Releasing her grip on Spike’s hand, Buffy launched herself down the stairs. She skidded to an abrupt halt at the sight of her best friend, kneeling on the floor, surrounded by a shimmering ball of energy. A series of candles had been arranged to form a sacred circle around the room, and on the table sat a silver bowl and a crystal that appeared to be the primary source of the hazy light.
“What the hell are you doing?” Buffy cried as she confronted the stunned wiccan.
Clearly Willow hadn’t expected to be interrupted. With an anti-climatic pop, the vaporous sphere fizzled to nothing, and it took the young woman a few moments to gather her wits about her. “Buffy, I—”
In an instant Spike’s solid presence was at Buffy’s side. A low growl tore from his throat as he stalked forward, and with one swift moment, swept the varied items from the coffee table, scattering them across the floor. “What’s all this, Red?” he asked angrily, glowering at the young witch. “Afraid the Slayer’s got a thing for the Big Bad?”
“Stay out of this, Spike!” Willow leapt to her feet, arms spread wide as she implored her friend to listen. “Please don’t be angry, Buffy. We had to know if—”
The Slayer was having none of it; her gaze was fixed on the curious looking object that lay beside her boot. Holding a hand up for silence, she reached down to pick up the elaborate bundle of feathers and string, instantly recognising the entwined necklace that Angel had given her years prior.
“Buffy, this isn’t what it looks like. I was just—”
“Save it!” The Slayer ripped the talisman apart and stormed forward, silver chain gleaming in the candle light. “I can’t believe this, Will. Did you listen to a word I said this morning?”
“Please, Buffy, you don’t understand—”
“Trust me,” she replied in an icy tone. “I’m getting the full of this understanding.” Glaring at her friend, Buffy stuffed the necklace into the back pocket of her skirt. “I told you to back off from the magic. How dare you cast another spell in my house! A day, Will... You couldn’t even go a whole day without—”
Her words were cut of mid-sentence, as the front door swung open, heralding the missing scoobies arrivals.
“What’s all the yelling about?” Xander asked as he strode into the fray. His eyes widened as he cast his gaze around the room, and the cause of the dispute became apparent. Frowning, he turned to meet Willow’s wide-eyed stare. “We agreed to wait,” he said, stepping forward. “We said—”
“You knew about this?” Buffy’s voice was barely a whisper, and Spike returned to her side, offering his silent support as the Slayer struggled to accept her friend’s newest betrayal.
“No,” Xander replied, shaking his head. “We talked about it, yes, but we weren’t...” He glanced down, shame coursing through his body. “I wanted to explain it to you first before—”
Willow stepped forward. “Buffy, it was for your own good.”
“It always is, isn’t it, Will?” The Slayer folded her arms across her chest. “It’s funny— people are always doing what’s best for me, and yet my life is majorly of the screwed! Why is that, d’ya think?”
Side-stepping that particular minefield, Xander focused on the here and now. “Buffy, this isn’t like you,” he said, staring at the vampire with clear hatred in his eyes. “Something is—There’s no way the Buffy we knew would ever let a thing like Spike touch her. It has to be some sort of thrall, and this morning we—”
“Spoke to Angel, and he said—”
Spike scoffed at the mention of his pansy-arsed grandsire. “Well,” he drawled, “if Angel says something it must be true.” Bloody idiots.
“Stay out of this, dead boy.”
“Easy there, whelp. You almost hurt my delicate feelin’s.” Spike stalked forward, staring down the belligerent scoobie. “You an’ Red make a right pair, you know that? Blunderin’ in—La-di-da-ing your way through life, just expectin’ the Slayer to pick up the pieces every soddin’ time you screw up.” His eyes were a feral yellow as he leaned closer, revelling in the trace of fear that lurked in the other man’s eyes. “You don’t have the first bleedin’ clue what you’ve put her through, do you? Well hear this, cos I’m only gonna say it once. I won’ let you hurt her again. If any of you lot tries somethin’ I swear it’ll take more than this bloody chip to hold me back.”
