The hour and a half or so that it took to get to the L.A. address that Angel had given them gave the Slayer a little time to cool down a bit. By the time Joyce parked the car in front of the dilapidated old building, she was beginning to think more reasonably than she had only moments after hearing about the horrors Angelus had inflicted on Spike.
But her mind was still troubled, and she knew that Spike would still be dealing with the resurrected pain of Angelus’ torments, brought freshly to his mind by the abuses of her own alter-ego over the past few days – abuses that she knew now, if not voluntary on her part, were still her own responsibility.
Just like Angel, no matter how hard he might try to pretend otherwise, was still responsible for the crimes of Angelus.
Because Angel *was* Angelus.
After all she had seen and experienced in the past few days – Buffy saw that now, more clearly than ever.
And she knew now what she had to do.
“Buffy! Hi!” Angel greeted her warmly at the door to the old, run down building he was currently living in and working out of. “Come in!” He held out his arms as if to embrace her, but she smoothly slid past him into the building, glancing around the dimly lit room, empty except for herself and the dark-haired vampire.
There was no sign of Cordelia, or anyone else for that matter. She assumed that her friends were sleeping behind one of several closed doors that branched off the main room, but that remained to be seen. And besides, that was of no importance to her at the moment.
She really preferred that her friends slept through this.
“Hey,” she said flatly, before going back to the door and waving the other occupants of the DeSoto inside.
Angel was more than a little confused by her behavior, and finally looked past her at the vehicle she had just arrived in. When his eyes fell on the familiar black DeSoto, they narrowed in suspicion.
“Um, Buffy – that car – isn’t that…”
But before he could finish the thought, in a rush of black leather an platinum hair, a very familiar figure rushed out of the car, through the faint early morning sunlight, and through the door that the Slayer had cleared and was holding open for his entry. He was followed, at a much more leisurely pace, by Buffy’s mother and sister.
Angel’s eyes widened in angry disbelief at the sight of his errant childe. “*Spike*?” he growled menacingly, before glaring at Buffy and demanding, “What is *he* doing here?”
Buffy just smiled coolly, unbothered by Angel’s outburst. “He’s with me,” she informed him pointedly. “Leave him alone.”
Angel just stood there for a moment, looking between the two of them in utter shock as he tried to process what she was telling him, before recovering his composure enough to grind out between gritted teeth, “When you say ‘with you’…I’m hoping that you mean that in the sense…”
“I mean that in *every* sense,” Buffy cut him off with her emphatic declaration, her flashing emerald eyes challenging him to question her decision. “So you might want to be very careful what you say from this point on, Angel.”
There was hard, cold steel underlying her words, and it made her former lover think twice about uttering the scathing comments that rose to his lips.
“Buffy – what is going on here?” he demanded instead, accusation clear in his carefully calm voice, as his murderous gaze found its way once again to the blonde vampire who stood proudly by her side.
“Mom,” Buffy addressed her mother, rather than answering Angel immediately, though her eyes never left his face, “Why don’t you and Dawnie go find Xander, Willow, and Anya? Make sure they’re up and ready to go?” She paused, smiling sweetly at her mother as she added, “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Joyce did not miss her daughter’s tone. She knew that for some reason, Buffy was planning to do or say something to Angel that she did not want her little sister to witness.
And if *Buffy* was concerned about the possibility of Dawn seeing it – then Joyce certainly didn’t want her to see it, either.
She ushered her protesting younger daughter away from the scene of rising tension, deeper into the building to seek out Buffy’s unsuspecting friends. Buffy watched their retreat long enough to be sure that her mother and sister really were out of sight and hearing, before turning back to face Angel, her arms crossed over her chest and an inscrutably cold expression on her face.
“Buffy?” Angel persisted, a flash of fear in his eyes at the look he saw in hers. There was no trace of the vulnerable teenager he had once known her to be; at the moment, she appeared to be pure Slayer. “You *are* still evil – aren’t you?” he accused her, his voice betraying just the slightest tremor at the thought. “Here to take me out, because I’m the Powers’ champion, is that it?”
“No. I’m not still evil,” Buffy assured him flatly, shaking her head with a calm smile. “Been there, done that – didn’t much care for the part where I tried to kill everyone I loved. No – I’m me, Angel. Just – with my eyes open.” She paused, rolling her eyes as his words sank in completely, before adding, “But could you *be* any more arrogant and self-important?”
