiration, and even a little caring. He'd prefer not to care about her, but it was already a foregone conclusion. There was no help for it now.
And if he hoped to keep her close to him, in more ways than one, he needed to be careful, and not screw up.
When Willow had slammed through that door earlier and mentioned the slayer, in his sleep befuddled mind he'd wanted nothing more than to jump up and go after her. Then reality hit, and he remembered where he was and who he was with. If he went out and killed the slayer of this time, he could just possibly set off a whole chain of events. Knock down a house of cards.
Couldn't do that. Not if he wanted the chance to go back to a mostly unchanged future.
His own well-being was uppermost in his mind, but thoughts of Willow returning to a future without having ever been born was also constantly there, on the edge of his mind.
"Spike?"
He looked down at the girl who'd come to mean a lot to him. Her back was to him, but somehow, she knew he was awake. He'd probably been sighing a lot or something, he did that when he was frustrated. "Mmm?"
"Thanks for moving me. That floor was killing me."
He shrugged dismissively. "Got tired of listening to you moaning down there is all."
She rolled over and looked up at him, her bright green eyes shining in the moonlight coming through the window. "Still, thanks." Her smile slipped a bit and she bit her lip slightly. "Do you really think I'm prejudiced?"
He nodded in absolute affirmation. "Of course you are. Demons are evil creatures. Bad things. I'd be more surprised if you weren't"
"But, I'm not. The really evil ones, yeah, I kind of hate, and Angelus, I'm not his biggest fan. But I don't hate you, or Phillip, or Oz... well, okay, I don't un-hate him, but that's because he hurt me. And even Anya," she added with a chuckle.
He didn't believe her for one second. There was just no way she couldn't have anything against demons. "Did you trust Angel?" he asked her.
She sat up in confusion. "Yes. I still do."
"Angel turned into Angelus, stalked your best friend, tortured the watcher, killed that teacher."
"Strung up my fish," she said with a humorless smile.
He waved his hand at her as if to say, 'See there?'. "Strung up your fish. Killed how many people? That's gotta make you feel a little a betrayed. And then there's me. I--"
"I don't hate you, Spike. I forgave you a long--"
He went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I kidnapped you a few times, threatened your best friend and your girlfriend, tried to kill you too many times to count. Tore you out of your own time, and forced you to travel with me to different times just so I could get a gander at the woman who left me. Gotta be some hate there." Was there a little bit of guilt in his tone? A little.
She shoved the covers off of herself and knelt on the bed, facing him angrily. "Well, if we follow that vein of thinking, we can't forget about Thomas, the vampire who introduced me to the demon world. Or Moloch the Corruptor, who made me fall in love with him so I could be the demonic robot's bride, and failing that, he tried to do something novel, like kill me. And Phillip, let's toss him in there too, not because he did anything evil, but because he abused my trust, and then we can throw in all the other demons in the known world. How's that?" she asked him, stopping for a much needed breath before continuing in a calmer tone. "Are you done?"
He looked up at the ceiling in consideration, then nodded. "Rounds out rather nicely, yeah."
She nodded curtly and settled back down under the covers. "I forgave you a long time ago, Spike. I don't hate you. Do you really think I'd sleep in the same bed, let alone the same *room* with you if I hated you?"
"I guess not," he said softly, realization washing over him. She was right. If she couldn't stand him, she'd have insisted on separate rooms, and probably gone out of her way to ignore him. She'd done neither, and had actually gone out of her way to make sure he knew that she didn't hate him. And there was that kiss on the cheek. Would she really have kissed him if she didn't like him? Not a chance in hell.
"Good." She nodded almost to herself, and laid back down. "Just so we're straight here."
"We're straight," he assured her, watching as she snuggled down under the covers with a shiver. Well, wasn't that all life affirming, and what not? The witch liked him. Or rather, didn't dislike him. There was a difference. He'd quibble over technicalities later, right now he was just happy to hear that he wasn't as hated as he'd thought.
