PROLOGUE
All demons across land and seas know the legend of the greatest of all vampire slayers. Many brag over a drink to have seen her, met her, or were bold enough to say that they had been one of the very few to have survived fighting her. But when pressed, any details of their tall tale were always sketchy at best. She was blonde, brunette, a red head. She was tall, short, plump, pear shaped. No matter the rumored particulars, all knew that she had closed the notorious Hellmouth. However, as with other details, no one could remember the exact location that this infamous event took place, but all knew that she was the only slayer that lived long enough to retire in the same unnamed town that once housed the portal to hell. As a glitch in the death of slayers, a second slayer was also present at the fight to seal the Hellmouth but didn’t survive the battle. A new slayer was called and attempted to live up to the formidable standards set by the slayer of all slayers.
Among the demons that vaguely remembered the legend, only one could recall the exact details about the most powerful slayers. He had also fought in the final battle to conquer the Hellmouth. This master vampire, infamous in his own right, had gone against his nature and his kind, worked along her side killing demons, loved her every breath, and when the Hellmouth was finally sealed, he respected the slayer’s wish, and as a consequence, he willingly lost her forever.
**************
Chapter 1 – The Past and Present
Sunnydale, May 13, 2003
Spike stood in Sunnydale High School, bruised and with blood flowing from numerous injuries. His surroundings also displayed signs of a viscous battle. The First Evil had been defeated and the Hellmouth permanently closed. The white hats had won but paid a dreadfully high price for their victory over evil. Both human and demon, bodies lay everywhere, a grotesque testimony to an incredible conflict. Among the dead was Dawn, Xander, Willow, Anya, Faith, Giles, Wood, and the slayers-in-training. All were dead except three victors, who were now standing close to where the Hellmouth had just been sealed. Each numbly surveyed the aftermath with tears rolling down their faces. Spike knelt down, one arm hanging broken at his side and a deep gash in his forehead, and Angel sat against a wall holding his broken leg and one shoulder out of socket. Both vampires watched as Buffy, hair matted in blood, stood over her best friends, sister, and watcher, silently sobbing.
“You’ve won. You’ve saved the world – again.” All three looked over to where the demon, Whistler, had suddenly appeared.
“Nice of you to join us, mate. Who the bloody hell are you?” The blonde vampire spat.
“Whistler,” Angel snarled. “You bastard. You could have come sooner and helped instead of standing back to congratulate anyone that survived.”
The demon ignored the vampires’ hostility and slowly walked over to where the devastated slayer stood. Buffy never looked up from Willow and Xander bodies, even when he stood a foot away. “I’m not here to congratulate. The Powers That Be sent me here to reward.”
Spike stood up, anger radiating off his body. “I think I speak for us all when I say FUCK OFF!”
“Normally I would have a witty comeback,” Whistler flippantly answered, “but I just don’t think that would be appreciated right now.”
Angel growled, “Spike’s right. Fuck off.”
So that he could see all three, Whistler turned away from Buffy. “As I said, I am here on their behalf to reward you three.” He held up his hand before Spike could interrupt again. “They want to grant each of you a wish.”
“What? Now you’re a bloody genie?”
“Of sorts.” Whistler nodded his head, ready to conduct business. “Angel, I think I already know what you want.”
Leaving no doubt, Angel’s reply was quick and firm. “Shanshu.”
“They thought so, but they want to leave you the vampiric strength and healing so you can still fight the good fight. If that is ok with you.” Whistler watched Angel nod in agreement before he continued. “I’m sending you home where you will feel like you are waking up.” Giving him a half smile. “Tomorrow morning, the fang gang will remember a grand battle from the night before, where you shanshu at the end.” Whistler raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, Angel was gone. Moving on, he turned. “Spike?”
The blonde vampire shook his head before motioning toward Buffy. “Let the lady go next.”