“I – I don’t understand, Buffy,” Angel replied uncertainly, his anger fading, rivaled by his confusion.
“Let me spell it out for you, Peaches,” Spike smirked at his sire, the light of triumph in his crystal blue eyes. “She loves *me* now. She’s mine, in *every* way you could think of – and she’s bloody well through with you – after she’s done beating you into a bloody pulp, that is…”
Angel’s eyes narrowed in fury and he lunged toward the younger vampire with a possessive snarl. “Buffy’s mine!” he growled. “Don’t you dare *touch*…”
His words were cut off in an instant with a sharp blow from the Slayer’s fist that took him by surprise, driving him a few feet back, away from his intended target. He looked up at her in startled disbelief that she had actually struck him, his dark eyes wide with hurt and betrayal.
“Buffy – how can you…”
“No,” she cut him off sharply, moving between him and Spike, her eyes narrowed in determination. “Listen very carefully to what I’m about to say to you, Angel. Because I’m only going to say it once.” Buffy paused, taking a deep breath and composing her thoughts, before she launched into as much of an explanation as she intended to give her former lover.
“Spike is off limits to you now, Angel. Don’t even think you’re gonna get away with trying to hurt him. And I am *not* yours – never have been, really – and never will be…”
“Buffy, have you completely lost your mind?” Angel interrupted her, aghast at her words, stunningly harsh, as far as he was concerned. He edged slowly nearer to her – and to Spike – again as he went on, “He’s evil. He’s nothing but an evil, soulless…”
“…vampire, yes, I know,” Buffy finished impatiently for him, rolling her eyes. “But – here’s what I’ve been thinking, Angel. And correct me if I’m wrong – but I’ve got this little theory. That ‘evil, soulless vampire’ just risked his own life and well being to protect *my family* -- from *me* -- knowing that I could very well kill him for doing it – or worse, if I felt like it.”
Her matter-of-fact voice that trembled slightly with the painful guilt of the past few days made Angel wonder suddenly what Buffy could possibly be capable of that could be worse than death to the blonde vampire she was now defending – and then decided, at the look in her eyes, that he’d really rather not know.
*Traumatized,* he thought suddenly, in near desperation. *Something obviously took her over – and she’s been traumatized, by whatever she’s been through these past few days. She’s not thinking clearly…*
“Buffy – I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you deal with – whatever it was,” he began slowly, his voice carefully calm, as if he was speaking to a very unstable person – which he actually was beginning to believe might be the case.
“I’m sorry that you thought you had to turn to *Spike* of all people to help you – but I’m telling you, Buffy – you can’t trust him. I know him better than anyone probably, and I know he has to have some ulterior motive for helping you. You *have* to see that he can’t be trusted!” Angel’s voice was almost pleading.
“Oh, I wouldn’t have so much faith in my judgment, Angel,” Buffy shot back with bitter sarcasm. “After all – I trusted *you*, didn’t I?”
“Buffy,” Angel gasped, stunned by her frank, harsh words. “That’s – that’s not fair. That wasn’t my fault…”
“It is, and it was,” Buffy countered softly, her expression becoming serious, and a little sad for a moment, under the anger so clear on her face. “I can see that now. Spike loves me, and he’s risked his life to prove it a dozen times in the past few days.” She paused, her shining emerald eyes searching his in a quiet challenge.
“I seem to recall another soulless vampire who couldn’t even *conceive* of that kind of sacrifice.”
The words took him off guard, an unexpected emotional sucker punch that left him stunned – and utterly unable to come up with a decent defense. His old fallback reasoning did not seem to fit, after her words about Spike’s behavior.
“Buffy – I didn’t have a soul then…”
“Did you not hear a single word I just said?” Buffy demanded incredulously, though her voice was still calm. Her eyes were cold and unyielding as she pointed out softly, “Neither does Spike. Doesn’t keep *him* from loving me.”
“He doesn’t love you, Buffy,” Angel insisted, his tone hardening as he glared past her at his gloating childe – whose grin immediately faded at the accusation. “He can’t…”
“Oh, but he really can – and he does,” Spike broke in, his voice calm, but his eyes narrowed and blazing with outrage at his sire’s disparaging words. “You don’t know the first thing about real love, Angelus…”
“Shut up, Spike!” Angel snapped with vicious hatred in his voice, taking a threatening step in the younger vampire’s direction. “This is between me and Buffy! It’s none of your business!”
