Chapter 2
"William the Bloody." Buffy pored over the books Giles had given her. "Wow. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was a hundred and twenty years old."
"The older the vampire, the more dangerous he is," Giles said. He rubbed his forehead worriedly. "Experience counts. And those four—Angel, Darla, Drusilla and Spike—used to be called the Scourge of Europe."
"Double wow."
"I don’t understand," Giles muttered fretfully. "What is he doing here?"
"He said he came here for me."
Giles’ eyes widened. "He’s killed two Slayers already. Good Lord, Buffy, he means to make you the third notch on his belt."
"Then why didn’t he? Giles, he beat me. His fangs were at my neck and I couldn’t have stopped him. Ask Willow."
Willow nodded, her eyes huge. "It was game over, Giles. Really."
"We have to stake him," Xander snarled. He was burning with the humiliation of having been defeated so easily and kept on touching resentfully at the large bruise Spike had left on his jaw.
"Not tonight," Buffy said firmly. "We have a truce for tonight. I need to know what’s going on and he’s the only one who can tell me."
"That’s a good point," Giles agreed. "But how do we know that he’ll keep his word?"
"That’s the one thing about William," said Angel, coming through the swing doors of the library. "He does keep his word."
He smiled at Buffy who smiled back awkwardly. She was feeling a little uncomfortable at the way Spike had turned her on last night. She shouldn’t have been turned on by Spike, hottie though he was. She shouldn’t be getting the hots for anyone but Angel. And yet...
"Is it sunset already?" she asked hurriedly to cut off her thoughts.
Angel nodded. "Spike should be here any minute."
"Y’know, it’s funny," Willow remarked, still poring over the books. "Except for killing those Slayers, Spike’s nowhere near as bad as Angelus. Killing two Slayers does put him in a class of his own as far as being lethal goes, and he seems to like fighting. But he’s not famous for rapes or pillaging and stuff. That’s all Angelus. He’s way more..."
She looked up to see everybody staring at her. She blushed vividly.
"I...I mean...You’re way better at being the Big Bad than he is, Angel." She realized that her last statement could hardly be considered a compliment either and turned the color of her hair.
"Well, it’s sunset," said Jenny, coming into the library at that moment, much to Willow’s relief. "Is he here yet?"
"He’ll be checking out the place," said Angel. "He’s reckless, but not stupid. He’ll be counting how many heartbeats are in here and..."
Giles looked up quickly. "You don’t have a heartbeat. If you hide in the stacks..."
Angel shook his head. "We’re family. He’d sense me right away. I wish you hadn’t agreed to this, Buffy. He’s dangerous."
"Guessed that when he had his fangs in my neck," Buffy said dryly.
"God, Buffy!" Angel winced at the thought. "You should be dead right now!"
"I know. Why didn’t he kill me?" Buffy spread her hands in bewilderment. "It doesn’t make sense."
"Didn’t want to kill you, pet."
They all whirled. Spike had come in quietly through the library doors while they were still talking. All the humans, except for Buffy, grabbed at crosses and Angel took a quick step forward, snarling.
"Oh, knock it off, Peaches," said Spike, unimpressed. "All that manly posturing doesn’t mean bollocks to me."
"Spike," growled Angel threateningly.
"Yeah, yeah." Spike waved a negligent hand dismissively and smiled at Buffy. "Since the gang’s all here as I asked, pet, can I take it that you’ve agreed to a truce for tonight?"
"Yes," said Buffy, then whirled as a bowstring twanged. "Xander!"
The bolt from the crossbow slammed into the doorjamb in front of which Spike was standing. But Spike was already three feet away and unharmed. Buffy slapped the crossbow from Xander’s hands and he glared at her as it clattered to the floor.
"Should have let me kill him," he spat at her.
"I gave my word," Buffy said angrily. "I said we had a truce."
"The thing you have to remember about the whelp," said Spike quietly from where he was lounging against the wall, "is that he has guts, but no honor. Your word means nothing to him. He’s blindly prejudiced against demons and he thinks he knows better than any of you. Even though, intelligence-wise, he’s the low man on the totem pole in this room."
"You evil..."
"Who tried to kill who tonight, whelp? Why do you think I’m not dust right now? I knew you’d try something."
"Sit down, Xander," said Giles sternly. He distrusted Spike entirely, but he was chagrined that one of his white hats should be the one to break the rules. It made them all look bad.
"I’m the Slayer!" Buffy said fiercely. "What I say goes. I let you into the group, Xander, but that doesn’t mean you get to make the decisions around here or override the decisions that I make. You’re not the Slayer. I am."
"Then why don’t you try slaying the Undead," Xander snarked, "instead of snuggling up to them?"
Buffy caught her breath. Xander quailed at the furious look in her eyes, then flinched again when Angel turned to stare at him.
"That’s the heart of it," said Spike, leaning back comfortably against the wall. "Jealousy. You don’t have a chance with her, whelp. She needs someone who’s her equal. As fast and as strong and as powerful as she is. You don’t make the grade. You never will. Face it."
"Spike, shut up!" Buffy hissed. "You’re making things worse."
Spike straightened up. "You need to know this, Slayer. That’s what drives him. Jealousy and fear. There’s a lot of good things about him—the heart and the guts. But the judgments he makes about people come from this and you have to remember that."
"You’re being too hard on him," Giles objected loyally.
"Am I, Watcher?" Spike looked him right in the eye. "So far, has Buffy ever been in as much danger from either Angel or me as she was from Hyena-boy over there?"
"That was a spell!" Xander blurted. "I wouldn’t have tried to rape her if it wasn’t for the spell!"
Willow and Jenny both gasped and Angel made an uncontrolled movement forward.
"The others of your pack didn’t try anything like that," said Spike just as Buffy exclaimed:
"But I thought you didn’t remember!"
Xander turned bright red. "I...I..."
"He remembers," said Spike scornfully. "He just likes living on that river in Egypt, pretending that it never happened. That way he can make sure other people will never be forgiven for the same mistake that he has been forgiven for, and he can feel all righteous about it."
Giles was looking at him intently. "What are you doing, Spike?"