Crushing his cigarette out on the floor, he laid down next to her, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her warm body next to his cold one. As he listened to her breathe, something she'd said came back to him.
"Wait a minute... who's Moloch the Corruptor?"
Instead of answering his question, she rolled back toward him, and asked one of her own. "Is something wrong? With you, I mean."
Deciding not to take offense, he shrugged. Nothing much, he thought to himself, just that Sam and Joe are vampires. Vampires that he couldn't hunt due to a Chewbacca wannabe threatening Willow. Oh, and Dru was officially a vampire now.
Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and settled for a head shake.
Her forehead wrinkled and her brow furrowed in thought... a common look for her. She pushed herself into a sitting position, with a yawn. Instead of continuing with her current line of questioning, she switched to one of her least favorite topics. "How's Drusilla doing?"
It was as if she'd read his mind. Dru had been turned two nights before. She was an insane and insatiable vampire. Different than his lover, and yet, so like her. It was apparent that she needed the extra twenty years to tame somewhat, because right now, she was a live wire, a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
He'd kept Dru's sudden vampire-status to himself for two reasons. One, he wanted to stick around for a bit to make absolutely sure that everything went all right. And two, he was stalling their next journey.
"She's doing," he answered vaguely. "Same as she has been. No change. There's been no change." Yeah, that ought to convince her, you bloody ponce.
She raised an eyebrow at him, looking rather imperious. "Really." That's all she said, but her tone of voice was disbelieving.
Did she know? How could she? She didn't know, there was no way she could've gotten the information from the time she went to bed two hours before, to the time she woke up. "Really." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and snickered in her ear. "Would I lie to you, love? I--"
"You what?" she scoffed. "You want to admit that you've been lying about Drusilla? You want to tell me that she was turned two nights ago? I just had a very interesting dream, sponsored by the Time Stabilizer, he's the thing that--"
"I know who he is," Spike sighed.
"Oh." She looked like she wanted to ask how, but kept her curiosity to herself for the moment. "Well, he showed me what happened... to her, and told us to move on." She slapped his leg reproachfully and shook her head. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
"Oh, I am," he joked, paying more attention to what she felt like in his arms than to what she was saying. The only time he got to touch her was when she was asleep... and he usually was too, so he couldn't enjoy it. Not that he should be enjoying it. "Very ashamed," he added.
"Spike," she said in a more serious tone, "is it true? Was she turned already?"
Looked like his stalling days were over. "And what if she was? I just wanted to make sure she was gonna be okay and all before we left." He shrugged casually, as if it hadn't hurt him to see her tortured by the dynamic duo bastards. "I guess she's fine though, yeah?" He was trying for a light, jovial mood, but Willow wasn't playing along.
She sat forward, pulling her knees up and resting her head on them. Her eyes turned his way, full of sadness. "I'm sorry. I actually kind of liked human Drusilla... not that I knew her, just ran into her the one time, but... I liked the human Drusilla better than the vampire Drusilla." A small smile graced her lips, forcing one from him as well.
He rolled his eyes, and lit a cigarette. So much for not having any. He'd cut back to less than three a day, at least until he'd run into Willow again. Now he was closer to twenty a day. "Why be sorry? What they did to her is what made her the woman I fell in love with."
"I know, but I'm still sorry." She laid back down with another yawn, bringing the covers up to her chin. "So... when do we leave?" There was a slightly hopeful tone to her voice, but it was mostly hidden beneath the weariness.
There was nothing more he could do. Willow knew as well as he did that Dru had been turned and everything was on track again, so there was no reason not to go. If he was a whiner, he'd be doing some right about now. "Tomorrow night, I guess. Unless you've got a burning need to stay here."
She shook her head slowly. "No. I have no desire to stay here at all. Nothing but bad memories and demons." A small shrug lifted her shoulders.
Yay, they were leaving. His unbeating heart didn't leap with joy. More like... slunk slowly in dread. Well, it would have if it wasn't permanently still. He stubbed out his cigarette butt on the floor, laid back, and stared at the ceiling until dawn.