If he had thought that the look he was employing could still intimidate his childe into backing down – he thought wrong.
“Oh, isn’t it?” Spike challenged, moving forward himself in reaction to Angel’s incensing words.
And Buffy slid discreetly to the side, allowing him to face his sire. She knew that now, without a dominance claim in place, Angel was really no threat to Spike’s safety – and this was more his confrontation to have than it was hers, anyway.
He *needed* to do this.
“None of my business, is it?” he repeated in a tone of triumph. “Don’t see how that’s bloody possible, considering the fact that she’s my *mate*!”
“After what you did the last time I saw you, I ought to…”
Angel’s angry words broke off suddenly as the words that Spike had just spoken finally registered with him.
Still – he couldn’t make himself process it – didn’t want to believe that it could be true.
“*What*?” he said in a low, breathless voice of disbelief, his eyes wide and stricken with shock. “Now that she’s…”
“My -- *mate* -- mate,” Spike smirked as he stepped back slightly, just to wrap his arm around Buffy’s shoulders in a casually possessive, affectionate gesture that was intended solely to further infuriate the other vampire. “As in eternally blood bound – unbreakable union – unchanging, forever *mate*!”
“No,” Angel whispered, shaking his head in pained disbelief. “No – no, *Buffy*…” His eyes focused on her suddenly in an expression akin to panic. “Buffy…what have you done?”
“It’s done now, Angel,” Buffy reminded him in a quiet, certain voice that brooked no argument. She did not feel like going into all the details and particulars that had brought the two of them to be mated, admittedly a bit sooner than she would have chosen. She did not owe Angel an explanation.
“And I’m *glad* it’s done,” she finished after a moment, her intent gaze daring him to question her decision.
Angel just kept shaking his head, not willing to accept what he was hearing. “Buffy – something’s wrong about this. You’re – you’re not yourself! He’s done something to you…” Turning his furious glare on Spike, he stepped toward him again, his features shifting as he demanded with a snarl, “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing she didn’t ask for,” Spike sneered, his tongue curled suggestively behind his teeth, his eyes lighting up with amusement as Angel snarled in rage, lunging for him and grabbing him by his shirt, shaking him menacingly.
“I said what did you *do* to her, boy!” Angel demanded, his voice low and thunderous and filled with murderous intent, a low growl audible under his breath, even when he had stopped speaking.
Spike could not remember the last time he had seen Angel resemble Angelus so clearly.
And he was not the least bit intimidated.
Before Buffy could act on her immediate impulse to rush to his defense, Spike had thrown the older vampire back off of him with surprising strength, considering all that he had already been through in the past forty-eight hours, with very little rest.
“Get off me!” he snarled back, his own game face showing now. “You’ve got no bloody right to touch me, you soddin’ wanker! You think you can just put your bloody hands on me as you like? Don’t you *ever* touch me!”
“Oh, I can, Spike!” Angel sneered, something dark and ugly showing in his expression as he stalked back toward his childe. His hurt and anger at having what he believed to be solely his – even if he *had* chosen to leave her, for her own good of course -- suddenly, unexpectedly ripped away from him, with no chance of return, awakened a rage deep within him that he had managed to keep buried for nearly a century – with only a *slight* lapse, a few years earlier. “I can -- and I will!”
Swiftly he closed the distance between him and Spike, intent on reminding him of who was the sire and who was the childe in this little scenario.
Buffy fought with everything in her not to interfere, as the two powerful creatures came together in an instant, in an intense clash of fists and fangs in the center of the room. She forced herself to take a deliberate step back, away from the conflict, instead of entering it like she desperately wanted to. The bond she shared with Spike made her naturally feel the need to come to his aid, to help him.
But it was clearer to her now than it ever had been – clearer than it had become to her, in the car on the way here – this was Spike’s fight…not her own.
Yes, Buffy had her own issues with Angelus – but had to admit that what she had experienced at his hands was nothing in comparison to the abuses Spike had suffered. And over the past few days, Spike had had the confidence, the strength that he had gradually managed to take back following his years as Angelus’ whipping boy, suddenly stripped away again.
He deserved the chance to take it back.
In defense of his mate – in defense of the helpless childe that he had once been – there was no other way.
Spike had to do this himself.
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