"You’re supposed to be her Watcher, Rupert. Why haven’t you taught her to judge the motives behind an opinion, even if it comes from her nearest and dearest, even if it comes from you? She needs to know that. For her own protection."
"Why should you care about protecting a Slayer?" Angel demanded. "What’s going on, Spike?"
"Ah, well, that’s the crux of it, isn’t it?" Spike strolled forward and everybody tensed before he dropped into a chair and threw his right leg over its arm. "Why are you protecting her, Angel?"
"I...care about her." Angel looked uncomfortable. "And it’s my job."
"Who made it your job?"
Angel’s eyes narrowed. "A guy called Whistler, representing the Powers That Be. And why are you asking?"
"Because a git called Whistler drafted me for the same job."
Exclamations broke out all over:
"Impossible!"
"No way!"
"He’s lying!"
Only Buffy said nothing. She kept watching Spike who looked back unwaveringly.
"You’re serious," she said to him finally, waving the others into silence.
He nodded. "Not lying."
"Why would Whistler do that?" Angel asked, bewildered.
Spike knew he had to be careful with this part because Buffy’s loyalties still lay with Angel.
"Maybe he wanted two people on the job. Or maybe," he tilted a brow mockingly at Angel, "he thought you weren’t doing a good enough one."
"Why would you agree?" Buffy demanded. "I mean, you’re evil!"
"Am I?"
"Well, sure. Vampire. No soul..."
"Sorry to disappoint you, pet. But I do have a soul."
The chorus of exclamations broke out all over again. Buffy and Spike continued to stare at each other, ignoring the hubbub.
"You do, don’t you?" she murmured at last. She could see it in his eyes, the difference between him and other vampires. She could see it in the softness and the warmth with which he looked at her.
He nodded.
"We can’t just take your word for it," Giles objected. "Angel, is there any way for you to know if he’s telling the truth?"
Angel shook his head, looking more than a little miffed at having his unique status taken away from him.
"There’s a spell I can do," Jenny offered. "It would show the soul like an aura around him, if it is actually there."
"Yes, very good, excellent." Giles fussed with his glasses. "That’s just what we want. Are there any special ingredients you need to cast the spell?"
"Let me look it up." She flipped open her laptop.
"Were you cursed as well?" Willow asked Spike, her eyes wide. "We know the gypsies cursed Angel because of what he did to one of their tribe. What did you do?"
"Wasn’t cursed. Fought for it. Earned it."
"You chose to get a soul?" Angel was incredulous. "You?"
"Yeah, me."
"Why?"
Spike’s gaze flicked betrayingly towards Buffy before he controlled himself and looked away again.
"Personal reasons."
"Where’s Dru?" Angel asked suddenly.
"Prague. Why are you asking? You ducked all responsibility for her the minute you got your soul."
"Did you dump her when you got your soul? Or did she kick you out?"
"We broke up, yeah, but for other reasons." He gave Angel a cold look. "But she’s still got a protector in the here and now. I made sure of that."
Jenny’s voice brought an end to the acrimonious stares the two vampires were giving each other.
"There are a couple of ingredients that I’ll need," she said. "They’re fairly common and I have some in my locker. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll go get them. It’ll only take a couple of minutes."
"Before you go, Janna of the Kalderash clan," Spike said sharply, "there’s something I’d like you to tell these sods."
Jenny gasped. "You know!"
"Yeah. You want to tell them, gypsy, or shall I?"
"Jenny?" Giles was staring at her. "What is he talking about?"
"I..." She gave Spike a hunted look, then took a deep breath and turned to face everyone squarely. "Okay, I don’t know how he knows this, but the fact is that I’m a member of the clan that cursed Angel. I’m here to make sure nothing happens to break the curse."
Giles was looking betrayed. "Why didn’t you tell us? Why...?"
Jenny rubbed her eyes. "I wanted to, but ...There was no reason for me to tell you..."
"Isn’t there?" Spike said harshly. "With these two playing kissyface all over the place, you thought there was no reason for them to know?"
"If you’re talking about Angel and me..." Buffy began furiously, blushing bright red.
"Anyone else playing tonsil-hockey around here?"
"It’s none of your business!"
"Isn’t it? Gypsy, tell them what happens if they fuck."
"Spike!" Angel roared.
"God!" Buffy had both her hands up to her blazing cheeks. She hadn’t even really let herself get to the point of thinking that way about Angel yet. They had kissed, yes, and the kisses were getting hotter and hotter, but she hadn’t really decided whether she wanted to go all the way yet. Things were still at that delicate, experimental stage. And here was this crass vampire trampling all over her fragile, tentative feelings. "God, could you be more crude?"
"I’m a bad, rude man," shrugged Spike. "If they shag, then."
"I’m going to kill you!" yelled Angel.
"But...But it hasn’t gotten to that stage," Jenny stammered. "It might never..."
"It could any day. What are you going to do, wait until it happens? Do you want to be the one responsible when it does? Tell them, gypsy!" Spike was snarling now.
Buffy whirled on Jenny. "Tell us what?"
Jenny drew a deep breath. "All right. Angel’s curse gets broken if he has a moment of perfect happiness. I’m here to see that it doesn’t happen."
Giles was frowning. "Let me get this straight..."
Spike put up his brows at Jenny who sighed and tried again.
"Angelus was cursed with a soul. That turned him into Angel. If Angel has a moment of perfect happiness, the curse is broken and he loses that soul."
Everyone was silent, working out the implications of this.
"A moment of perfect happiness," Xander mused. "You mean if..."
He fell silent at Buffy’s furious glare.
Spike had no such compunctions. "They fuck, he gets a happy, the curse is broken, Angelus comes back, and people start dying."
"She said perfect happiness," Xander objected. "How do you know that...?"
"You wanna take the chance?"
Buffy had swung around to stare at Angel. "Did you know?"
"No!" Angel looked as pole-axed as everyone else in the room. "I had no idea!"
"One hundred years," muttered Spike, "and he didn’t even bother finding out the complete ramifications of the curse. Preferred to spend his time brooding over past sins and eating rats. Irresponsible, I call it."
Angel whirled and ran out of the library.
"More brooding coming up," remarked Spike to the ceiling.