PART 13
"I can't believe this was here all along, and I never knew it," Willow laughed. She grinned at Phillip as they walked along the path, munching on their crushed, flavored ice. It wasn't quite the same as an Italian Ice, or a Slurpee, but it wasn't bad. It suited the mood and the affair. Vauxhall Gardens was an amazing place.
Couples milled about the paths, consumed by each other's company. It was the first time Willow had seen normal behavior--for her--from lovers, and married couples. The night was nice, not too chilly, or warm, not too dark, but more importantly, not too brightly lit. She could've swore she heard moaning coming from one of the bushes just off the path, but she didn't investigate.
"And you've been here for almost two years?" Phillip chuckled. "You and your husband should get out more." His voice was light, but she heard the disdain in there for Spike. So many times over the past month, Willow caught the dislike, and the glares for her 'husband', so many times, she'd caught Phillip's appraising looks in her direction. But she'd never given him any reason to think there was any hope. Ever. Nor would she. First of all, she was gay now. Second of all, she didn't have the slightest inkling to be with someone, male or female, in a relationship capacity.
Determined not to lose her good mood, she settled her hand on his arm and strolled unhurriedly beside him. "I keep telling William that, but you know him. He's more a homebody than a... outbody."
Phillip nodded, staying quiet. Probably keeping his opinion to himself. "Except when he's gone all night long that is." Or not.
She opened her mouth to tell him that Spike needed to be out at night to eat and avoid sun damage, but of course Phillip had no idea Spike was a vampire. Or that demons and such existed. Unbelievable for a man living in a demon boarding house, but, in the month since he'd moved in beside them, Willow hadn't seen one iota of weird behavior from him. No horns, or evilness. No blood drinking, or sacrificing. Nothing to make her go hmm, he's a demon.
Instead of chiding him, she merely smiled, and stayed quiet. Neither spoke for the next few minutes, they just enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells. Tired of holding her mask up, she dropped her arm for a second, looking around fully. Ooo, gymnasts, she thought, seeing a woman do a handspring in the grass off to the side. But another glance told another story.
Twenty yards away, partially hidden by trees, there was snarling, growling, and vampires. The woman Willow had mistaken for a gymnast ran toward two of them, dusting one as she jumped on him. Willow bit her lip, wanting to help, but not wanting to alert Phillip. She also didn't want to get in the way of what looked to be the slayer.
She slid her arm free of his, blocking his view. "Um, could you--" think, quick! "Get us some more of these ice... thingies? Please?"
"Sure. Come on." He tried to pull her with him, but she shook her head.
"I'll wait here." At his surprised look, she shrugged. "It's such a pretty view here." She made a show of looking around and enjoying the sights. "Lovely."
"Willow, I can't leave you here alone. I--" he frowned, looking over her shoulder.
Panicked and desperate now, she pushed him down the path a little. "Hurry. I am so parched."
"I think we should go help that woman first, don't you?" he asked reprovingly. "Not all vampires are like William."
Shocked didn't even begin to describe what she was feeling at the moment. Hearing a grunt of pain, she decided to be surprised later, and concentrate on the now. Sparing him a single confused look, she turned and ran to the trees with Phillip right behind her.
The one vampire left had the girl on the ground, straddling her as he took out his obviously huge aggressions on her. She and Phillip ran, panting, into the trees, both of them tackling the vampire to the ground. Willow ended up in the best spot, far away from the vampire, and close to a stake. The woman who'd been pinned, jumped up, moving unbelievably fast in her long skirts. She grabbed the stake by Willow, tossed her a confused glare, and jumped on the vampire's back.
"Get off, you bloody bint," the vampire roared, throwing his arms back as he stood up, trying to shake the girl off. The girl drew her arm back, and plunged the stake into the vampire's back.
Willow almost had a heart attack right then and there. His accent was cockney, and his voice very similar to Spike's. For a moment, she thought it was Spike. And as he fell to the damp grass in a pile of dust, and the slayer dropped down onto his remains, Willow felt such an immediate sense of loss that it scared her.