Tilting his head slightly to acknowledge Spike’s request, Whistler turned and studied Buffy, who had so far ignored his abrupt appearance completely. “They think they already know what you want also, Slayer, since you have wanted and strived for it over the past seven years. All I need is your confirmation.”
Never taking her gaze from the carnage, Buffy nodded her head once. He raised his hand, but then paused. “The Powers That Be congratulate you, Slayer. You were the best, which the slayers that follow can only strive to emulate your example. You, too, will wake up tomorrow morning, safe in your bed and will remember none of this.” With a sluggish motion, as if regretting what he was to do, he raised his hand. But before he completed him motion, Buffy finally looked up and over at Spike. The last things she saw, before she too was gone, were anguished, blue eyes.
The vampire wiped tears from his face again before asking the demon in a horse voice, “What did she wish for?”
Ignoring Spike’s question, Whistler turned his attention to him. “You are different than the other two. The Powers That Be don’t know what you will choose.”
Battered and in pain, mentally and physically, Spike took a shaky step towards the cocky, little man. “What did she ask for?”
Tilting his head as if assessing the vampire, Whistler again ignored his question. “I would have bet that you would wish for the slayer to love you or something like that, but they,” he pointed towards the sky, “thought you wouldn’t want her that way. You would only be happy if she loved you of her own free will.”
“No. I’ve had her as the result of a spell before. I want her and always will, but not with magic.” Spike took another step, trying to use the last of his energy in an effort to appear somewhat menacing. “What. Was. Her. Wish?”
“Ok. What could it hurt, but I would have thought you could guess. After all, you did understand her better than anyone else.” Whistler shrugged. “The slayer has always wanted to be a normal girl with a normal life, and that’s what they gave her.” He started to pace around, casually surveying the destruction. “Oh, the world will still be the same. Still demons, still vampires, still a slayer that closed the Hellmouth. Nothing will change except her life, and those that know her. Their memories and therefore their lives will be as if Buffy was never called to be the Chosen One.”
Trying to blink back the tears, Spike whispered, “And demons? Me?”
Stopping his circuit around the area, Whistler sympathetically looked at the vampire. “No humans but demons will still know. In a way, they will have faint memories but no details. The Powers That Be don’t want to completely erase her memory or her impressive accomplishments. That would almost be sacrilegious to her spectacular feats. For instance, Angel will just remember her as a story told to him by someone else, told to that person by someone else. Well, you get the point. Same for you. As with any other demon, you will know about this infamous slayer, have heard of her but never met her in person.”
The demon watched the vampire tightly close his eyes. When a single tear squeezed its way out from between his lids and down his face, Spike impatiently wiped it away before looking back at Whistler. “I want to remember.”
Whistler was stumped. “But you won’t.”
“You said I could choose my reward, and that’s my wish. Tell whoever’s up there that I want to remember her. Not forget one minute or one, bloody detail.”
“But you can’t…” Suddenly stopping, Whistler looked up at the sky, apparently listening to a voice only he could hear. When he looked back at Spike, his face showed his surprise. “They agree. They will leave your memories intact, but there is a catch. To respect Buffy’s wish, and I am guessing that you would want to do that, you can’t tell anyone what only you will remember. If you do spill to her or anyone else, everything for her will revert to as it was.”
Spike nodded, showing that he understood and agreed to the terms, and then watched the representative of the Powers That Be raise his hand one last time before he too disappeared. The next morning, Spike woke up in a motel several miles outside of Sunnydale with his car parked in front of his room, but the wanker demon was true to his word. Spike had all his memories of Sunnydale, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the feelings of losing her for the second time. He spent the night half-heartedly trying to decide where to go, and when night fell, still undecided on a destination; he drove off, keeping Sunnydale and Buffy at his back.
*****
Sacramento, September, 2004
Killing time, Beth wandered down the upper level of one of Sacramento’s mall. The beautiful blonde stopped to look in a shoe store’s window, chuckled at a frumpy clothing store and then wander past a busy music store. Something bright caught her eye which made her curious enough that she stepped back a couple of paces to see into the music store’s window again.
