Willow:
I was really tired by the time I got back to the hotel. Merry offered to come up and help with the spells, but I asked her to just drop me off. Because, I could use the help, but she makes me nervous. She’s pretty. I mean, she’s also smart, and all Watcher-ly, and a little unsteady around vampires, which is kinda funny after so many years around Angel and Spike, and helping Buffy patrol and everything…Okay babbling now. No babbling, no time for it. Must push pretty flirting Watcher girl outa my mind and focus. Focus on protections spells, and call Gretchen about Lindsay.
Wesley decided to let me take care of their Lindsay problem; by which I mean I’m sending him to Rio, not that I’m gonna ‘take care of’ him a la Mafia. I’m focused-Wicca right now; I can handle the disposal of the sometimes-evil kinda-wizard. No problem. Well, maybe a teensy little problem. A problem-ette, even. I’m scared of failing. More terrified than scared, but I think understatement is the way to go.
So, I sit on the couch, and do what I do nowadays when I’m scared. Which happens a lot, even if it’s just about the test I’m writing up. I take deep breaths, center myself, and focus on drawing into myself a core of peace. I feel the balance of things, the inherent centrality of all living things, flow through me, and I take its measure and acknowledge that my path is straight. While Angel’s plan is borderline suicidal and verging on wrong, my part will do no harm; I can achieve success, and create no imbalance by my actions.
Then I call Gretchen, and find out what I need to know about holding Lindsay in Rio safely, because I’ve confirmed that what Wesley felt is true; that left here in LA, Lindsay will either die in battle or be destroyed by hatred. He loves, and he can be redeemed, but he can also be selfish, and power hungry, and his rage clouds his judgment. Like Spike, except with poorer skills of deduction.
I always feel better after I’ve spoken to Gretchen; she’s what I’ve always wanted in a Mom. She cares about me, which my Mom does too, except less with the awareness of my problems; my Mom I mean, not Gretchen. Gretchen is Mom-like in the way she listens, and soothes, and watches out for me, and offers practical advice without being emotionally unavailable. Which reminds me, I should go up to San Bernadino and see my parents if I live through this.
Once Gretchen and I have confirmed that I have the correct spells ready, that I can do this on my own, and that she can handle Lindsay and Eve once I get them to her, I head out.
I miss Buffy. I mean, I know everyone else has important things to do; but here I am, you know, all by myself. Buffy would have never let me go off by myself to meet an…Well, I guess he’s not an enemy. But still. She would have come along in case a fight broke out, or just to keep me company, because she’s my friend.
Spike’s sitting on the hood of a black sports car in the valet parking circle when I come out of the hotel. Part of me is shocked. Part of me, not so much. “’Ello, Red. Fancy a ride?”
He arches his scarred eyebrow at me, and I can’t help but smile, even though my insides are all fearful and jello-y. “Sure, Spike.” I nod, and he jumps down and holds the door for me while I get in the car. Which makes me wonder about the things Jezebel and Merry said at dinner, the few things Buffy told me after Sunnydale. Spike was William Spenser, a Victorian gentleman, in a life long ago. Will he change if he turns human? Will he still care about our fight? Will he still love Buffy? And could he and Buffy really be together, if he were human; or is there already too much water under that bridge? Will he even remember us, once he’s human again, or will it be like the last hundred and so-many years never happened?
Spike pulls away from the hotel before he starts to talk. “Wesley called and filled me in on the big happening tonight. Angel’s doing his own thing, trying to make it look like he’s on his own; we’re meeting at my apartment around 5:00 a.m., if you wanna give the big ponce some advance warning you’re on the team. Or not, either way. Still, thought you could use some help, someone to watch your back and such. W’ot ‘re you gonna do once we get there?”
I take a deep breath. Right, focus on the task at hand, get it done, then move on to the next thing. Try to keep things in order, go slow, don’t panic, stay calm. “Well, first I’ll do a protection spell to keep outside forces from interfering, then I’ll try to reason with them; if I can’t get them to come quietly, I’ll freeze them. Either way, I’ll open the portal in the apartment, and send them to Rio. Gretchen will do the binding once they’re there.”
“And then?” I look at Spike, trying to puzzle out exactly what he means.