Buffy stepped forward, gently wrapping her hand around Spike’s clenched fist in an attempt to derail the impending train wreck. Testosterone levels at an all-time high, the Slayer placed herself between the warring males, as Anya—who until now had wisely held back in the hallway—pulled Xander away to a safe distance.
Reaching up, Buffy traced her fingers over Spike’s cheeks. “Hey, come back to me,” she whispered, smiling as the intense yellow gaze of his demon melted into familiar shades of blue. “Hi, there.”
Soothed by Buffy’s gentle actions, Spike fought back his predator instinct and glanced irritably between the room’s other occupants. “I don’t have a thrall, you pillocks. That was Dru’s thing, not mine. Don’t tell me the Magnanimous Forehead forgot that little detail?”
Willow blushed under Spike’s unwavering gaze. “W-well actually... we didn’t... um... get to—”
“What exactly did Angel say?” Buffy asked, aiming a secret smile at her vampire. “I’d like to get my facts straight before I kick his interfering ass all over L.A.”
A nervous glance passed between the two conspirators, and neither was keen to admit that calling the brunette vampire had proved fruitless. Anya witnessed the exchange, and thinking enough was enough, decided it was time to point out the obvious to the clueless scoobies. She was more than annoyed that Xander hadn’t mentioned this phone call earlier. As a former demon, she could have provided some answers herself, and maybe then her evening would have consisted of far more pleasurable activities, than preventing her fiancé from getting pummelled in the Slayer’s living room.
“What does it matter?” she asked, boredom mounting, and once again surprised by the trivialities of the human mind. “You can’t trust anything Angel says. He’s obviously jealous that Spike can share orgasms with Buffy when he’s cursed to be alone.”
Spike snorted. “Bloody eunuch.”
“It’s quite understandable really,” she said with a longing glance at her fiancé. “He must be very frustrated. I don’t know what I’d do without my Xander and his big, strong hands.”
“Anya, please!” Xander threw the aforementioned hands into the air. “No one wants to think about Angel’s sex life.”
“Amen to that,” Spike muttered as a collective shudder ran through the room. He’d endured enough of Dru and the poof shagging each other’s demented brains out to last him an eternity.
Stifling a chuckle, Buffy gave his arm a playful slap. The action caught Xander’s attention and he returned the full brunt of his anger to the blonde couple. “She wouldn’t look twice at you if Angel was still around,” he said, his voice dripping with uncharacteristic venom. “Admit it, Spike. You’re just... convenient.”
Buffy felt her vampire flinch at the cutting remark. Evidently, it would take more than one night to allay Spike’s deep rooted fears and insecurities. “That’s not true,” she said softly, and her heart sank as he looked down, avoiding her eyes. Buffy reached up, framing his face between her hands, and forcing him to see the truth of her words. “Spike, it’s not true. You know it’s not... I love you.”
A hesitant smile formed on his lips, and maintaining eye-contact, Spike turned his head to place a kiss into her palm. “I love you too,” he whispered, ignoring the outraged exclamation from behind him as the rest of the world fell away, leaving nothing but Buffy and her sweet words of reassurance.
Willow stepped forward, effectively bursting the bubble they’d formed around themselves. “Buffy, this is wrong,” she said, placing a hand on Xander’s chest to hold him back. “This isn’t healthy for you. We don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Furious at the intrusion, the Slayer span to face the room, refusing to leave the side of the man she loved. “What did I tell you this morning?” she said, folding her arms. “My private life is my own business. I'm not like the other girls, Will. I’ll never get to live the normal life that everyone expects of me. So guess what? From now on I’m going to seize every chance at happiness I can get.”
“Good for you, Buffy,” Anya said with a sympathetic look. “Human’s just can’t keep up, can they? But don’t worry; Spike will make you very happy indeed. Vampire stamina and zero refractory time are a major bonus when it comes to finding a suitable lover.”
“Thanks, pet.”