Buffy had sunk down into a chair, Giles had his glasses off and was polishing them furiously, and Willow and Xander exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Jenny looked awkwardly around the room. "I-I’ll just go and get the ingredients for that spell, okay?"
Giles nodded numbly and Jenny hurried out of the library, relieved to get a little breathing space.
Spike pulled a silver penknife out of his pocket and started opening and shutting it restlessly. His attention seemed totally focused on his hands, but there was a little smile playing about his lips.
"You seem to be getting an inordinate amount of satisfaction out of this," Giles accused.
"You have no idea, Ripper," said Spike and Giles jumped a mile. Buffy turned her head to observe them. "Have a checklist of things I’m supposed to do and keeping Angelus from returning was at the head of it."
"You won’t be able to keep me and Angel from being in love," Buffy said furiously.
He was silent for a few minutes, his gaze focused on the penknife in his hands.
"Didn’t hope to, pet. Know better than that. You can snog all you want, sweet. Just remember to keep those hands from going south of the border."
Buffy turned bright red, shot to her feet and flew at him. "You have a filthy mind! Shut up! Just shut up!"
He caught her fist before it hit him, looked up at her calmly. Something in his gaze threw her. A sadness, a quiet acceptance of pain.
"Won’t be your whipping boy this time around, Slayer. ‘S not good for you." He let her go and she stepped back, frowning. "Don’t kill the messenger. That’s the trouble with the lot of you. You live on that river in Egypt, refusing to look at what’s right in front of your eyes. Vamps and demons don’t faze you, but your own emotions? Shyeah. It’s a tough world out there, boys and girls, and you won’t be able to face it if you can’t face yourself first."
"Know thyself," said Giles under his breath.
"And that applies to you too, Watcher. Know your motivations." His gaze swept all of them.
"Lessons in life from the Undead," Xander scoffed.
"Been around a long time, whelp. Might have learned a few things over the years."
"Yeah, like how to kill and maim and torture." Xander kicked with his heel at the wall he was leaning against and gave Spike a hate-filled glare. "Don’t need lessons from you on anything, Deadboy. You’re just an evil, disgusting th..."
The penknife whizzed across the room and sliced into the wall a millimeter away from his ear. Xander let out an unmanly shriek and jumped away, almost falling over his feet.
"The next time it’s going into some part of your anatomy. No chip this time. Nothing keeping me from hurting you. Nothing forcing me to take any of your lip this time around. So watch what you say to me, wanker."
"I thought you claimed to have a soul," Giles said dryly.
"Does your soul make you accept insults, Ripper? You humans never clip anybody on the jaw for something like that? Christ, the shit I’ve taken from y...people like you over the last few years. Just because you could dish it out and I had to take it. No more. Wanna call me names? Well, ‘smile when you say that, pardner.’"
He went into full gameface deliberately and snarled. They stared, appalled, at yellow eyes, ridges and fangs. Only Buffy failed to react. She sat down on the edge of a table and surveyed him thoughtfully. He gave Xander a hard stare, making the boy edge away uneasily, then shook off the gameface and cocked an eyebrow at Buffy.
"Show-off," she said and he laughed.
Jenny came hurrying in and stopped at the sight of Giles standing protectively in front of a cringing Willow and Xander, and Spike and Buffy regarding each other attentively.
"Did I miss something?"
"Just a bit of attitude," Buffy said and looked with interest at the herbs Jenny was shaking onto the table. "Is this going to be complicated?"
"No, no." Jenny crumbled dried herbs into a small chafing dish, lit them, then lit a couple of candles. A pleasant scent spread through the library. "It’s all in the incantation really."
Willow had drawn near, fascinated. "Then what are the herbs for?"
"In this case? Some of them purge the air of evil influences, others focus the mind." Jenny smiled at her. "If you’re interested, I could teach you more later."
"Remember to teach her about consequences," Spike said quietly.
Jenny glanced at him, surprised, saw that he was serious and nodded. "Of course I will."
"What did you want me to do?" he asked, getting to his feet.
"Nothing. Just stand there." She frowned thoughtfully at the spell still on the screen of her laptop. "I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure how the spell will manifest itself."
"Will it hurt?"
"It shouldn’t." She looked around at the others. "Everybody be quiet now."
She began to read the incantation in a calm, firm voice. An electric tingle grew in the air. Spike stood watching her curiously, his head tilted a little to one side.
"Fiat," she said at last. "Let it be done."
A light sprang up around Spike. It was all around him, not emanating from any one spot, silvery and very bright, shimmering like shot silk.
"Whoa!" said Willow softly. "Is that his soul?"
"Like an aura," Giles nodded.
"It seems quite clear that he does have a soul," said Jenny and made a small gesture.
The light flicked out and left Spike standing there, frowning at them in puzzlement.
"Did it work?" he asked.
"Didn’t you see it?" Buffy asked, surprised.
He shook his head. "Just saw the lot of you looking gobsmacked."
"It was very pretty," offered Willow.
"Pretty!" He looked disgusted.
Giles was just about salivating. "I have to get this down for my Watcher’s Diary. Nothing like this has ever been reported before! Spike, would you be willing to tell me exactly what you had to do to get this soul?"
"Uh, sure, Rupert." He looked a little taken aback by Giles’ enthusiasm.
Buffy grinned triumphantly. "That’s a better punishment that anything I could have thought up. You have no idea what you’ve let yourself in for, vampire."
***
Parent-Teacher night turned out to be a serious downer. Buffy had put a great deal of effort into it in the hopes of getting into Principal Snyder’s good graces and the little troll still blabbed on her to her mother, blowing everything up way out of proportion, judging by how angry Joyce was on the drive home. Sneaking out to go on patrol looked like it was going to be a lot more difficult from now on than it already was. Added to which, Angel had been a no-show all day, Buffy still hadn’t come to terms with Jenny’s bombshell of last night and...well, life really sucked.
She was almost relieved to see Spike sitting on her front steps when she and Joyce got home. His presence would make Joyce stop her scolding while he was here; Joyce might be mad at her, but she wouldn’t take her daughter to task in front of a stranger.
Spike stood up politely as she and Joyce came up the walkway and nodded to them. "Buffy. Mrs Summers."