Looking over the various aisles of CD’s, Beth found what caught her eye originally. Mega bright hair. Actually, it was a guy with hair that was slightly mussed and so close to white that it appeared almost colorless. Stepping closer to the window, she studied him. The stranger, dressed in black from head to toe, was holding a CD, reading the back before putting it back to pick up another. Just looking at him through the window made the butterflies in her stomach start to do the cha cha.
Without consciously making the decision to enter the store or remembering how she got there, Buffy found herself standing next to the man with the bleached hair and black leather duster. He was gorgeous even in profile. “Uh…excuse me.” She could see the stranger freeze, tensing at the sound of her voice. Her quandary was that he didn’t seem to be a stranger to her. “Er…do I know you?”
Buffy waited for him to react, either speaking or some subtle sign that he was going to just flat out ignore her and her forwardness. Judging from the fascinating side view of this guy, she wasn’t the first girl to use a line to meet him. ‘Hi! I’m Bambi. Have we met?’ Chastising herself that she shouldn’t care, Buffy quickly glanced down at his left hand hanging at his side to make sure he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. She let out the breath she shouldn’t be holding. Those butterflies needed to breathe, too, but thank god, no band on his third finger. She checked both to make sure.
When she glanced back up, she found herself staring into his face now turned to her. Taken aback, Buffy discovered that his striking profile didn’t compare to his gorgeous face. Chiseled cheekbones, an intriguingly, scared eyebrow, and enticing lips. However, more than any of his features, she was drawn into the depths of his eyes. Stunning, intense, blue eyes. She wondered how she could ever forget those eyes if she had seen them before, and as she did gazed into them, she felt her memories stir with a faint recognition.
Finally thawing her frozen voice, she sputtered out a clumsy explanation before she could get lost in his eyes again. “I know that line sounded cheesy, but you really look kinda déjà vu to me. I’m not trying to be all stalkish or anything, but you looked so familiar that I just had to come in and ask.”
When the voice first spoke next to his left shoulder, trying to get his attention, Spike thought that he was dreaming of the voice that visited him every time he slept. But when the voice continued, he froze, recognizing the pick up line but telling himself that it wasn’t the slayer asking, just some pathetic girls trolling the mall.
Creeped out enough to not care what she looked like, he turned his head to give her the brush off. However, when Spike looked into the girl’s guileless, hazel eyes, his brain stalled out causing him to almost miss her explanation. Son of a bloody bitch but the slayer was standing in front of him babbling about déjà vu. He was so freaked that he started to laugh in her face but caught himself.
Drinking in her beloved face so close to him, he saw the slayer with no hardness or sadness in her eyes and an obvious zest for living. How he wanted to lean down and kiss those lips, but he knew he couldn’t go against her wish. But he knew that just meeting her face to face, this new, unspoiled version of Buffy, could put her new world in jeopardy.
“No, luv, you wouldn’t know me.” He forced himself to turn away and look back at the CD in his hand.
Buffy wasn’t sure what to make of him. At first, looking at her, his eyes widened in surprise but then shifted into sorrow. Maybe, she optimistically thought, it was regret in not recognizing her. “Are you sure? You look so familiar. It’s been a long time since I have been in Sacramento, but we could have met before.”
He didn’t dare look back at her, willing himself to stay firm. “No, pet, you don’t know me at all.”
“Oh, sorry to bug you then.” She turned to walk away. “I’ll just be taking my mortification and leaving…” But her feet felt like led. Before her embarrassment swept her away out of the store, she whirled back around and was surprised to catch the man, with shoulders now slumped, rubbing his temples and forehead as if trying to rid himself of an agonizing headache. Unexpectedly concerned, Buffy took a step towards him. “I…uh…I’m not from here and need to kill some time. Therefore, I’ve been wandering around this mall, and I saw this café-like shop and I am thirsty and I…look, do you want to come get a cuppa with me?” Buffy finished and held her breath, waiting to hear his answer to her fumbling invitation.