Ignoring that disturbing mental image, Xander stepped forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with the only like-minded person in the room. “You'd choose him over us?”
“Yes.” Buffy didn’t miss a beat. “He makes me feel good about myself, which is more than I can say for you guys.”
Spike was positively chuffed. Buffy was a free spirit—wild, untameable. Yet, here she was, laying claim to him in a way he’d never dared to dream. His demon purred in satisfaction, and his ego stood ten feet tall as the two scoobies blanched under Buffy’s intense gaze.
Hesitant, Willow wrung her hands together as she raised her watery eyes towards her friend. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You’re the Slayer,” Xander whispered. “He’s a vampire. It’s your duty to stake him, not... Do you have any idea how many people he’s killed? How many innocents he’s tortured before ripping out their throats?”
Spike snickered. “Take a look behind you, mate. Your bird’s got a higher body count than me an’ Peaches put together.” He smirked at the barely-restrained fury on Xander’s face before nodding in Anya’s direction. “I bet you’ve got some stories to tell, eh, love? Some real toe-curlers, yeah?”
“Oh, that’s true,” the former demon replied, grateful for the rare opportunity to relive her glory days. “You’ve got a long way to go before you catch me up, Spike. I’ve started a few revolutions in my time, but I always preferred the personal touch myself. There was this one time in 17th century Venice; a wife caught her husband cheating with the butcher’s daughter and...” She trailed off at her fiancé’s horrified expression. “What?”
“H-How can you—”
“How can I what?” she asked annoyed at his naivety. “I was a Vengeance Demon for a very long time, Xander. It was my duty to bring justice to wronged women. Can I help it if I was creative? It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, you know?”
She glanced at Spike and they shared a look of understanding. Despite her current human status, Anya had been around long enough to still see things from a demon’s perspective. “What is the big deal with you humans and the whole soul thing, anyway? Just because someone has a soul, it doesn’t make them a good person.”
“Anya, honey, can we talk about this later?” Xander felt like he’d turned over two pages at once. This conversation was rapidly going off-topic. “Nobody wants to hear this now.”
“I do.” Buffy was watching Anya intently as she slowly realised how often they’d repressed her demonic history. “Let her talk, Xander.”
“Thank you, Buffy.” She turned back to her fiancé. “Every killer and rapist in this world has a soul. Does that make them better than demons?”
“Yes!” Xander cried in exasperation.
Anya froze, the hurt evident in her eyes as Xander realised what he’d said.
“Anya, I’m sorry... I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” Her voice was low and dangerous. “It doesn’t matter what I do,” she said, backing away from Xander’s entreaties. “This isn’t easy for me, you know? I have all these stupid human emotions now. I’ve tried so hard to master your ridiculous customs and repressed attitudes towards sex, and what thanks do I get? Nothing! That’s what! I’m doing my best here, Xander. What more do you want from me?”
Her anger rising, Anya paused to look around the room. “I’m sick of being treated like a second class citizen. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m over 1100 years old! Just because I prefer to talk about money and orgasms, doesn’t mean I’m stupid!” Anya took a deep breath as her gaze fell on her shocked fiancé. “I deserve better. Maybe you should think about that, Xander, because if things don’t change, then we’ll never make it down the aisle, and I’ve spent too many hours organising those place settings to let it go to waste!”
With an exaggerated hair flick, she turned and headed towards the hallway.
Temporarily stunned, Xander made as if to follow her. “Anya, wait!” he cried, as he forced his uncooperative limbs to comply. “Honey, please I—”
“And don’t even think about following me until you are prepared to do some serious grovelling. Sweaty make-up sex isn’t going to cut it this time.” With one hand on the door Anya turned to face him. The glint in her eye made Xander glad her vengeance days were over. If not, he wouldn’t have been surprised to wake up with boils on his penis... or no penis at all.
“For your information you will be sleeping on the couch until I decide to forgive you,” she said, folding her arms. “And that may take some time!” With a final dismissive scan of the room, Anya walked out the door, leaving her speechless fiancé behind her.