"What are you doing here, Spike?" Buffy demanded.
"Wanted to know when you were going on patrol. Thought I might join you."
"Uh..."
"What are you talking about?" Joyce demanded. "Patrol?"
Spike’s brows rose. "What? Your Mum still doesn’t know?"
"Know what? Buffy, who is this man?" Joyce glared at Spike. "Who are you?"
Buffy closed her eyes in resignation. She knew exactly what Joyce was seeing when she looked at Spike. Bleached hair, black clothes, the Billy Idol wannabe look—what they equaled was the quintessential bad boy that every mother dreaded, rough trade in black leather. She was so dead.
"Slayer," Spike said suddenly. "Lend me your stake, would you?"
"What? Hey...!" she exclaimed as he lifted her stake smoothly out of its sheath at the small of her back, underneath the waistband of her skirt.
He disappeared into the bushes at the side of the house. There was the unmistakable sound of a vamp dusting, then Spike came back, brushing himself off.
"One of the Anointed One’s minions." He handed her back her stake with a nod of thanks and she took it numbly. "Looks like he’s keeping an eye on you. The night of St. Vigeous is only a couple of days away."
She had forgotten about the night of St. Vigeous. Giles had warned her of it, but she had been too concerned about Parent-Teacher night to give it much attention.
"Buffy, what is going on?" Joyce demanded.
"Gee, thanks for blowing my cover," she told Spike bitterly, but he just shrugged.
"Should have told your Mum long ago. Don’t know how you’ve managed to do your job and keep it secret this long. Look, I’ll help you take the Annoying One down. Between us, we can easily clean house on St. Vigeous. But his minions will be out in force that night and some of them will come after your friends and some will come after your mother. And if she doesn’t know what they are, she’ll be an awful easy mark."
She looked from his grim face to Joyce’s questioning one, then sighed deeply. "Guess the cat’s out of the bag. Mom, let’s go in and I’ll explain everything to you."
Joyce unlocked the front door and the two of them stepped in. Buffy hesitated before inviting Spike in, wondering whether she was really being wise, allowing Spike into her house.
"May I come in, Mrs Summers?" he asked Joyce politely while Buffy was still trying to make up her mind.
"Oh, yes. Yes, of course...uh, what did you say your name was?" asked Joyce with a harried look.
"William, though everybody calls me Spike." With a smug smile, he stepped over the threshold, then bent to murmur in Buffy’s ear, "See how easy? If she doesn’t know, then any vamp can pull that trick on her. Oh, and by the way, it might be a good idea to give Giles a call and ask him to come over in about half an hour. She’s not going to take this well, and having an adult from your school corroborate your story might make things easier."
"The last time I tried to tell my parents about being the Slayer, they put me in a psycho ward," she muttered.
"Won’t this time. Not with the little show and tell we’re going to put on. Could I help you with anything, Mrs Summers?" he called as Buffy headed for the phone.
Joyce gave him a wild-eyed look. "Uh, no, I’m fine. I was just going to make some coffee. And some hot chocolate for Buffy. Would you like something?"
"Hot chocolate sounds nice," he said, following her into the kitchen. "Thank you. Would you have any of those little marshmallows?"
Joyce’s face softened a little. "I’ll take a look. Why don’t you sit down?"
"Thank you, Mrs Summers."
She softened even more. At least he had manners, she thought. She opened a cupboard door and reached for the mugs. "Um, could I ask? How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight."
Joyce bit her lip. "Don’t...don’t you think that’s a little old for Buffy?"
"What? Oh! I’m not her boyfriend, Mrs Summers. I wish I were," he muttered almost under his breath and she caught the look of sudden wistfulness in his eyes before he looked down at his hands on the kitchen table. "I’m just a friend. Well, not even that, really. I don’t know what I am. Just an acquaintance, I guess."
Buffy came into the kitchen and regarded them both warily. "So. Where were we?"
"I was going to make some hot chocolate and you were going to give me an explanation, young lady."
"Yes. Well. It’s like this..."
Joyce listened incredulously to Buffys long and involved explanation, helped out by Spike whenever she got herself tangled up in a knot. None of it made any sense and all of it was completely unbelievable.
"Vampires and demons exist and you’re their Slayer. I thought you’d grown out of that fantasy, Buffy. I’ve got to get in touch with that psychiatrist again," Joyce muttered.
"I’m not crazy, Mom. They do exist."
"And Spike’s a vampire." Joyce looked at Spike quietly sipping hot chocolate at her kitchen table. Joyce the mother agreed that Spike looked like bad news to any mother with a teenage daughter, and Joyce the woman agreed that Spike looked like sex on a stick to any female between ten and a hundred. But what Spike definitely did not look like was a storybook vampire; he looked like any normal human being. "Right."
Spike went into full gameface. Joyce shrieked and leaped up, knocking over her chair.
Buffy caught her. "It’s all right, Mom. Calm down. We just had to show you."
"But he...But he...How did he do that?" Joyce clutched at Buffy. "He’s got fangs...and...and yellow eyes and..." Her pointing finger waved wildly, indicating the ridges.
"He’s a vampire, Mom."
"She needs a drink," said Spike and headed into the livingroom to fetch one.
Buffy got the chair upright and settled her mother back into it. "I know it’s a bit of a shock, Mom."
"That’s...an understatement." Joyce flinched as Spike came back into the room, still in gameface.
"Not going to hurt you," he said gently. "Not going to hurt either you or Buffy. I’m here to protect you."
Joyce grabbed the drink he set in front of her and took a deep swallow. When she looked up again, he had shaken off the gameface and was looking at her with human eyes once more, vividly blue and warmly sympathetic, smiling a little, patient with her shock.
"You can do that at will."
He nodded.
"Could you do it again?"
He complied and this time she heard the little grate of bone that accompanied the transformation.
"May I touch?"
He smiled. "Sure."
She ran a finger tentatively over the ridges on his forehead and then down across his nose. He twitched a little and stifled a sneeze.
"Sorry. Ticklish."
"It’s real," she said in amazement.
"Yeah."
His fangs were razor-sharp. She nicked her fingertip on one by accident, drew back, then very carefully took it between thumb and forefinger and pulled delicately.