“Then…Well, then I go back to the hotel, get a few hours of sleep, and get ready to meet you, with protection spells at the ready. I mean, I’m not sure you guys’ll need me for much. Just a few protection spells, and some moral support. Hey, I just thought of something. Once this is over, do we have someplace to go to? I mean, can we all fit in your apartment? Well, I guess we can, since people will be there tonight. Wes mentioned he was going back to your place once he left the office. He said he was picking up some things. Do you know what he was picking up? Should I pick up some things, maybe magic supplies, or pillows, or doughnuts? And…”
“’Right, Red, take a breath, will you?” Spike snarks. “Look, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. With the magic, I mean. Buffy trusts you. Once Angel lets us know where he wants us, I’m counting on you to figure out where to send the girls, right? The pouf’s in charge, and Wes and I will guide you a bit, but you’re gonna be key tomorrow. You’re in charge of more than just a few spells. You’re the girl with the reinforcements. Know Buffy’s usually the Generalissimo, but you need to pull it together for me, Red. Can’t have you falling apart, now. We’re gonna need your strengths in this fight, just as much as anyone else's. More, even.”
Wow. He’s good at the pep talk thing. I wonder how much of that he got from Buffy, and how much of it she got from him. “Hey, Spike. I know we’ve never been close, not really, I mean. Not to talk, and stuff. But you’re really good at it. Talking, I mean.”
“’S the truth. We don’t just need magic. We need you. I’m glad you’re here, Red. No one else I’d rather have.”
I smile. I’ll bet I can think of someone, or a few someones, he’d rather be talking to right now; better leaders, people he’s closer to. “Except, Buffy.”
Spike smiles, and it’s a sad kind of smile, filled with regrets. The kind Buffy gets when anyone mentions him. “Yeah, it would be great if she were here.”
I keep expecting him to say more, so I stay quiet. Which is a major effort, since I’m bursting with questions. But he doesn’t, and before I know it, we’re pulling up in front of a cute little apartment building.
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Getting Lindsay to break his promise to help Angel and go hide out in Rio with Eve is insultingly easy. They’re both ready to get out, to try and rebuild their lives.
Gretchen is at the other end of the portal to take them off my hands, and I trust her judgment, so I refuse to think about what Lindsay can do in a building full of under-trained Slayers if he’s hell bent on evil. I’m just happy to have someone with more experience available to watch out for them; and that we got him out of LA before Angel’s final strategy session. If he’s gonna go with the badness, at least he doesn’t know details.
I’m taking a lot on faith from Spike and Wesley, and I hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the butt. Of course, Buffy did ask me to be here, and I don’t want to disappoint her, and she trusts Spike, and I trust her, so I guess I need to just trust Spike. I hope he’s trustworthy. I have lots of hopes. Lots of hopes and worries, and I’m still terrified.
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Spike was quiet during the meeting with Lindsay and Eve; he let me take the lead. Not sure I love that, but what am I supposed to do? I could call Buffy, or Angel, or I could even call Faith in Cleveland; of course, she would bring Robin, who still hates Spike, and he’d accidentally-on-purpose try to kill him.
Spike is still not inclined to make conversation, and my mind is racing, worrying about tomorrow. I need a distraction before I panic again. So, I jump on a topic and hope for the best. “So, you had your memories erased.? When you were human, I mean.”
Spike white-knuckles the steering wheel, and I hold my breath. I mean, I kinda like the guy, but scary demon angry with me, not of the good. “Well.” Spike finally speaks, and his voice is strained, but quiet, and I relax a little. It seems like he’s calmed down, I hope. “Wasn’ expecting you to ask that, guess I shouldn’ be surprised, though. Yeah, my memories were erased.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t ask that, right. Maybe I shouldn’t ask at all. That was not a happy, lets-dish-the-dirt kind of reaction. Then again, maybe he wants to talk about it, and he thinks I’m just asking for something to talk about. Which I’m not, I mean, sure, I’m looking for something to take my mind off the once-again-impending end of the world, but it’s not that I don’t want to know.
“Spike, you know, you can talk to me if you want. I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I mean, unless you don’t want to talk about it, which is fine, you don’t need to talk to me…Or…Or, we can talk about other stuff. Like, read any good books, lately?”
I've been watching his face, and if you didn't know Spike, you would think he was a little tense. Of course, I know him well enough, so I know that he's a lot tense. Over the years, I've heard a lot about Spike's unlife. More than I wanted to, especially during drunken rages, or when he held broken bottles to my face. Well, bottle, really, since it was only that once.
I've never really heard anything about his life as a human before. Buffy said something about the trigger being his Mom, when the First planted that trigger in his brain; but she only mentioned it in passing, I'm not even sure she knew the details.
Spike sighs. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "You wanna get some coffee, Red?"