But it wasn't Spike, and she didn't have to examine the reasoning behind her fear of losing him.
"All right," the girl said, standing and spinning toward Willow in one quick motion, her blonde hair fell loosely about her shoulders as she moved, reminding her a bit of Buffy. Her hands rested on her hips while her head tilted suspiciously to the side. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Her British accent wasn't as clipped and harsh as Spike's, it was more like Giles' accent. Softer and smoother. But her tone and look was rude.
Willow resisted the urge to put her own hands on her hips, settling instead for clasping her hands primly in front of her. "We're just--" she began, but the impatient slayer cut her off.
"Demons. Well, he is," she corrected, pointing to Phillip, "I'm not quite sure what you are yet."
"We're not demons," Willow insisted, deciding that she didn't like this girl. She was a snobby know-it-all, obviously upper crust. Bluebloods, Spike called them. The dreaded nobility. "I'm a witch. He's a human." Now she did cross her arms over her chest, feeling very defensive. "And you're the Slayer."
"How did you know that?" she gasped, looking around them for a possible side-swipe attack. "Only demons themselves know of the slayer."
"Watchers know too," Willow countered smugly, closing the distance between them. "And the Watcher's Council." Seeing Phillip watching them warily, she smiled at him, trying to reassure him. "Besides, I've known three different slayers in my time."
The slayer raised her stake threateningly. "You're a witch?" she asked in her haughty tone. "A witch who is as young as you and has seen three slayers must be involved with dark magic."
"Uh, no," Phillip said quickly, stepping in front of Willow to protect her. "She's a good witch. Though you'd never know it by the company she keeps." He tossed her a reproachful look before reaching out to disarm the slayer.
"Phillip, don't--" Willow tried to warn him, but it was too late. He already had the stake in his hand, and two dumbfounded women staring at him. "Phillip?" How had he done that with such precision and speed? A niggling suspicion was worming its way through her mind.
"I told you he was a demon," the slayer snapped with another glaring look.
That was the suspicion that was trying to jump around her mind. She turned to Phillip, the man she'd known and lived next door to for a month. Had coffee and tea and lunch and dinner with. Talked with daily, and never heard a word about him being a demon.
"You're a demon?" she asked disbelievingly, stomping her foot petulantly. "Dude, I can't believe you never said anything." She sighed deeply, extremely angry at him, and... "William never said anything either."
"William probably doesn't know," Phillip shot back. "No one knows. I'm only half demon, and that half is Galapos, a peaceful race, so it doesn't matter." He straightened his shoulders, doing his fair share of glaring. "And I am not a dude," he told her, sounding extremely offended.
"Whatever," Willow said dismissively. "And maybe it doesn't matter to you, but it certainly does to me." She took complete advantage of her long skirts, and flounced angrily away, unfortunately, her strides weren't long enough to gain any headway from the two.
"Excuse me," the slayer said imperiously, "hey, witch. I'm not through with you."
"Yeah, well I'm through with you," Willow tossed back, furious for having been lied to. "So go run to your Watcher and the Council, and leave me alone. And you," she told Phillip--no, the half-demon--walking beside her, "stay away from me. I get enough lies from William."
"Who's William?" the slayer asked, walking on her other side, and showing no signs of leaving her alone. "Is he another demon?" There was definitely a sneer in her voice when she said that.
Willow fisted her hands at her sides, forcing herself not to hit the slayer, or throw a fireball at her. "I'll bet your name is Fifi, or something like that," Willow sneered.
The younger girl shook her head. "I'm not French. My name is Laura. Why?" She got in front of Willow and tried to halt their mad dash through the grounds of Vauxhall, but Willow didn't slow down or stop.
"No reason, really. Just wanted to know. Slayer's generally have outrageous names, like Lucretia or Babette." She continued stomping down the path until she reached the entrance to the gardens. Looking both ways before crossing the street was something she did religiously now, since Spike had saved her from a painful death under the hooves of a horse that first night. Sometime during that quick left-right check, Laura left for greener pastures, hopefully for good.