"Doesn’t come off," he said when she let go. He grinned. "This must be what it feels like to go to the dentist."
The doorbell rang and Buffy went to answer it.
"Vampire," Joyce said, taking it in, and he nodded, resuming his human face. "And my daughter is a vampire slayer." He nodded again. "But I don’t want her to be that. It’s too dangerous. She could get hurt."
"She’s too good. Besides, it doesn’t matter what you or I or even she wants. She’s the Slayer. That’s what she was born to be and do."
"She’s only a teenager," Joyce protested. "It’s not right. Can’t she stop?"
He shook his head. "Not until she dies. And I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen for a very long time."
"But you’re a vampire."
"Got a soul. I’m here to protect her, make things better for her. That’s my job and I mean to do it."
"You’ll defend her?"
"With my unlife. Dust before I let anything hurt her. Swear to you, Mrs Summers."
"Call me Joyce," she said, softening entirely at his obvious sincerity.
Buffy came back into the kitchen, accompanied by Rupert Giles, the school librarian, his arms full of books.
"This is Giles, Mom. He’s my Watcher. He’ll explain things to you properly. I know I haven’t made much sense." She turned to Giles with relief. "I’m going to go patrol, Giles. Why don’t you take it from here?"
"Yes, all right," said Giles, resigned.
"What do you mean, patrol?" Joyce exclaimed.
"I patrol the cemeteries every night, Mom. Looking for demons and killing any that turn up. One good thing now," she said, looking happier. "I won’t have to sneak out any more."
"Killing!" Joyce was appalled. "My little girl kills things?"
"Slayer here, Mom. That’s what the word means."
"Buffy..."
"She’ll be all right, Joyce," Spike said. "I’m going with her."
Both Buffy and Giles looked at him askance.
"For why?" demanded Buffy.
"It’ll be fun." He grinned at Giles. "Won’t hurt her, Watcher. Soul, remember?"
"Besides, I’ll stake him if he tries," growled Buffy and caught his sleeve and dragged him out of the kitchen before Joyce could make any further protest.
"Um, you gonna change clothes, Slayer?"
"Why should I?"
"Pants might be a good idea, unless you want to flash your thong at the world every time you make a kick."
Buffy flushed vividly. "You shouldn’t be looking!"
"I’m male. We look."
Muttering to herself, she went upstairs to strip off her short skirt and drag on a pair of jeans.
"Satisfied?" she grouched as she came back down the stairs.
He grinned at her. "Not really. ‘S a pity to cover up those legs."
"Spike..."
"What?"
She didn’t know whether to feel offended or complimented. "C’mon, let’s go," she growled and stalked out of the house. She could feel his gaze on her as he followed. "And you better not be looking at my ass."
"But it’s a gorgeous ass, pet."
She whirled around to see him laughing at her. He bounced on his toes a couple of times, then suddenly took off, breezing past her at vampire speed.
"Hey!"
"Try to keep up, Slayer," he called back over his shoulder. "If you can."
"You bet your ass I can," she muttered, chasing after him. He was heading unerringly towards the closest cemetery, Shady Rest. She caught up with him just as he passed through the gates. "For Pete’s sake, will you slow down? I don’t want to go back home until I’m sure Giles has had time to give Mom the full lowdown."
"That’s what all those books he brought were for, huh?"
"Yeah. If I know Giles, he’ll be going over everything exhaustively. It was a good idea to call him in. Thanks."
"You’re welcome." He smiled at her. "I gather from the vibes you and your Mum were putting out when you got home that Parent-Teacher night didn’t go so well."
He looked genuinely interested, so she found herself telling him all about Snyder’s perfidy, in detail.
"Just a nonentity powertripping," he said contemptuously when she finally ran down. "Want me to eat him, Slayer?"
"What? No!" But what a delicious thought that was! She paused, surveying him thoughtfully. "Would you, if I asked you to?"
"You wouldn’t ask. Protector of the people and all that, even a little weasel like Snyder."
"But if."
He looked at her, smiling faintly. "You’re asking if I’m your dog. Well, I am, Slayer. Soul would get in the way of anything really heinous, like eating Snyder. Otherwise, just point me at the target and I’ll take it down for you."
"But...You said Whistler sent you. And Whistler sent Angel. And Angel would never..."
"Oh, well, that ponce," Spike shrugged dismissively. "He prefers mind games. No artistry in just plain fighting, he said to me once. Likes to slowly break a person’s mind over a period of time until death comes as a relief. Mental and emotional torture. That’s a good kill for him."
Buffy flinched. That was disgusting. She had never thought of Angel that way. Wait. "You’re talking about Angelus."
"Oh, yeah. Never was much into the pre-show myself," he said absently, wrinkling his nose in disdain. "Never played with my food. I just wanted lunch."
A vampire’s perspective. She didn’t know whether to be horrified or amused. He was speaking without thinking, she saw; just saying what came off the top of his head.
"Me, I like fighting," he said. "Fists and fangs. Testing yourself to the limit. Now that’s fun."
She watched him with interest, thinking back over the last couple of days. He had done that all along, saying just what he thought. He could hold back things, was holding back things, she sensed; but whatever he did say came out with unthinking and betraying honesty.
"What exactly did Whistler want you to do for me? What’s your mandate?"
"Simple. Make things easier for you. Covers a very wide latitude."
She was asking the wrong questions. She could feel that. He wasn’t telling her everything. She would have to do something about that. She couldn’t make decisions properly if she were being kept in the dark. She would have to think things over later. And there were things to think over; he had given away a lot in the things that he had said, but she hadn’t noticed them at the time. She had been too preoccupied with the revelation of Angel’s curse to really consider the implications of Spike’s being here. And that seemed to be quite as important.
A vamp sprang up from between the gravestones. The night had been so dead so far that she was delighted to see him. She jumped forward, eager for a fight. But it took one look at her, squeaked in terror and fled like a deer, leaping gazelle-like over the tombstones.
"Now that’s just sad," said Spike, joining her where she stood shaking her head.
"Gotta agree. Where is everyone?"
