Chapter 8
The groceries were in front of the former magic shop, where Angela had said they would be. Spike couldn’t believe it. How did Angela know about the Magic Box?
After Giles passed away, Anya sold it to a man. He kept the place as a magic shop, but changed the name to The Crystal Cove. It only lasted two years, and then had to close. The thought of Angela knowing the old shop’s identify was baffling. Even if she heard about it from someone else, they would most likely have told her it was where The Crystal Cove had been, not The Magic Box.
Spike snatched up the grocery sack and headed to Fredrick’s house. He had to confront the watcher on his suspicions. It was too much to hope for, but what if it were true?
The vampire caught Fredrick during slumber again ( he goes to bed pretty early). He gazed out at Spike with irritation. “What the blazes do you want? Can’t I ever get a good night’s rest?”
Spike stepped inside. He put down the bag of food on the floor. “Sorry, mate, but I have to discuss something. I know I’m probably off my rocker about this, but I can’t get it out of my bleedin head.” He ran a hand through his slicked-back locks.
“My God, Spike, get out with it so I can go back to bed,” Fredrick commanded.
Spike began to pace. “I think Angela may be Buffy.”
There was a long pause of silence. Spike stopped moving. He looked over at Fredrick. “Don’t you have anything to say!?”
The watcher cleared his throat. “Spike . . .”
“I know what you must be thinking, but she knows things. She uses words like ‘sugary goodness’ and ‘wiggins’.”
Fredrick shook his head. “Spike, think about what you are saying. After fifty-five years, you think the love of your existence has suddenly returned. Reincarnation, that is what you are talking about.”
Pain filled Spike’s eyes. His voice came out softly. “She acts so much like her.”
“I know, Spike, but Angela is not your Buffy. Buffy died a long time ago. She is in heaven, where all good slayers go. Maybe if you keep up the good work you will see her again. But not now, not here.”
Spike shut his eyes.
“You miss her so much that you are turning Angela into her. Seeing things that aren’t there. You have to accept that Buffy’s gone forever in this realm. I’m sorry,” Fredrick went on.
Opening his eyes again, Spike nodded. “Yeh, you’re right.” He took the groceries. “I gotta go.” He turned to leave, duster billowing behind him.
Spike left the house, but sat down on the porch steps. He took out a cigarette. He lit it, placing it in his mouth. The nicotine was supposed to calm his nerves, but it didn’t help much.
Everything Fredrick had told him was true. He was creating a reality that he wished was real. Fifty-five years was a long time for a mortal, but to him it was only yesterday. Sometimes he was so sure that Buffy would come back to him. This mirage he had seen in Angela was a way of trying to make that dream true.
The tears came. Spike didn’t cry about anything except Buffy. It was the only thing that could dig deep enough to rip his heart out. When the flow of water quit, he knew what he had to do. He would have to leave. He couldn’t stay with Angela anymore.
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The next night, Angela came in from patrol. She hung up her jacket near the door, and took off her shoes. Spike was watching the TV (no surprise there), with some sitcom on the screen. She came over, plopping down beside him.
“Hey there!” she greeted, cheerfully.
“Hi,” he said, tonelessly.
She studied him carefully. “Spike, is something wrong?”
“No, why?”
“I dunno, you just seem . . . mopey.”
“Well, I’m fine,” he snapped.
“Oh- k.” She leaned back further into the couch cushions. “So, wanna go with me to the movies tomorrow? There’s this cool one about a haunted house and it . . .”
“I won’t be here,” he interrupted.
She was confused. “Huh?”
“Angela, I’m moving out tomorrow. I can’t stay here anymore,” he announced.
Angela, not Angel. Not even luv or pet. Just Angela. She frowned. She took the remote and turned off the television. Angela crossed her arms. “Spike, what is going on here? You don’t have to rush off. I sort of like having you around.” I really like having you around, she thought.
“I just need my own place is all,” he replied.
“That’s fine. I get that. Doesn’t mean you have to hurry on out tomorrow. Wait until you are sure you found a place you want. I’ll help you pick out some furniture too for it. Take your time.”
Angela sprung to her feet. “I’m hungry. You hungry? Have you eaten at all today?” She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She took out some left-over pizza for her and a bag of blood for him. She put the pizza in the microwave first, then went to get a mug.
Spike followed her. “I’m not hungry,” he told her.
“Come on, Spike, I haven’t seen you have a meal all day.” She got down a mug. It had pictures of bunnies dancing around on it. She smiled at Spike. “Bunnies okay, or too poncy for the big-bad?”