Unfortunately, Phillip hadn't.
"Hey, Spike," Willow greeted loudly and with false cheer, slamming the door shut in Phillip's face. During the silence that fell after the door stopped rattling in its frame, she heard Phillip growl angrily. A human growl, not a demonic one. Hmph. "Guess what?"
Spike, either asleep, or just resting, was lying in bed with his eyes closed. At her entrance, he sat up, opening his eyes. He looked bored. Of course he did. Didn't he always? Unless he was snacking on her. Then he was happy and growl-y.
"What?" No interest whatsoever was in his voice, or on his face. He even yawned.
Stupid vampire. "I ran into the Slayer tonight." Ah, she had his attention now, though he tried to hide it. He sat forward as she continued on in an angry voice. "Oh, and Phil's a demon. Isn't that nice?" She sat heavily on the chair across from the bed, shoving her skirts under her legs when they started to poof up in an annoying manner. She was really beginning to hate long skirts... in fact, when she got back to her own time, she'd wear only jeans, and sweats. For the rest of her life. When she got married, she wasn't going to wear a wedding dress; she'd wear shorts. "Her name's Laura," she added, glaring at the offending blue material.
Spike nodded, unconcerned. "Great, I'll watch out for her." He laid back down, closing his eyes with another yawn.
That was it? After his sudden interest, she'd been sure he'd say more than that. "You'll watch out for her," she repeated dumbly.
"Mmm," he mumbled.
"And Phillip being a demon means nothing to you?" She glared at his relaxed form. "Did you know?" He had better say no, otherwise she was going to hurt him. When he didn't answer at all, she called his name a few times. Still nothing, so she got up and shook him.
"What?" he asked, finally rolling over to stare at her. "Slayer; got it. I'll be on the lookout. Anything else?"
She looked down at him, not out of anger this time, but out of concern. It was only early evening, Spike was usually up much sooner than this. "Why are you so tired? Did something happen while I was gone?" She held her hand against his forehead, checking for... what? A fever? Did vampires even get sick?
"No." He removed her hand from his forehead and settled back in to sleep. "Just tired."
"You've been tired a lot lately. Maybe something's wrong," she told him, sitting back on her heels. She bit her lip, thinking. "Oh, ooo, I could do a spell to find out if--"
His eyes snapped open, focusing on her face. "Willow, we have piss-poor luck when it comes to spells. Don't do any unnecessarily, okay?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her nod of assent. When she gave it to him, he sat up and stretched. "And, yes, I knew about Phillip. He's not dangerous though, so I didn't think it mattered."
He'd known! Why that... jerk. "That's *so* not the point," she said angrily. Climbing to her feet, she moved over to the door and locked it. "You should've told me. He should've told me." She dragged the chair over in front of the door. If Phillip or Laura decided they wanted in, at least Spike and Willow would have a little warning before they were attacked.
Spike watched her silently. "Is it the not knowing that bothers you, or the part where he's a demon?"
She turned to him with her hands on her hips. He had to ask? Obviously he didn't know her at all. "What do you think, Spike?"
He sat up, reaching out for his cigarettes. Finding the table by the bed empty, he threw the covers back and stalked over to his cloak, digging in the pockets. "I think this has less to do with not being told, and a whole lot more to do with what he is. I think," he told her, pausing momentarily to light his cigarette, "you don't like the fact that he's a demon, and that's what's got you miffed."
Willow huffed at him, unable to believe he thought her species-ist. "Wrong," she growled in a fair imitation of him. "So very wrong." Doing a little more of that flouncing, she turned away and began undressing. It wasn't the easiest thing to do in these dresses, so she'd learned way back in the beginning to get front buttoning gowns if at all possible. The dark blue one she was wearing now was a front buttoned one, thankfully, and rather easy to remove. It only took about ten minutes all told. Grabbing Spike's worn T-Shirt, she shoved her arms into it, took a blanket and pillow from the bed, and settled down in the chair.
Spike leaned back against the wall, smoking and watching her.