Livid, Spike fought down a nearly overwhelming urge to slam the CD against the nearest wall. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Four hundred seventy-six days before, Whistler had told him…no, stressed to him that it shouldn’t and couldn’t happen. But on the other hand, the Powers That Be should have known that he and his slayer, however accidentally, individually or together, would defy the rules of the cosmic game - again. Why should he be surprised?
Spike told himself to not even glance at her. Stay away from temptation. No, no, you can’t give in. No, no, no. But then he looked at her hopeful, upturned face and heard himself answer, “Yes.” Bloody hell. Now he was the one holding his breath, waiting for lightening to strike him down. But the destructive zap of electricity didn’t come. Maybe a couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt cosmic history, he rationalized, as he watched a smile light up her face.
*****
At a shopping mall, in a poor excuse for a Starbucks, Spike sat at a small, metal table, looking at the slayer, who didn’t remember ever being a slayer. The same slayer, who didn’t remember that he had loved her, didn’t know that he had never stopped loving her, and wouldn’t know.
The silence made Buffy even more nervous than she already was. Other than ordering his drink, the hottie sitting across from her hadn’t spoken since agreeing to go with her to the coffee shop. “Well, I’m from Sunnydale, and I’m in town visiting my dad.” The stranger just sat staring at her, leaving her struggling for something else she could say to start up a conversation. “I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Elizabeth Summers, but I go by Beth. What should I call you besides quiet?” She was relieved when, her gentle tease was rewarded by a half-smile which only enhanced his drool-worthy, good looks.
“Sp...” The vampire caught himself before giving the name that could possibly trigger one of the memories she had chosen to forget. Other than vaguely recognizing him, he didn’t know if he could accidentally revive the past for her by a word or action from him, but he wouldn’t take any chances. The PTB had even changed her name from Buffy to Beth. “You can call me William, and maybe I’ll answer.” Well, it was at least the truth, and the slayer had only called him that once. Regardless, he wanted to stay as close to the truth as possible.
Both gave half smiles acknowledging their appreciation. “Ok, I can call you William, and I’m Beth. Obstacle one - Find out each other’s names. Check. The next obstacle is to start some kind of conversation. I’m going to go out on a very narrow limb here, but I don’t think you have any ideas, do you?”
Content to just look at her, Spike shook his head signally, “no,” while never taking his blue eyes off her face.
“So, William, are you a native to Sacramento?”
Now that got Spike’s attention, startling him back to her question. Then he chuckled, “No, pet, I most certainly am not from around this area.”
Embarrassed, Buffy bit her lower lip for a moment. “British accent ergo British. Ergo not from California. Why don’t we go back to safer topics, like the weather, before I dig my pit of ignorance any deeper?” Buffy plastered a Hollywood smile on her face and went for the absurd to chip away at his layer of ice. “Let’s guess what type of underwear the people passing by are wearing. I’ll start. Those high school girls are definitely wearing thongs. They’re hoping that tonight that they may get lucky and someone will see them.” She looked back at him who had raised his eyebrow in interest. Time to move on from other girls. “Oh, that older guy in the checkered shirt, he’s a boxer man. Probably ironed.” His laugh made her bolder. “Look at that goth chick. She’s wearing hot pink underwear to match her hair, but I bet her panties are probably held together by safety pins. Ouch. Probably why she is frowning.”
William surprised her when he made his own speculation. “Look at Mr. Muscles to your right. The wanker is compensating for a small pecker. He’s wearing lace knickers with a garter belt and stockings.” After her gasp, he joined her laughing as they watched the rear view of the alleged cross dresser.
After blue hairs, snooty upper crust, and soccer moms, the silliness paid off. ‘Laughter obtained. Ice successfully broken,’ Beth thought as she listened to his melodic laugh.
