Spike groaned loudly, pulled himself up into a slumped sitting position and narrowed his eyes in attempt to protect them from the harsh light of day. His entire body ached from sleeping in his car, even though he had taken full advantage of the bench seat and had sprawled across the black vinyl with his feet dangling out the open driver’s side door. Tilting his head quickly from side to side, he felt the satisfying crack of his joints popping and managed a small smile; which disappeared as fast as it had emerged when he saw Angel’s truck pulling up beside the car.
Perched somewhere near the middle of the seat, Spike all but growled and snapped at Gunn when his obviously perturbed friend crawled into the car with him and pushed him out of the way. “Man, move the fuck over…damn you stink!” Charles exclaimed, his handsome features marred by the exasperated expression on his face. Shaking his head in disgust, he slammed the driver’s side door with a loud clack and dramatically rolled down the window to air out the odorous interior. “Could you give me an idea of how many more times Angel and I are gonna have to hunt your ass down, ‘cause I do actually have a life, ya know?” He asked with irritation in his voice, although deep down he was truly worried about Spike.
“Don’ recall ordering a bloody knight in shining armor recently, Gunn.” Spike grumbled, digging through the deep pockets of his black leather duster in search of much needed nicotine. “You see m’fags?”
“First off, you live in America, stop saying fags ‘cause it just confuses the shit out of everyone! Second, are you trying to get your scrawny ass killed?” Gunn rounded a sharp corner, checked the rearview mirror to make sure Angel was still following them and tried to remain calm as Spike answered his question with an irritated snort. “Because if you are, then you’re on the right track by getting wasted and passing out in front of a demon bar with your fucking door wide open! Your dad is freaking the fuck out and Fred’s on the verge of tears for the millionth time in two weeks and Wesley is well…nervous as always. Don’t you have any respect for anyone other than yourself?”
“Boo-fucking-hoo, Gunn! Sorry that pathetic Spike is having a bit of a hard time adjusting as of late. So very sorry that m’misery has ruined your sodding day.” Spike barked and flopped over to lean against the cold metal of the passenger side door to stare blankly out the window; trying very hard to keep up the cold, uncaring demeanor and not let Gunn see the quivering mess of emotions, the broken shell of a man that remained after Buffy’s sacrifice.
Gunn opened his mouth to chastise his moping friend for the harsh comment, but refrained when he caught a brief glimpse of pain flash across Spike’s pale face; opting to keep his trap shut and drive the hung-over Slayer to his house instead. He knew the past two weeks had been difficult for Spike, but since he had chosen to remain silent about his feelings and keep everyone in the dark, Gunn had no idea how to help his friend cope. Of course, he had also been under the assumption that the affiliation between the former sworn enemies had been solely based on sex and not the deep and meaningful relationship it had turned into in the end. Knowing that the Slayer had lost a love and not just a piece of ass was something that Gunn was conflicted on how to best handle the downward spiral that Spike was on. After worrying over his welfare constantly since the incident, Gunn had been settling on the side of anger rather than compassion, truly hating that Spike was suffering, but pissed that it was causing misery among his so-called loved ones.
Spike knew he should be ashamed for his comments and hate himself for snapping at his friend and should apologize for being hurtful, but he held back and stared out the tinted window instead; watching the dilapidated buildings downtown fade into the neatly trimmed lawns of suburbia without uttering a single word.
He was aware of the amount of pain and anxiety he was causing his family and friends by staying out all night, sometimes days at a time passed before he appeared out of thin air to pass out from exhaustion for several hours before slinking off into the night for another round of drinks and a brawl or two, if possible. He saw the worry and hurt in their gazes, knew they were concerned for not only his safety, but his sanity, as well. However, Spike just couldn’t bring himself to care as of late, and chose to ignore their stares, the frowns of disapproval and sighs of frustration. In his mind, in his heart, he knew that while they tried to understand the pain that seared him from inside, they would never be able to fully comprehend what he was going through, because even though they had finally admitted Buffy had changed, in their eyes she would always be a soulless monster. They would never understand that to Spike, he had failed her. That if he had been able to defeat Willow in the first place then she wouldn’t have had to sacrifice herself to fix his mistake. If they knew his true feelings and fears, if they were aware of his dream to take her place, to keep her in this world and sacrifice himself for her safety, he couldn’t bring himself to look them in the eyes and see the disgust that he suspected would surely be there.
Snapping to attention as the car lurched to a stop, Spike glanced around and a realized that they had arrived home and Gunn was already halfway up the sidewalk. Grimacing, he pushed the door open and headed in the same direction, mentally preparing for the inquisition that lay ahead. As he neared the front porch, Angel pulled up near the curb, quickly hopped out of the big blue truck and jogged up the walkway to catch up with Spike.
“Hey man! Uh…just wanted to give you a heads up…your Dad and Wesley are in a stink about some news they got from the Council guy.” Angel huffed a bit as he spit out the information, clearly tired from the short jaunt up the sidewalk. “I don’t know what he said, but it sure was enough to have your Dad polishing his glasses like a madman.”
“Fucking brilliant.” Spike muttered under his breath, knowing his father’s incessant cleaning of the glasses was a nervous habit and normally had nothing to do with keeping the lenses free of debris. Deciding not to stay in the dark any longer, he bit the bullet and opened the door, motioning for Angel to head inside first. “No time like the present, right? After you, mate.”
“William!” Rupert Giles’s hollered from across the room, where he had clearly been in a conversation with the Watcher. “It’s about bloody time you decided to grace us with your presence. Do you have any idea what time it is? How worried I was?”
Giving off an air of indifference, Spike shrugged out of his duster and tossed it over the stairway banister before sauntering into the living room. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the clock on the desk and inwardly groaned, realizing that it was well past lunch. Flopping onto the couch with a sigh, he retorted, “’s not like I meant to stay out all sodding night…couldn’t get the bloody keys in the ignition and fell asleep.”