She should make *him* take the chair. The very stiff, extremely upright chair. Sighing heavily, she drew her legs up and turned to the side, trying to get comfortable. A minute later she turned the other way, dropping her legs to the floor, and sinking down. Ugh. This was a bad idea. Finally giving up on the wing-backed chair, she tossed her pillow on the floor and joined it, covering up and closing her eyes. Shutting out the sight of Spike's knowing look was a whole lot easier than shutting out the nasty stench of his cigarette.
And darn it, she was *not* species-ist. Her anger had nothing to do with finding out that Phillip was a demon. It was due to the fact that no one had felt the need to inform her. What if there'd been an emergency? What if they were attacked, and he was lying there bleeding to death, and the only thing that could save him was something she didn't know about because no one had informed her of the need to stand on one leg and chant Beatles lyrics backwards to stop his bleeding?
How could Spike even ask her that? After all, her whole life in Sunnydale had revolved around demons and vampires. All evil creatures Giles said; that's why Buffy fought them, and yet, over the years she'd come to realize that wasn't always necessarily so. She didn't immediately damn them all for eternity just because they were demons. She'd even dated one. Sort of. Well, a werewolf. He was sort of a demon. An in-between. And Angel was too. Demon might've equaled evil in the beginning, but not anymore.
And she'd had that opinion reinforced when Spike came along and he was all chipped and hanging around, and, okay, not real nice, or even friendly, but not constantly trying to kill them either. Hello, he'd kidnapped her to get the chip out of his head, not caring one whit about her or anything else, which was of the evil, but not of the hurting kind.
She'd grown fond of him since that fateful night. How could she not? They spent all their time together when they weren't separated by five years. And tonight, when she thought Spike was being dusted by the slayer, for that one tiny moment when she'd thought it was him, her heart had froze and her mind had panicked.
Now she was being accused of being prejudiced? Please, she scoffed, forcing herself not to listen to her aching back and climb into bed with the person doing the accusing.
Spike knelt down beside Willow as she slept, listening to her deep, even breathing. He reached his hand out, smoothing back a stray lock of hair that'd fallen over her face. It still amazed him to see how long and dark it was now. Things had changed since they'd gotten separated. She'd changed. She was more mature, more independent. Stronger than she had been.
He slid his hands under her and effortlessly picked her up, laying her down where she belonged. As he walked around the bed to his own side, he snatched the blanket and pillow from the floor and tossed them on the bed. Climbing under the covers beside Willow, he tried to think of one way in which he'd changed since Galway.
No matter how hard he thought on it, he came up with a blank. Was it possible that he hadn't changed at all? That he was still the same vampire that left Sunnydale all those years ago?
When he'd forced Willow to leave Sunnydale, he amended.
He'd been quite the bastard, hadn't he? Looking back now, he couldn't believe some of the things he'd done to her. Hit her, bit her... nearly gotten her raped. His hands clenched in the bed sheets. As it stood now, if anyone else even thought of biting Willow, or hitting her, touching her... doing anything to harm her, he'd have to kill that person. Painfully. Torture would come into play.
So perhaps he had changed.
Spending so much time together traveling through time had bound them together. They were forced to rely on each other, to trust each other. To keep each other out of harm's way so that they could get back safely.
He sighed, resisting the urge to light a cigarette. The hand-rolled cigarettes he pre-rolled every night left a lot to be desired. He didn't remember them tasting this bad the first time around. He leaned back, letting the blanket fall to his lap, resting his head on the flowered wallpaper behind him.
He could feel a vampire near by, probably hunting his meal, killing without discrimination. Doing what Spike himself wanted to do. Would it be a quick death, or all full of torture and long drawn out pain? That was a question he used to ponder nightly, back when it was just him and Dru. But then life happened, and she left him, the implant was shoved into his cranium, and he'd forced a human witch to do a spell that got screwed up.
Now he was laying in bed in a demon boarding house a hundred and forty years in the past, trying to ignore the feelings the human beside him was starting to make him feel. More than just lust, though that was a given. There was something else there too. Respect, admiration, and even a little caring. He'd prefer not to care about her, but it was already a foregone conclusion. There was no help for it now.