The tough layer of resolve melted away from Spike. Instead, it was replaced by desperation. He stepped forward.
Angela put down the mug. She met Spike’s gaze. “What is it? Did I say someth . . .”
He grabbed her wrist. “Buffy,” he whispered.
Startled, Angela’s eyes widened. “What?”
His free hand came up to touch her hair. “Same hair,” he murmured. Then he moved it to graze her eyes, which she closed for him. “Same eyes.” His thumb traveled down to her lips. “What about your mouth?”
Spike kissed her. It was soft and filled with love. His hand slid under her top to feel the smooth skin of her stomach. He broke the kiss long enough to say, “ I need to feel you. I’ve missed you so much. Let me know that it is you.” Their lips locked again, this time he was more forceful. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, demanding her own.
Throughout the encounter, Angela had been taken away. Her head was cloudy, in a trance from Spike’s touch. And then she snapped out of it when he whispered ‘Buffy’ another time. She pushed him harshly away. The momentum made him hit the wall.
“I’m not Buffy!” she exclaimed.
Spike realized what he had done. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.
“I care about you, Spike. But I don’t want to be someone else to you. Don’t touch me EVER again until you get straight who I am.”
Spike stood up tall. “Goodbye, Angela,” was all he said. He left, leaving her stunned, not sure what to do.
It could have been an hour that she stayed that way, or only a minute. When her brain was working properly, she processed what happened. Spike had left. For good. The simple goodbye had meant forever. He’s a vampire, maybe this is a good thing, she thought. You shouldn’t get involved with another one. Wait, there wasn’t a first one. She gripped the counter. Her heart was beating fast in her chest. It spoke to her, saying what her mind couldn’t. ‘You love him. Don’t let him slip away from you. Don’t let another man leave you.’
Angela threw on her jacket, racing out the door. She got out the apartment building doors, having no idea where Spike went. Where would he go? She ran in the direction of the cemetery, wagering that maybe, just maybe he would search for another crypt.
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Spike was done with people. They only caused him suffering. He’d spend the rest of his days drinking, smoking, and watching the TV. Zilch on the acquaintances. He’d mind his own business, and not care about anything.
Apartments and actual homes were too risky. He’d end up having to talk to someone that way. No, he needed another crypt. Among the dead. Among his own kind.
He swung the duffle bag over his shoulder, and trudged through the graves. He spotted a crypt, and went over to examine it. Looked okay on the outside, but what about the inside? He was about to venture in, when he heard the cry. No, he told himself, don’t bother to listen. It doesn’t matter, remember? He continued on, into the crypt.
The place was dark, and full of cobwebs. There was a sarcophagus to the left. He couldn’t see any sign of a lower level. Oh well, can’t have everything.
The scream came another time. It was louder, frantic. He dropped the duffle. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, and ran out of the crypt to find out what was going on.
It wasn’t long before he fell upon the scene. A demon, looking very much like a Velociraptor was hunched over somebody. Spike stepped closer, discovering that it was tearing whoever it was with its sharp talons. He sprung into action, hurdling at the creature. The thing snarled, flinging Spike off him.
Spike rolled, jumping back to his feet. He switched into game face, baring his fangs. His leg went out, kicking the demon in the stomach. The demon recovered quickly, flipping out its green tail. Spike managed to jump over before impact.
The dinosaur monster took a claw and scraped across Spike’s chest. A holler of pain escaped the vampire. That was it. Spike was going to end this now. His bleached head shot up, pure fury etched on his features.
Spike rammed into the creature. He bit down, savagely ripping the flesh. It thrashed in pain. Spike removed his teeth, and reached up to grab its head. He got a good grip and then snapped it to the side, breaking the neck. The demon went limp.
Spike spun around to check on the victim. He froze in place, eyes growing huge. There, lying in a pool of blood was Angela. He made himself move, crouching beside her. Her clothes were in tatters, soaked in red liquid. His hand went out to take her wrist. At first he felt nothing, and panic filled his veins, but then he caught it. A pulse. It was so weak, yet it was there.
He took her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “My Angel,” he whispered. He rocked her back-and-forth. “Cor, I’m so sorry!” His body shuttered into sobs.
Finally, he stood up, still holding the slayer. He tightened his hold, bringing her to his chest. He started off toward Rebecca’s house. It was the first time he hoped that he would see George there. He was his only hope.
(AN: Remember, George is a doctor)
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Thanks, guys, for the reviews. I love you all!
I hope the fight with the demon was okay. I try, but I don’t think I’m that good at fight scenes.
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