I need coffee like I need a hole in my head, but Spike seems willing to talk, and something tells me I should listen. "Um, wanna come back to the hotel instead, and order room service? Or is that too much? Or, we can hit Starbucks instead, if you want."
Spike continues driving without responding, and I'm tempted, but I don't ask. I remember Dawn saying once that the best way to get Spike to talk was to wait him out, and I've been taking that to heart tonight. Of course, it hasn't been working as well as I'd hoped; I've said too much, and he's barely said anything, but I'm gonna keep trying. There are so many things I need to know, and surprisingly few of them have to do with the upcoming possible end of the world.
I've spent years trying to solve the mystery of Spike and Buffy. They hate one another, they defend one another; they're friends, they're lovers, they're uneasy allies. I'd decided that I may as well give up trying to figure the whole thing out, because the few pieces of information grieving-Buffy let drop in the last year or so just made me more confused than I was before.
Then again, maybe Spike can help me piece together a few things. When he said earlier that one person knew about him regaining his memories, I was almost certain that he meant Buffy. And she never mentioned it to me, even though we talked about Spike a few times.
"Willow." I was startled when Spike began to talk again. I'm pretty sure I jumped a little bit. "The story of what happened when I was alive, how I lost my memories…It paints a lot of people in a right nasty light. Might distract you, all this worrying over me, what with a big battle coming up tomorrow. So I'll tell you, if you really want to know. But you've gotta understand, this goes no further. Buffy knows as much as I'm gonna say to anyone, and she's kept her peace about it. I'm not ready…"
Spike sinks back into silence, and he's ready to crush the steering wheel again, so I keep quiet, too. I think that was the closest I've ever seen sober Spike come to rambling. Whatever the heck he's gonna tell me, it's not pleasant, and it's personal. That much I know. Also, that Buffy knows, and never said a word about it to anyone.
Sometimes, I feel really bad for Buffy. There's so much she keeps inside, she doesn't really talk to me, I'm sure she talks to Xander even less. I know she seems fine, but maybe having me know about whatever this is, and being able to talk to her about it, will help her to trust me more, make things more like they used to be. When she let me help shoulder some of her burdens.
"I do want to hear the story, Spike. And I think maybe you need to tell it." I'm taking a leap of faith, here, watch me leap! "I want you to know that you can trust me with whatever this is. I'm Buffy's friend, but I'm your friend, too, Spike."
He turns his gaze away from the road, and flashes me a quick smile. "Thanks, Red."
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When we're settled in the living room of my suite with room service coffee, tea, and cookies, Spike is still radiating nervous energy. He's wandered around the room for almost half an hour, poking at things, touching the plants and paintings. I have no idea if he's looking for something, or just nervous.
I've never seen him like this. I mean, I never tried to have a serious, personal conversation with him back in Sunnydale. I tried to ignore him after he refused to settle down on the couch, but his prowling is just fascinating, somehow.
Finally, he pours himself some coffee, which I really don't think he needs, and drops onto the couch across from me. Rearranging the pillows with one hand as he sips his drink, he eventually reclines against the arm of the couch, slouching and pulling one knee up, while the other dangles off, his foot on the floor. "How much do you know about Victorian England, Red?"
Is this a trick question? "Well, Victoria was Queen of England from 1837 to…"
"'S not what I meant, Red. What about how society worked, the state of British nobility, marriage and family structure, things like that?" He studies my face for a moment, then continues. "Right, well I suppose that's neither here nor there. Pertinent points: marriage worked a bit differently, back then. Women weren't allowed out into society until they were 18, if they were part of the upper crust of society, and they were expected to marry within the next year or two, to men they barely knew. You would have been an old maid by now, back then." Spike winks, and I laugh. I have no idea where this is going, but I'm intrigued. "Also, children were kept away from adult things, but were expected to act like little adults. Quiet play was the order of the day, supervised by a governess or nanny. Your parents would come visit once or twice a day, and parade you in front of guests for a minute of introductions before they sent you back off." He settles in a bit more comfortably, and continues to talk.
"Anyway, I was raised a bit differently than most in those days. Those were the early years of compulsory education, you know; home tutoring was going the way of the dodo. Except that my father and some others believed in secluding their children. We were brought up apart from society; with home tutors and fencing instructors, and we had the company of one another. There was a group of us, all ran together, all fairly close in age. Our parents would hold outings and activities; we went for picnics, went hunting, had formal dinners. This was my whole life, you understand. We weren't kept out of the room during adult time, the way children were in those days. We were all right there in the thick of it. There were always little kids running underfoot, and often teenagers and adults running right along after them."