"I think the Annoying One’s put the word out. No confrontations until St. Vigeous. That’s when they’ll be the strongest, so why put themselves at risk before that?"
"We should make a plan for then. Uh, you are going to help out, aren’t you?"
"Of course. My plan, if you agree to it, is very straightforward. The Anointed One will send out his minions at sunset on St. Vigeous. That’ll leave only a couple of vamps with him. I’ll go in and stake him. I’m a vamp. I can get close. The breaking of his link with them will throw all the minions into confusion. Some will run, some will fight. Either way, the two of us can clean up."
"I like it."
"Good." He looked around. "Doesn’t look as if there’s going to be any action tonight. We’ve been out over an hour. Think Giles has had enough time to explain everything to your Mum?"
"Let’s give him a little longer."
"Just keep on wandering around then? I know." He grinned suddenly, reached out and tapped her shoulder. "Tag. You’re it."
He spun on his heel and then was racing away through the darkness, platinum hair glinting in the moonlight. Against her better judgment, she found herself chasing after him.
He had a longer stride than she did, but she was lighter. She caught up with him and lunged to touch him, only to miss when he did a side-spinning cartwheel.
"Getting slow, Slayer," he mocked. "Getting soft. Had it easy so far with nothing but fledglings to deal with."
He vaulted a tombstone and was gone again.
She raced after him, on her mettle now. His vamp senses told him when she was close without his having to turn his head to look and he would just dive into a roll or do a backflip or leap onto a crypt and somersault off the other side whenever she got near.
It was childish and ridiculous and silly...and so much fun! She was laughing helplessly as she ran.
He dashed around a crypt. She scrambled straight over it and came down in front of him as he tried to brake. Tag!
He tagged her back before she could spin away. Then they were trading slaps. Then elbows. Then fists. Then they were in a whirl of motion, trading punches and kicks at top speed, without hesitation.
"Getting slow, huh?" she laughed and he laughed back.
They were moving too fast now to actually see anything coming and block. They blocked by instinct, by the sense of movement and momentum. She wasn’t striking at him now, but at where he would be by the time her fist or her foot arrived. It was exhilarating, a dance, a perfection of motion and balance and power.
Then his foot slipped on a patch of damp grass and he went down. His flailing arms brought her down with him. They rolled over and over until they fetched up against a tombstone, laughing, with him on top.
And suddenly he wasn’t laughing any longer. He was looking down at her, the vivid blue of his eyes darkening to black as his pupils dilated, his face completely and utterly still. Her breath caught. She was intensely aware of his body upon hers, his weight, heavy and vibrant, the scent of leather and cigarettes and a clean earthy scent that was Spike himself. He was aroused; she could feel it, feel him hard against her hip. And she was aroused too, could feel herself all buttery and throbbing. Her hands clenched involuntarily on the leather shoulders of his duster.
His face was drawn tight with passion and desire, the hard beautiful planes of bone standing out with tension, and his eyes burning with hunger and something else she couldn’t understand. His hands tightened on her upper arms and his head dropped and his parted lips were a millimeter away from hers and she felt his breath shuddering against her own lips, making her intensely aware of the cavern of his open mouth.
She gasped.
The little sound brought them both back to their senses. He jerked away, flinging himself onto his back, lay there staring up at the sky. Buffy shot to her feet, stood there with her arms clenched about herself. She could hear him gasping as he fought for control, felt her own breath shaking in her throat.
This was crazy, crazy. There was no way she should be feeling like this for someone she had only just met. And, oh, God, what about Angel? She was supposed to be in love with Angel and here she was...
She heard a sound beside her and looked around to see him on his feet, carefully backing away from her.
"What just happened?" she whispered.
"Sorry," he said. "Sorry. Fighting gets us both...hot. My fault. Won’t happen again. I’ll be more careful next time."
But she wanted it to happen again. Oh, God, she was turning into such a ho-bag!
Then some of the things he had said over the last three days started to click into place.
"We’d better get back," she said abruptly.
"Yeah."
She had a lot of thinking to do.
***
Spike turned up at the back door the next night. Joyce heard his quiet knock and went to let him in.
"‘Lo, Joyce. May I come in?"
"Of course." She looked at him nervously as he stepped into the kitchen. "You don’t need to ask anymore, as I understand it. That’s what Mr Giles said. You can just walk in unless we put up a disinvite spell."
"Well, yeah, I could. But it’s your house. Wouldn’t be polite to do that."
She laughed involuntarily. "A polite vampire."
"Victorian upbringing." He grinned at her and ducked his head a little shyly. "Wouldn’t do it with anybody else. But you’re a lady, Joyce."
She found herself charmed by him, even though Giles had told her how dangerous he could be, how dangerous any vampire was.
"How are you coping?" he asked with genuine concern.
"All of this, it’s hard to accept," Joyce confessed. "I’m...adjusting. Can I get you anything? Hot chocolate, perhaps?"
He laughed. "Not tonight, thank you. I just dropped in to see whether Buffy plans to go patrolling tonight."
"Buffy goes patrolling every night," said Buffy, coming into the kitchen.
"Wasn’t sure. Looks like another quiet night, Slayer. Won’t be much happening."
"Want to talk to you anyway. Bye, Mom. See you in a couple of hours."
Joyce sighed in resignation. "Be careful, dear."
"Where are we going?" asked Spike as the door closed behind them and Buffy set off down the street at a fast pace.
"There’s a park not far away. It’s quiet and private and there’ll be benches to sit on. I’ve been thinking..."
"Never a good idea," muttered Spike and she gave him a hard look.
"And I want answers."
"To what?"
"How do you know me?"
"What?" He shied like a nervous horse, his eyes widening so that the whites showed around the blue of his irises. "Um, Whistler..."
"C’mon, Spike. I may be young and naive, but I’m not stupid. Whistler may have brought you here just like he brought Angel. But even Angel doesn’t know the things about me that you do. When we fight, you know every move I make..."
"That’s just..."
"No, it’s not just that you’re a cunning fighter, though you are, Spike. You anticipate every one of my moves. You know what I’m going to do before I do it. I can tell. It’s as if we’ve sparred a hundred times before. And what was it you said last night? ‘Fighting gets us both hot.’ How did you know that? You said it as if it had happened before. And yet I’ve only just met you."