And if he hoped to keep her close to him, in more ways than one, he needed to be careful, and not screw up.
When Willow had slammed through that door earlier and mentioned the slayer, in his sleep befuddled mind he'd wanted nothing more than to jump up and go after her. Then reality hit, and he remembered where he was and who he was with. If he went out and killed the slayer of this time, he could just possibly set off a whole chain of events. Knock down a house of cards.
Couldn't do that. Not if he wanted the chance to go back to a mostly unchanged future.
His own well-being was uppermost in his mind, but thoughts of Willow returning to a future without having ever been born was also constantly there, on the edge of his mind.
"Spike?"
He looked down at the girl who'd come to mean a lot to him. Her back was to him, but somehow, she knew he was awake. He'd probably been sighing a lot or something, he did that when he was frustrated. "Mmm?"
"Thanks for moving me. That floor was killing me."
He shrugged dismissively. "Got tired of listening to you moaning down there is all."
She rolled over and looked up at him, her bright green eyes shining in the moonlight coming through the window. "Still, thanks." Her smile slipped a bit and she bit her lip slightly. "Do you really think I'm prejudiced?"
He nodded in absolute affirmation. "Of course you are. Demons are evil creatures. Bad things. I'd be more surprised if you weren't"
"But, I'm not. The really evil ones, yeah, I kind of hate, and Angelus, I'm not his biggest fan. But I don't hate you, or Phillip, or Oz... well, okay, I don't un-hate him, but that's because he hurt me. And even Anya," she added with a chuckle.
He didn't believe her for one second. There was just no way she couldn't have anything against demons. "Did you trust Angel?" he asked her.
She sat up in confusion. "Yes. I still do."
"Angel turned into Angelus, stalked your best friend, tortured the watcher, killed that teacher."
"Strung up my fish," she said with a humorless smile.
He waved his hand at her as if to say, 'See there?'. "Strung up your fish. Killed how many people? That's gotta make you feel a little a betrayed. And then there's me. I--"
"I don't hate you, Spike. I forgave you a long--"
He went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I kidnapped you a few times, threatened your best friend and your girlfriend, tried to kill you too many times to count. Tore you out of your own time, and forced you to travel with me to different times just so I could get a gander at the woman who left me. Gotta be some hate there." Was there a little bit of guilt in his tone? A little.
She shoved the covers off of herself and knelt on the bed, facing him angrily. "Well, if we follow that vein of thinking, we can't forget about Thomas, the vampire who introduced me to the demon world. Or Moloch the Corruptor, who made me fall in love with him so I could be the demonic robot's bride, and failing that, he tried to do something novel, like kill me. And Phillip, let's toss him in there too, not because he did anything evil, but because he abused my trust, and then we can throw in all the other demons in the known world. How's that?" she asked him, stopping for a much needed breath before continuing in a calmer tone. "Are you done?"
He looked up at the ceiling in consideration, then nodded. "Rounds out rather nicely, yeah."
She nodded curtly and settled back down under the covers. "I forgave you a long time ago, Spike. I don't hate you. Do you really think I'd sleep in the same bed, let alone the same *room* with you if I hated you?"
"I guess not," he said softly, realization washing over him. She was right. If she couldn't stand him, she'd have insisted on separate rooms, and probably gone out of her way to ignore him. She'd done neither, and had actually gone out of her way to make sure he knew that she didn't hate him. And there was that kiss on the cheek. Would she really have kissed him if she didn't like him? Not a chance in hell.
"Good." She nodded almost to herself, and laid back down. "Just so we're straight here."
"We're straight," he assured her, watching as she snuggled down under the covers with a shiver. Well, wasn't that all life affirming, and what not? The witch liked him. Or rather, didn't dislike him. There was a difference. He'd quibble over technicalities later, right now he was just happy to hear that he wasn't as hated as he'd thought.