It sounds fairly normal and boring to me, but the look on Spike's face says this is part of the important stuff, so I pay attention. "I knew that most of our fathers worked together, some of our grandfathers, too. I even had a spinster great-aunt who worked with them." Spike meets my eyes. "They all worked at the Council of Watchers."
Okay, color me shocked. Shocked Red, that's me. Spike's father, who I've never even heard mentioned, was a Watcher? And he never once before brought it up, not even to bait Giles? Wow. I seem to be saying wow a lot, but I can't seem to think of a better word. Maybe wowie? I mean, how often does the son of a Watcher end up having their memory erased, then getting turned into a vampire?
"M' father died when I was ten, and my mother was heartbroken. She fired my tutors, and sent me off to boarding school, so I could meet new people, so she wouldn't have to face his friends, who she felt were responsible for his death." Spike took a deep breath. "I knew he died doing something work related, but I had no idea what. I was too young to understand what being a Watcher meant, and me Mum wanted me out of it, she didn't want me to follow in his footsteps."
Spike leaned forward to refill his empty coffee cup, stretching his shoulders as he moved. "I was home from school again within the month. I was ahead of the other boys in some subjects, some by years. In others I was years behind." He met my eyes. "What I had was an extensive knowledge of Latin, ancient Greek, History, and Geography. I knew very little math or science, not even with what passed for math and science at the time, and I didn't know the sports and games the other students did. Also, they thought I was crazy when I asked about demon languages, or potions, or sword fighting."
"They were training you to be a Watcher!" I can't help interrupting. I can't picture Spike as a Watcher. Especially not a ten-year-old Watcher who spoke Greek.
He nods. "I had no idea that my education was anything unusual, because up until I went away to school, all of my friends knew the same things I did. The rise of the middle class, coinciding with changes within the Council, had led us into isolation. My mother didn't want me living in their world, but I had no choice, really."
Spike shook his head. "Finally, after I'd scared off two private, non-Council tutors with my talk of battle axes and learning Gloxon, she took me to the Council, and asked them to begin teaching me again. That was the first time I really understood what they were.
"You see, Red, back then, the Council was about more than just training the Slayer. They were the keepers of the bloodline, the knowledge of where the first Slayer came from, and they were very serious about traditions and family. Because, in order to be a Watcher, in those days, at least, you had to have a certain pedigree."
Spike looked uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable, like he expected me to bolt at any minute. "You remember what Buffy said when she went into the shadow-dimension-thingy, back in Sunnydale. About those men putting a demon into the first Slayer? Well, that's not the story they told me.
"When my Mum took me to the Council elders, they decided that I needed to understand why I was different than the rest of the boys I'd met at school. They told me that the first Slayer was a demon-human hybrid, born of a tribe of those like herself. That the Slayer line carried through her family, down through the generations. And that the Council of Watchers was comprised of members of the same family. That we were all descended from members of the same tribe of part-demons, and that it was our familial duty to assist and protect the mission of the Slayer, as well as the safety of the family as a whole. My family's place in the Council meant I was part demon, and it was my duty to keep that secret, to protect my own. But they gave me a choice. I could go out into the world, and have another life; they would prepare me for another go at school. Or I could join them."
Spike stopped speaking, staring into his coffee cup. I would have asked a question, but I had no idea where to start. Spike was part demon, before he was a vampire? The Watcher's Council was made up of demons? None of the things he was saying seemed to fit into my reality, how could Giles be part demon? There were a million thoughts chasing one another around in my head, but not one of them would sit still long enough for me to form a question. After a few minutes of silence, Spike sat back and started talking again.
"I was so excited, to know that I had a mission in life, that I wasn't crazy or strange, that all of the other kids I'd grown up with were the same as me. I decided to continue working with them, learning from them. When I'd gone to school, you know, that was the first time I'd ever felt awkward, or strange, or different. I'd started to think that something was wrong with me, and it was such a relief to know there was nothing wrong with me other than not being entirely human." He chuckled. "I guess it says a bit about the world I lived in that I never thought being part demon was a bad thing. It was just the way things were, you know? I was just part of a family with some weird genes, like those people with big ears, or webbed toes.
"Anyway, I went back to my studies, and began attending social functions with the old group again. For a few years, everything was normal, quiet. I was content, and my Mum was alright with my decision in the end. Then I came into my powers. One day I woke up, and it was like I'd woken up for the first time. I could hit harder, run faster, hear and see better. I only needed glasses for reading, not all the time like I had before. I was so happy at first.