He was silent, his head down so that she couldn’t see his expression. But she could see from the tension in his body that he was thinking hard.
"You know too much about all of us. Not just the big things like Angel’s curse, which Whistler might have told you about. Little things about Xander and Willow and Giles and even my Mom. You called Giles ‘Ripper’ and he jumped a mile. What was that about? You knew exactly where the liquor cabinet was when you went to get my Mom a drink. When Miss Calendar offered to teach Willow magic, you mentioned ‘consequences,’ as if Willow had done something or would do something that would have consequences. Xander and denial. The way you talked about that suggested that his denial has had some sort of backlash on you personally."
"Buffy..."
"Do you know how many times you’ve said ‘this time around’? ‘No chip this time’. ‘Nothing forcing me this time’. ‘The shit I’ve taken from...people like you’, you said, correcting yourself. But what you were really going to say was ‘from you’. I could tell. But you’ve never met any of us before. Supposedly."
"Fuck." Spike scrubbed both hands across his face. "It wasn’t supposed to play this way. I could have told him I make a bloody awful undercover agent. I’m a straightforward kind of git. Never know how to watch my mouth."
"Told who? This guy Whistler?"
"Yeah. God!" he exclaimed. "I don’ know what to say. Don’ know if anything I tell you is going to screw up this timeline or not."
"This timeline."
"Yeah." He sighed. "Don’ know whether I’ve already fucked things up. Don’ know better than to keep on going the way I’ve already started and hope for the best. But this is between us, okay, Slayer? You don’t tell the others, not even your Watcher. Don’ know what might hit the fan then."
"Promise." She meant it.
They had reached the park. He hopped up onto one of the picnic tables, resting his feet on the bench, and reached into his pocket for his smokes. Buffy climbed up beside him and waited while he lit up and sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head down while he ordered his thoughts.
"You know about alternate realities, Slayer?"
"Suppose so. We’ve got demon dimensions, why not alternate realities?"
"Yeah, well, in the reality one over from this one, I guess, I’ve already lived the next seven years. End of that time, I died. Woke up in limbo, I think. Whistler called it a waiting room. The PTB yanked me there, said by way of Whistler that they had a job for me to do. They’re interested in you. Chosen One and all that. The Buffy in that reality, well, she had a lot of bad things happen to her. She made it through them, but it was tough. The PTB didn’t want it to happen to you, so they asked me to come on over here and try to fix things." He sighed deeply. "Don’ know how good I’m gonna to be at that, ‘specially now that I may have messed things up. But I’m sure gonna try."
"I see." She sat there thinking that over. It was a lot to digest. She found herself appreciating what her Mom had gone through last night, learning that her daughter was the Slayer.
Spike drew a long drag off his cigarette. "Got one thing right, though. You know about Angel’s curse now, so at least that won’t happen again. Hopefully."
"Angel lost his soul in the other reality?"
"Yeah. You got it back for him, but people died and Angelus hurt you a lot before you managed it."
She thought that over. "So I slept with him."
Spike’s lips tightened. "Yeah."
"But he got his soul back and he’s still around."
"We-ell." Spike switched the half-smoked cigarette from one hand to the other uneasily. "He’s got his soul back, but he’s in L.A. Got his own detective agency there. Helping the helpless and all that rot."
"He left me? After all that?"
"Seeking redemption." There was no expression at all in either Spike’s face or his voice. Then he shrugged. "To be fair to the wanker, it’s kind of hard lines not being able to shag and all."
Buffy bit her lip. "It wouldn’t matter to me. If I loved someone, I’d still want to be with him even if we couldn’t sleep together."
"Me too." Oh, he could relate to that, Spike thought. Been there, done that, with Buffy, with Dru all those months when she was sick. It was being with the loved one that was important.
"Then why didn’t Angel...?"
Spike shot her a sideways glance. "Said he wanted you to have a normal life."
Her jaw dropped. "Hello. Slayer here. I’m never going to have a normal life!"
"That’s the way I see it. But Angel..." He scowled down at his cigarette. "Angel sees things from a very narrow perspective. It’s all about Angel. He’s a very self-involved son of a..." He caught himself up abruptly. "I’m not the one to ask about Angel."
"You sound as if you hate him."
He flicked the cigarette stub away irritably. "We’ve got history. A lot of it. I hated Angelus. It wasn’t...pleasant...having him as a mentor. And Angel...well, there are other issues."
"Like what?"
His glance flicked betrayingly to her, then he looked away again. "This and that."
She studied his averted face. "Why did you agree to come over to this reality?"
He looked surprised. "I told you. Whistler wanted me to fix things for you."
"Yeah, but why should you care? What were we to each other?"
His eyes widened. "Uh, nothing much, Slayer. Nothing that mattered."
She caught the sleeve of his duster as he started to jerk to his feet. "Spike. Why would you agree to come back and help me if it didn’t matter?"
He looked panicky. "Not important. Nothing that mattered to you. Irrelevant."
"But it seems to have mattered to you, so it is relevant. Spike. The truth."
He let out a long, shuddering breath. She saw the abortive movement of his hand to his eyes. Then he looked down, not meeting her gaze.
"I loved you. You didn’t love me. End of story."
Oh. Things were falling into place. The way he looked at her, as if she were precious to him, the softness, the warmth, the care and concern. The way he tried to keep from touching her and then reacted so intensely when he did. The way he knew all her moves, knew so much about her.
He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking away into the darkness, the planes of his face taut and set. She could see the pain behind the stillness of his face.
"So that’s how you know all my moves when we fight," she said, delicately circling the point. "I guess we must have sparred a lot."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. It was fun."
"Were we lovers?" Straight to the point now.
His smile disappeared and his lips tightened. "For about a month."
"Why would I do that if I didn’t love you?" she murmured almost to herself. "I’m not that kind of girl. Or do I become that?"
He reached out as if he couldn’t help himself and ran a strand of her hair very lightly between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze fixed on that, avoiding her face.
"Happened by accident the first time. And after that..." He gave her a sideways-slanting, wicked look. "The sex was good, yeah?"
"Oh!" She blushed vividly.