“So what’s a hottie like you do for a living? Model or something?” Her face was an instant, bright red. ‘Oh my god. I can’t believe the word ‘hottie’ just came out of my mouth, not to mention asking him if he is a model.’ She hoped that pit of ignorance would go ahead and swallow her whole.
However, Spike wasn’t so much concerned about what she had said, but instead, he was trying to decide how to reply as to his profession. It couldn’t hurt to tell what he had been doing for the past year, Spike thought, especially since it wasn’t related to demons. After all, he had begun his new profession, the only profession he ever had, after the last battle in Sunnydale. “No, no modeling. I’m a skipper tracer.” He hadn’t expected her to know what that profession entailed, but her look of confusion was adorable. “A skip finder is called if someone doesn’t pay up on their bond. See, when people are thrown in jail but can’t afford the bail to get them out, the family or a friend goes to a bondsman, who loans the money to make the bail. Hence, bondsmen are like mosquitoes. They fly around the people that are easy prey, and then suck them dry by the percentage of the loan as payment. When the bail is made, the indicted man can leave jail until trial. If the perp doesn’t show, the skip tracer is called to hunt him down and drag his or her arse back to jail.”
Beth hated it, but she had to interrupt him. “Damn! This timing is soo way bad because I really didn’t want our conversation to end so quickly, but I have to meet my father in that Italian restaurant across the street, Antonio’s, right about, oh, five minutes ago. A side dish of ass chewing is probably waiting for me now, and I just want enough of my ass left to sit on when I drive back to Sunnydale tomorrow.” Looking at her watch one more time with obvious regret but continuing to freak, Buffy started to pick up her jacket, purse and grabbed her coffee for the road. “I know I am going to sound like I am being forward again because…I guess I really am. When I visit Dad again soon, and I stress soon, would you like to meet again maybe for dinner or something more than coffee?” Adding to herself, ‘And entailing more time.’
Balls, the slayer still had one weapon after all. When Beth gave him her puppy dog eyes, Spike wanted to agree to anything she asked.
When he didn’t immediately answer, she assumed he was trying to find a polite way to refuse, so she doubled her effort. Shrugging a shoulder, she gave him her best smile, leaving no room for doubt that it was only meant for him.
With more fortitude than he thought he possessed, Spike pulled himself together. “I am sorry, luv. It wouldn’t be good for us to see each other again, especially for you. You’ll never know just how sorry I am because I have to tell you no, but I’m unfortunately not someone you need to spend time with.”
Heedless of his words, Buffy knew that with a little work, she could turn his “no” into a “yes,” but for now she could tell he was firm in his answer. Not to mention, she had to go and meet her father. Instead she decided to give into her temptation since she first sat down at the table with him, which was to touch this striking man with the sad eyes in a small effort to comfort whatever made him so gloomy. She lay her hand on his leather clad arm, “Thanks, William, for keeping me company. And no, I won’t tell you what kind of underwear I am wear, so no speculating on me.” She gave him a wink, and tenacious to a fault, she hurried away already planning how she would find a way to see him again.
Spike stayed at the table to finish his drink and to think about slayers. Spike kept track of slayers out of habit. The one after Buffy and Faith only lasted 4 months. The current one was now in the Middle East with her watcher, since the demons were drawn to the turmoil in that region of the world. However, his thoughts always returned to his slayer, Buffy. His last sight of her at the Hellmouth was burned onto his soul, the soul he had gotten for her. It wasn’t the blood and injuries that stood out in that last moment they shared before Whistler made her disappear; it was the expression on her face, the weariness and the profound anguish. But now Spike sat at a little table in a coffee shop located in a shopping mall, staring down at where Buffy, now Beth, had touched his duster’s sleeve and stored away precious images along with the other memories of his slayer.
TBC
Ok, I need some feedback here. Please let me know what you think. As I said before, this story has been an obsession, I would like to know if I am crazy not. : )
MadRog
madrog@ev1.net
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This story starts after the end of Season 7, but it does not contain any spoiler. In fact, it goes AU before the last two episodes of the series.