“Yes, well, it’s a good thing Angel and Charles were able to locate you and you’re clearly well. However, there’s some new information that Wesley and I need to discuss with you if you can manage to fit us into your busy schedule.” Without waiting for an answer from his son, Rupert focused his attentions on the three young adults standing quietly in the corner of the room and continued, “I know you’ve all been worried, but as you can see, Spike is perfectly fine. If you don’t mind, we’re going to need some privacy for a bit.”
“Of course, Mr. Giles, um…we’ll just go grab some dinner or something like that, ok?” Fred replied nervously before speaking to Wesley, “I guess they can give me a ride home, so um…maybe you could stop by later…um, if you want to.” While everyone in the room was well aware of the budding relationship between her and the Watcher, Fred still felt uncomfortable mentioning it in front of everyone, especially Spike. Glancing over at her sullen friend, she frowned at his disposition before smiling at Wes and following Angel and Gunn out the door.
When the room had cleared out, Rupert pulled a chair closer to the couch where Spike was clearly sulking, made himself somewhat comfortable and cleared his throat before speaking. “William, we’ve received some rather disturbing news from the Council this morning, from the Head of it, actually. There’s really no other way to tell you what it is, other than being forthright.” Giles paused for a moment, unsure of exactly how to tell his son the devastating news that he had been working diligently to keep hidden. When Spike glared at him pointedly and refused to speak, he grimly started, “As I said, Mr. Travers called this morning and it appears that a new Slayer was called…approximately two weeks ago.”
“A new Slayer!” Spike scoffed, the full impact not registering in his still alcohol soaked mind. “The git’s obviously off his rocker! ‘s not like a new Slayer can be called when the old one’s still alive and kicking.”
Rupert’s calm demeanor faded, giving way to the true level of his emotions, showing the despair and heartache that he had been trying to hide to stay strong for the sake of his only son. Staring down at his hands, at a loss for words, he forced himself to say, “I don’t know how to tell you this…”
“Oh, bloody hell! Just get on with it, yeah? ‘s not like I’ve got all sodding day to sit here and stare at one another.” Spike barked, instantly regretting his harsh words when he saw tears glisten in his father’s eyes; taken aback by the emotion on the man’s face since he’d only seen his dad cry one time in his entire life and that was at his mother’s funeral years ago. Dropping his head to hide the pained expression on his face, Spike examined the chipped black paint on his nails as if he was nothing more than bored by their conversation.
“Right, then…William, another Slayer has been called because you died that night.” Rupert spit out, instantly fed up with his son’s uncaring attitude; if Spike was too preoccupied by his feelings to care about the significance of another Chosen One being called, then why should he worry at all.
Spike’s head popped up as he snapped to attention and stared at his father, then the unusually quiet Wesley with his mouth wide open in shock and disbelief. “I died…but how? The doctor’s never mentioned that to me and I’m fairly certain that that’s the important type of information you tell a patient!”
“I…um, I asked them not to mention it to you, William.” Rupert confessed, holding his hand up to stop Spike from speaking. “I’m not apologizing either, you had too much on your mind at that moment and you were cleared medically. I felt there was no reason to burden you with any more stress.”
“Burden me with STRESS?” Spike hollered, jumping off the couch to pace anxiously around the living room. “I fucking DIED, Dad! Dead! You should have told me!”
“Spike, please…” Wesley begged, motioning for his charge to sit down. “Try to see things from your father’s point of view. You had just suffered a great loss, why bother you further with the knowledge that you could have…no, did die? Especially when there was no reasonable medical excuse for your brief demise?”
He refused to sit down, but did reign in his temper enough to calmly ask, “No excuse? I lost a hell of a lot of blood that night; wouldn’t that have been the reason?”
“Apparently not, from what the doctor’s were able to figure out. Yes, you lost a great deal of blood, but you are the Slayer. You have healing powers far beyond that of the average human and your body quickly replaced what you had lost. The only explanation they could produce was that you simply didn’t want to be alive anymore, your body started shutting down on its own accord.” Forcing his son to meet his gaze, Rupert asked, “Now can you understand why I didn’t tell you?”
Sitting down on the couch in front of his father, Spike realized that his father had only been trying to keep him safe and met his worried gaze and replied, “Yeah, Dad. I can understand, but that doesn’t mean I agree with your choice.” Leaning back against the cushions, he stayed silent for a beat and finally asked, “So, what’s this bloke’s name and when do I get to meet ‘im?”
“All we’ve been told is that he’s expected to arrive in Sunnydale within the month with his Watcher, apparently some strange activity recently calls for their presence here. What type of presence is unknown at this time, but there was some type of dimensional shift that altered the energy field around the Hellmouth. Since the Council is still in the dark about the effect the shift will cause on the demonic activity in Sunnydale, they’ve decided to proceed with caution and send reinforcements.” Wesley explained as best as he could with what little information they had been provided. Reaching over to his briefcase on the desk, he pulled a large folder out and laid it on the table in front of Spike and said, “That’s what they faxed this morning. It’s not much, but it will give you a brief description of the latest addition to the line of the Slayer. He’s about the same age as you, maybe a year younger if I recall…name’s Daniel Osborne, but prefers to be called Oz.”
[Reviews - 76]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2378 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the freaking fantastic reviews! I'm really happy that you guys seem to like this story so far! **PS** This was not beta-d since I really wanted to get it out before I left for the weekend. Plus, Sotia's been threatening me. **HUGS**
Chapter End Notes:
So, who expected that? Oh and, we will be hearing from Buffy in the next chapter! As well as Oz's arrival and an unexpected phone call with some unpleasant news. Until next time...