He laid the lock of hair carefully on her shoulder. "Hated yourself for liking it though."
"Is that why we broke up?"
"Yeah." He lay back on the picnic table, looking up at the night sky. "Said you were using me. I told you I didn’t care. Use or abuse, didn’t matter. Just wanted to be with you. But you said it was killing you. So..."
It was killing her? What had it been doing to him? She looked down at him lying there looking up into the darkness, his face very still and contained. His eyes were open and fixed on the stars, but she could see the intensity of emotion that he was trying to keep locked behind his stillness.
"Why didn’t you lose your soul? If Angel loses his soul if he has a moment of perfect happiness, then why wouldn’t you? Weren’t you happy?"
His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "Oh, I was happy. The thing is, Angel was cursed with a soul. I earned mine. Fought for it, yeah? Endured a lot for it. Won it. Nothing can take it away from me. Besides, I didn’t have it when we were making lo...when we were involved."
"You didn’t have a soul then? But if Angel doesn’t have a soul, he turns into Angelus, right? How is it possible that you could fall in love while you didn’t have a soul?"
"Don’t know. Angel is always fighting his demon. Maybe that makes a difference. My demon and I get along pretty well." He turned his head to look at her. "Demons can love, pet. Not wisely, perhaps, but well. You never understood that. But it’s true."
She was starting to understand him, starting to make intuitive jumps.
"Why did you get a soul, Spike?"
"Oh, shit." He jerked upright. "God, you’re quick."
"What would make you do such a thing? You said you didn’t have a soul when we were involved. So that means you got it after we broke up. Was it because we broke up?" All the little pieces were clicking into place. "Was it because of me?"
He closed his eyes, sighed deeply. "Thought it would make a difference. Didn’t."
That was a huge thing to do, for a demon to get a soul of his own volition. It had never happened before, according to Giles. That was a terrible, magnificent, headlong thing to do.
It should have made a difference. "Why didn’t it?"
"I’d done some unforgivable things. And you were hung up on Angel. Never got over him, or the being normal business. Vampire here. Not normal. Never be normal. Soul made me understand why I wouldn’t ever have a chance with you."
"Spike..."
He caught her shoulders lightly, leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Look. I’ve learned my lesson. You never have to be afraid of me. Won’t make the same mistake. Won’t force myself where I’m not wanted. I don’t expect anything. You understand?" He made a little throwaway gesture of his hand, looking down. "Kind of person I am, just not lovable, I guess. Always wanted to be loved. Never was. Flaw somewhere. I accept that. I know better now. Don’t have to be scared of me."
She looked at him, seeing the pain and the vulnerability behind his intense face. Her heart ached for him suddenly, for all the things that must have happened to him that brought him to feel and say something that hurtful about himself.
"Don’t have to care for me," he said. "Just let me care for you. Because that’s why I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m here to make sure a lot of bad things won’t happen to you. Don’t know what they are, because things may already have changed now that you know about Angel’s curse. But I’ll know them when I see them. Do my best to see they don’t happen. Yeah?"
"Yeah," she said softly. "But, you know, things might go a little differently in this dimension."
He frowned at her, puzzled. "I don’t understand."
She laid her hand lightly against the side of his face, palm settling in the hollow of his cheek, fingers brushing one beautiful cheekbone. He caught his breath in surprise.
"This Buffy is not interested in normal," she said quietly.
His eyes widened and caught fire, a sudden blaze of passion and intensity and tenderness. His hands rose to cup her face in his turn, his touch delicate and tentative. He leaned forward slowly, helplessly, as if drawn against his will. His lips a breath away from hers, he checked himself abruptly.
"Don’t want to take advantage."
"Even if I want you to?" she murmured and he lost his breath in a gasp.
"Buffy...!"
Then he was kissing her as if there were nothing in the world but her. She had never been kissed like this before, not even by Angel. Angel kissed her sweetly and the kisses were hot and getting hotter, but she always felt as if there were something held back. Spike kissed with his entire self, nothing held back, his whole being surrendered to her. Angel kept his emotions in a cage, never really sharing them. Spike wore his heart on his sleeve, even when he tried not to. Spike poured everything he was into her hands, opened himself up completely, never caring how deeply he might be hurt. And he could be hurt deeply. She saw that in him, saw that he already had been.
The world spun away. There was nothing but the taste of him, the feel of him, his tongue sliding against hers, taking possession of her mouth devouringly, desperately, his hands stroking her face, her hair, his voice muttering endearments brokenly between kisses.
He dragged his mouth away and they leaned their foreheads together, gasping against each other’s faces, their breaths shuddering in their open mouths.
"This is crazy," he muttered. "I’m not supposed to...This has got to be wrong...Buffy, do you have any idea what you’re doing?"
"No, but I like it."
He laughed breathlessly, his parted lips moving over her face—her hairline, her temple, her eye— coming back again and again to her mouth, unable to keep away. She caught sight of his eyes, vividly blue around their dilating pupils. It wasn’t just his kisses, scorching as they were, that were turning her so weak and boneless with desire. It was the way he was looking at her, as if she was wonderful and delightful and powerful and amazing, as if she was all the world to him. And she wanted to give that back to him, wanted to make him feel as cherished and special as he was making her feel.
"Gotta stop," he was muttering. "Gotta stop. Not gonna take you here and that’s how it’s gonna end up if we don’t stop right now. Never made love before, have you?"
"No," she sighed, leaning against him languorously, her eyelids drowsy from his kisses. "Is it so obvious?"
"Hadn’t in the other reality. And I don’t want your first time in this reality to be on top of a picnic table in the park." He drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Whoever it is."
"That’s very thoughtful of you," she murmured, smiling.
"I’m a bloody idiot, that’s what I am." He tore himself away from her and fell flat on his back on the table, throwing one arm across his eyes. "But I don’t want you to regret anything, Summers. Not this time around."
"I don’t regret kissing you, Spike."
He raised his arm and looked up at her, his face unguarded and vulnerable. "You don’t?"
"Not a bit. But you’re right. This is all too fast."
"Yeah. See how you feel in the morning. Harsh light of day and all. You might find that normal has merit once the sun’s up."
TBC
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