"Then, I was brought before the Council elders again. As it turns out, a member of the Council coming into full demon powers was rare. All of us had the heritage, but most of us were more human than demon. I was more demon, as it turns out." He looked up and met my eyes. "This is where the hard part starts. You can bow out now, if you don't think you can handle it."
I'm really wigged. Here's Spike, rattling on about demons working for the Watcher's Council, gaining demon powers when he was a human boy, with some weird little factoids about life in Victorian England thrown in for no apparent reason, and there was a hard part? Hard as in hard for him to tell, or hard for me to hear? And how did all of this weird stuff lead up to him having his memories erased?
I looked into Spike's eyes, and saw nothing but the truth of what he was saying. I looked inside myself, pulled myself into alignment with the earth, and saw that he was, above all else, an honest man, who was sharing his story with me. I had to respect his need to tell, and for some reason outside of the coming apocalypse, I needed to hear, even if I didn't know why yet. "Go ahead, Spike, I can handle it."
He smiled at me faintly, and poured himself more coffee as he continued his tale. "When I came into my powers, it confirmed something that the Council had known ever since I was born, but that they had never told my mother or I. I had what they called 'strong blood'. Girls with strong blood, they called Potentials. Because of the way the Slayer line carried on, a girl would not have come into her powers the way I had. They only got their powers if they were Called, if they became the Slayer. Boys of strong blood, on the other hand, came into their powers at adolescence. At that point, we would be assigned to one of the Potentials. As her mate. That was how they kept the bloodlines intact.
"So, at 13, I found myself pledged to a ten-year-old girl named Emily Worthington. It was…Strange, to say the least. I hardly saw her for the first year, just across the table at dinner and such. She was adorable, even at that age I could see her as aesthetically pleasing. But she was a child, she had no clue what was going on. I didn't understand sex myself at that point, didn't really grasp what they meant by 'mates'. We were so very young, it seemed like we had forever until we needed to worry about it. When I saw her I would go and say hello, but then I went off with my friends.
"Then, one day, Emily's father came to call. Mr. Worthington had two sons, one my age, one a year older, as well as his daughter; and he felt that with no male influence in my mother's house, it would be best for me to live with them. Mum was reluctant, but agreed eventually, and so I ended up moving into the Worthington house.
"Emily's brothers, Duncan and Mike, became my best friends, like brothers of my own. We trained together, took lessons together; the three of us were practically inseparable. For about another year and a half, Emily was on her own a lot. We saw her at dinner, and at parties with the rest of our friends. I'd never been particularly close to her, but I learned to treat her with the same affection her brothers did. She was sweet, and quiet, and a good girl. She had beautiful long red hair, and big green eyes. Even at twelve, when most kids are awkward and funny looking, she was graceful and beautiful."
Spike's eyes looked far away, like he'd forgotten I was in the room. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was describing. I thought of myself at ten; engaged to be married? I still thought boys had cooties at that point. At 13? I'd had a crush on Xander, but sex was a big mystery, I'd had only a vague idea how it worked.
Spike drew my attention back to himself as he continued. "As I got older, and understood more of what would happen, I was a bit resentful. Felt like I should have gotten to choose my own bloody wife, thank you very much. But I also understood that the Council had done a lot of research to ensure we weren't too closely related, and made sure that we were close in age as possible, so that I wouldn't have to wait forever to claim her. I cared about Emily like a sister, and she was attractive enough, so I didn't protest too much; plenty of people married without love in those days, at least between us there was affection.
"After Emily turned 14, she began to spend more time with us. She was a Potential Slayer, and we were the men of her family, so it was considered our job to assist in her training, and to help her carry out her duties."
Spike chuckled. "You should have seen it, Red. There we were, three grown men at 17 and 18, well into the sewing of our wild oats, thinking we were big and bad because we had this special destiny. She whipped our asses, every day of the first week she trained with us. Wiped the floor with all three of us, then trotted off to her needlepoint. I think by Friday I was falling in love with her." He was grinning, and I couldn't help but laugh at the look on Spike's face. I can't picture him as a teenager, head over heels for his first love, but he's happy remembering it.
"I couldn't figure out how she was doing it, so I asked to train with her. Her trainer, her Watcher, was named Andrew Smith. Andrew was…Larger than life, I guess you’d say. He’d never come into full demon powers, but he was stronger than your average guy, and better trained. Didn’t take me long to figure out that Emily was besotted with him. She did everything he said, trying to please him, wanting to be the best Slayer ever, so’s he would be proud of her.