Crushing his cigarette out on the floor, he laid down next to her, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her warm body next to his cold one. As he listened to her breathe, something she'd said came back to him.
"Wait a minute... who's Moloch the Corruptor?"
Instead of answering his question, she rolled back toward him, and asked one of her own. "Is something wrong? With you, I mean."
Deciding not to take offense, he shrugged. Nothing much, he thought to himself, just that Sam and Joe are vampires. Vampires that he couldn't hunt due to a Chewbacca wannabe threatening Willow. Oh, and Dru was officially a vampire now.
Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and settled for a head shake.
Her forehead wrinkled and her brow furrowed in thought... a common look for her. She pushed herself into a sitting position, with a yawn. Instead of continuing with her current line of questioning, she switched to one of her least favorite topics. "How's Drusilla doing?"
It was as if she'd read his mind. Dru had been turned two nights before. She was an insane and insatiable vampire. Different than his lover, and yet, so like her. It was apparent that she needed the extra twenty years to tame somewhat, because right now, she was a live wire, a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
He'd kept Dru's sudden vampire-status to himself for two reasons. One, he wanted to stick around for a bit to make absolutely sure that everything went all right. And two, he was stalling their next journey.
"She's doing," he answered vaguely. "Same as she has been. No change. There's been no change." Yeah, that ought to convince her, you bloody ponce.
She raised an eyebrow at him, looking rather imperious. "Really." That's all she said, but her tone of voice was disbelieving.
Did she know? How could she? She didn't know, there was no way she could've gotten the information from the time she went to bed two hours before, to the time she woke up. "Really." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and snickered in her ear. "Would I lie to you, love? I--"
"You what?" she scoffed. "You want to admit that you've been lying about Drusilla? You want to tell me that she was turned two nights ago? I just had a very interesting dream, sponsored by the Time Stabilizer, he's the thing that--"
"I know who he is," Spike sighed.
"Oh." She looked like she wanted to ask how, but kept her curiosity to herself for the moment. "Well, he showed me what happened... to her, and told us to move on." She slapped his leg reproachfully and shook her head. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
"Oh, I am," he joked, paying more attention to what she felt like in his arms than to what she was saying. The only time he got to touch her was when she was asleep... and he usually was too, so he couldn't enjoy it. Not that he should be enjoying it. "Very ashamed," he added.
"Spike," she said in a more serious tone, "is it true? Was she turned already?"
Looked like his stalling days were over. "And what if she was? I just wanted to make sure she was gonna be okay and all before we left." He shrugged casually, as if it hadn't hurt him to see her tortured by the dynamic duo bastards. "I guess she's fine though, yeah?" He was trying for a light, jovial mood, but Willow wasn't playing along.
She sat forward, pulling her knees up and resting her head on them. Her eyes turned his way, full of sadness. "I'm sorry. I actually kind of liked human Drusilla... not that I knew her, just ran into her the one time, but... I liked the human Drusilla better than the vampire Drusilla." A small smile graced her lips, forcing one from him as well.
He rolled his eyes, and lit a cigarette. So much for not having any. He'd cut back to less than three a day, at least until he'd run into Willow again. Now he was closer to twenty a day. "Why be sorry? What they did to her is what made her the woman I fell in love with."
"I know, but I'm still sorry." She laid back down with another yawn, bringing the covers up to her chin. "So... when do we leave?" There was a slightly hopeful tone to her voice, but it was mostly hidden beneath the weariness.
There was nothing more he could do. Willow knew as well as he did that Dru had been turned and everything was on track again, so there was no reason not to go. If he was a whiner, he'd be doing some right about now. "Tomorrow night, I guess. Unless you've got a burning need to stay here."
She shook her head slowly. "No. I have no desire to stay here at all. Nothing but bad memories and demons." A small shrug lifted her shoulders.
Yay, they were leaving. His unbeating heart didn't leap with joy. More like... slunk slowly in dread. Well, it would have if it wasn't permanently still. He stubbed out his cigarette butt on the floor, laid back, and stared at the ceiling until dawn.