“She’s right, you know?” Buffy’s anger burned so fiercely that she refused to cut him any slack. “Either you accept Anya as an ex-demon and deal with it, or go find yourself a human girlfriend. You can’t have it both ways, Xander.”
Spike smirked, unable to resist taking a shot of his own. “Don’t worry, Harris. Beggars can’t be choosers. If demon bird gives you the old heave-ho, I’m sure you’ll find someone else desperate enough to let you take a poke.”
The vampire’s words snapped Xander out of his stupor. “You’re just loving this, aren’t you?” he said, tamping down on his guilt and focusing on the bleached menace that was the root of all his troubles. “This is all your fault. You’ve turned Buffy against us with your lies!”
Spike had heard enough of the whelp’s gob for one night. Storming across the room he squared up to the arrogant pain-in-the-ass. “For Christ’s sake, Harris,” he said, clenching his fists as he fought the urge to say bugger the chip and rip his obnoxious head off. “Why don’t you grow a pair, and take some fucking responsibility for once in your miserable life!”
Xander’s lips curled into a corresponding sneer. “I know what you’re up to,” he replied. “Buffy’s vulnerable right now and you’re taking advantage. I won’t let you use her in your sick games.”
Nodding in agreement, Willow hazarded a glance towards her friend. “Spike hasn’t changed, Buffy. This is just a way to make you another notch on his belt.”
“Or his bed post!” Xander glared over Spike’s shoulder, meeting Buffy’s anxious gaze. “Do you really think he cares about you? This is just a way to get in your pants!”
Furious, the vampire stepped forward until he was chest to chest with the incensed scoobie. “What’s got your knickers in such a twist, Harris?” The words rode out on a growl as his eyes shifted to a predatory stare. “You’ve got your own girl—for now at least, but I reckon we both know the reason you've stuck around this long. All these years, sniffin’ round the Slayer’s coat tails... and for what? Admit it. You’re jealous that Buffy would choose a vampire over you... again.”
Xander baulked. “That’s not what this is about!”
“Like bollocks it isn’t.”
“That’s enough!” Buffy had to break them apart before the argument got physical. Theoretically, the chip would put Spike at a disadvantage, but the vampire was so livid that he’d probably act first and suffer the mother of all migraines as a consequence. “Both of you need to back off!” she said, pulling them apart and taking Spike’s hand in a firm grasp. Determined, she glanced between the two remaining scoobies. “I love Spike,” she said, her voice fraught with emotion. “You guys need to drop the intervention crap and deal with it because we will be together whether you like it or not.”
With a deep sigh, Buffy summoned up her courage as a feeling of dread rose within her. They weren’t listening. What if they never did? What if this was the end of the long-standing friendships she’d held so dear?
“This is my life,” she said, her tone quiet and imploring. “If you could just open up your eyes, and look beyond your own prejudices you would see that this is what I want—Spike is what I want. You guys... Ever since I was called, I’ve given up everything for my duty... I wish you could see what my life has been like. How your actions have—”
No sooner had her words met the air than a shower of sparks and a loud crackling sound were heard from the direction of the coffee table. The room’s occupants span as one to witness an amber crystal hovering in mid-air as it emitted an eerie radiance. Speechless, they watched the feathery tendrils expand, spreading out and twisting, to form a shimmering orb that floated about four feet above the carpet. Buffy cringed and took a step back as the pulsating light continued to expand before her eyes. Seeking reassurance, she pressed against Spike’s side, anxious and fearful of what her words had unleashed.
“Whoops...”
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Chapter End Notes:
*Hides* Uh-oh, another evil cliffhanger. Don’t worry, I will make it up to you. For all those of you who hate scoobie oppression, and would like to beat them upside the head with a nice, heavy ‘Hypocrisy for Dummies’ book stay tuned. Subtlety does not apply in the next chapter, and it’s about time certain people faced the truth…