“What on earth could have possibly possessed you to think that you could handle such a powerful vampire on your own?!” Wesley had asked, which had started the evening off on a very sour note. “Of all the asinine things to do!”
Thankfully, they had eventually settled down. However, his father’s face was still an unhealthy shade of red with a vein pulsating in the forehead. Spike knew from previous lessons that his current expression meant that someone was in a heap of trouble. Wesley, on the other hand, was not as red faced as his father, but was still nervously pacing around the living room.
Spike watched curiously as Wesley removed his brown tweed blazer, tossed it over the back of the nearest chair and rubbed his hands over his face. With an audible sigh, his Watcher sand into the armchair near the fireplace and said, “I do believe there has been enough accusations and berating for the evening. There are other matters at hand that need to be dealt with.” Wesley informed them as he graciously accepted a snifter of scotch from Rupert. “First off, I need you to be completely honest with me about your encounters with Buffy. How many times have you seen her, fought with her…anything?”
“Honestly…huh…not many really. There was the time at the Bronze on my birthday and then last night…at the Bronze, once again.” Spike said, still slumped low in the other chair facing his Watcher.
“Only twice? That’s a bit odd since she seems to have become taken with you.” Wesley leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he stared intently at his charge; something in the young man’s voice was telling him that there was more to the story.
“Well….there was this one time. I don’t know exactly what happened, but one night I had a…erm….dream about her and when I woke up the next morning my window was open…” Spike took a calming breath before mumbling, “and there was a fresh bite mark.”
“A bite mark!” Both his father and Watcher cried simultaneously. Spike desperately wished he could disappear and slinked even further down in his chair; he envied Angel for easing out the door when the yelling had begun. Bringing his gaze upwards to meet Wesley’s, Spike nodded. Wesley stared at him, “How on earth did she manage to get into the house?”
Spike shrugged, “I haven’t a bloody clue…thought you might be able to shed a little light on the subject.” Out of the corner of his eye, Spike noticed a change in his father’s demeanor.
“Dear Lord…I never even considered the danger.” Rupert said his voice light. “I never imagined that sweet little girl to be a vampire.” Obviously shaken, Rupert pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down. Wesley was on him in a second.
“What did you do, Rupert? You of all people should have known the dangers of inviting someone you did not know into the house!” Back on his feet, Spike watched as Wesley began pacing the small room again.
“Cut the man some slack, Wes!” Spike demanded, sticking up for his father. “He feels bad enough as is and it’s not like the bloody chit did anything to me…er…or anything worse than what she did. It takes a good bit of adjustment to get used to this new lifestyle and that was fairly early in the whole sodding ordeal, so just lay off. How would he have known that Buffy was anything other than a normal school girl?”
Wesley stopped his pacing long enough to look at Spike before locking his furious gaze at Rupert. “In light of this new piece of information I think everyone needs to be truthful, no more withholding information. Rupert, I think there something you need to tell Spike?”
Spike knew something was seriously wrong when his father took his glasses off and began to polish them. “Dad, what is Wesley going on about?”
“William, there has been something that I have been keeping from you. Looking back, I know realize I should have been up front with you.” Rupert placed his glasses back on and turned to Spike. “Your grandfather, my father, was a Watcher…along with several of your ancestors. I was expected to follow the family tradition and head off to be a Watcher after graduating from Oxford, but I met your mother who did not approve of such a lifestyle. She wanted a husband and children…someone to be by her side and come home every night, not someone who fluttered through the house when they weren’t busy helping some young man kill demons. As you can see…I chose your mother.
Not once since you were born have I regretted telling you about the darker side of the world until now. So…you see, I should have known the difference, known that the pretty young lady wasn’t who she appeared to be. Good Lord, I could’ve gotten both of us killed at any time, she has free range to enter our house any time she wants!”
Spike let the information sink in before saying, “You…were a Watcher?! Huh…actually explains a lot, you always did seem to have a full knowledge of strange occurrences around here. But, on a brighter note…she never did anything, well…anything like killing us.” Spike paused, turning to his Watcher. “Why didn’t she, Wes? If Buffy is this horrible, sadistic killing machine then why didn’t she kill my dad…or me for that matter when she had the chance?”
For once, Wesley didn’t have an answer or at least something that sounded plausible. “I haven’t a clue. From what I have read on Buffy, something like this is completely unprecedented.” He stopped long enough to walk into the foyer and grab a thick, leather bound book from his satchel. “Actually, I brought this over tonight for you to read. It’s the journal that belonged to the Watcher during Buffy’s earlier years.” Spike took the heavy book from Wesley’s hand, his eyes conveying his disinterest in reading the book. Seeing his Slayer’s apprehension, Wesley continued, “Read it on your own time, for now I wanted to tell you about her early years so that you don’t misunderstand her actions; make sure you know who…what you are dealing with..
The one entry that I took a keen interest to detailed the accounts of her first kill, or what they presumed was her first at the time. It was very messy, actually from what I read it was down right a massacre. You see, she killed her husband. Mutilated his body in fact to the point that when one of the servants found him, she wasn’t quite sure it was her employer.
From what I could tell from the writings, she had ripped his neck open savagely; much like what she did to that Parker boy. His chest was cut open and his heart taken out…never to be found. It appears to have revolved around vengeance instead of nourishment. And…um…it was mentioned that his…erm…penis was severed off and…dear lord…placed in his mouth.”
Spike felt sick to his stomach, which he imagined any man would feel the same after hearing about what Buffy did to her husband’s manly parts. “But, how did she get into the house if she was dead? Wouldn’t everyone in the house know that something was wrong if the lady of the house died and then showed up on the front porch?”
“She was listed as missing, no body or funeral. All that is mentioned is that she was very young, possibly around eighteen, maybe younger. Her family wasn’t well off, father died when she was younger. She had a younger sister, Dawn and of course, her mother, Joyce. Her marriage had been arranged by her father when she was fairly young to a local businessman’s son, Riley Finn.
Oddly enough, she never hurt anyone else in the house that night. None of the servants were harmed, not a single hair. Never harmed her family, either, which is unheard of for most vampires. First thing they usually want to do is get rid of the ties to their previous life.”
Spike remained silent after Wesley’s speech. ‘Why did she let me live?’ he thought to himself. ‘It just doesn’t make any sense.’
Across town…
“Where is she?!?” Willow screamed her voice shrill with anger. “Why hasn’t my precious princess returned, Daddy?” The redhead had been ranting and raving for over an hour after finding Buffy’s room empty as well as the cryptic message that was scrawled on the mirror in lipstick.
Xander shook his head, frustrated and annoyed with his childe. Personally, Buffy had always been like a thorn in his side. Between Willow’s obsession and Buffy’s bragging about killing two slayers, he often felt like staking both of them and starting over with a new childe. Walking across the living room, he stopped in front of the ornate wall mirror and reread the message left by Buffy.
Need some time alone. Be back soon. B
“I don’t have a clue as to when she will get back, Willow. Judging from her little message, she could either stroll in any minute or it could be days….weeks…hell, even years.” Xander told his beautiful childe who had fallen to a heap in the floor, crying. “One can only hope it will be years.” He muttered to himself as he stepped around the sniveling redhead in order to reach the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table. Tilting the bottle back, he chugged the brown liquor until the remaining liquid was gone. “Fuck, maybe the bitch won’t even come back.”