“It was my first taste of jealousy. I’d never thought I’d have to fight for Emily’s affections, I just assumed she had the same ideas I did on our marriage; that we’d do it because our family wanted us to.
“Emily, though, wasn’t such a quiet little angel once you got to know her. She wanted things her own way, wanted to call all the shots. And she was the best damn fighter I’d ever seen. I’d failed to impress her, so she wasn’t interested. She wanted a man of her choice, and I realized that unless she wanted me, wanted to be with me, then there was no way I’d ever really have her, even if her father forced her to the alter.
“So, I started to work with them. I was stronger than either of them, but I’d never had to all-out fight anyone who could effectively deflect me. I’d spent years holding back; afraid I would hurt my instructors, or my friends. And there was Andrew, who was strong in his own right, and trained to go up against demons, trained to get into an opponent’s weak spot, to identify and exploit weaknesses. He had field experience, he knew how to survive a fight, and he knew how to teach. He’s been teaching Emily everything; swords, staffs, crossbow, hand to hand, and weapons I’d still never heard of after training my whole life.”
Spike fidgeted a bit. “Red, you mind if I smoke?” He dug in his pocket, not waiting for my reply. When he looked up I nodded, not wanting to open my mouth. Where I’d had no questions before, now I could barely keep them all inside. I knew there was more to the story, so I kept silent, hoping for him to continue. He lit the cigarette and slid the unused saucer to his cup onto his knee before he continued.
“I got my ass beat a lot at first. Andrew wasn’t a brawler; he was a trained killing machine. It was like being a street punk and fighting a Marine. I was stronger, he had the skill. Unless I got a lucky shot, I lost. But after a while, I learned. I stayed on my feet longer, learned which shots to take, and which to resist taking. I got better, quickly. I was slowly earning their respect, and learning a lot about fighting, but Emily was still all focused on Andrew, as far as romance went. She’d impressed me with her fighting skills, but I figured after a while that it would be almost impossible to impress her the same way. She was just too far ahead of me, knew too much.
“So I decided to romance her. Most couples back then couldn’t spend any time alone together, couldn’t even sit together in a corner in a crowded room. I was allowed to focus my attention on her a bit more than I would have been able to, were we part of mainstream society.
“Even as far out of the mainstream as we were, I still had to keep something of a distance. We were a bit better off, in that I could corner her at a dinner, or ask her to dance. I started bringing her gifts, silly things at first, then special, more meaningful things as I got to know her. She was an amazing woman. She was smart, and headstrong, and an incredible flirt. She liked cats, and hyacinths, and the water, she loved to swim or go rowing. I would seek her out, just to hold out her chair. I offered to help her study, or untangle her threads when she sewed. She loved to do needlepoint; she could have gotten out of doing it, but she enjoyed the quiet once in a while. In short, I was always underfoot, acting like a completely lovesick idiot.” Spike and I both chuckled at that. This, at last, sounded familiar, something I could relate to the Spike I knew.
“It took me almost a year, but finally she returned my feelings. Maybe she had before that, but it took her that long to tell me about it, anyway. We were out in a rowboat, on the lake near her father’s country estate, and she told me, just as it she were finishing a previous conversation, that she couldn’t wait to be my wife, because she loved me so much. I remember that feeling so clearly. It was like she was the only woman in the world, and I could want nothing more than to live and die at her side.”
Spike fell quiet again, lost in memories. It sounded wonderful, and all too familiar, the feeling he’d just described. That was how I’d felt after the first time Tara told me she loved me. Like everything was perfect, like I’d just been given the most precious gift I was ever going to get. I’d felt something similar with Oz, but that idyllic feeling, that I associated with Tara, even if she wasn’t my true first love.
“We planned the wedding for her 20th birthday, because no Slayer had ever been called after they turned 20, and she was afraid that she would leave me alone with a child if we rushed to get married then. She was 15 at the start of our true engagement, that summer, so it was a long time to wait, but she was adamant, and spoiled rotten by all of us, not least of all me, and so she arranged things the way she wanted them. Emily promised that after we were married, she would stop patrolling, that she would stay at home, and help train another Potential perhaps, but not go out into the fight anymore.”
“Wait a minute, she was patrolling? Before she was the Slayer?” I really couldn’t help interrupting. After the house full of Potentials in Sunnydale, after the last few months spent working with new Slayers, the thought of sending a Potential out patrolling without a small army of helpers by her side seemed bizarre.
Spike seemed utterly unconcerned by the idea. “Of course. There weren’t the types of training facilities available back then that there are today. Actually fighting vamps was the best training available. And Emily was good; she dusted several a night, sometimes.”
His expression darkened, and I knew. This next part was what we’d been leading up to, all this time. The end of the story, the part that I really needed to hear. “I’d been patrolling with Emily and Andrew, on and off since I started training with them. Mainly they took me along to help clean out nests, or to fight the larger demons.
“I didn’t have the experience to know it at the time, but Andrew had something of a God complex. He thought he was invincible, and because he’d been training Emily since she was small, he was over-confident in her abilities as well. We got into some sticky situations, things we should have stayed away from. Emily thought it was all a great adventure, she loved slaying. She had quite a wild side to her, she loved to dance. We even had a few, what you would call ‘make out sessions’, which was so far outside the line of propriety that if we’d been caught we’d likely have been marched to church the next morning. But just about everything was an adventure to her, and I wanted her enough not to be scared, enough to be stupid about it.
“Part of me was terrified that she’d be called, and refuse to marry me. I felt in my heart that she would be the next Slayer, that was how good a fighter she was, how graceful, how good a leader. Then she would throw her arms around me and tell me that she loved me, and I knew nothing could keep me away from her.
“One night, Andrew took Emily out for a routine patrol. We’d been engaged for almost a year, she was 16, I’d just turned 20. We’d had a fight, because her father wanted us to move up the wedding. He’d reminded us none too gently that we were supposed to be making babies, not strolling in the garden together, and four more years was too long to wait. I was inclined to agree with him, that we should just get it over with, and live without the fear of her calling hanging over us. Emily was still adamant that she didn’t want to have children, only to die and leave them. So I stayed home from patrol that night, I thought a little fighting would help her calm down, then we could discuss things the next morning like two rational adults.
“But the next morning, there was no Emily, and no Andrew. They never came home.” Spike’s voice is tight, and he takes a moment to collect himself. “Later, we discovered that they’d tracked a vamp back to its nest, and Emily decided to rush in after. Andrew couldn’t stop her, and sent the carriage driver to the Council for backup before going in after her, but it was too late. They both died.”
There are tears trickling down his face as he continues, and I remember that the last time I saw him cry, it was over Buffy’s body, and I suspect it was also before he had this memory. “I was enraged. I made myself sick with anger. No one deserved to be alive while my Emily was in the ground, least of all me. I was miserable, and made everyone around me miserable, too.
“And then the Council stepped in, and called me before the elders. I was still young, they said. There were other Potentials who needed mates, and it was time for me to move on. Hopefully I would have better luck getting a child on the next one.”
I gasp, and start crying myself. I’ve seen how Spike loves, how he gives of himself. I’ve seen Spike mourn two loves, one who died, and one who walked out. How anyone could tell him to forget his love, and marry another woman right away, it was painful to even imagine. What kind of monsters would do that to him?
“Like I said, I was a mess, sick, full of anger. I threatened to expose them as demons, to tell the general populace that they forced children into adult relationships, that they sent little girls off to fight their battles. I twisted everything in my life, in their lives, to make it as sick and hateful as possible. I killed two of the Council’s elders before they could overpower me, screaming to the end that I would never do their bidding again, that they were responsible for her death, and they all deserved to join her in the grave.
“They restrained me, and threw me in a cell until I calmed down. Then they put me before a tribunal. I had threatened to betray my blood, my family, and I must pay. I would be cast out, without the support of the Council, without any memory of my life as I knew it, and my Mum, my only family, would go with me. As punishment for the murders of two of my elders, I would be placed under a spell to suppress my powers. I would be left utterly defenseless against the monsters that hunted humans. They performed the spell, and next thing I knew, I was in London, in a townhouse, living alone with my mother. They even gave us another surname; we lived under the name Pratt.
“I had a whole different life, different memories. For the next ten years, I lived that new life. I felt stifled, every day of it. Like there was something in me society couldn’t understand, and I could never find words to express it. We had money problems, the rise of the middle class and all, as I said earlier. We had to sell off our country house to keep the townhouse, and I had to work. We weren’t poor, but I wasn’t a good prospect for marriage. My Mum was ill, and she was all I had, so I was hesitant to leave her to seek my fortune. No lady would have me, and the new money snubbed the fading gentry like us. I had wealthy cousins, who weren’t involved with the Council, but they snubbed me as well. A nice middle class girl probably would have had me, but my Mum was a bit stuck up, and passed that sense along to me.
“And then I met Drusilla. I had been turned down by a lady who thought me beneath her, and went to clear my head out in the alley. Dru found me and changed my life. As a vampire, I wasn’t restrained any longer; I was free of the rules of society, free of money problems. I turned my Mum. I wanted to cure her illness, to show her the world, but she…She turned wrong. The demon took over completely, I suppose because she was so sick. I ended up having to stake her.”
Ah. Oh, gosh, that must be the trigger that the First used. Wow, if I were Spike, I’d hate the Council. How can he even stand to be around Giles? Part of me wishes he’d had all those memories when the Council was in Sunnydale, supposedly helping with Glory. He could really have made Travers sweat.
“Anyway…Well, I don’t rightly know what to add, Red. I fell in love with Dru, I killed lots of people, Dru got sick, and I ended up in Sunnyhell, gunning for my third Slayer. Few years later I’m in a magic shop, and get hit with a spell that negates whatever those Council Bastards did to my memories a century earlier, and I come to in the middle of a fight, my mind all full of Emily.”
I can’t help but smile at that. That stupid spell. That spell lost me Tara, it used up the last of our time with Giles, time we might have spent convincing him to stay with us. I’ve regretted that spell practically since the second I cast it. But it turns out, that for Spike at least, the spell helped. It gave him back a little piece of himself. I gave him back his memories of his first love. And that, I can’t regret.
“Willow. I’ve never felt like I was able to thank you for that. I could never have explained it to you, back then. That night, I was so conflicted. I’d become the thing that killed my first love, a soulless vampire, a killer. I had all these memories; memories of killing those two Slayers, and suddenly that meant something entirely different to me. I had a huge piece of myself back, but it made me regret what I’d been for all those years, and I never had before. It was like getting a part of my humanity back.
“And Buffy…I wanted to comfort Buffy after the spell, but I didn’t know how. She just looked at me, and her eyes were so full of pain. I knew that I was in love again, with another Slayer. She walked away from me, once she got her memories back. And the memories of loving Emily, of winning her heart… They gave me the courage to go after her, to talk to her. They gave me the courage to kiss her that night.” Spike smirks, and I have to laugh at the look on his face. That must have been a hell of a kiss.
“Well, I wish that the spell had worked out as well for Buffy. I was trying to help her forget heaven, forget her pain.” I reach out and grab his hand. “But I’m glad it worked out for you.”
Spike opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He squeezes my hand and lets go, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. He looks at it, then back up at me. “You know, I didn’t tell Buffy the whole story up until recently. Back then, I just told her that I’d been engaged, and my fiancé was killed. She was too wrapped up in her own recovered memories to ask too many questions. I even managed to ask Glinda for some help, researching the type of demon I was. Didn’t find much, but it eased my mind a bit, and it gave her something else to think about. Now, I wish I’d gone to you. Had your own problems, didn’t need me throwing mine on your plate, but maybe we could have helped each other out, maybe found a way to help Buffy some.”
God, I just wanna hug him. Oh, what the heck. Before he can move away, I sit beside him and wrap my arms around him. I can’t believe I was scared of him earlier tonight. It seems so stupid, now. He’d never hurt me, because that would hurt Buffy. Spike’s arms slide around my waist, squeezing a bit, and he leans into me a little. It feels weird, but comfortable. Like hugging Xander, but less with the bulk and the body heat. It’s nice.
After a few minutes we pull back, and he looks a bit sheepish. For the first time in a long time, I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. “Call her. You can use the bedroom; I’ll work on the protection spells until you’re done, then catch a quick nap before we go.”
Spike smiles. “Thanks, Red. You’re a true friend.” He pats me on the back, and heads into the bedroom, already dialing.
I miss Tara. I wish I could see her again, yet I know she’s in a better place. I’m sure Emily is, too. Well, I guess if Spike found love again, I can, too. I just hope it doesn’t take me quite so long.
I pour myself a cup of tea, and wander over to the desk where my spells and other papers are. On top of the pile is Meredith’s file, full of my notes from trying to track her down. I can’t think about it now, I have other things to do, but just looking at her address, written there in my own handwriting, gives me back one of the things I lost when Kennedy and I split up. Hope.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks so much to everyone who has stayed with me so far. Next chapter will be an interlude with some Spuffy interaction, before we get back to solving the crisis in LA.
Please review, I'm feeling unloved at the moment.
Please review, I'm feeling unloved at the moment.